16 Nov 07

Release (6) letters to parents

10:45 (Lockdown for count)

Prisoners and guards are asking me why I’m still here, aware that Immigration should have picked me up today. I have to explain that they’re coming on 20th. Only four more days.

Most days I read and write in-between, eating, showering, teaching yoga and working out. This morning I spent two hours taking notes as Fat Boy dictated the rest of the short story "A Homey Who Finds Jesus." Fat Boy was involved in the kidnapping and murder (shot point blank with a shotgun before being set on fire) of another youngster.

Being able to write uninterrupted in your garage is one of things I’m most excited about – not to mention the roast potatoes and chocolate orange you’ll feed me to boost my brainpower.

Prisoners are saying I’m the luckiest man here because the whole yard is going to be moved to dorms in two weeks’ time. I’m just getting out in time. Prisoners are mad at the prospect of being warehoused. The deputy warden has warned, “that any vandalism will not be tolerated.” The heads of each race and their lackeys are spreading the word that anyone who makes noise in the dorms between 9pm and 9am will be smashed and rolled up. It’s uncanny that I’m getting released just before the coming disruption. There’s a rumour that the hardcore at Yard 4 are going to go off and refuse to move. Apparently some of the dorm cubicles have double bunks. Ouch! Iron Man said the last time he was in a dorm he would get up and see the spectacle of Slingblade giggling to himself and masturbating on his bunk at 5am.

The fondest goodbye I received thus far today came from Zack (one of my yoga students): “Piss off back to Wales you bloody Welsh prick.”

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