Once again an inmate has plunked down a handwritten manuscript for me to read. He’s a self-admitted crack-head doing time for murder.
“This is dope,” he says. His swollen tongue droops from his toothless mouth. “You gotta read it.”
I tell him as politely as I can that I’m not interested. He leaves it on my desk anyway and takes his place amongst the row of prisoners working on their computer assignments.
There was a time when he wasn’t allowed to attend classes in our building. The healthcare professionals advised against it due to his prescribed medications. Our department created a class inside his cellblock, but for reasons unknown (“That teacher,” he told me, “was a real motherfucker.”) they decided certain individuals would be allowed to come to the school building instead. I think he likes working on the computers, a luxury he didn’t have in his housing unit. He’s steadily clanging away on the keyboards and pointing and clicking the mouse.
At the end of class I try to ignore him; I’m hoping to sneak his manuscript into his student folder when he’s not looking. His brain isn’t always firing on all cylinders.
“Did you read it?” he asks.
“No.”
“I’ll get it from you tomorrow.”
So I perused ten handwritten pages and found something mildly entertaining:
Boyfriend Skeet made her take off all her clothes in front of everybody so that made me feel sorry for her. I told her come on we jumped in my Cadillac and I took her shopping. I bought her bra, panties, stockings, shoes, coats, hats and a diamond ring. That was my Baby now.
Strange assortment of purchases - from undergarments to accessories to marriage proposal. At least he showed some compassion during their courtship (I think).
11 comments:
Very unusual stuff in his manuscript! Also, I posted a link to your blog on my site. Too much good stuff here for other people not to read it.
Sounds a bit like a Donald Goines book.
Thanks Rick.
You're absolutely correct, Charles. Every prisoner/writer I know wants to be the next Donald Goines. Too bad most of them refuse to do their school work.
Regardless of his attempt at fictionalized true crime and crack head love.
A word of advice...stay the hell out of the East side. Including Eastpointe and Roseville & south St. Clair Shores, man it is really heating up over here. The outlaw cowboys have found the area and the cops are five steps behind.
Prisoners have way too many luxuries if you ask me.
So what are you going to tell him you thought of his story?
JR-Can't even imagine the adventures that go on in that dude's head. Ghetto Fabulous for his woman!!
Jr,
I am not sure what to thihk of this. The compassionate side of me thinks that perhaps he is trying to show you or someone a side of himself that got lost when his life turned and he got mixed up in the wrong things and lead him to his current path. Maybe he even respects you in his own way by asking you to look at it.
I could be wrong, everyone has those times, but so many people are cynical these days, it is no wonder we are in a place that make even the strongest want to hide away.
Don't count me out Jr, you never know I might surprise you and so might those that have fallen and found themselves in your presence.
T
Can't argue with voice in that snippet. It's raw and there.
At least he's into his writing, I guess.
Wow. You know, this reminds me of a conversation I've been having with some people lately. The fact that he's a murderer made me not want to even read his crap at all (though I read and enjoyed your background and observations). We've been debating the validity of writing if it's written by a "bad" person and if art can stand alone from who a person is.
I'm not saying his is good writing, but if it had some kind of wacky potential, I still wouldn't have wanted to read it, because of his background. Sorry to go off topic, but your story reminds me of that.
I also got a kick out of the girlfriend thing. At least there's some sort of compassion in that brain. Interesting stuff, JR. I don't know how you do it.
Post a Comment