Batmama's Northpoint Notes Memorial Day 2025
Batty is back writing on Memorial weekend. You'll see this later as I've dropped a nightmare on my proxy the delightful Mizz Ang the past two weeks. She makes what I write look like a million every time, hearing what I want and taking it from 8 to 11 visually. We both do our thing without a hint of A.I. you should note. The software swap I do to submit content deletes semicolons, apostrophes, quotation marks, and parentheses. Manually I subtract and reenter each one before sending. If you notice random crap punctuation, there you go. Our shit's ORGANIC, Cuz'!
School started, I moved, and dumped the dude I did this yard with for over two months. Seasons change and so did I. You need not wonder why. One overplayed "oldies" song* sung that, Kids. If you do wonder lucky for you this is my blog. Blabbing such crap involving a queer inmate in a seriously wrong prison is the impetus. Welcome, Stranger.
"Being a People Got Hard, Huh?"
Northpoint Training Center is open-dorm. Six upstairs/downstairs Summer camps in two buildings each having immense back yards. Per wing fifty men defined by biology, not psychological gender nor content of character. That would reduce our overall number from 1200 Four wings per dorm, two per floor. The dorms we dwell, I'd say 65% determine our mental state. The one I exited this week past, 6 Upper Left, about reverted me to the psychosis that sent me in for 15 years with parole possible at 12 involving a kitchen utensil and subdivision terror.
Prior to the last spot, I've haunted 5 Lower Left on and off for years. This is where I was when I got knocked out and robbed back in '23 - read the prior entry(ies). Since then this facility had any severely threatening or unsettling convict bused away and this wing was home. I split for greener pastures always regretting. Still considered by the scared-shitlesses in other safe-houses Alcatraz, I rarely have trouble regardless of roll-rotation.
Friends in A-side Honor Dorms who've never been elsewhere look at me like a Stockholm Syndrome victim. Living with inmates who pass notes telling cops on others over pettiness and jealousy for having a partner or food in a locker, especially to sharing types? I'll keep with 5's "real motherfuckers", thanks. That nightmare I finally woke from this week?
After a trip to Chéz Hole back in February I decided venue change might be the ticket and re-rail my detached path. My partner who got shipped off to Little Sandy loved 6 UL, so I requested it. Rumored to be chill, mandatory for a daily writer like me. Chance being away two months I showed up and the land of promise turned out no such animal now. Snagging the joint's best real estate against the wall in the ten-man, I felt blessed anyway.
Opposite wall from me was a dread-locked, mealymouthed, and ridiculously LOUD 20 year old whose career here got amputated after his acceptance into the "puppy program" and exit from our wing. Off to A he went where he extorted the weak. Lil' Bro Brad, a fave sex offender (clearly) intervened in a crap-fest over
stolen kicks and wound up whipping two would-be gangsters senseless including this useless snot. LBB might have a case but do not piss him off the lesson here.
During the month and change I suffered this member of the Brotherhood, he tossed his garbage on the floor on the regular. Pause to note I have several Black Muslim chums (non-ironically - I'm a person-person), but like all religions there's personnel within that suck, like the Odinists, where one who goes on like he's Thors left nut ripped me off and proved a better stage queen than Streep. Too, 'Allah's Treasure' there stood in doorways barely moving or looking from his tablet for passersby, while keeping us awake turning the fan on and off for example with his co-parasite BFF nightly like a college dorm not a grown man's prison. First thing ever said from him to me - "You gotta triple?". A triple, BTW is prison for coffee with cream and sugar, a repulsive idea until you're outta options besides freeze dried, then its the closest thing to GOOD you get, basically turn the dreck into desert. Iced Triples are my lifeblood, using the French Vanilla Creamer with a pinch of salt. Digressing and apologizing, I said no and
informed the YAP (Young Ass Punk) since we ain't fucking, no, I got nothing for you Jr. Threw him off his game and he was nervous to approach as planned from then on. This abortion proved prototypical for 6 UL's inmate model.
Everyone else but a scant few were barnacles, leeches, and scumbags. There came attempts to extort me. Unthinkable a month before walking in. I'm a type who can show up in any dorm generally to fanfare. Here came this attitude: "How's this motherfucker walking around here with groceries and getting ICare, and not paying nobody?". Incredulous, people knowing me asked why WOULD I? No sex-case, famous for not being a rat proven and re-proven to death, and not an upturned skeleton found. Plus the most rigorously transparent person on the yard. Still it took a united front and diplomatic aplomb to shut this down.
My locker was commonly misunderstood as UNICEF. Probably 25x a day someone was asking me to borrow, use, or donate my stuff. Exaggerated? Not a hint. When I declined, mostly when I didn't have it or was low I'd get a stink-eyed scowl like the aggressive homeless-es of St. Louis. This evolved to stealing. Ear-buds, two bags of chips, unopened coffee, my only pair of shorts, tweezers - now non-purchasable, and two combination locks (look I answered your question) gone. Since my robbery in 2023 items stolen by wing-mates from me total: two packs of cupcakes. Months before moving to 6 locking my stuff down was unnecessary. Nobody would have. I hang with everybody and help anybody within reason. Pre-move I had loyal people around that wouldn't tolerate anybody ripping me off. The ideology behind this treatment? I've got my own money so I can afford losses. I'm no rat, so the best risk. Read: He's generous and respectable, so I'm entitled to his shit as I've blown all I have on dope.
Upper Left was pregnant with punks. Disrespectful, needlessly arrogant, intrinsic post-Juvie liars. A kind who, for today anyway, deserve
prison. They shouldn't be HERE though. Northpoint is not going to give them what they need nor earn. Let these trash people do Eddyville or Eastern a spell. Lee County, where being young and cool doesn't equal entitlement but TERROR, is an acorn to rehabilitation. Summer Camp for shit-heads NPTC teaches YAP's how neat lock-down is. They haven't earned this. This is Programs and Education. If somebody's under 25 and less than two years into their bid, Roederer Assessment should bus the mobs of Moms' bed-shitting failures at their gigs elsewhere. Experience is a masterclass teacher.
F'rinstance, weeks ago I talked about an offender here with long sexy hair who behaved provocatively half the time. Later I landed on his side as a solid citizen. Spoke too soon. Chase is a prick-tease. A dirty one who shows his private parts front and back to interested parties, swaps filthy tablet messages with eligible bachelors, and out-loud discusses graphic scenarios in quiet corners too. This with the claim publicly to be 1000% straight. Policy here? I never out people UNLESS they're assholes about it. Like leading on multiple dudes, causing a few to hit the hole (not his, for lack of trying) and them blowing dough
feeding his bottomless bottom due to working out ceaselessly or in mock-fag voice "Heeeeyyy..." when I pass now that he's in the Substance Abuse Program I can't seem to get in.
When I arrived a decade past, Chase would've undoubtedly been taken to a camera blind-spot, britches yanked down, and a line of we'll say "genetically blessed" types who'd use his supple hindquarters for a Fleshlight. Maybe it's comeback time (phonetically that's rich). Teasing in either gender I loathe. It's messing with someone emotionally regardless if sex factors in. Self-esteem and numerous other factors come to roost at that intersection. Taking advantage of a person's attractions is scum behavior. Tons of guys here have their "fags" and "bitches" blowing bread on them here. It's a dilemma sometimes for me because I'VE been marked believe me. Thing is, somebody can make it worthwhile to my estimation. A straight-up whore without the payout? My motto's always get a bigger broad to beat the brakes off her butt. If you believe I'm a monster, dig - this jewel is here for "strangling his bitch". Still think I'm being too hard on the Beaver, June? "Jailhouse Justice" was punitive in
telling some types that prison ain't somewhere to hang their hat, like this Girl-daddy. Walk out those gates and be on your best behavior or ELSE. Many sociopaths are kinesthetic learners.
*Unyielding greed from Hoagie the Oakland Hippie almost scored me 20 smackers coz he swore it was "Don't Fear The Reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult". I prefer Clint Ruin and Lydia Lunch's noise-punk version, personally. Anyway it's "No Time" by The Grass Roots. I could TASTE victory before my trivia opponent wisely declined to fist-bump.
END CHAPTER ONE