Well, I'm officially sick of the hole now. Not only do I have to put up with Clarence, but with three others just like him, each one dumber than the first. Kind of like that movie Multiplicity with Michael Keaton. The dumbest, bar none, is Opie. This poor kid will never stay out of trouble. He's apt to do anything anyone tells him to do. He can't say no. It kills me the way theothers make fun of him, to his face, then order him around. After he finishes his 40 days in jail for being a lookout while someone else stole car radios, he's going to have 3 years of probation. he'll never make it.
The first time someone tells him to sell some crack, he will. And he'll get caught. And he'll be back in jail. You should see this kid. He's about to lose his composure right now, just being IN here. If, no, WHAN he violates his probation they'll give him a minimum of 18 months in jail, depending on what charge he's brought up on. He'll never make it. No way.
As I write, Clarence is playing against Opie in a game of paper football. I had to make the football because I'm the only one that understands the geometric concept of folding a piece of paper into a triangle and getting it to stay that way. Clarence is cheating SO much and So often, its pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. I'm staying out of it. Opie wouldn't listen to me if I tried to help him because I "talk funny". In other words, I speak plain english, not the ghetto enhanced version. Well fuck all four of them.
As I mentioned last night, my pen stopped writing and my BIC pens suck. I'll never have another BIC pen as long as I live. Hell, I'm so mad trying to write with these pieces of crap that I'll be hesitant to even BORROW one from someone ever again. I'm using the same pencil I was using in the beginning, which I had to halfway sharpen usinf the edge of the metal bed frame. It's damn near illegible, but since I only have a few days left, Bushman doesn't have to read it. I'll take it home and type it up myself. That means, when you read this, I'm already a free man. Damn that's a nice thought.
Well, we got to go outside today. It's the first time I've seen daylight in a week. I thought I was going to sunburn. When I came back in, the guard let me use the phone. I got to call my wife. I told herthat I got her second letter, but probably wouldn't get the first one since they don't deliver mail to us on Saturday or Sunday, and Monday I'll most likely be moved. If they leave me here until my rrelease, I MIGHT get it Monday. If they move me back to the CWC I'll never get it.
honestly, I don't care where they send me. If I go back to the CWC, I'll most likely be put back in the same area I came from, so I'll see Mark and Doc again, if they're still there. If I stay here, I might get my letter. Six one way, half dozen the other.
this evening I was stanging at the door hoping Jimmy (Africa) would come by so I could ask him for a pen. As he came by finally, I called to him, "Jimmy!" When I did, Clarence and our other brand new cellmate rushed the door and pushed me out of the way. Jim was at the window, I wasn't, and the other two were both trying to talk to Jim at the same time, each trying to be louder than the other.
"Jim! Go get that dude," pointing, "That nigga right there!" said one.
"Go get Gooch! Gooch! GET GOOCH!!" yelled the other.
Jim would have found me a pen, even his OWN pen. Unfortinately he never heard me ask for it. For the rest of the night they told each person that passes our cell door to being them some snack items, or to find someone named "Gooch." Typical.
Well, my pencil is done for now. I can't sharpen it again without the aid of a real actual pencil sharpener. Tomorrow I'll try again to find another form of writing utensil.
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