July 3, 2016
Food hasn’t tasted the same without the fly shit. There isn’t one single insect, living or dead, in the institution,here, and it’s a testament to the modern pesticides the state is getting, probably from the Monsoona Corporation. It’s roughly the same food our soldiers get. But their food probably has fly shit in it because they have to eat outdoors much of the time. I’m envious. Anything cooked in a commercial kitchen is required to be free of pests, and it’s easy as shit to kill ‘em all and let God sort ‘em out, using a perfectly safe chemical spray product. But it just isn’t the same without bug droppings. If they ever let me out of here, I will look into a way to market gnat shit, for cooking.
The taste test proved to me, years ago, that no one should have to fret having house flies. I had a whole house, full of house flies, and, oh, I guess I can come clean about some dirt, like maybe I’m a hoarder, when in a position to be one. It’s impossible to be one, here, so here again, I think the Powers are onto something. ‘They,’ (neighbors, the police, the council) felt I was unsanitary, and that was one of several things that ‘cost me my freedom.’ As if that was possible. You can’t seize a fruitcake from a swain who don’t got one.
Which is another reason, on a sad note, to put people in jail, since they can’t pay a huge fine, or their taxes. Some of the the perps in my block didn’t sign up of mandatory health care. It a weird point of philosophy, something like “your tonsilectomy is part of my fair standard of living.” People who went through harrowing cancer treatments are correct in feeling that other people should go through similar discomforts. Most importantly, the collectivised economic balance would go all to fuck if enough people tried to opt out of all the generous options the Fed wants everyone to have.
I’m here for being a pig and a public health menace. Most of my new friends here did worse things, things they actually planned to do. Any jerk could tell that’s what makes people really, really dangerous. The meditations of the heart are one fat fucking son of a bitch.
July 4, 2016
The generousity of this prison warms my heart, uniformly, each day. Everyone on my cell block has a view of fireworks, through small windows, which when looked through closely, yield as much of the sky as any free person can take in. There is only so much sky to look at, the piece holding the picture of fire fountains and rockets is as visible to me as it is to people who took the trouble to organize their belongings and mop their floors with greater regularity than did inmate number 7111577842. Just call me ‘7’ for short. I would have been popped sooner or later for poor hygiene, but you can wind up here sooner, yet, if you have a habit of running at the mouth.
July 5,2016
Woke with this nameless dread, nothing so serious as to call in the shrink, but I was feeling scared, nervous. For no reason at all. What could possibly go wrong inside a jail? Maybe there is such a thing as a portent. One of guards, Fidelia, a woman I lust after in my heart, came to my cell door, just a few hours ago, and ordered me out and into a meeting in the conference room. What a goddam rip! I was adjusting beautifully to prison life, and they’re kicking me out. They need room for worse people, and besides, the administration got a report. I was making some of the inmates uncomfortable. Seems I’m a bad conversationalist, along with being an awful housekeeper. But there I was, self-conscious, being stared at by a panel of men and women, all in agreement that I don’t belong in jail. I just don’t fit it.
Now I can’t decide which is more upsetting. Being ejected like a dull razor blade, or that my newest friends were harboring some irrational animosity towards me. I had the same problem when I was in college, and dozens of times again in the work force. And I’m usually so goddamed positive and adaptive. Maybe that’s the problem. Envy is a confusing and diabolical emotion. It was envy that caused the fatal rift between Stalin and Trotsky. I grant that is old news, but in principle, it’s one of many reasons the New Commradship isn’t working as well as the Intelligensia had hoped. I was born with a measure of social grace, and loud, inarticulate boors resent me for it.
Shocked at the news I got earlier today, I lost control for a few seconds and started begging them to let me stay where I am. The fireworks display last night had been splendid, and the food is palatable, even without fly shit. But against my protestations, they don’t want me here any longer, and are already at work, finding me an apartment in a supervised complex. I’m being assigned a legal guardian. Someone with a violent hatred for disorder.
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