Prison System

Norman Mailer writes in his moving introduction to the novel In the Belly of the Beast, “Prison was an infernal machine of destruction, designed for the Dispose-All anus of a prodigiously diseased society.”

I’m reading a book by a man in an American jail, Jack Henry Abbott. His letters to Mailer were published in what has ended up being Abbotts memoirs: an amazing blow-by-blow recount of a life inside.

A LIFE.

From his 17th birthday to his 43rd, and counting. This man has been continually institutionalised and reinstitutionalised for reasons sometimes no more dangerous than spitting in a guard’s face, and at other times as violent as killing a man while defending himself against a knife.

I’m up to chapter: THE HOLE: Solitary Confinement. Abbott was sentenced to twenty-nine days in the hole for breaking an officers arm, which quickly became fifty-eight days when he poured a glass of water onto another guards uniform.

It’s disgusting. It’s inspiring. It’s making me want to learn more about it, and change the world. I want to punish the guards that have their violent way with the men Inside. I want to stop the Starvation Diet, and Drug Therapy.

I want to finish this book, first of all, and find out if they’ve let Jack Henry Abbott out yet.

I feel like I might be back, actually. I feel like I might be ready to pour script from finger tips again. I’m seeing coloured descriptions of my reality as I’m walking around, I’m seeing words, passionate descriptions about things I’m looking at, all the time. I’m actually reading a book for fucks sake. I actually have time, and subconscious peace, to read a book.

I’m enjoying my day at home today. It’s one of only two days that I’ve had at home alone in nearly six months. I’m going to enjoy sleeping alone, and waking up alone tomorrow morning.

Going from living by myself in a one bedroom flat for half a year, to immediately moving into this house, sharing every part of my life with three other (lovely) people and a best friend who stays with me in my bed two nights a week … has made it very, very hard to find time for myself.

It’s been very nice today though. I woke up at a friend’s house, came home, unlocked the door, got changed, cleaned the house, watched a movie, and soon, I’ll go to bed.

That’s my life. That’s what I like my life to be. It’s becoming apparent that the city is very hectic.

Future Considerations

I’m beginning to wonder about the order of things.

To Canada in ‘10, or to university again. Two dreams, two options.

Both options are of equal importance to my future, and my happiness. I suppose a voice of reason would try to convince me to take on a uni degree, finish my education before I take on the world. But time’s running out. I won’t be young enough to gain a UK working visa forever. It’s just for the under 25s, right?

Then again, if I’m an accomplished film producer I wouldn’t need the security of a working visa to make my stay in the UK seem feasible. I could just hire a hotel for a while and see the sites. Small time retail and bar work was never my forte, anyway.

I was just reading about the Australian film industry in the Courier Mail and found myself reconsidering again my move to the great Canadia. I was so sure, I’m always so sure, that the move is the best option.

But I think I’m settling in here.

Hard to believe, I know. I’ve been light-footed and mobile for so long, tripping over my own wake to get to the next short term goal.

But I like this house, and I like the people I live with. And the people around me. And the people I work with. And my job, and the place I’m from, and the dreams I have, long term.

I might have finally accepted my long term future as reasonable. More importantly, I’m beginning to see them as achievable, without the need for spontaneous everything-uprooting, every three months. Maybe I can own a car, and buy furniture. Maybe I don’t have to sing songs from my suitcase, and own only what I need, and what’s crucial to my day to day survival.

I even saw purpose, the other day, in buying a toothbrush holder.

Not really a heavy investment, I know.  But it means something to me.

I want my toothbrush on that same bench for a time long enough to justify my buying a suitable holder.

That there means a damn lot, to me, actually, if we’re being honest.

ATA Double-page-spread

Dave tapped me on the shoulder.

I turned around, “Yes?”

“ATA double-page-spread,” he said.

I blinked.

Dave leaned forward.

“ATA double-page-spread…?” He said again.

“I’ll ask Vicki,” I shrugged, attempting to appear in the know.

I picked up the phone.

…*ring ring*

Vicki picked up the phone, “Yes?”

“um … ATA double-page-spread, apparently.”

“Oh, Steven,” Vicki said.

“Thanks.”

I hung up the phone and walked over to Steven.

“ATA double-page-spread?”

Steven looks up.

“Jason,” he said.

I walked over to Jason, stood in front of him for a moment, staring at him.

Jason looked up slowly, and removed his headphones.

“…Kate..?” Jason asked.

“ATA double-page-spread?”

“Oh!” He said, “I’ll make the call.”

I looked at Dave. Shrugged.

“Thanks,” Dave said.

I sighed.

“I do what I can.”

And wandered back to my desk.

New Leaf

Something happened. I don’t care any more.

Many circumstantial factors may have come into play here, recent events with lovers, family and friends. I’ve had a mental shift. But it’s not like usual, I’m not buzzing with bi-polar ecstasy, I’m just, calm. Motivated. Directionally okay. I’m working tonight, thrown into servicing the busy end of an Irish bar – in the middle of the Brisbane CBD on a Saturday night – and it’s only my second shift. And I’m okay. I know that I have time. If I need to take thirty seconds to find the TooheysDry button, I will.

On the other side of town, I’m about to lose the job I’ve been working at, comfortably, as a second home, for two years. And to make matters more interesting, I’ve just come into a bit of debt. An electronic error saw me accidentally spend my rent money on my holiday, and the debt collectors for the Civic Video in East Brisbane have finally caught up with me ($105) but, I just don’t care. Time will continue to move forward, and I will continue to find a way through, and on the way, I plan the relax, and smile at just how lucky I am to be alive, with a bunch people around me that care, and would go to the end of the Earth for me.

I have people that dislike me, some recently acquired, some an age old, still threatening to bury their negativity into my psyche. But these days it’s rolling off. I’m deleting your texts as they come in, laughing at how immature you are, and how easy it is to forget. I just don’t care. I’m not going to die, as much as you wish it. I’m not going to thank you for the lessons. Instead, I’m going to laugh at you with my friends and think about how smart I was for leaving you.

I’m walking along the sand, holding hands with myself, smiling at the sunrise.