Old Jail Journal
I was cleaning out my old laptop to sell and found this old jail journal. Thought I would drop it since I think it is a bit entertaining and interesting...I will release bit by bit.
The Unintentional Convict
The following is a journal from my time incarcerated with the Hamilton County Justice System. I was in a drug assessment facility as penalty for the two DUI offenses that I have accumulated. Don’t get me wrong; I was an inmate and property of Hamilton County. This journal may seem a bit disjointed because I copied it verbatim from the 5” x 8” legal pad provided to me; I wrote of ideas and situations as they happened. As a result, there is quite a bit of foul language which I have chosen not to censor; so sensitive ears be warned. I hope this account provides some entertainment and may serve as a deterrent to following in my footsteps by providing a record of my ordeal in jail.
Day 1
Let’s see if I get it all straight. Boredom is provided in abundance so I decided to keep this journal. I arrived at the Justice Center (JC) to be processed, pretty normal stuff (if you have been to jail). Turned in street clothes and received my “blues,” two pair. Blues are the uniform of convicts in Hamilton County. Sort of like light cotton denim, matching short sleeve and elastic waistband pants. Both my pants almost had the crotches ripped out. I noticed that one other 10-day winner would be joining me; I wondered what his deal was. Hours had passed with monotonous waiting between being ushered through each step of processing. About 20 of us were in a holding tank when my name was called with a list of names to leave. Dave Vetter, the other 10-day guy, was included. I probably had only said five words to him in these first few hours, but already saw some sort of connection. This was probably because we were the only two in the tank that did not have a previous prison story of jailhouse philosophy to spout. (Don’t overestimate “jailhouse philosophies.” These include the pros and cons of relying on your boys or a bitch. Evidentially, your boys are always more trustworthy, but you can get pussy from a bitch.) I was glad that I could not input in any conversation; it made me feel like an outsider. That is good. After my name was called, we left in single file line from the tank; we must be being transferred to the Talbert House now!
No! Have you seen Oz, the TV show in HBO? The new location for boredom was a large room with tables, “couches,” and two levels of surrounding cells. I began to look for Adabece (the huge Jamaican character on Oz whose hat magically sticks to his head), though my group of eight was the only visitors in this new location. Hey, at least there was a TV here. I did not dare touch it, but somebody else turned it on. I sat and wondered when or if we would ever get to the Talbert House. Then I began to think about Kim again, as I did on and off all day. I could not help thinking of her earlier when Dave Vetter’s name was called; I thought “hey, that rhymes with Eddie Vedder!”
What’s all the commotion in the hall, is that lunch? The door swung open and we were called for lunch. What could it be? I snatched my clear plastic bag and snagged an orange drink carton. I make my way back to the TV while inspecting my chow. Mmmm, two finely pressed cheese and bologna sandwiches and the smallest Sunkist orange that I ever laid eyes on. I assumed that it was not “all beef” bologna. I ingested this material and sat back to watch Kim Bassinger in “Bless This Child.”
After about 10 more minutes I heard mine and Dave Vetter’s name called. We left and were taken to a transport vehicle with two other female prisoners. We drove through Eden Park and the black chick would not shut up. She apparently knew a whole hell of a lot of respectable peeps! She got the fat white chick spoutin’ out how to raise a child, and that she “don’t play that violence shit!” Her son is in jail for violence against he and she is apparently in also. GREAT PARENTING! Shit, we are headed north on Woodburn in E. Walnut Hills. We pulled into a drive only about a quarter of a mile south of Madison. Turns out, this is where we are staying.
The Unintentional Convict
The following is a journal from my time incarcerated with the Hamilton County Justice System. I was in a drug assessment facility as penalty for the two DUI offenses that I have accumulated. Don’t get me wrong; I was an inmate and property of Hamilton County. This journal may seem a bit disjointed because I copied it verbatim from the 5” x 8” legal pad provided to me; I wrote of ideas and situations as they happened. As a result, there is quite a bit of foul language which I have chosen not to censor; so sensitive ears be warned. I hope this account provides some entertainment and may serve as a deterrent to following in my footsteps by providing a record of my ordeal in jail.
Day 1
Let’s see if I get it all straight. Boredom is provided in abundance so I decided to keep this journal. I arrived at the Justice Center (JC) to be processed, pretty normal stuff (if you have been to jail). Turned in street clothes and received my “blues,” two pair. Blues are the uniform of convicts in Hamilton County. Sort of like light cotton denim, matching short sleeve and elastic waistband pants. Both my pants almost had the crotches ripped out. I noticed that one other 10-day winner would be joining me; I wondered what his deal was. Hours had passed with monotonous waiting between being ushered through each step of processing. About 20 of us were in a holding tank when my name was called with a list of names to leave. Dave Vetter, the other 10-day guy, was included. I probably had only said five words to him in these first few hours, but already saw some sort of connection. This was probably because we were the only two in the tank that did not have a previous prison story of jailhouse philosophy to spout. (Don’t overestimate “jailhouse philosophies.” These include the pros and cons of relying on your boys or a bitch. Evidentially, your boys are always more trustworthy, but you can get pussy from a bitch.) I was glad that I could not input in any conversation; it made me feel like an outsider. That is good. After my name was called, we left in single file line from the tank; we must be being transferred to the Talbert House now!
No! Have you seen Oz, the TV show in HBO? The new location for boredom was a large room with tables, “couches,” and two levels of surrounding cells. I began to look for Adabece (the huge Jamaican character on Oz whose hat magically sticks to his head), though my group of eight was the only visitors in this new location. Hey, at least there was a TV here. I did not dare touch it, but somebody else turned it on. I sat and wondered when or if we would ever get to the Talbert House. Then I began to think about Kim again, as I did on and off all day. I could not help thinking of her earlier when Dave Vetter’s name was called; I thought “hey, that rhymes with Eddie Vedder!”
What’s all the commotion in the hall, is that lunch? The door swung open and we were called for lunch. What could it be? I snatched my clear plastic bag and snagged an orange drink carton. I make my way back to the TV while inspecting my chow. Mmmm, two finely pressed cheese and bologna sandwiches and the smallest Sunkist orange that I ever laid eyes on. I assumed that it was not “all beef” bologna. I ingested this material and sat back to watch Kim Bassinger in “Bless This Child.”
After about 10 more minutes I heard mine and Dave Vetter’s name called. We left and were taken to a transport vehicle with two other female prisoners. We drove through Eden Park and the black chick would not shut up. She apparently knew a whole hell of a lot of respectable peeps! She got the fat white chick spoutin’ out how to raise a child, and that she “don’t play that violence shit!” Her son is in jail for violence against he and she is apparently in also. GREAT PARENTING! Shit, we are headed north on Woodburn in E. Walnut Hills. We pulled into a drive only about a quarter of a mile south of Madison. Turns out, this is where we are staying.
posted by ajparrillo at 2:59 PM
4 Comments:
He's only writing this because out of the 20 odd times he's been in trouble with the law, this is the only one that was partially my fault.
He's getting back at me for my failures as a friend.
No...I read it and it was is some strange way sentimental...and maybe funny.
Anyway sll blame is on me and always was...just sucks when you retrace all the events that could have taken you down another route.
How that hat defied gravity always did amaze me.
Man, I can't imagine getting 2 DUI's. One was enough for me. I just remembered getting reprimanded, "Don’t smile.", when I had my mug shot. Actually, I was just glad that I got pulled rather than run into a family of four. That experience taught me a few lessons on stupidity and taking sole responsibility for my actions. I also bought a bike and got a girlfriend to tote me around.
On a side note, Dabone is 30 today. Welcome to the club and happy birthday!
It is weird to think I am a "two DUI guy;" I was just talking about it with my wife not too long ago. While I am not ashamed and have learned about myself through the process, what are the perceptions of those that learn of this? Can be an interesting paradox on self-perception vs. others' perceptions.
It is also about normalization of behavior along with my own quirks. I started binge drinking (we chould just call it American Style drinking in high school and driving was the norm because you don't call your parents for rides. Then continued in college and driving was the norm...it was the joke of "who drove home last night and where is the car?" We are cattle...unless we examine and consiously take ourselves ourside of general trends....or is that just another societal pattern? SPOOKY!
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