One of the things I get asked most frequently is: have you made many friends while locked up? Definitely, but its complicated, as Ill explain. Regardless, it’s still lonely as hell, even as Im sharing a “cube”–a glorified cell– with 7 other dudes.
Lemme be 100 with you (which is the preamble of every con that’s 100% not being straight with you and likely running game…okay, this being the sole exception…) When I first came down, I chose poor associates, partly because I felt so lonely and depressed and embarrassed from 1.)being in prison in the first place and 2.) facing a possible 17 years on a second charge. Either way, I didnt use much discernment in picking my companions. They werent bad dudes, for the most part, they just had zero self-control whatsoever, to the point where theyd either lock up or get jumped. Now, I get running away from an ass beating! However, the ass beatings you deserve? Yeah, you gotta take those on the chin if you wanna be able to look in the mirror and like what you see.
Just as Jesus demonstrated, who you break bread with is incredibly important, and even moreso in prison. Those people are a reflection of you. Of course, what you do attracts the people around you. Working out is a great way to find solid ass dudes who’ll have your back. Although I work out alone, I still recognize all the guys that are out there every day and they recognize me. A lot of gangs have “mando’s”, so they respect the other guys out there every day. “Gettin money” is the bare minimum needed to do your time, and not let the time do you.
Ive been on this same compound for some time now, so I know people all over the yard and in every unit. I joined a Fantasy Football league, not knowing anyone who was in it except my cubie who invited me, but at last Saturday’s draft, I realized I had already become cool with almost every person in the league over the years..Naturally, my RB2 blew out his ACL 5 hours later in the last preseason game, which seriously damaged my chances of winning the $80 first place prize–more accurately, 18 yellow coffees. (sorry ladies for getting you all hot and bothered with all this fantasy football talk…)
Most the time I go for a walk solo dolo, and listen to the radio; there’s only a handful of people Im even willing to be seen with spinning laps.
My one homeboy and I go way back to our H unit days (that is, pre-pandemic era). We have some serious conversations, and he’s prolly a little more street wise than I am, this being his second bit and all; most of the time we joke around and offer retarded commentary on the going-ons around us. (on watching the hot CO, whose “thick as dog shit”, walk across the yard: “id make love to that girl…like, I wouldnt even kiss her first, Id immediately start eating her ass.”)
Anytime there’s a lull, or even as a hello, he’ll play the “slip game”, which is prison slang for talking like a fag/ making gay jokes. He’ll literally sing, “do you wanna see my butthole/wiener/etc?” like it’s a catchy old folk ditty. I’ve become inured to it, but it’s definitely funny when I think about it in the abstract, especially because the situation doesn’t matter, he does it around the most serious gangbanger. Sometimes, to them. I fuel our bromance by making gay jokes in return or trying to grab his hand on the yard, or even “pinkies.”
We were spinning laps the other nite, and he stopped his cubie to ask if they “had anything sweet in there,” meaning cookies or a honey bun, but I pointed it that it was very much #prisonpickuplines , and for the first time in a long time, wishing I had twitter.
Anyways, I prefer not to spend too much time with any one person. Although it’s tempting to find someone whom you can confide in & do things together & otherwise be besties with, basically brothers, but this is the joint, not the dorms your freshman year of college. This way, no one exerts too much influence on my own bit, nor do I get dragged into someone else’s business cuz they consider us exchangeable; I stand alone and only have myself to hold to account.
I play pinochle with a different set of people than I spin laps with post-workout or on night yards–even the time of day affects who I walk with. I talk to and bullshit with my bunkie the most but we dont hang out outside the cube. I usually walk to chow alone, wanting to spend the least amount of time in those cramped eating quarters as possible. I feel like that’s impossible when going with someone else, who always wants to lollygag and conversate like theyre out to eat at a restaurant.
Like anything else, background determines much of the experience you’ll have in prison. Coming from relative privilege–especially in comparison to the average inmate–I didnt run into anyone i knew from the streets. okay, one person who id partied with and let into my apartment and stole my checkbook and a bunch of dope. (We were gonna square up in the bathroom til they rode him out.) So many guys come to prison and rejoin their friends from the streets.Especially among meth heads, where I’ve seen groups 7-8 deep, not only come to the same joint, but locked in the same unit. On the other hand, Ive only met 2 guys from the same way as me–which is a typical way bonds form in the joint–and I dont think there’s been an ex-con from the same zip code as me in 20 years.
friendship on the yard is like a war of attrition–you keep each other at arm’s length until time&space arrangements erode boundaries, and you shrug, like, well…we’re both still here and have tolerated each other this long, we know what the other’s about, etc. etc. fuck it, I guess we can be friends. Yeah, it’s real lazy, like becoming friends with your dorm mates, except in this scenario, you’re the last men standing, neither locking up nor getting stabbed nor going home…
Easy Trouble 