28 April 06

Visited by Dad & Sis

3:00pm

I’ve just returned from the first visit with my dad and sister. Our Derick, all smiles, looked healthy and relaxed. Our Karen, wrinkle free and fair of skin, continues to defy her age.

As I write this, I'm still on a natural high – despite Ogre’s greeting when I returned to the yard, “Why the hell isn’t yer sis here to visit me?”

As it's Friday, there were few visitors (eight parties only), so the vending machines were full and my dad and Karen brought many quarters. I ate four bean-and-cheese burritos, five packets of chips (crisps), one granola bar and one chocolate bar. My visitors were shocked that I ate so much.

One thing we agreed on is that prison has benefited me in certain ways. I'm no longer involved in a dangerous lifestyle that could have resulted in something terrible happening – such as my death. Although I was stablising prior to the arrest, who’s to say whether or not I would have deteriorated again, and suffered worse consequences. I’ve gone from being angry that I was arrested, to accepting it, to now feeling as though I’ve somehow been saved. I know that sounds bizarre, but we agreed that incarceration has changed me for the better.

Dad offered to make a room ready for my return home into a cell, complete with black-and-white-striped pajamas, pink boxers and socks purchased from Joe Arpaio.

During the visit we walked around outside, sat at the picnic tables and talked a lot. We discussed everything from our lives in general to literature. Dad and Karen have read extensively, but I've only begun reading widely since I was arrested. Dad likes Hemingway and Kafka. Karen, who spent four years teaching in Japan, likes Haruki Murakami. Two Tonys introduced me to Tom Wolfe and I introduced them to Wolfe, and now we are all Wolfe fans.

Post Script: Excerpt from todays thought journal entry written for my psychotherapist.

I have many pleasant thoughts of the visit today. Being in the presence of family members who I’ve been unable to have close contact with for years put me on a high. A combination of good company and vending-machine products caused my thoughts to race, making the last four hours of the visit seem like one. Departed feeling happy hypomanic.

Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood

24 April 06

Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood

20 April 06

Two Tonys Philosophizes

“I’m feeling’ philosophical,” Two Tonys said.
“How so?” I asked.
“I was watchin’ some show on PBS about the Norwegian explorer, Roald Amundsen. To get to the South Pole without dyin’ he lived with the Eskimos for a few years, and learnt how to live in harmony with that environment. That got me thinkin’: prison is my environment. I ain’t goin’ nowhere for the rest of my life, bro, except on a trip to the hospital every now and then. Instead of fightin’ my environment, I need to be livin’ in harmony with it. I can’t be raisin’ my blood pressure because the breakfast biscuits were cold, or my cell door didn’t open at exactly one forty-five for rec, or I didn’t get called to Property when I was supposed to. I’ve gotta go with the flow. Why should I be blowin’ gaskets over the small shit when there’s people gettin’ blown up in Iraq, mudslides are killin' thousands in the Philippines, and there’s earthquakes in Turkey? Shame on me. Shame on me.”
“Yes, there’s a lot of bad stuff going on in the world. At least we’re alive.”
“Yeah.”
“So what do you think about the war in Iraq?”
“It’s a fuckin’ joke. You don’t hafta have read Robert Fisk’s The Great War For Civilisation to know it’s about oil. We’ve got pricks life Wolf Blitzer talkin’ about how great America is as we bomb Iraq and plunder their oil.”
“Oil’s a part of it. Defence spending is too. The US is spending over half a trillion dollars a year on the military: destroying the Middle East with bombs, while their own inner cities, and health and education systems, are suffering cutbacks. Then they pretend to wonder why crime is so high. The British liberated Iraq twice last century, and pulled out because of the high casualties and the fact that the Iraqi people didn’t want us there. History rhymes.”
“And your Tony Blair is helpin’ Bush right now, I might add. Those motherfuckers in Washington are brainwashin’ eighteen year old kids – who just wanna get college scholarships – into goin’ to Iraq, and the next thing they know the kids are comin’ back with their nuts blown off, headin’ for the nearest VA hospital, never able to fuck again. And what have they got to show for it? They went to Iraq for George Dubya Bush – fuck that shit! I was a seaman in the US Navy 'cause I didn’t know any better. Now, if I had a son, I’d talk him outta goin’. When it was Bush’s turn to go, he dodged the draft.”
“Yes, he’s a chickenhawk,” I said.
“What’s that?” Two Tonys asked.
“According to Michael Parenti – other than the doves who are for peace and the hawks who are for war – there’s chickenhawks: the current US leaders who dodged military service and are now getting richer by being pro war. War is good when they can profit and not have to fight. Bush isn’t the only chickenhawk. Other draft dodgers include Dick Cheney, Karl Rove, Richard Perle, Paul Wolfowitz and John Ashcroft. And get this, Rush Limbaugh – one of their mouthpieces – dodged the draft because of anal cysts, a treatable condition he managed to suffer from for the entire duration of the Vietnam War.”
“I can imagine that big fat motherfucker with boils on his ass,” Two Tonys said. “The world has become more of a fucked up place. It’s not like the old days of the British Empire. It’s all corporations now: it’s the likes of Nike goin’ to the Philippines payin’ poor peasant motherfuckers a pittance to make sneakers, while givin’ Tiger Woods one-hundred million to wear the Nike swoosh.
I was raised in Detroit, in the shadow of the Chrysler plant – literally. I told the time as a kid by listening for when the whistle blew in the Chrysler factories – and then it was American owned. Now it’s Chrysler-Daimler. If you’d o’ told my old man back when your people were getting’ bombed by the German motherfuckers, that the Germans were gonna own half of Chrysler, he wouldn’t have believed it.
It’s the New World Order, bro. It’s here. And you know somethin’, I’m kinda glad I’m in here and not getting’ fucked over by those motherfuckers in Washington, like some old people in America, who have to make a choice between buying medication or eatin’, or figurin’ out which nursin’ home they can afford.”

Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below

Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood

8 April 06

Tarot

I obtained a tarot reading from Xena, who has been a Wiccan high priest for fifteen years.
“These are the rules,” Xena said. “Don’t ask questions with time limits. Don’t ask more than one question at a time. Think of a question but don’t say it. OK?
“Yes,” I said.
"Now shuffle the cards and think about your question."
As I shuffled, the thought that came to mind was: how successful will I be?
“The question, Xena said, “has to do with what you are gonna be doin’ in your life.”
“It certainly does.”
“Now cut the cards three times.”
After I’d cut them, Xena arranged the cards in rows. Studying them carefully, Xena began the reading: “The Six of Wands covered by the inverted Eight of Swords means you’re in bondage not of your approval. Crossed by the Two of Cups. The crosses mean communication with a person you envisage yourself with. The Wheel of Fortune – the card below you – indicates past abundance. From past to present, the inverted Death card says what happened in the past is counting in the present, and you’re past abundance is somethin’ you don’t want to let go of.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Also, you are takin’ on more than you can handle. You must drop one thing, and focus on another, or else things will collapse on you. Your future card is Temperance. You will do incredibly well emotionally. You have a lotta support, which is gonna be a large influence in your life.
In terms of hopes, somebody who is already there is gonna help you carry a burden. And somebody you have doubted, is gonna be there for you when you get out.”
“Interesting, I wonder who?”
“Your environment – the inverted Knight of Wands signifies that even though you’ll have lots of support, you’re gonna hafta give yourself your own support. Your fears, all your fears are gonna stop when you get out - you’re gonna be left alone.
The whole readin’ tells me you need a solid support structure, and you’ll thrive. But you fear you’re not gonna have abundance or a support structure – nothin’ but yourself."
“Hmmm.”
“The final outcome is the upright King of Cups. Your family and friends will be there for you, but most prominent of all is your father, who will be like a stone, solid as a rock, emotionally and otherwise. He’ll have a lot to do influencin’ your future.”
“My dad will be amused to read that. There’s plenty to ponder there. Thanks, Xena. I’m glad the reading turned out so positive.”
“Let me know if you want me to do another readin’ for you or any of your friends, or even your readers.
“How could you do it for a reader?
“They just pose a question, and I put it to the cards.”

Any takers?

Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood

13 April 06

Psychotherapy with Dr O (Part 2)

Dr O was listening to Beethoven and reading Synaptic Self by Joseph LeDoux. He read my homework: a thought journal detailing my recent nightmares about being chased and shot, and a description of the anxiety I experienced when asked to speak at a Smart Recovery class. I was expecting him to begin by stating how I'd scored on the personality test.
“Why do you do yoga?”
“Because I’m trying to achieve some balance in my life.”
“Yoga means union. In the context of universal energy, you need to increase your awareness of the universality of your life.”
“How does that relate to my problems?”
“What do you want to do with your problems?”
“Get rid of them.”
“All energy is constant through the universe, psychic energy or whatever. If you get rid of your problems, then you must consider what you are going to put in their locations. You must clarify your thinking, and consider multiple solutions to your problems. Do you have hermit fantasies?”
“It’s funny you should ask that because a friend recently called me the quintessential hermit. I certainly don’t come out of my cell very often.”
“Using phrases, you can redefine yourself, and challenge your own assumptions. You can redefine your language using yoga, by changing your thinking, and thinking comfortably.”
“How did I do on the personality test?”
“Primarily, you showed an anxiety disorder, and also social detachment – which is an inability to socialize, not antisocial. In the sub categories, physiological stress shows, and anxious thinking, inability to relate to others, your need for attention is high, sense of importance is quite high.”
“High enough for delusions of grandeur?”
“No. Just high. Take the quite off. Your level of looking for cheap thrills is high. You have polysubstance abuse, anxiety, and borderline tendencies. You have a fear of being abandoned.”
“How high?”
“High enough.”
“If I have a polysubstance-abuse problem, yet drugs are readily available in prison, then how come I’m not doing drugs?”
“Your problem is in remission due to prison. Getting arrested was a slap upside your head. You realised, ‘Holy shit. What have I been doing?’ If you hadn’t been arrested would you still be doing rave parties?”
“I honestly don’t know. I was tapering that activity off, but who’s to say whether I’d get stressed out and go wild again. I see how vulnerable I can be.”
"You obtained a definition of who you were through partying. On drugs, your anxiety went away. You surrounded yourself with folks in similar situations, and there’s generally no true bonding in those environments. The club drugs you did caused a cascade of neurotransmitters. With huge amounts of drugs in the system, the brain operates at another level. Studies of substance abuse have shown volumetric reductions in the limbic system and short-term memory areas. You also show a sense of lack of social skills.”
“When I was asked to read at the Smart Recovery class, I felt I was drowning. All that existed was me and the booklet I was reading from. I ended up gasping for air, and my nose started running. I’ve only got like that in recent years. After I was arrested, at the Towers jail, I volunteered to read a passage from the Bible in a packed room. I did it easily and coherently, and I was praised by the priest afterwards. Ask me to read in front of people now, and I become a basket case.”
“Are you familiar with the fight or flight response?”
“Yes. When you feel threatened the chemicals in your body prepare you to either fight or run for it.”
“What about the third response: freeze?”
“Like the deer in the headlights?”
“Yes. This happens with most primates. During freeze, all that exists in the world are themselves and the thing they are looking at.”
“Like the pages I was struggling to read.”
“Yes. The situation seemed worse than it was. You needed to step back and breath. You weren’t breathing effectively.
“But it was pages long, and I was trying to get through it as quickly as possible to end my discomfort.”
“Then you should have stopped, and took a deep breath at the end of each paragraph. Your discomfort was a state of mind. Your classmates were not going to beat you up because of the way you were reading. The situation was in control, and you were not. You must learn to be able to say to yourself, ‘I’m going to do what I can do today, no matter who is in front of me.'”
“OK, I’ll try,” I said. “From looking at my test results, can you tell me where my mental-health problems sit in comparison to an average person?”
“If I told you that, I fear you would use it as an excuse to say that’s who I am.”
“But I’m trying to learn about these problems, including doing a psychology correspondence course, to help understand myself, and to get better.
“Do you think a medical student doing a correspondence course could successfully perform an appendectomy?”
“No, of course not. But at least I’m making an effort.”
“I don’t want you to beat yourself up with labels. I want you to be able to say to yourself. ‘I am perfect’,”
“But isn’t that egotistical?”
“No. I would like you to consider that in the context of your yoga. Read about your connection to the universal. And for your homework, I’d like you to observe, and to write down positive and negative thoughts – but don’t do another nightmare journal. I’m trying to raise your awareness of your thinking.”
“You’ve begun to do that already, by making light of my panic in the classroom. I appreciate your help."

Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood

5 April 06

Healed Scrotum

By all appearances, my scrotum has healed.

“I know why your scrotum was bleeding,” George said.
“Why?”
“It’s to do with your latent homosexuality. You’re about to come out of the closet, and you’re afraid your homosexual lovers will scorn your deformed scrotum, so you decided to hack off your moles.”
“That sounds like more wishful thinking on your behalf George,” I said.
“It’s true. You’re afraid your gay lovers will make fun of your hideous deformity.”
“George,” I said. “The moles on my balls are tiny. Granted there are a lot of them, but I’ve never had any complaints.”
“That’s because you only did it in the dark. The only people who got close enough to see the moles were your midget lovers, and thank God they had little midget eyeballs that were far sighted, and couldn’t see your deformed scrotum.”
“George, I never had midget lovers! My scrotum isn’t deformed, and I didn’t only have sex in the dark!"
Xena entered the cell and said, “Did you snag your nutsack on somethin’?”
“Not that I know of,” I said.
“He did it masturbating,” George said.
“There’s nothin’ wrong with that,” Xena said.
George attempted to grab Xena’s penis. They fell on the bottom bunk and began wrestling.
“I’ll kill you,” Xena yelled, pinning George to the bunk. “Don’t be tryin’ to touch my testicles. He thinks I’m hung like Donkey Kong, but I’m only hung like a bull hamster.”
George, panting heavily, said, “He needs someone to help him count the moles on his scrotum, Xena.”
“There’s too many,” I said.
“Have you tried numberin’ them?” Xena said.
“No.” I laughed.
“He’s trying to cut the moles off his testicles because of his latent homosexuality,” George said.
“Explain the word latent,” Xena said.
“It’s deep down in Jon. It’s going to come out later. He’s a soon-to-be homosexual,” George said.
Xena, ignoring George, said in a tone of concern, “You need to pay attention to your moles, especially if they become irregular in shape or if red marks grow around the perimeters.”
“Yes, I’ll keep a check on them.”
“He needs an independent assessment,” George said. “I need to look at them!”
“You've really gotta be careful who looks at them,” Xena said. “If it's George, you’re in trouble - the moment you take your eyes off him, he’ll be messin' with more than your moles.”
“I’m not attracted to Jon any more,” George said. “I don’t think about him like that now.”
“Bullshit,” Xena said. “Everytime I come over here you’re tryin’ to work it, slut.”
“You lying whore!” George said. “Skin that.”
“I put it on my skin,” Xena said. “Why do you keep insistin’ he’s homosexual?”
“Because he’s tall, bald, British and skinny.”
“You have a point,” Xena said and eyed me suspiciously. “All the people I know that are tall, pale and bald are homosexuals – especially skinny guys.”
“Not this skinny guy,” I said.
“Have you ever been to San Francisco?” Xena asked.
“Yes,” I said.
George and Xena oohed in sync. Their eyes lit up.
“Did you go to a neighbourhood called The Castro?” Xena said.
“No, I went raving in San Francisco.”
“He’s outta the closet,” George yelled. “What did I tell you about tall, pale, deformed-scrotum, English dudes!”
“Almost all the English guys I’ve met are homosexual,” Xena said.
“That’s because you guys attract homosexuals!” I said.
“If he’s been The Castro, he’s gay,” Xena said, as if that settled it.
“I’ve never even heard of The Castro!” And whose side are you on anyway, Xena?”
“I guess I gotta take a man at his word,” Xena said.
“Especially a tall, bald, deformed-scrotum man,” George said, approaching me with a leer on his face. “Elton John is a typical bald, pale, gay English guy. I wonder how many knights bones Sir Elton has jumped.” George turned and jumped on Xena.
Xena wrestled George down until George was winded.
“Xena, stop toying with my fucking emotions,” George said.
“What emotions?” Xena asked.
“I love you, Xena. Come and live with me,” George said slowly in-between panting.
Xena smiled at me and strutted out.

Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood

1 April 06

Bleeding Scrotum 2

During count, I sat down on the toilet and ripped the old Band-Aids off my scrotum. I applied the ointment and put new Band-Aids on.

At chow, I explained to my friends what had happened.
“Your story,” Weird Al said, “is meeting with considerable scepticism among inmates as to the alleged cause of the nutsack injury.”
“How vigorously were you scrubbing when the mole fell off?” Shane asked.
“I wasn’t scrubbing vigorously.”
“Your explanation ranks right up there with Dick Cheney’s quail hunt.”
“It seems,” Shane said, “you had a brain haemorrhage. You’ll probably get called to the psych now for suspicion of testicular self mutilation – an actual disorder: gender identity disorder.”
“How do you know about that disorder?” Weird Al asked Shane.
“'Cause I read about it.”
“Yeah right,” Weird Al said. “Just like he behaves normally in the shower. If I had a blog, I’d put a rival story about Jon and a loofah on it. My story would guarantee that the British authorities would never allow him back in their country.”

Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood