prison is funny. see, after all, i *am* stone cold tantric, and locking me in a cell and feeding me like a monk doesn’t really impair my path to spiritual harmony, even if i am locked up with some dumbass bitches. i bought my magic potion in prison – i traded a bag of tuna for a bottle once a week. diabetics go to the nurse to get insulin once a day, and nurses love me, ’cause i’m southern style polite and educated and frankly, queer, so i don’t hump their legs like the other inmates do. so when i have a string holder i made that hangs a package right behind my sack, i walk through the guard search each way, and they only wave the metal detector at me. if i need stuff, i carry info or tiny shit for people i trust. a piece of paper with number and a name is money – a green dot bought on the outside, a call confirms it and here, you can have a cell phone with full streaming movies handed to you within a day a most, if you’re clever enough to keep it charged and hid from the screws. sometimes you have to just carry the numbers over to somebody, which i can do, and i always find the person to get ’em to and make shit work. i didn’t have a phone, i hate phones anyway, but ’cause i’m diabetic and keep my sugar regulated (and the nurses love me) i get a milk, cup of cereal and an orange every night like clockwork. i hate oranges – only citrus i like are limes and kumquats, so i give my orange to a nigga i know (don’t assume anything about his color, just that he’s got shit going on, if you’re in Smith State Prison in the beautiful state of Georgia, you’re either a nigger or a nigga, despite yo DNA and shit, and you need to know which is what). so i can call my family once a week, in 4G service, or any time in an emergency, and i don’t have to suitcase a cellphone (yeah).
so i get by and get high (legally, but against the rules in a way that would get my ass in solitary) in prison. wtf. my IQ is sky high and i have half of a phd in epidemiology/ecology of all shit, but that’s my life. you learn some important fucking shit in prison. gamers flat out saved my life. DnD geeks happen to include some stone cold MFs, about half of them ex-military. others are rapists and drug dealers and one a child molester, but he’s in for life and you don’t judge a man (much) after that. i probably should not have gone with a female teifling shadowmancer for my first character, but after i reupped with the hillbilly barbarian/ranger, it was all good.
i wasn’t unhappy. i got there by giving up, not by standing up. i got away with that. somehow i don’t think this is what i’m supposed to learn from my experiences, but when those experiences include brutal dehumanization (cause it wasn’t all fun), you learn some shit whether you like it or not, just like they say at Coincidence Control Central.