Welcome Back!

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     We lost a homie at Northpoint this week, and shamefully I'm lost for a name. They were found beyond help at home apparently after not showing up for work. First stationed in Dorm 2 daily satisfying the archetype of a movie prison matron, hair piled on her head in a bun-topped PhD (Pentecostal Hair-do), ubiquitously snarling, yelling, and kvetching, this person excelled at spreading soreness. A stretch back she abandoned cop life, moving to Academics stationed behind the scenes at a desktop, wearing well-stated outfits, showing a more stylish coif. Her persona shifted as satisfaction suited her well, along with a welcome smile.

     I worked in Academics for two tours and when I couldn't answer a student as a GED tutor, she became my go-to. Investigating the history of the gyroscope, we shared mutual excitement one morning

 

 

 

 

 

learning about it's contribution to the space race and two guys at accompanying desks were yanked into our orbit. I love learning and teaching. Sharing educational passion, especially in this environment is soul-food. My plan post-Masters involves working with inmates academically as second chance programs are majority digital. That's why I considered her one of my camp, the scholar mindset inside a concrete cocoon. Watching her metamorphosis was inspirational because wage-earners here don't realize they're messengers.

     We miss the day-to-day seeing forests of khaki and white. Notions like empowerment, evolution, the true benefit of bettering oneself seen through living windows to the street makes the things people like myself do feel worthwhile when this institution doesn't. Thats the recent norm.

     This compound is currently the lowest seen in ten years. Morale is subterranean,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

relationships strained and weathered, with the rewards of efforts feeling nil. Punishment is cumulative instead of punitive regularly. The body suffers for the worst minority often. Bad actors were shipped to other facilities to roam those yards all day, buy clothing out a canteen window that prepared foods are also available through, and we who survived the cut spend a majority of our time locked down like zoo-life. The tension and anxiety are palpable.

     Northpoint is considered an Education and Programs Prison. I find this exciting. Somewhat true, but this needs to evolve to it's potential with the pervasive mentality out of the way. This could be a Renaissance Corrections Facility with the leads being canonized on PBS every other night.

     Vivek Ramaswarmy's noteworthy book Nation Of Victims points to America's lost station as superpower with Intelligence aware China could flip the US over and

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

hold us down with it's dragon paw militarily. Our salvation, this conservative states, is in refocusing the US goal in becoming the cultural epicenter of our planet. I'm enamored of his vision. The melting pot makes us powerful, whipping a vortex traveled to for all types of art, cuisine, medicine, technology, energy solutions, and above all I suggest education. We must climb from #52 to #1 with our tsunami of wealth. The best defense is the offense of a world needing us for the cornucopia we represent. I see Northpoint as microcosmic of this.

     Every time I walk to the A-side Chow Hall, I survey an immense field full of nothing but potential, picturing fruits and vegetables for our kitchen. Southeastern has a Horticultural Education program, and here this sits. We need Culinary Arts, too. Masonry, HVAC, and any viable vocation with an open instead of divided yard. The need for lock-downs is past because critical thought and creativity cannot expand in

 

 

 

 

 

vacuums. Will there be fights and drugs? Undoubtedly. This is a Men's Prison. However, a trace amount compared to any other with benefits outweighing deficits.

     Harsher punishments with bigger sentences squashes bad behavior better than yard-wide rebuffs. Right now, this place is bleak, guards and inmates alike generally miserable, all parties at odds with each other for avoidable reasons. This should be destination prison throughout the state. A waiting list for miles, and the successful landing strip. Correcting the Human Paycheck problem with skilled critical thinkers should be the goal every day by every worker.

     Our library is manned by a jaded person who shows contempt for inmates. I recently watched her go out of her way to not help someone wanting to find a series of books he'd started reading once. This inmate clearly needed someone to care. It's heartbreaking to watch this, personally. This individual either needs re-galvanizing

 

 

 

 

 

or release. The library in an educational facility should be the heart of operation. Ours is atrophic and in need of rejuvenation, rife for the treatment other prisons get: flooding new material constantly, filled and buzzing with excited inmates instead of incessant reprimands and schoolmarm throwback behavior benefiting no one. Sorely needed is a fresh, energetic presence to excite people and guide them.

     Mandatory DOC programs are fine for life lessons and box checking for those trying to leave. I wish NPTC would institute more post-secondary options with an educational requirement for any inmate with a year+ to serve in order to remain. The laurel of "softest yard in the state" has lost its redemptive quality for the majority with the losses of privileges and liberties. Those who require that sobriquet don't seem to be running to enroll in classes, only wanting to spend good money over bad on giant booty pics. A trick I learned in retail

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

management is to walk in, close our eyes for 10 seconds and reopen them to see fresh. I wish a person of note would. Boredom, tension, and idleness are a deadly concoction in this environment with Northpoint having the power to be the iconoclast. I think our fallen colleague would agree from what I saw of her. Her exit feels like a fever dream in this narcoleptic multi-week event of dystopian and voyeuristic hazing instead of fruitful evolution.

     Last on point, I lambasted Simmons College in my graduation story at Christmas. Let me be transparent that they changed and rescued me. The arrival of Simmons at Northpoint was the seminal event of my incarceration. This blog wouldn't be here without them. My lust for life, neither. The enthusiasm I have wasn't there before I realized what was stuck inside had outlets and purpose. Without the arrival of that Historically Black College from Louisville, my aim would be barge work (I say this without disparity toward

 

 

 

 

 

 

the field - I could but don't wanna work manually at 58, thanks). I didn't know I had books, websites, and classrooms left in me. Plus, I've argued my share with the ideologues of the faculty to perfect grades and kudos from them. Supporting my vast mouth, respect is due for these journeymen even if I didn't care for that leg of the trip and I stand by what I reported. I want to keep an institution I love and respect honest.

     The answer to our unanswered question from last week: Yes, the con was shoving boneless chicken wings up his ass. The quantity, packing material, and condiments if any I'm clueless but still on the case. This answer makes sense totally as he'd likely cram a bas-kart full of groceries and a motorized scooter up his ginormous fanny I'd say, plus you can smell the kink wafting off him so the notion of "Michael Myers" plunging breaded poultry with a broomstick into his pooper finishes the picture dandy.

     

 

 

 

 

     Hoagie The Oakland Hippie and I re-watched the Season 27 "Orange Is The New Yellow" episode of "The Simpsons", and goodgawdamighty that's some uproarious shit. The Donna Reed mid-century housewife vignettes of Homer about made me piss my britches even the fifth time. We also watched "The Fox Hunter", a film that redefined the parameters of pretentiousness. We could envision the maker orgasm-ing over his own genius nobility (Hippies adjective) and creativity. It's a skid-mark on the tidy whities of cinema, kids. Don't waste a second unless you're trying to hate-watch. The narrow upside is the charming underrated aunt from the OG Sabrina, The Teenage Witch (Melissa Joan, not Chilling Adventures...) - the thin one, not the crowd fave Caroline Rea. I always loved this broad and hate this is where I found her today. I hope she was paid well and this ain't some nephew bullshit.

     

 

 

 

 

 

     Those cheap ass Family Dollar cream cheese packets from the White Trash French recipe this week: squeeze one of those bitches over a plate of pretzels followed by some chocolate syrup, but don't tell a soul I said to, GIRRRRRL.

     When I have the right idea instead of getting all excited I get deadly calm. There's a tiger who makes me that way now. Sometimes when I'm not busy thinking he's imaginary I almost fall asleep on his broad supportive shoulder. That's new to me but I love every second. And third, fourth, and fifth...

     Hanging up now 'coz my ear's hot. Love you, bye. It's Bat-ney, bitch!