I got knocked on the humble for smoking an el out front SPA one night- summer of 98 or so. I was twist and happy. Things is good, I’m celebrating. Life got purpose. I’m making more than decent chedar. Honey’s is checking for me, I’m swaggering. Blah blah blah go the talk between me and my mans and them out front SPA, el ash on the ground. Then up jump detects right when I’m bout to verbally punctuate my next move in life. Badge in my face, mouth full of smoke, the realization, the loss of control.
Now jail is about the realist place on earth. In terms of realty defined as basic human process. It’s a place where you come face to face with yourself. We’re all journeying towards the true us.
That right there was the foundation of my high. I mean I had smoked some serious chron.
So I’m like “Fuck all you detec mother fuckers. I ain’t do shit!” all loud and shit. The type loud where the spit come out with the capital ‘F’ and all that up in my head where they couldn’t hear me. You see I been here before and I know I gotta do this calm.
When you’ve lost control, one night can feel like 15 years.
9.7% of black non-Hispanic males age 25 to 29 were in prison in 2000, compared to 2.9% of Hispanic males and about 1.1% of white males in the same age group.
I sat easy in the back of the van with the cuffs on, tight. “Don’t move around too much cause them handcuffs’ll squeeze on you”, officer such n such said. In my head again I’m like “fuck you” real loud. “take that with you. Hope it make you feel bad”. But I weigh that against how bad this is making me feel. Don’t want them cuffs cutting in my wrists, my body expand when my anger get up. Now things in my head change. I wanna say “these cuffs fucking hurt!” But I know they’ll act like they don’t hear me.
“ah fuck man … I can’t belieeeeeve this shit, oh my Goddddd! I ain’t even do nothing. Them cracks wasn’t even mine!”
In captivity you begin to fashion your mind to things like GOD and delusions.
Then young lost it. He lost his cool and kick his foot against the side of the van with a BIG F word. He said some nasty real foul shit, offend everybody: me, the detecs and the other two in the back of the van with us, slumped and complacent.
The MAN say,
“I told you about making all that noise back there”.
I makes sure he know I ain’t had nothing to do with the thud young made with his foot and the foulness he saying. I’m starting to loose the feeling in my thumb and every play I make is about me getting these cuffs off as soon as possible.
The U.S. rate of incarceration has increased by 22 percent since 1989, and is about 5-8 times the rate of most industrialized nations. Property crimes and assaultive offenses don’t account for the increase nor do the violent crimes that rate higher in the U.S. than anywhere else, but the “war on drugs” and “three strikes” crimes have accounted for 46 percent of new court commitments since 1980.