People are always asking me about my experience in prison in Texas. I spent over a year in a typical Texas 'Prison'. People ask me, "How did you get through it?" "Weren't there fights all the time?" "Didn't you have to fight and join a gang?" "Did anyone try to sexually assault you?" My experience was relatively mild. Below is an excerpt from my book Soul Cancer -- it's pretty much all I have to say about my time in prison.
Prison – Abilene, TX (August, 2009 – July 2010)
I fit into the category of “white boy who really screwed up.” There are more of us than you might think, but we’re certainly a tiny minority and we’re not all housed together. So I’m kind of a novelty to the 53 other guys I live with in an open dormitory located in an unairconditioned tin building at a prison unit on a flat piece of dry land in west Texas. We have a couple of TV’s – one is always on TNT or USA playing ‘Law & Order’ or ‘NCIS’ and the other is always on ESPN. I rarely watch TV. It’s pretty boring. Some of the guys play dominoes or draw or write letters to people. I exercise a lot, and so do many of the guys – pushups – tons of pushups – this particular prison unit is low on amenities, so we don’t have any exercise equipment. Sometimes, albeit infrequently and irregularly, the guards let us out onto the ‘rec yard’ – a large fenced-in rectangular concrete space with a couple of basketball hoops and a volleyball net.
I like to go out there and walk around and do pushups. I try to do something physical everyday for the endorphins – I feel better when I do – they say you should “do your time -- don’t let time do you”, and to me that means I need to do things that help me feel better and sane and also kill some time. So I do what I can and I guess I’m in pretty good shape physically – which means I feel pretty good mentally and emotionally – I don’t know – it’s all tied together. I’m trying to come out of this thing as a good person, that’s what I decided. This is an opportunity for me to really renew my life – renew through living.
In prison they give you a job. Everybody works. You can refuse to work but it’s not such a good idea, especially if you’re trying to make parole – if you refuse to work then the parole board will look unfavourably on you and you will not be granted a parole – it’s quite simple. So I work. I work in the officer’s dining hall – it’s like a 24-hour diner for all the prison guards and other staff members (“other staff” includes non-prison-guard staff, like medical staff – nurses, doctors, dentists – and education staff – teachers, secretaries, assistants – and clergy – chaplains, bible-study guys, volunteers – and drug counsellors and maintenance workers and a few other administrative workers). All these people can eat for free anytime they want in the officer’s dining hall (it’s officially called the ‘ODR’ which stands for Officer’s Dining Room). The ODR is staffed by inmates like me – we cook, wait tables, wash dishes – all under supervision of course by the ‘kitchen bosses.’ The kitchen bosses are prison guards who work exclusively in the food-services department – so we all get to know each other pretty well and they’re an interesting bunch to say the least.
Those of us who work in the ODR have to be screened by the higher-ups (the unit major or warden and the kitchen captain – the top kitchen boss), since we work in close proximity to the staff members and since we’re preparing and serving them food and drinks. The ODR positions are considered to be very good jobs and they are often highly coveted by the inmates seeking to improve their work opportunities during their stay here. I wash dishes and wait tables in the ODR. This means that I’m constantly surrounded by assholes. My ‘patrons’ do not like me and resent me yet they rely on me to bring them food and drink and wash their dishes. It’s a strange position to be in. If I screw up – anything at all – or if I’m simply accused of screwing up – I will get ‘fired’ from my job in the ODR and sent to live in a dormitory with young violent inmates who don’t care about behaving well or making parole or any of that sort of thing. So what I’m saying is that it’s a pretty stressful job. But it kills time and it keeps me active for half the day so I try to make the most of it. I also get to eat much better food in the ODR, which is why it’s such a desirable place to work for an inmate – the assholes let us eat the food we serve them because they figure if we’re not eating it then something must be wrong with it. As a general rule, ODR workers are very well-fed and many of them get fat. I could really let myself go if I want to but I don’t want to. I do eat pretty well though. Anyway, it’s a good job to have under the circumstances and it teaches me patience and tolerance and how to put up with a bunch of incredible assholes.
I spend a lot of my time reading – I read constantly – my father sends me great books on all sorts of topics – novels, biographies, business books, spiritual books, classic literature – I’ve taken the time (since I have the time) to read some things I never would have picked up out in the ‘real world’. ‘War and Peace’ for example. I read ‘War and Peace’ in prison and I loved it – I couldn’t put it down. I read like I never read before – I read to escape and I read to learn and I read to kill time. I have subscriptions to 2 daily newspapers and a magazine so I stay in touch with current events. I’m grateful for all the reading material – it’s a huge part of my time in here. In addition to reading, sometimes I help out when guys ask me to assist in writing letters or responding to legal correspondence (everyone in here has ‘other’ legal issues – divorce, custody, collections, IRS, the list goes on). I’m in a position to help with some of these things. I help out when I can if I know how and it kills time and it makes me feel good. It also helps me build some goodwill with the other inmates. I think this is why nobody bothers me and my experience has been pretty mild.
The rest of the time I think about things – I have a lot of time – a LOT of time to think, to dwell, to ponder, to brood – to think about my life and how in the hell I ended up here. At least once a day I pause to take in my surroundings and I’m totally baffled – how in God’s name did I wind up here – in prison – really, it’s crazy.
The ODR staff during my shift – which, incidentally is the busiest shift – the morning/lunch shift – consists of 4 or 5 cooks, 3 or 4 waiters and 1 dishwasher. Sometimes I wait tables and sometimes I wash dishes. ‘Waiting tables’ in the ODR involves bringing beverages to the assholes at their tables and assisting them with whatever they need – they get their own food in a cafeteria-style line where all the cooks hang out serving food. I can usually be found running around with drinks and desserts and cleaning tables and setting tables. When it’s not too busy, we inmates hang out in the kitchen and snack on the food and talk about some things. The conversations invariably turn into discourses on criminal activity, women, sex, cars, jail, prison and parole. It irritates the shit out of me.
There’s one cook named Ray who has a brain and sometimes we talk about real things, but Ray is a meth dealer and a career criminal so he often veers toward those same irritating topics of conversation I just mentioned. Ray is an interesting guy. He’s here on a parole violation for an aggravated assault charge for which he got sentenced to 8 years originally. Apparently, while tweaked out of his mind on crystal methamphetamine, he went to collect a debt from a guy who owed him money for the meth he sold him on credit. Ray had a sock with a billiard ball in it and bashed the guys face in – nearly killed him – maimed him badly – permanently disfigured the guy’s face – all over a few hundred bucks. These guys are nuts. But Ray’s not so bad. In fact, he’s such a good cook that the kitchen captain overlooked Ray’s violent criminal history – that’s why Ray’s allowed to cook in the ODR – but all of that is sort of kept ‘under the lid’ – the kitchen captain doesn’t want the nurses and chaplains and other assholes who eat in the ODR to know that the guy cooking and serving them their food nearly killed someone with a billiard ball wrapped in a sock.
Ray and I exchange books. He reads a lot of good books and a guy with good books is a good connection to have in prison if you’re like me and you spend much of your time reading books. Ray’s into mostly thriller/crime/intrigue/romance/suspense-type novels by authors like Ken
Follet, Nelson DeMille, James Patterson, Michael Connelly, Patricia Cornwell, but he also likes history and biographies, which is rare in a place like this. So we share books. I’m very lucky to have a father who sends me a steady supply of very good books – I think I mentioned this earlier – and most of the guys here aren’t interested in the the books when I’m finished with them, but Ray actually is interested and I’m happy to share with him. He loans me some good novels and I loan him some as well in addition to some biographies and other assorted non-fiction fare that I get. Ray is very interested in WWI and WWII history and he’s very well-read when it comes to European affairs during the first half of the 20th century, particularly British foreign policy. I really enjoy it when Ray and I discuss that kind of stuff, but sometimes the conversation will end up right back in the toilet because you have to remember that Ray is a hardcore drug-dealer and he has a very criminal mind and he’s into some very dark things. I feel sorry for him. He was born into a family of motorcycle gang outlaws in Ft. Worth, Texas – people who were into all sorts of insane things, so it’s no surprise that Ray ended up going down the path that led him to prison. It’s just that he really has a sharp mind and I often try to convince him to take advantage of his intelligence when he gets out of prison and try to turn his life around. Sometimes, he gets a glimmer in his eyes and I can tell he’s thinking “what if I really do turn things around – I know I’m capable.” And occasionally he goes to the AA meetings we have twice a week down in the education building. He’s attracted to the possibility of a ‘normal’ life. But the bad stuff is so ingrained in him – it’s such a part of who he is – that it’s just sad, b/c he knows and I know he knows b/c he tells me about it – that he’s going right back to the lifestyle that landed him in prison. And next time he gets caught for anything at all, he’s facing serious time – 25 to life – and it’s just such a waste of a beautiful mind that was stolen from him before he knew what he had. He’s a good guy who never had a chance – seriously. The guy never had a fucking chance and he got thrown down a gauntlet of craziness and he does things like brutally beat a man into a coma with a billiard ball wrapped in a sock.
This is real. This is some real shit. And it’s just sad to me. It really is. It’s not fair. But life isn’t fair. My best thinking landed me right here in prison so who the hell am I to tell anyone to turn things around. Around and around. Some people really have it rough right from the get go and they don’t even know they have it rough until it’s too late to do anything about it. I’m grateful that I can see that and learn from it and not fall into it. I fell pretty far, but at least I’m aware of it and at least I somehow crawled out of that dark black pit, even if it doesn’t last – god-willing I hope it does last and I’m doing some things to make it last – but even if it doesn’t last, at least I know that it doesn’t have to be all crap all the time with no solution and no end in sight ever. I now know – b/c I’ve been living in and around it – that so many people are in that no-solution, no-end-in-sight, incomprehensibly hopeless situation. So many people. And so many other people have no clue about these so many people. What a world we live in. So much crap. But also so much opportunity and life and love for those of us who are fortunate enough to know that it’s not all crap all the time.
The ODR kitchen. Towards the end of our shift. I’m slowly washing a few remaining dishes. Ray is talking my ear off like he always does. No one else is really around right now, except for another one of us ODR workers – Willie D, a 50-yr old black inmate with a very mean look on his face and a body like Terrell Owens is mumbling to himself while he cleans the grill. This is the end of our shift, so we don’t have any ‘customers’/assholes right now and the guards kind of let us do our own thing for an hour while we clean up. So we clean up slowly and Ray starts talking my ear off:
Ray: “…….You would really like Ally – she likes smart guys.”
Me:“Who the hell is Ally – wait a minute, I can’t hear you when the machine is running.”
Ray:“Ally’s my best friend – she used to be one of those high-class escorts – she flew all over the country to hang out with rich guys who wanted to party with her.”
Me:“Why would I like her? I already told you I’m not into the crazy stuff anymore. And I’m not so smart man. Seriously.”
Ray:“Ally’s really smart and she would like your kinda humour – you know, the dry stuff.”
Me:“That’s great. Just what I need right now.”
Ray:“Ally’s seen me when I was really out there on dope – we’re very close. Before she got on dope and became a whore for rich guys she went to nursing
school, and she’s really good at finding veins. She always helped me when I couldn’t get the needle in—“
Me:“Here we go again………always talking about dope and whores—“
Ray:“She helped me once when I was so strung out and dehydrated that I couldn’t find any veins to hit and I spent an hour poking myself before I finally called Ally. She came over and brought me Gatorade and I drank 2 bottles which hydrated me and then about 20 minutes later my veins popped back up and she shot me up right here (pointing to one of his favourite neck veins). She’s a really good friend man.”
Me:“Yeah, I see what you mean.”
Ray:“I used to pick her up from the airport on her way back from banging some rich dude in Las Vegas or Hollywood—“
Me:“Ray, can I ask you something buddy?”
Ray:“What up?”
Me:“Why do we always end up talking about dope and hookers and all that crap? I mean just earlier we were having a real talk about how you wanna leave that life behind.”
Ray:“I know man, but I’m only being realistic – dope and
whores – that’s my life man – that’s what I do.”
Me:“Ray, you’re one of the only guys here who knows that Winston Churchill wasn’t named after a tobacco company – what I’m saying is, and we’ve talked about this before man, is that you’re a smart guy and you’re still young and it’s not too late to change things around – it’s never too late.”
Ray:“Yeah, but look at you, J? You’re a really smart guy and look where it got you. You’re right here with me in hell. Doesn’t give me a whole lotta encouragement J.”
Me:“I know, don’t remind me. And I’m not so smart Ray, seriously. I really wish you would stop saying that.”
Ray:“OK, well you’re the smartest idiot I know J. Is that better?”
Me:“Yeah, it’s great. Perfect...”
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My experience in prison was relatively mild – well, milder than I expected, I should say. I mean, I definitely saw some things that I’d rather not discuss in this way, but, what I’m trying to say is that – well, I got through it, I survived. I’m a survivor – it’s what I do. Don’t worry, I wasn’t raped or stabbed or beaten or anything like that – I guess I was ‘lucky’ in that regard. But I don’t believe in luck. Luck is bullshit. I survived because I’m a pretty big guy (6’2”, 210lbs in prison – mostly muscle), I was in my late thirties and white. In other words, I wasn’t exactly a ‘target’ if you catch my drift. The predators and animals of the prison ecosystem tend to prey on the weak, the young, the vulnerable, the easily influenced. It’s just like the outside world, only a bit more primal and animalistic – like a zoo, complete with authentic cages, bars and everything.
There’s something else too. I know how to keep to myself, mind my own business, not step on anyone’s toes. This is very important in prison, and if it’s not your natural way then you will quickly be ‘taught’ how to behave.
I was also able to use my intellect and wit to get me through just about anything – I wasn’t dealing with rocket scientists in there, seriously. I was actually able to use my legal background to help some of the guys do things like write letters to the parole board, respond to family court legal proceedings, tax notices and a variety of other legal-related matters. The most difficult aspect of my experience in prison was the boredom – if you have an active mind, prison really is a drag.
So, yeah, that was my prison experience. Here's a good tune/video to express how nice it felt to get out of prison....
So, yeah, that was my prison experience. Here's a good tune/video to express how nice it felt to get out of prison....
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