Most of what I really need to know about how to live, and what to do, and how to be, I learned in the state penitentiary. Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate school mountain, or even there in the sandbox at nursery school, but scratched with bleeding fingernails into the cold cinder-block wall of my cell in the ad-seg wing.
These are the things I learned: Don’t share anything, don’t borrow anything. Interest can be a bitch. Fight dirty—whoever strikes first usually wins. Hit people. Hard. Take anything that isn’t bolted down. Try to make a shiv out of it. The chaplain works for the warden. Hope is a weakness. Never, ever, EVER say you’re sorry, because then you are. Clean yourself as often as possible, but be careful about dropping the soap. It it’s yellow, let it mellow; if it’s brown, scoop it into a paper bag and throw it at a guard. Eat what you can, when you can. Don’t rat. Do your own time. Exercise or die.
Try to sleep as much as possible—dreams are usually better than reality. When you go out into the world, remember: No one will ever want to hire you, get close to you, sleep with you, love you, or trust you with anything ever again. Remember the little seed in the plastic cup? The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that, and one thing is true above all else: Cut the plant away from its roots and it will shrivel up and die.
Be aware of wonder.
Remember that book about Dick and Jane? Well, try to forget about Jane. Jane doesn’t exist. It’s twenty-to-life before you’ll see Jane, and so you’ve got to think about Dick. That’s the word: DICK. Who’s got the biggest and who’s got the smallest. Who’s driving the train and who has to ride. Always remember: In this life, you’re either the pitcher or the catcher, and it’s better to be the pitcher.
Think of what a better world it would be if we all, the whole world, knew what it was to be bent over a toilet with a sharpened screwdriver at your throat and a skinhead’s diseased cock stretching your asshole ‘till you want to scream, and a line of his buddies waiting their turn outside the cell door? Or if we had a basic policy in our nation and other nations to take all our children, every day, at their schools, and tell them to “bend over and spread ‘em,” so they’d know what’s in store for them when they grow up? ‘Cuz it’ll always be true, no matter how old you are, whether you’re inside or outside, that you can’t trust anybody, and the only person who’ll look out for you is you.
2.28.2003