Ever been ratted out for anything?
--------------------------------
One of my best friends brother wore a wire on me several times. It was 5 years ago. I was young, dumb and full of jrugz.
Its a rather long story. im not doing shit, so i might as well give my first pt story a try.
My boy who i got my e and L from asked me for a favor. He gave me 2grams of sass to take to a rave in downtown Lorain to drop off to an associate of ours.
Driving with jrugz always bugged me out. No matter how long i was into the game i never was 100% chill with hauling shit around. I had something like 3 viles on me, and 4 grams of sass. 2 were mine, and 2 were to be dropped off.
When i got to the rave there were cop cars everywhere, so instead of going inside the rave i turned my car around and headed over to my kids house in Elyria.
Lorain,Ohio is a very poor city. Shadyness everywhere. Elryia is its neighboring city. It's alittle bit nicer but kids there have a big city attitude about jrugz.
When i got to my friends house everyone was rolling on sum pressies we had floating around. To join in on the fun i snorted a tenth of sass. We kicked it for a while until my friend and his girl wanted to pass out.
A good friend of mine was really sick from the e he ate. Puking and whatnot. So that left me and my friend Cory alone wiht a pile of jrugz and nothing important to do for the next few dayz. it was sometime around 5am.
Cory Lived in Nelsonville, Ohio where he was going to school. Nelsonville is next to Athens,Ohio. A very fun city to grow weed in.
He told me that we should go down there some time and make sum money. I said why not do it today. We each then ate a dose to wake up and prepared for our trip down south.
I only had 3 viles on me and the 4 grams of sass. If i really wanted to make the trip worth it i had to re-up on sum L. Since it was so early in the day we had some time to kill b4 i could snag.
So we went to my house, grabed around $1400 and then decided to drive to Brookpark to grab sum whippets from one of the sex shops.
It was light out now. I was driving down the highway, jamming to some Phish when i decided to move into the right lane. As i was midway through the switch i saw a cop up ahead pointing a radar gun at us. For some reason i freaked and made a reckless turn of the wheel causeing my car to dart back into the left lane. The cop saw it and pulled us over.
My friend was kinda pissed that i never droped the sass off at the rave the night before but money talks and so i told him i had decided to buy it off of him instead.
Busting out his teqiulla bottle of L, he broke me out a tenth of L and we were on our merry little way. To celebrate, Cory and I decided to eat another hit of L.
We went to his house to switch rides. Cory had a very shitty blue 4 cylinder truck. The kind that would look more at home in Deliverance than a city. Cory was a wook so it made since. I had dreadlocks, so i guesss that made me a wook too.
With our lysergic smiles we drove to Ohio State to pick a friend of ours up.
3 hours later we arrived at OSU. The sass had worn off but we were now both tripping rather good.
A friend of ours needed a ride to Ohio University, located in Athens, Ohio. Athens is so close to where we were going we gave him a ride.
Before we lfet the Hunter S. in me wanted to say high to the world. Up to this point we were playing it rather safe. A hit here, a hit there. Recently i had been experimenting with eating high dosages of L. I handled the shit so much that i grew very tolerant to tripping beyond balls.
Corey was my younger friend who was always down for someting crazy.
So in front of our O.U friend i busted out a vile and poored around 20 drops of L on my palm. I then did the same to Corey whose eyes grew bigger as his cackling disbelieving laugh echoed throughout the apartment. Justin, our student friend said something like "Oh fuck."
Corey and I then licked the L off of our palms and began our drive down to Athens.
The L that i was dealing at the time was from a moderatly strong crsytal. It wasnt fluff but one dose would get you nice and high. 2 doses would usually be even for most people to stair happily at a wall for hours while listening to Infrared Roses.
I dont honestly understand how we made it alive to Athens. The dose we each took hit us rather hard, rather fast. But we handled it like it was an everyday thing.
Corey put in a tape (this was back when we all still traded tapes) from an Allmans Brothers show frm the 70's. Just as they went into a really crazy jam the sky opened up and a huge thunderstorm began droping large drops of rain everywhere.
The wind was howling. The rain was failing. The Allmans locked into a fearsome jam that lasted a good majority of our ride to Athens.
Justin, our poor, poor, friend forced himself to go to sleep in the passenger seat. lol. I can only imagine how pissed he was at us for risking his life like this.
We were in a samll truck remember, so we all were sitting up front. I was sitting bitch watching in amazement at Coery as he not only drove flawlessly to Athens, but rolled cigerettes with his hands and a beer inbetween his legs.
I simply smiled. Life was one HUUUUGGGE grin.
It was as if we had just traveled through a wormhole. Somehow winding up on the other side in Athens. I woke Justin up and we all got out of the truck to go puff on sum headies. We chilled there for a wee bit and then drove to our destination of Hocking University.
When we arrived i had never seen a city filled with so many hippies. I was in heaven.
Corey is a small gnome looking dude. He stands about 5'2'', and was pleasantly plump, but not fat by any means. I had heard stories about where he lived but when i saw the house he was renting for school i was in complete awe.
His house sat on the lone hill in the streets of a suburb looking collge town. The steets looked like any other universities, but here in the middle was this one fucking hill. And ontop of it sat Coery's house.
It was a fucking gonme house if ive even seen one. It looked like it had only one floor but when we get inside of it i find that his basement goes INTO the hill. The main floor consisted of a living room and kitchen that together was no bigger than 10ft by 10ft. Downstairs was his shower and toilet.
The toilet. Oh the toilet. Ths thing was not only clogged with poop and toilet paper. but (and im not kidding here) was soOOo backed up that it had a mound of shit heaping almosy out of the bowl. how he managed to do this is beyond me.
We droped off our bags, drank a beer and gathered our senses for a moment.
We then drove down the block to go say hi to some of his friends. We arrived at this girls house. She was a very beautiful blonde named Rachel. I was in love. Very vool chick. She lived with another hot blonde. We hung out, smoked, drank, bullshited. You know, the usual. Corey and i snorted some more sass.
I think i amazed them being that this was the first time ive ever met these people and how high we were. I never lost my cool, or babbled nonsence. Somehow i was the ub3r h3tty pimp id always strived to be.
A little while went by when it was time to dose again. So infront of these girls, the one boyfriend, Corey and I ate 20 more hits.
At this point i was just getting off at the shock others were getting from our lysergic madness.
That night was nothing but fun. We bounced around sellling jrugz and kicking it with alot of very cool people. We wound up at this one house where we snorted coke and played pool.
At this point i was really high. I went to lay down and try to sleep but every time i closed my eyes the most beautiful patterns danced in my mind.
I just chilled in bed for a few hours entertaining myself with hallucinations while Corey and his friends played pool, snorted coke and ate pharmies.
I was sure Corey was going to die befor i got back up.
He didnt, and so we left and went out for breakfast. The next day was the same as before. We ate more L, snorted more sass. I made alot of money that day.
That night both of us were tore up and needed to go be by ourselfs for a while. Our minds were shutting down. We were talking mad jibberish and relized that we shouldnt be out in public anymore.
At this point we had been up for several days now. I've partied hard before but never ever like this. I was pushing the edge of reality. Looking for a way to escape. I think breaking up with my girlfriend earlier that month had fucked with me. I didnt care anymore.
I dont like SCI. Its just not my style but Coery loved them. We sat on his couch trying to figure out what the fuck was actually going on. He played cheese and i actully loved it. Music is my real drug. And i was digging me sum Kang.
The world was washed in so many colors and patterns that i actually felt my brain moving. Corey mumbled something about taking a shower and dissapeared down into the basement.
This is when i peaked. I felt such a beautiful feeling ripple through my body. It started at the top of my head and slithered down to my feet. It happened again. This time i twiched. My entire body just kinda moved with the vibration. It happened again, this time more violently. Thats when i realized I was having a seizure.
With each quake of my body i felt a euphoric elegance erupt in my being. Please do not ever eat this many drugs. It isnt a thing id recommend. With that being said, this was the most beautiful feeling i have ever felt in my entire life. The seizure went on for alittle while until my lsyrgiclly abused body gave into gravity, and i passed out.
The next day was a just haze. We tried to do the human thing and recover. We met up with this couple who was driving up to Cleveland to see Les Claypol and Galactic share a bill at the Agora theatre. I think the show wass on monday so either we left that day or the next. I cant remember.
Anyway, we all drove to Cleveland to see the show. Since Corey and i had eaten so much L over the weekend, we knew that if we were going to trip for the show we had to eat a lot. So I mixed a vile into a 20 oz water bottle. It was only intended for me a Corey to drink but everyone wanted to trip so we passed it around at the show.
I thought everyone knew how much L was in it but apperantly the girl we drove with didnt and she took a big gulp of the Lwater. Sometime during the Les set she told her boyfriend she needed to go out to the van and chill out.
Les was awesome. I think he covered Shine on You Crazy Diamnond and Sgt. Baker that night . When Galactic came on my body gave out on me again and i passed out in one of the seats. I slept through the whole Galatic set while our bottle of Lwater made its way around the kids at the show.
When i woke up i remember seeing someone who wanted to beat my ass.
Earlier in the year, on Thanksgiving night the kid who didnt like me threw a really big party.
It was an every year thing. The stuff legends were made out of. At his party he had a plastic garbage can full of Harry Buffalo. Well, sometime during that night i poored a half vile into the can and turned the party psychedelic. The guy who through the party didnt like that i did that because alot of people tripped really hard. A few of those people were his younger cousins. BAd move on my part and i do feel sorry about that. My friends egged me on to do it and it seemed like a cool Merry Prankster thing to do. whatever.
So when i say him at the show i was sure he was going to kill me. I think he felt sorry for me because of how fucked up i looked. So he left me alone.
Corey and the triped out girl, and her boyfriend then drove back to Nelsonville, while i got a ride back home from some friends i knew at the show.
The driver had also drank from our Lwater bottle and drove very very slow all the way home. He was going 50mph on the highway while me and the other kid in the car wondered if he was going to kill us or not. I asked to drive but he wouldnt let either of us. So we were stuck for better or worse. Luckliy, we made in back to Elryia and we all went to bed. The next day is when i got snitched on.
Drugs are bad. And my body felt the abuse i put it through. The next day i developed a nasty flu like cold. Some time during the night i planed on going to the Grocery store for some Nyquil.
While laying in bed, and watching some TV, my pager went off. I recognized the number to be Jason Frindts* number. Jason was a friend of mine, but i knew his older brother much better. I never suspectd a thing.
Ok. So up to this moment i NEVER EVER EVER talked about drugs on the phone. If someone said something to me i would automatically hang up or say ive got to go. I had even hung up on really hot girls before. So what was about to happen was completely due to the fact that i had destroyed my brain over the weekend. I let my gaurd down because my mind just wasnt functioning properly.
ring, ring.
"Hello?"
"Hey Jason, whats up man?"
"Nothing dude. Hey do you have any xtc?"
"Naw, but i got some diggity acid."
simple as that. We planed to met up when i went to get the nyquil. We met in the parking lot of a Dairy Mart which is like a 7-11. I sold him a vile then, another vile 3 weeks later and then he asked if i could sell him a tenth which is 10 viles. He told me his girlfriend was letting him borrow the money.
I had only sold a tenth once before in my life. That was just something i didnt do, due to the fact that if you get caught doing it you are fucked.
So when he called me one day and asked I intially said yes.
Later that week i had a really bad feeling about it and told him i couldnt do it.
i didnt talk to Jason for a little while when i found out some really bad news. A friend of mine told me that Jason had been snitched on recently for some coke. My friend told me he thought Jason was hot.
I knew i was fucked. I was just waiting for the shit to hit the fan.
I stoped all of my activties. All of the money i had made i spent partying, and tried my best not to worry.
ON one beautiful spring day in may i was laying on my parents couch taking a nap after a long day of community college. I had just met a girl and was day dreaming about her. jsut then..
knock. knock.
I woke up to a very bad feeling. I just knew that whom ever was at the door it wasnt going to be good. My mom (who i love very very much) was upstairs irong some clothes so i answered the door.
Standing at our door was two plain clothed Detectives. They asked me if i could go downtown for a few questions. I told them i could and asked if i could go tell my Mom i wa leaving. They said it was cool so i shut the door, with them outside. I went up stairs and rinsed out the last of my L from a Absolute bottle i had been saving for a special occasion. I told my mom that i had to go answere som question at the police station.
sigh.
My mom is basically a fucking saint. She doesnt drink, smoke, or do anything roady or unhealthy. I broke her heart that day.
The cops told me i could drive myself to the police station, which i thought wa very odd. But i did it. When we got there i got out of my car and they arrested me. They put the handcuffs on me and lead me into the station.
I was charged with a 2 felony 3's (the two viles i sold Jason), and a felony 1 for just saying that i could sell Jason a tenth on the phone. It was for conspiracy to traffic. what a fucking bullshit charge.
We were in a small room with a mirror in it. Im sure it was one of those mirrorw you can see through like in the movies. They asked me a few questions. Mostly about friends. I denyed everything and refused to talk until i had a lawyer.
They then let me make my one phone call. This has to be one of the toughest things i have ever done in my life.
I dialed my mom. The phone rang.
ring, ring. ring,
each ring crushed my heart more and more until...."Hello?"
my mom answered the phone. I told her i had been arrested for drugs and needed her to bail me out.
My bail was set at $17,500. So she found a bail bondsmen and paid him a tenth of that to release me.
They cops confiscated my car due to the fact that i had sold Jason the drugs in it.
When we got home i told, (not asked.) my mom that i needed to borrow her car. She refused at first but i told her i had to tell some people what happened. She gave me the keys with one of the saddiest looks on her face that i have ever seen. I then drove to my friends apartment where our story began.
Like usual, there were a bunch of my friends there getting high. I burst into the door and told them what had happened. I warned everyone the moment i knew.
I was not going to snitch. it just wasnt in me.
I am not a big man. I am a nerdy, skinny, Harry Potter looking hippie. I grew up in the suburbs in a really nice house.
Regardless of my up bringing, i knew what i was getting into when i started playing with fire. I got burned. Time to stop, drop, and roll.
All of my friends immediately stopped talkin to me. Everyone was sketched out.
Some of my best friends were in the game with me. We figured it was best not to associate with each other anymore. I lost all of my friends slowly over the following months.
During that time, my old cliche started fucking around with a new drug on the scene. Oxycotin.
7 months went by. My parents paid for one of the best lawyers in town. $5,000. My parents are not rich. This definetly was not easy for them tp pay for. But they did. They love me.
They might be the only reason i am still alive today. Actually, im sure of it.
I worked at Bob Evans. met new friends. I kept my troubled life a secret from 99% of my new friends. I jsut didnt want to worry anyone.
I even met a new girl who i liked very much. She was younger than me. So i just couldnt bring myself to get involved with her. I didnt want to break our hearts when i went to prison. I regret that very much so.
If you find love, dont let it go.
9-11 happened. I woke up to my a phone call from my mom. She told me to turn on the TV.
The end of the world has arrived i thought as i wathced the film of the WTC's falling.
I was going to be sentenced a few months later. Great i thought to myself. The world is going to end. Im going to be stuck in prison, and die without any love to call my own.
Life sucked. The months came and went until the day of sentenceing came.
It was the last week in January. My parents and i went to the courthouse. I snuck into the bathroom for a second and ate a 20mg of oxycotin my friend(whose brother snithced on me btw) the night before at my going away party.
The weird thing is that my lawyer wasnt there. His associate was though. He told us that it wasnt looking good. He talked to the judge and said i was probably going to get 3 years without parole. Not good at all.
He then said that he was going to ask for a week extension. He said that will give Jack (my lawyer) time to talk with the judge.
I went home and laid on our couched high, and scared.
On february 3rd i was sentenced. The courtroom was full to the brim with other cases. My parents and i sat patiently, watching the judge sentence person after person to jail, prison, or whatever.
My lawyer had a another case that day in the same courtroom. His client was a coke head who had doen something to violat his parole. My lawyer told the judgethat his client knows he has a problem with coke and involved in a rehabd program.
The judge then told my lawyer, " Im not hear to talk about YOUR personally life." Im freaking out now. Like WTF?!!
Hours went by as each case was handled until the courtoom was empty except for my parents, my lawyers, and the Prosecuting lawyers. The judge breaked for lunch. We waited. Nervous. My mom almost in tears.
This is where it is good to be a skinny white kid from the suburbs. The judge looked down on me and saw how truely pitiful i looked. My dreadlocks has long been cut, and now i looked just like Harry Potter. The movie just came out and i think it played in my favor. The judge asked me what i had to say. I told himn was just looking for a way to enlighten my mind.
I dont think he was expecteing me to say that because he made a funny look on his face.
He then said. "Mr. Burnside. Im sorry i have to do this, but there is no way i can get arund the law. If it was up to me i would just sentence you to rehab. But with mandatry sentencing i have to give you the vey minimum. I hear by sentence you to 1 year for each case of traficking. You will serve thses sentences simulataniously. Good luck."
That was it. I was sentenced 1 year!!! I was so mother fucking happy that i smiled all the way to my holding cell. I thought i was going away for a very long time.
1 year in prison isnt fun. But what ever i had to do it. It's a very wierd feeling looking down a tunnel of time. My time in prison is a story all in its self. Maybe some time ill tell some o f that too. Thanks for reading this btw. Its my first attempt at a PT story. I hope you got something out of it.
and yes. I do know how lucky i am.
"what ever happened with the dude who ratted you out?"
sadly, nothing. I cant tell you how many ways i imagined fucking him up during those first few months in prison. But as the time went by i gained a certain amount of peace. Ive never seen him since then. A few of my friends were going to beat his ass but when i got out i told everyone to leave him to his own demons.
The main reason i said this though is becuz his brother is still to this day one of my favorite people in the world. And for the love of my friend Matt, i let it go.
----------------
btw way. A side note.
The girl that i met at Bob Evans that i didnt hook up with died while i was locked up.
Danielle Mooney. Born on Oct. 31st, died on July 4th.
My birthday is July 6th. (The same day as GWB,the Dhalli Lama, and T.J, my best friend during the 7 months leading up to my sentenceing.) I met him the same day as i met Danielle.
That 4th of July was a crazy one.
Miss. Mooney was drivng with her friend and her friends daughter when a bumble bee started flying around in her car. I think Miss. Mooney was allegic to bee's because she freaked out and as the car was cruising down the road, they came upon a curve and hit the railing and wrecked.
Miss Mooney died instantly. Her friend and daughter survied though.
her friend was a rather loud girl. While she was in the hospitle she was screaming for her friend.
That friend shared a room with my best friend since i was 14. He and his wife too were in a bad car accident that day. A drunk driver hit their car dead on the passager side where Ian was sitting.
Ian was one of my friends who i stopped hanging out with because he too had a criminal case thanks to th samne snitch.
Ian alsmost died that day. Luckily he and his wife survived with minor injuries. He broke some bones but thats it.
While i was locked up i had a few things that were kinda cool. One of them was a tape player w/ headphones.
Once every 3 months inmates were allowed to have family send in a box of goodies be it food or "clothing."
for the first box i opted to get a clothing box. In it we were allowed to have sweat pants, underwear, t-shrts (only solid colors, no designs or h3tty lot shirts) and among other things tapes.
I wrote my family religously since i had nothing else to do.So one day i wrote moma Burnside to send me some Phish, Grateful Dead, Bob Marley. I knew the pickin's for tapes would be slim so i also asked for old school Dave MAtthews BAnd. Now, i will be the first to point out that Dave sucks balls now, but back in the days when Jerry was still alive Dave and company put out a few solid albums. In musical discussions i will always admit that Crash was a perfect album. It was also their dimise but i digress.
So one sunny summer day in the pen i recieved my box. Along with some shorts that i'd been dying for, and soome new undies which were cruicial i got a nice selection of tapes.
Lets see, in my box i got Farmhouse, Picture of Nectar, Crash, Remember two things, Skeletons in the closet, and a two tape set of Bob Marleys Greatest hits.
It was a start. When i wasnt working out (which i did everyday, sometimes twice a day), reading books, or working in the prison kitchens dish tank, i was laying on my bunk and day dreaming to Bug, or Piper, or Tweezer Reprise.
Bug has always been a favorite song of mine. But during my stay in the joint the entire album of Farmhouse beccame a portal to another world. One where peace flowed fluently from the mountain tops or whatnot.
I cant tell you how deeply i would seep into Gotta Jibbo or Piper.
Dirt became my soul source for that feeling one gets when they fall in love.
My bunkee at this prison (the second one i had been to. this is 3 months into my sentence btw)was a young black man name Jew-El. Jew-El had been locked up for 8 years or so at this point. He grew up in the inner city of Cleveland. Life is hard. If some one tells you differenty they need hog tied, covered in flesh eating jello, and pointed and laughed at as canabalistic clowns to odd things to their balls.)
Jew-El was serving time for an armed robbery he and a couple of his friends did. As wrong as an action like that is,(and it is very worng, dont get me wrong) sometime drastic measures must be taking to survive.
I was actually rather lucky to have Jew-El be my bunkie. He was a well respected member of the inmate population. Jew-El and i lived in a dormatory with 350 of our closest "friends". IN our dorm there were 5 rows of bunk beds. A common thing to do among inmates was to "knock Boxes." this basically just meant breaking into someones box and stealing all of their food and personal items.
Because Jew-EL was my bunkie no one broke into mine.
Jew-El was a cool cat. I didnt even mind that he hated all white people and looked at me as a white devil.
All my life i have hung out with different ethnicities. Being different is normal to me. I love being the only white person in a room. It gets me off at how well i can communicate with people.
The thing is though. Although i am used to other types of people, other people have never really met some one like me. Im not rascict, or homophobic. Im not a white gangsta wanna be and yet i kick it unabashedly with hardcare gangbanders. I am sorta intellegent,and sometimes well spoken. Then throw in the fact that im a PHISH KID who is doing time for hard core drug dealing. This often times just fliped inmates wiggs.
There are some bad mother fuckers in prison. The particular prison was a medium security prison. I was classified as a minimum securtiy threat from the get go. I was often told that i didnt belong locked up. what ever. I was. And i made the best of it.
Have you ever drank a foxy? Or eaten a break? If you have , then you've probably been locked up b4.
A foxy is a drink basically made by mixing kool-Aid and Coffee. Its desinged to get you high on cafine and sugar. There are alot of diverse and grand recipes to a good foxy.
Mix in some cocoa, root beer, and a jolly rancher and you might be culinary genius.
A break is when several inmates all throw in different food items into one big mixture and share amongst each other.
This is when you bond. tell stories, or how i was taught, when you "build."
When you "build" with someone you are basically just rapping, sharing stories. In essence you are building on each others knowledege.
I hung out with some crazy mother fuckers at this prison. One particlar night i will never forget. I was building with Half balck half arabic Muslim, and a white neo-nazi who had aids, anda huge swastika tatooed on his chest. I dint not like the neo-nazi at all. But my muslim friend seemed at ease to talk with him so who was i to stir up trouble. I made sure i stayed far away from trouble. Being raped was not something i was trying to experience.
It was around 1 or 2 in the morning. The regular C.O's (Correctional Officers) that looked over our dorm at night were on vacation. This meant that if you were sly enough you could get off your bunk and quitely bullshit with fellow inmates. (11 pm was lights out normally and no one was alloweed off their bunks)
I was at my arabic buddies bunk several rows away from my own when the neo-nazi came over. I had never seen the two of them talk before. I just sat quietly and listened as they talked about inventive ways to cause terror in the United States.
The plan was as simple this. Have 50 terrorist cells of two or 3 men located in each state. During rush hour the cells would all come out at each states biggest city and open fire on the public with automatic machine guns. SInce suicide missions are part of the dealio dying would not be a set back.
Just think of the madness this would cause. Hundreds of people would die and the United States would instantaniously become a police state.
Scary shit. And to watch this plan hatch in front of me was awe inspiring to say the least.
Have you ever heard of the 5 percenters?
Its an off shoot of the Nation of Islam.
The idea is kinda on point really. kinda.
In the world you have 90% of the populas completely clueless as to what is actually going on with the world. How to live life purely, ie surrendoring to the flow, understanding the Corrupt governments, evil religons, and whatnot.
Then you have 10% left. This small percentile are the people who are semi-enlightened to what life is truely worth as well as aware of how fucked up the world is.
5% of the world know whats going on but choose not to act on their knowledge.
The other 5% are what is called the 5 percenters. They are the chosen few basically, who are given the divine destiny by god to fight injustice in the world.
The only thing about this though, is that the white man is viewed as demons incarnate and all the worlds problems stem from the virus like infestation that is white people. Most if not all of my Islamic friends in prison were 5%'s.
Once again, by just being my Phish lovong self i perplexed them. Good times indeed.
"do you still do anything now? "
I havent eaten L since the trey show at the cleveland state theatre in 2000 or 01,....
I havent eaten boomers for a few years now.
I smoke pot occasionaly as well as drink. But yeah. Pretty much my parting days are over.
-----------------------------
"it seems like you were moving a lot of L, did u know somebody that produced it? "
nope. But my kidz were getting it from Cali and im pretty sure the mob was involved some how. More than that though i dont know. I made sure not to ask to many questions.
------------------------------
cburns how old were u when u went to jail?
» cburnside • Mon Jul 31, 2006 12:48 AM
I was 21 when i first steped into the sterile dungeon that is prison. I wasnt a well traveled man. I was a kid. I'd only known love once. I had never gone away to college. I only knew a fraction about what life had to offer. And i was scared out of my fucking mind.
The set looked like this:
Set 1. Sentencing > 10 days of jail*> Lorain County Correctional Facilities > Boot Camp Fake Out > Lancaster> Mansfield CC > Freedom
* denotes me getting my head cracked in due to an inmate whoe wanted my lasagna and i refused to give it to him.
The Boot Camp fake out will be explained later, but it indeed was only a well crafted tease.
nope. But my kidz were getting it from Cali and im pretty sure the mob was involved some how. More than that though i dont know. I made sure not to ask to many questions.
I turned 22 on July 6, 2002.
I had been locked up for 5 months by this time. The tunnel of time wasnt looking so bleak anymore. I was stuck in the middle but basically just surrendered myself to the flow of things. Amnsesia was a way of life.
Each day i turned myself into A_Day_Old_Amnesiac. (may become my new sn...lol)
I had fun. I wont lie. 90% of my time locked up was me laughing, and joking, and just feeling at ease with the situation. It was pointless to beat myself up. So i just let go.
Every inmate wears a badge on his uniform. It consists of a picture, inmate id number..mine was 423-166 ( i think.), and date of birth.
When Late June rolled around i wised up to the idea of recieving an honorary beat down on every inmates birthday. So i just turned my badge around so no one would happen to see i was turning 22 in a few days.
I had made a few friends since i had moved to Lancaster Prison. One day while in line at the mess hall, a C.O noticed my badge was turned around. This was a no-no, but i had gotten away with it for awhile some how.
This cocky piss of shit not only made me turn it right side up, but happily pointed out to my buddies standing behind me that my birthday was in 2 days. Oh how they enjoyed that tid bit of knowledge.
"What were you doing the summer of 2002?
Did you go see TAB that summer? were you kicking it on Biscuit tour?
Did you go to the first ever Bonnaroo?"
Not me. I worked out to relieve stress. I did push up after push up to prove myself worthy to inmates who might otherwise have beat me and robbed me for my last twinkie or Little Debbie.
I slaved away countless hours scrubbing row after row of grease corroded baking pans.
And on the eve of my 22nd birthday, i prepared for an ass whooping like none i had ever seen before.
It was all a game to everyone. No one was going to try and kill me. They weren't going to punch me in my face, or kick me in the balls, or break any bones. But they were going to get their licks in.
The day came and went like every other day. I did my bit. Lucky me my birthday was going to be on a saturday. At Lancaster we were allowed to have our weekeneds free of certain hassles. We were allowed off our bunks until 2am. They also showed us the newest movies which played on the TV's in each dorm's hang out area.
Since prison's have so many inmates that have to be accounted for at all times, everyday before breakfast, lunch, dinner, and lights out every prisoner was forced to be at their bunks for count.
On this day, the last count before late night free time was from 11:30pm to 12:00am.
I had been told that once the clock struck midnight, i was in for a world of pain.
Man, prison was a fucking ball. ;-)
whose got sum headies?
It was at times like this i wish i could have listened to some Ween.
Boognish would have helped me prepare for the paradoxical funkyness that is life.
Oh well, i think i listend to some Bob Marley instead.
Strike the Iron when it is hot, right?
Our prison was very clean when it came to drugs. No pot (the reason behind this will probably be explained later.), no pharmies. And thank god no Herion.
What i did have were 800 mg Tylenols. I used to eat these on the days when i had worked out to much and felt like shit.
I dont remember how many i ate before count. Definetly more than 3.
I drank my foxy to get amped. Quietly i laughed to myself as count went on.
Not everyone in my dorm was going to join in on the fun. Only those who i had formed bonds with. So basically everyone in my row. lol. Im a cool kid, what can i say.
When count was over, the C.O announced over the P.A that we could get off our bunks.
Instantly i jumped off my bunk and made a dash for the hang out area where i would have been safe from the beat down.
Nope. Not going to happen.
My bunk was located in the middle of the row so i had a ways to run to freedom.
i think i might have made it 2 bunks past my own before my path closed in on me with inmates all around.
At first i just felt punches coming in at me from all directions. I did my best to fire off blows of my own at anyone within my reach. It felt good to hit someone as hard as i could. It didnt feel good to be jumped on by 10 or so "buddies".
When they realized that the fiesty little hippy wasnt going out like a punk, my bunkiee Jew-El and a few other long timers picked me up and took me to a near by bunk. They held me down as i was tortured.
Someone lifted up my shirt to expose my stomach. One after another took turns at slapping my stomach as hard as they could. I was still squirming like the coil of Iccarus so others were still forced to punch me from the sides.
This went on for what felt like an eternity. God fucking damn did it hurt.
When all was said and done they let me up. I was screaming not like a bitch, but more like a tribal son who had to pass some ritual to become a man.
Well whatever. It sucked. Afterwards though my real birthday began.
Nothing special happend after the ritualistic beating. I ate a h3tty break with some of my friends. Drank on some finely crafted foxes to celebrate my violent rebirth in life.
I was congratulated on my beating. Smiles were easy to come across that night. It was a birthday in prison. One without the burdens of drug addiction, fear, or the longing for salvation.
I had a few friends who would write me once a week. Everday when the mail came, the glossy look of a child on christmas eve could be seen in the eyes of prisoners hopeing, waitng for a hello from the real world.
A letter saying "I love you." , "I miss you." or just "What's up!?" was enough to give a weary mans battered spirit a burst to continue living.
It was two weeks after my birthday and i hadnt recieved a letter from my friends for about a month. I was sad, confused, just kinda blue from the thought of being finally forgotten after all these months.
Mail call came and i heard my name called. My parents hooked me up with a subscription to USA today. This made me very popular amongst the sports fans in the joint who placed bets on whatever sport was going on that moment.
Along with my newspaper i recieverd a letter from my friend T.J.
T.J is the kid who i met while working at Bob Evans when waitng for the ax to fall on my neck. I had been waiting for his happy brithday letter since we both shared the same brithday.
I dint care what the reason was that it had taked so long. I was just to happy to get a letter.
I opened it and began hastingly reading it as i walked to my bunk.
The letter began with an apology for him not writing. Then he said that it was because he had bad news and didnt know how to say it. In fact, he and the other 2 friends from my resturaunt click all stoped writing me because none of them knew how to tell me the news.
So they voted, and T,J, being my best friend was picked the one to tell me.
I stoped walking to my bunk. My eyes darted to the next sentence. This is when i found out that a the girl i liked had been killed in a car accident on the 4th. My heart stoped. My skin went cold.
I wanted to cry. I really honestly did. But i couldnt. I was....just.....numb. Completely dead inside.
My relationship with the universe is anything but religous. I "killed God" with philosphy and logic before i went to prison.
At this moment i just asked "Why?" This girl was nothing if not innocent. With a beautiful smile and a friendly disposition. She was the last person "God" needed to kill to make the world right.
And here, for no reason other than a the stray flight of a bumbling buzzing bee, she died.
It was either that same day or the next, (my memory is a little foggy from the shock i think) that i found out that i was being transfered to a new prison closer to home.
I didnt care. I no longer knew how to care anymore. I was just......alive.
Ever see a grown man cry? I have. Well kinda, since i couldnt actually see myelf crying. It was on the scariest day of mine young life.
The first prison i was locked up in was Lorain Correctional Institution.
LCI is a maximum security prison whose main perhaps is to handle the influx of new prisoners into the prison system. Pretty much everyone who is going to prison in Northern Ohio goes to LCI until being shipped off to their parent institution. Columbus has a similar prison for the southern half of this fucked up state.
LCI is a max joint because of all the different types of newbie prisoners. Murderers, rapiest, drug dealers, DUI cases, simple prohbation violaters. YOu name it, they have it.
The max status is to ensure the safety of everyone. Maximum security basically means that everyone spends 23 hours a day locked up in a very small cell with a cell mate. The other hour is spent eating. By law, inmates are required 3 or 4 hours a week of physical activity. So twice a week we had a glorified adult resess.
The second scariest day of my life was when i was transfered from jail to LCI.
3 days prior to being shiped off i had been in a fight with a jailmate. He wanted my food. I said no. Before i could tink twice he punched me in my face, sending my head crashing into the cement wall. In a haze i reached behind my head to find blood on my hand. The CO in the room aprehended the inmate. I was in shock at how quickly it all happened.
When the dude punched me his fist just so happened to break my glasses into several pieces.
What ever happened to not punching a guy with glasses? lol.
I have very poor vision. I've worn glasses since i was in 2nd grade. Im not blind, but without my glasses all i see is a world of puddled colors blending into one another, as shadowy figures dance about the picasso-esque scene.
I couldnt get new glasses until i was at LCI. Stupid rules and whatnot.
So on the day my bus shipped out to the first prison id every come to know, i was mostly blind, and scaried out of my wits. I tired to bottle it up inside, but there was no denying i was nervous as all hell.
Funny thing is, an old school buddy of mine from high school was in the same holding cell with me at jail. Dylan was a cool kid. A tweaker who loved raves, girls and drugs. He was doing time for drugs just like me.
We were shocked and pleasantly surpised that we'd be riding off to prison together. Having him there with me settled a good majority of my fears.
I still couldn't shake the terrorfying images of prison movies from my my mind though. My imagination kept picturing a large field of roaming killers waiting to make me their bitch.
The HBO show Oz was very popular the year b4 i went away. God how i hated that show. But i couldnt help but watch it.
LCI is located in Grafton,Ohio. I lived with my parents in Grafton 5 minutes away from the prison. In my hay day of kedomine laced benders, it was very common for friends and i to smoke nuggets and do key bumps of K as we sailed past the prison in my 89' Camero.
I never thought i would wind up living there. When i looked out my cell's window i could quite grasp at how close i ws to my old world, and yet stuck in the middle of a New World Order like society where Big Brother is watcing my every thought.
It played out in my mind as if Armegedon had finnally arrived on Earth, and the Anti-Christ had restrutcted society to fit his evil morbib fancy.
Mandatory Minimum for drug laws means exactly that. It is mandatory by law to serve your entire sentence. Im a slacker who hates doing what im told, so looked for ways to scam my way out earlier.
The only way i could find was Boot Camp. Boot Camp is an intesive rehabilation program geared to beat the god loving shit out of each and every prisoner that is within its grasp. Im not a marine, so i wont compare the two, but Prison Boot Camp is far from an easy time. Regular prison is much chiller. MUCH.
I hated the fact that my Mom was doing the time with me in her mind. I Know everyday she woke up her thoughts were corrupted by the idea's media gives about prison.
During the first week of orientation inamtes who were eligdible to sing up for boot camp did so. I knew i wasnt elidgible because of my mandatory time but i figured why not try to slip through the cracks.
Anything is possible in an infinite universe, right?
So i signed up. Months went by as bus load after bus load was shipped off to Boot Camp. I was fearing that they had caught my glitch and tossed my aplication into the dumpster.
At 4am on a a cold thrusday mornining i do believe in March, my name was called to pack up my belongings and hit the road to Lancaster for Boot Camp.
I was so happy. I had been working out everyday for 8 or so months by this time. I statred working out when i knew i ws for sure giong to prison. I refused to snitch, so i went Arnold on the situation. I am by no means an Arnold. More like a Shaggy on Creatin.
I was ready to suffer. 90 days of Boot Camp and my mom and dad could be finally at ease. The ride to Lancaster was long, sweaty and boring. I was shackled to a piece of shit prisoner. He stayed in Boot Camp for 2 weeks before getting kicked out for being the ub3r schwaggyness that he was.
I stayed in boot camp for one night.
The stories that i heard about the Prison at Lancaster were terrorfying. There was a riot there in the 90's which was demonic from what old school inmates at LCI said.
Lancaster was the "kids" prison. They sent all the 18 year olds and whatnot there to do there time. The younger the inmate, the more unpredictable he is. Kids dont handle pressure well. So morbid violence was the status qou.
I was told adimently by people i trusted and respected that should i ever go to Boot Camp, i HAVE to do whatever it takes to make it all the way through. If i didnt, they woould ship me "up the hill" to Lancaster C.C.
My bunkiee at LCI told me i would be eaten alive there. Lancaster was no place for a hippy. I was seriously petrified by the thoughts that ran through my imaginative brain.
When i arrived at Boot Camp the INstructors immediately made it their soul priority to fuck with me as hard as they could. They yelled at me, made me do embaressing things in front of my other prisoners. It ws hell i tell you. Hell.
When night fall came, i was soOo happy to finnaly shut my eyes and rest.Around 6 or 7 am we were all rudely awoked by our morning drills.
"do this, dont do that. Give me 20. Dont look at me!. You are all worthless pieces of shit. No one here is going to make it. They'll rape your sweet white ass when i ship you off to the hill."
And thats all of the nice things. The rest is a blurr that i dont want to recall.
After our first drill, my name was called. They told me that i wasnt elligdeable for boot camp. Seemed that someone at LCI had made a mistake. I ahd to go up the hill.
I heard whispers as i walked out of the boot camp facility about how i wasnt going to make it a day before becoming som derrange mad man's bitch.
As i carried my 50 lb lock box of belongs up the hill to Lancaster i uncontrollably sobbed to myself. I cursed and i prayed. This was hands down the scariest day of my life.
As i entered the prison yard, i walked down a city like street. There were old plantation looking buildings all around. It seemed as if i had just entered the city of lost souls. The same hushed whipers echoed around me.
"That boy is ging to die."
Inmates whistled at me. "Hey pretty thing."
I was fucked. With nowhere to hide. No hole to crawl into i marched unwillingly towards my doom. I tried to be a man about it. I did. But i cryed to myself. As tears strolled down my face i quietly asked myself, What have i done?
::ques ONce in a lifetime by the Talking Heads::::
BTW, As the stories went, The inmates started off there as kids. But they grew more deranged as their bits wore on. So it started out as a kids prison in the early 90's, but slowly turned into a slice of hell in the side of a beaurtiful hill is Ohio.
Most people are not ok, but they're taking their siestas in the sun
Got some ideas on the way it should be
But most of 'em just carrying on
Happy colored marbles that are rolling in my head
I put 'em back in the jacket of the one I love
Carry that velvet sack full of pretty colored marbles
I'll ask you for em back when im ready and done. ;-)
The more that i live on this rock, the more i realzie that in order for your dreams to come true you must first face your nightmares.
Boo.
Did i scare you?
When i entered the dormitory that i would be spending a good chunk of my time in my hands were shaking from fear. My skin was chilled by the sweat that had formed and then touched the cool breeze of early March.
My eyes felt as if they were dipped in the eternal darkness of a zombies preternatural twilight. Everything seemed covered in dust and shadows.
I looked around and saw an area foriegn and mysterious. Inmates bounced around freely like the pets of a sadistic Alien Hive.
(cue Perry Farrell singing "We'll make great pets! We'll make great pets.")
I did my best to gain composure as i made my way to my bunk. If i thought the first area i had seen was dark, my eyes were once again subjected to an erie twilight. The area where the bunks were located looked, felt, and smelled like a factory where human lives where bought, sold, and packaged for over night delivery.
Weird looks and ominous glances darted my way.I stuck out like a sore thumb in a pinky toe convention.
I unpacked my bed sheets and made my bed. I placed my lock box underneath my bunk. I ws located in the very middle row of the dorm. This was the orientation row where noobie inmates were stored until a permanent spot was found. I was a dusty can of unwanted pea's that had sat so long on the stores shelf that i had been sent back to the manufacture for a proper burial.
This was my pea's grave yard. I was the pea, and everyone else around me were giants walking in the slumber of the dreaming Argus. My nightmare slowly eroded away into a quiet panic.
The light slowly crept back into my eyes. The corners where shadows once dwelled now only possessed pockets of dust and cigerette buts. The hang out area which at first seemed a crazy zoo now mellowed into the cultured chill spot of incarserated philosophers and gangbanging conspirators.
The dream like dormitory with its muderess hue now vibrated with life as organic as a park in New Jersey. Not quite hell, just a step to the left and up a tad bit up in the dimensional vortex.
That night came and went. My eyes struggled to close from fear of the nightmares once again taking shape. Eventually though my body gave in and i sliped into my own dreamscapes.
Behind any pair of eyes lyes the possiblity of a thousand heroic tales. The crusty old man behind the counter in the mess hall may possess the secrets of a hidden treasure stashed securly away from the worlds greedy grasp.
The transvestite that glances fearsome looks of uncomfrotable reality towars you could be the one who saves you from a deadly beating.
A million and one tales spun its web thick with these prison walls.
The spiders of imagination danced elegantly between fact and fiction.
The venom from their teeth was welcomed poison in the veines of tired, lonely men. Board so far past tears that their sandy eye sockets looked liked dryed up wishing wells from fairy tales to real to actually tell children at night.
The clock ticked,..and ticked....and ticked......
There once was a man i knew named The Hammer.
The Hammer was a 6'5'' 260 lb bald white man who was among other things an ex-leg breaker for the Detroit Mafia. He was the prison's bookie. The only bookie there. He was a very succesful man both in and outside of prison. he also was the h3tty connection for this joint.
I met him one day when he pimpish approached me in a cool, sophisticated manner. The man nothing but cool. And extremely intellegent. If not for his deeply rooted prejudices against everyone not white i may have still been friends with him today. It could of been fun. ;-)
He wanted to rent my sports section from me. He said he would pay me (i forget how much..but in prison terms, it was a generous offer) to use see it every day before anyone else did. I agreed and our friendship began.
He used the paper to make the lines for all of his sports bettings. I helped him make money. he gave me money. But besides this, he gave me a friendship that i still happily look back on.
One day the Hammer and i were joking around about music. he knew i was a Phish head and jokingly fucked with me about it. We made abet.
He said that Phish had never had an album go platnum. I thought for sure that Alive One had eventually reached that mark and so i took the bet. A few days later i found out that Mike and the boys nad yet to reach that mark.
So in turn, i let the hammer use my USA today for free. I really didnt loose anything since i honestly didnt need the money. Because of that though i gained more of his trust. We ate the best breaks in the joint. He got food in that no one else good dream of. He was the only person that i ever seen get full colored tatoo's in prison. Through one of his conections he got really expensive tattoo ink snuck in. The sleaves that i watched appear on his arms slowly over a few weeks is still to this day some of the coolest tatoo art i have ever seen.
As time went on, Hammer clued me in on the pot situation. Before i had arrived to Lancaster, he had pot regularly delivered to him everyone few weeks. He told me it wasnt no dirty brown break weed either. H3tty's he assured me.
Sometime prior to me arriveing his connection (a dirty C.O) became hesitant to continue doing his part. The prison ha caught to many inmates with pot. The had their suspitions that Hammer was the man behind it all.
As time went on, the heat on him died down. Soon, he assured me we would have headies to smoke. He told me i would be able to be amnog the few that got dib's. I was excited. getting stoned sounded soOOOo good to me.
"cburns, did you have this written down already? Just curious... "
naw magpie. Im writing from the top of my head. Thanks for thinking i had writen this earlier. Definetly be less mispelled words. ;-)
You guys have to remember, i had nothing to do for a year but write. Ive been a semi-writer my entire life.
Im definetly feeling more comfortable now too. thanks for all the encouragement.
if my writing style gets better. its all because of your kind words and open ears.
Money between me and the hammer flowed fluently back and forth. I helped him, he hepled me. Since the prison staff had supsionsions of him running among other things, the pot ring, they had frozen all of his assets.
When someone is locked up they are allowed to have a bank account where family members on the outside can deposit money. No actually money was ever allowed intro the hands of prisoners. But come on now. A prison full of criminals. Do you honestly think we didnt have some form of currency? ha.
The main form of currency at LAncaster were packs of Black and Milds. Since they were the most easily tranferable item we had, it made alot of since. Also, and just as importantly EVERYONE loved freaking a mild and building over a well tuned foxy.
Hammer and I worked out a deal. I help him buy food from the commercery, (which was a glorified prison grocery store. equiped with long lines, window shopping, and yes, Moosetracks ice cream.MMmm soOoo good.)and I got first dib's on the headies when they came in.
I had no problem with this. We actually did this for a while. even before we knew exactly when the pot was coming in. He jsut paid me back with the money he made from being the prison bookie.
The pot was supposed to arrive sometime in July. When the second week of the month came around, i was given the news that the shipment should be coming anyday.
Right around the time when my mouth was salivating at the thought of kicking back and being one of a very select few in the prison stoned via the endocannabinoid receptor system, i got shipped off to my next correctional institution.
The Hammer still owes me $20 to this day.
Durning the week that followed, while i was off at a rather cozy minimum securtiy prison relativly close to my family, Lancaster prison broke out into a rather bad riot.I never received contact from any of my friends for the duration of my stint.
A few months after i was free, the Hammer did manage to track me down and called me at my parents house. That though is too far ahead to jump just quite yet.
Ok., before we make the segue from Lancaster to Mansfield CC, i want to trick out a funky lil segue ala tDB and Brothers Past.
All my life i have been longing to write an epic piece of lyrical genius that would prance upon the joyous melodies of mad scientist muscicians. It wont happen but i really wanted that when i was a kid. So i used to write, and write , and write..nonsencial rant after poetic plea after..etc.......this passion helped me get through alot of things in my life.
Depression, drug dealing, waiting for the axe to fall, and then actually staring at the melting clocks of prison life....everyone has a dream.
anyway, i had this myth..this funky lil narative that i focused MOST of my writing on. lol. cant believe im telling this...
ok..the story was called Mops and other funky things. The main character was Chunkey Monkey, who left babylon wiht his dog named "Shadow of my mind".
You see, Chunkey was tired of life in his society. And he longed for a better way of life. One day, he heard the faint vibration of a melody he had never heard. He knew right then that he had to follow it to a new destiny.
So he and his dog, Shadow of my mind, went on a jounery. As they followed the piper like muse, the humm grew louder and louder. Until it was not nolnger just a humm, or a simple vibration. But a full on symphony. But that was just the beginning.
The followed the song through a Forest, that bled into a jungle, that bled into a desert. And in the middle of the desert, afer miles and miles of nothingness, was a Oasis. And in the middle of the Oasis was a wishing well. IN the clouds above the oasis lived the source of the melody Chunkey had been following. Her name was Thumplemix Snagelbe Baduce, and she was an oracle of light....(im so lame i know.)
Anyway,
Along there way they came across a funky little village in the forest where they met two elfs named Finkle Dink and Dank....(lol.and i know, i know,..i was a triped out dreaded out wook. what can you excpect.)
ONe day, while i was at lancaster, i was sitting in a circle of young, 20 someting black men. I was the only white dude there, but thats besides the point.
We were smoking milds, drinking foxies, and each person in the circle took turns rapping. I watched and listened. Having a ball. Until suddenly it was my turn to rap.
Now, i have nothing against rap per say although the commercializde of it makes me ill to my stomach. But pure hip hop is dope. Vastaire, Canabol Ox,The Roots, Common, Aesop Rock.. these are some cool cats.
Actually it is called Mops and other funky Idea's. but whatever....lol
"I know you already apologized for it, but damn, you cant spell to save your life bro! I too was a terrible speller until I was about 24, by then I had read enough books to notice that the words I would write didn't look the same as the words I have read. Again, thanks for your ongoing saga of incarceration. Now go get your shine box!"
Yeah. I cant spell. And the fucked up thing is i have read alot of books in my life. From Dean Koontz, Stephen KIng, to Jakck Kerouac, Tom Robbins, the entire Hitchhikers Guide to the galaxy saga, to everything ive read to get a bachelors degree, and much more.
But i still cant spell. Honestly though, when i write, the last thing i care about is spelling or punctuation. I think that was the true purpose behind the whole stream of concousness saga of american lit. It was to free up the mind from the consrtaints that make people feel inadequate at their attempts of aquireing dreams.
as much as people give trey flack for his flubs, i can totally sympathise with him. When you're doing something ad lib, from your soul, in front of any size of an audience, mistakes are going to be made.
But as long as the vision that is inspiring the artistic moment is clearly communicated, than that artist has succeeded at what they were striving for.
Which is facilitating the communication between many different people the essence of a moment they all share.
Like, for me..i
