Day 43: Monster’s “to do list” and My Soon-To-Be Free Spirit

By | May 14, 2009

by Brian A. Wilkins

This day corresponds with Tuesday, September 2, 2008. Click here for the complete “55 Days in Maricopa County Jail” series.

I’m solidly and unequivocally convinced that the only way I’m going to wake up and not be severely depressed and unhappy is if I don’t wake up at all. This infinite sadness is by far the worst, even for my life. Court dates and facts mean nothing. They are nothing more than puppet shows for Euro-America’s justice system. It just sucks that upon my exits from here, there will be pain involved. But that pain will actually feel good compared to waking up another day in this place.

Monster asked me to write up a little cheat sheet he can send his girlfriend so she can set up a website for his clothing line. He was sentenced to prison and I think he will be leaving here in the next few days. Basically I just wrote on a sheet of paper that she needs to buy the domain names (.com, .net, and .org) from any provider (Verisign, Godaddy, etc.) and then get some sort of website builder. They will probably need a scanner as well, since all of his artwork is drawn on notebook paper. Dude can definitely draw. I’m no fashion guy, but there are several things he drew that I’d probably wear. Most of his stuff is business-like suits for men, business professional stuff for women, shoes, etc., all with a little “brotha flavor.” He’s pleased with the fact he will only serve about 18 months in prison and will be out to pursue this dream. And he’s a good guy who got into trouble ONCE, but then was targeted by inbred Phoenix cops every day of his life after that.

I just woke up from a dream: Barack Obama introduced me to Bette Midler and Liza Minelli. That was just an interesting combination of characters. I now realized I have dreams in here I would otherwise never have.

I had Richard pay my rent today, and I also now realize, that this will be the last month I will be able to pay rent or any other bills. In other words, I am now solidly committed to not waking up in here by the end of this month…possibly sooner. I’m now starting to wonder if Rodney, a dude I now consider a true friend, along the lines of all my Iowa family-like friends, is preventing me from meeting my destiny? I know one thing for sure: I wouldn’t be writing this right now if he wasn’t in here.

My philosophy and religion is that my soul will be free from this planet Earth, which is the “hell sentence” for souls that have done something to upset the universe at some point. Earth is the Biblical Hell. I mean if you think about it, a vast majority of people on this planet are suffering, or in an endless loop of an existence you really can’t consider “life.” Everything in the Biblical Hell, black people have endured here on Earth – being burned alive, castrations, torture, perpetual manipulation, rape, etc. I’d rather free my soul myself by ending this Earth life.

Let’s face it: I’ll never be married and will never have kids, which are the only two things I really wanted out of this life. Nobody likes me, plain and simple, which is why I’ve sat here with not one visitor or not one letter sent to me. I’m just too different, and most of the women who do like me, I’m simply not attracted to them, they have 3 or 4 kids, or they just don’t “do it” for me. And believe me, LOOKS aren’t even in the top 2 as far as attractiveness for me anymore. The only thing that will ever make me feel like a normal human being is a family of my own, be it just a wife or both wife and kids. And it hasn’t happened to this point, and it will likely never happen.

I would have to start from scratch again, as far as building my life and credentials for a woman because Euro-America decided to take my life away from me. I had the career, the “hobby” career, one semester from a bachelor’s degree, acceptance into law school at age 33, and all the confidence I would need to attract the potential Mrs. Brian Wilkins. Oh well, my corpse will at least make worms and plants happy real soon.

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