Sunday, October 31, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Automatism
For the last odd number of days, I have spent my valuable time encased by white walls and criminals. I have dwelled in the under belly of society, surrounded by the distress and hatred of it's marauders. Jail was a time for a cognative readjustment, mainly positive in stature, and the red has lost its bite. In there, the effects of the institutionalized haunt me. Inmates are approaching the no-mans-land of insanity, and while stuck in limbo, they forcibly serve their sentence. I have seen how ill and sickly the federal system has become. While drowning in it's own shit, these reborn animals, titled inmates, are getting the worst of it.
"We are trapped in the belly of this horrible machine,
and the machine is bleeding to death"
-The Dead Flag Blues
While the negatives of jail greatly outweigh the benefits, positivty reigns in the woods. My thoughts are restored into a greater sense of enlightenment, but still drift far from it. Vehemently, I wander towards it glory. Staggering. Few characters I encountered in there accepted this idea and debated it. Its conversational purpose holds no practicality for lifers in prison, but for a short timer, this time is essential. Warsaw held ceremony for my mental transendence--an experience I advocate everyone to be forced to do for a short time. I look back upon those grey days and flourish in contentment: a true disgorging of grime-ideas happened. It is funny to think such deprivity and solitude and embellishment of crime could lead to such thoughts.
I was associated with a Columbian druglord, whom was uncovered with 850,000,000USD in cash and owned 4,000+ soldiers, a CIA director who's case littered the inked pages of Time magazine, an Outlaw fighting for brotherhood, and egotistical kin to a certain celebrity, which validity is uncertain. Killers and murderers and rapists and inmates who children witness only in nightmares walked the same cold floor as I. With all of that said, I held no fear or anxiety of these people--only anxiety of my release.
In the kitchen, I was the only white person who worked in there. For once, I saw the blatant racism that some induce as a sort of revenge for past, uncontrollable events. I was the minority, and the figurative doormat for their final release of seemingly immense prejudice. An "adequate" deduction of respect also tied into their cruel tide. But now, I remember those immediate days and laugh for various, better-left-unsaid reasons.
Never did I think that the three times I stepped foot outside during my stay would be my highlight. Such extra deprivity as that demoralizes even the toughest of killers. It seems almost inhuman to take that away from another: the rite of nature, and its daily spiritual impact on your psyche. Now, the sun shines bright on my face.
Lastly, I would like to personally say that the appreciation I have for those who wrote me while I was locked in that cage is vast. I doubt these exoteric acts carried awareness in the senders, but I do know there was conscious effort in supportive roles. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, times infinity.
"We are trapped in the belly of this horrible machine,
and the machine is bleeding to death"
-The Dead Flag Blues
While the negatives of jail greatly outweigh the benefits, positivty reigns in the woods. My thoughts are restored into a greater sense of enlightenment, but still drift far from it. Vehemently, I wander towards it glory. Staggering. Few characters I encountered in there accepted this idea and debated it. Its conversational purpose holds no practicality for lifers in prison, but for a short timer, this time is essential. Warsaw held ceremony for my mental transendence--an experience I advocate everyone to be forced to do for a short time. I look back upon those grey days and flourish in contentment: a true disgorging of grime-ideas happened. It is funny to think such deprivity and solitude and embellishment of crime could lead to such thoughts.
I was associated with a Columbian druglord, whom was uncovered with 850,000,000USD in cash and owned 4,000+ soldiers, a CIA director who's case littered the inked pages of Time magazine, an Outlaw fighting for brotherhood, and egotistical kin to a certain celebrity, which validity is uncertain. Killers and murderers and rapists and inmates who children witness only in nightmares walked the same cold floor as I. With all of that said, I held no fear or anxiety of these people--only anxiety of my release.
In the kitchen, I was the only white person who worked in there. For once, I saw the blatant racism that some induce as a sort of revenge for past, uncontrollable events. I was the minority, and the figurative doormat for their final release of seemingly immense prejudice. An "adequate" deduction of respect also tied into their cruel tide. But now, I remember those immediate days and laugh for various, better-left-unsaid reasons.
Never did I think that the three times I stepped foot outside during my stay would be my highlight. Such extra deprivity as that demoralizes even the toughest of killers. It seems almost inhuman to take that away from another: the rite of nature, and its daily spiritual impact on your psyche. Now, the sun shines bright on my face.
Lastly, I would like to personally say that the appreciation I have for those who wrote me while I was locked in that cage is vast. I doubt these exoteric acts carried awareness in the senders, but I do know there was conscious effort in supportive roles. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, times infinity.
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