Chapter Two September 1st, 2026 Mom's death didn't get sympathy cards. While they hugged, cried, and ate ham sandwiches on her sofa, not one of my her family members reached out to her only child. One aunt lied and told her she'd stick by me as Mom died. That while she consumed her pain-pills by fistfuls, and needed her, as a respected "caregiver" read: junkie. Her racket for many years has been assisting the sick while herself and a close friend liquidate med cabinets.

Chapter One August 31st, 2026 Three years back Mom died with me behind this prisoner's fence. Thus marking the cruelest moment of my life not only accounting to me robbing myself of being beside the foremost figure of my life's topography I rented a body off of, during an event making me aware grief prior was practice and their expressions melodrama. This brought on sadness returning childhood's tears with sobs like accompanying being in the meat department, daydrea

August 24th, 2026 At my Aunt Onetia's funeral was this in-law off her granddaughter Maley, the other grandma, and tenant of a cardboard box in the woods. Rough as a cob like they used to say, but she rocked a black patent leather minidress with a matching velvety trench and complimentary leather boots. Hair the same shade as the ensemble, with makeup somewhere on the spectrum between punk and country. Probably she'd dig '80's "cow-punk" I'd play for her were we not both

August 14th, 2026 Once I knew this punk who like lots was not a good listener. He heard well enough, picking mouths to listen from is where he went bad. This in the pervert's prison is problematic when you're young with anything left to lose. RJ, a towering Jew at around 6'5 sported his Yarmulke proudly on the yard, rocked a sash-belt plus a Hebraic scroll plastered on his locker like some movie-poster. Not getting funds from outside I figured was likely shame not their

August 8th, 2026 We interrupt this inappropriate and raunchy sometimes site for a moment of Zen and spirit fulfillment. Prison's premiere (far as I know) sassified gonzo journalist is kicking it New Age now? Not so much, but like those onions I put in popcorn pouches to re-nuke with sugar and peppers over in Recipes, I got layers, Cousins. Already told y'all about me studying at the Healing Arts Academy. Spirit is important to me. Being a deep thinker of the critical per

Chapter Three August 3rd, 2026 This group I spoke of is the Gender Dysphoria Support group. Because I qualified for hormones right as the political landscape wiped the "endo-pack" out, I still get invites to club meetings. Yipee. Transgender being the closest to Gender Fluid on the "Who Am I?" survey in our files, I get sent a reminder monthly that looks verbatim like my vitally important psych visit. That's what tricked me into going this time. Months ago I vowed to s

Chapter Two August 2nd, 2026 One recurring problem was the fake-tranny (no PC in this place, we're convicts who say fuck da werd po-lice) population and guys who, as the vernacular would have it, were "fucked up about me". But you see, I look like a guy. Makeup don't help. Male pattern baldness at 17 with my hair doing Kamikazes by the fistfuls. Twice dudes broke my heart over lady-boys with sex cases, girly-locks, and lady-names. Once I saw Shawn beget Red become Diesel

Chapter One August 1st, 2026 To Ms. Timpf: I'm in this prison in Central Kentucky reading I Used To Like You Until... and it's crazy because should you look around my charming little dump here you see we are SO on the same page! Nonpartisan, libertarian, libertine, and trapped in a prison with a high concentration of sex offenders (I'm not) about to graduate with a Bachelor's in Sociology from an Historically Black College. Plus I'm a gay fella, out 40+ years in fly