by Brian A. Wilkins
2/2/2009
This day corresponds with Saturday, August 30th.
Another day, more milestones. Today, after work from the U of Phoenix, I would have been on my way to Las Vegas. There was this high-stakes fantasy football league I was going to enter. I’d specifically saved up for the entry fee for months since it wasn’t cheap. But I looked at it as an investment; a fun investment which I felt very confident in getting a return. But, like everything else, it doesn’t matter now. I have absolutely no idea what’s going on in the world of the NFL or college football anyway. I did see the U of Georgia is #1 in the country; Iowa, Iowa State, and ASU, I assume, all played today, but I’ll never know the outcome of the games. I saw, while briefly looking at the ESPN bottom line, that a hurricane (I think its called Gustov) is about to hit New Orleans and the whole gulf region again. Wow! They haven’t even finished repairing from Katrina. That Nagin (mayor) character will get more face time and more opportunities to make a fool of himself. That guy’s worthless.
Jesus, everyday you wake up in here feels like a close family member just died. Though there was a humane gesture by one of these D.O.’s today. I wrote a letter to a friend back home and waited for one of those aforementioned guards to walk by so they could take it and mail it. It just happened to be the goofy-looking guy who was one of the guards that heard the grievance I filed. As I handed it to him, he said, “should I crumple it up before I mail it?” he asked, referring to my complaint in the grievance. He then winked, smiled, and slapped me on the back before walking away. It was the most human any of these people had acted towards me in a while. I understand that a vast majority of the people they are dealing with in here are criminals and probably violent and dangerous, but the guards are only making it worse by being pricks.
I was only awake for about 5 hours today, but I got to hear one of the best stories I’d heard in this place thus far. One of the guys (who will remain anonymous because he’s married) came in the cell while I was lying on the bunk, starring at the wall. “Woooo! Man, I feel so much better!” he said, with a huge smile on his face. I figured he was about to tell me about some good hooch he drank or some Wellbuterin (an anti-depressant drug) that he crushed up and snorted, but instead he told me something that, at first, I didn’t believe at all. “Man, I’ve been fucking her for the last two months,” he said, referring to the “fat, blonde D.O.” I looked at him like “yeah, right” but in jail, dudes will go to extremes to prove what they were saying; especially this situation. I remember him being called out for medical and that’s where I assumed he went. But I also noticed he was being called out of the cell block around 7pm for medical, which was unusual, especially being today is Saturday.
Since these guards are given way more authority than they should be given, the “fat, blonde” guard, according to him, intercepted him as he exited the cell block. She pretended like he was back-talking her and ordered him to the “hole” (no pun intended). She put him in the tiny cell, but instead of closing the door behind him, she entered the cell too, and closed the door. He said it only took a few minutes, but it was some of the best sex he’d ever had. I still didn’t believe a word he was saying and told him to prove it. Apparently he had prepared for skepticism, and tore a small piece of her lacy, yellow panties off with his teeth as he undressed her. Though I was more convinced at that point, it wasn’t until he offered to let me “smell his fingers” that convinced me; as that smell no man can mistake for anything else protruded from his right hand. This is also the same guy who somehow, miraculously, always had marijuana and cigarettes, so I assume the D.O. would get it for him in exchange for sex. The DOC (Department of Corrections) is supposed to pick him up tonight sometime to take him to prison. He got 2 1/2 years for assault. “I’ll be doing trannies for the next two years, so I had to get some,” he said, which kind of made my stomach turn.
I didn’t even think about my case, court, police, or anything today. I’m so numb and so ready to free my soul from this place that none of the B.S. matters much anymore. I wrote another letter to ex-girlfriend Beverly from like 10 years ago, which of course I won’t be sending (since I don’t know her address). But when I’m gone, I want her to know that it was my fault that we didn’t work. I wrote my high school love another letter too. Last I heard, she’s likely married. She wouldn’t want anything to do with a loser like me anyway.
God, why do I allow people like that guy in my life? Why do I have this stupid, naive position that everyone innately has some good in them? I’ll never believe that again. And likely will never have to anyway.