Behind the walls

Writings of a wandering mind

To be alone

Posted By in Solitude

To be alone

If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.

I’m here, on his rainy Monday, listening to an Armin Van Buuren CD. Attempting to do so. My trusty friend, Webster, sits idly by to help correct my functional illiteracy. The pod is almost empty. The quiet conversations are a dull hum, easily muted by the loud music thumping my skull and removing me somewhat. At this distance I can find some semblance of solitude.

Until some ass attempts to gather my attention with banal gestures and worse humor. He is quickly dismissed with a reproachful glare, so I might continue.

I wanted to stay in my cell but it is too warm and humid. The air just tight enough to stifle breath and thought, sitting in sweat. Besides, my cellie is constantly there, and I like to be where he is not.

Going mad

Most people here generally irk the hell out of me. I don’t know if it’s them or me. I’m constantly thinking of one thing to another. A sort of drifting attention, walking thought, segue from one thought, project or story to another. This usually gets me involved to the point where I can lose myself in it. This depth brings all of the associated emotion with he thought. I wonder at times if this is some sort of strong empathy – associated or otherwise. Or am I slowly driving myself mad? Could this be a reflection of intellect, or lack there of? I don’t know. That is for people far wiser than I to decide. I’d like to think you are one such person, hence the question I pose.

The reason I mention any of this is because of my general mood. The empathy I mention calls the emotion, which changes my mood like someone changing masks. And into the funk I fall. Insanity is often described as doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result. Am I so different? Are any of us?

Time alone

I try to find “alone” time here, which is akin to diamond mining with a pick and a purpose. I wonder if I should do what Stef used to do in New York. Do you remember her stories? An attractive young hopeful in a large, strange city, she would attract the attention of men. Haggard or polished, they would boldly approach. To combat this, our sister would put on her headphones (with or without music piping through) and sing to the song as LOUDLY AS SHE COULD. Thus chasing away anyone, blending in with the insanity of the city and staying safe, alone. There is a simple genius to that. Ah, but I can only carry my CD player to so many places.

Maybe I should stop bathing? I could eat lots of garlic, onions, Thai-noodles. Stop brushing my teeth. Nope, that won’t work. I hate being dirty unless I’m working, playing sports or otherwise allowed to be, given the current activity. So that’s out.¬†Facial tattoos are a bit extreme. Not to mention permanent. I dunno….

If I vocalize all thought and dribble like I have a hole in my lip, I’ll be chemically lobotomized with the cheapest state drugs. Only to build up a dependency and then be abruptly yanked off the drugs almost as quickly as I was put on them. No, that won’t work either.

A dog

Well, it would seem I am here to chew on my mind and the thoughts that leak out like a dog gnawing a bone for the marrow. Same tenacity too, I might add. Come to think of it, dogs and I have many a thing in common. Another tirade for another day.

And so now, after reading over my dribble I am reminded as to why I don’t write. I’ve got nothing good to say, interesting or otherwise. It’s the same self-loathing macabre crap, dwelling on the gruesome, frayed, emotional madness that wanders my mind like a tumbleweed through the desert.

Invitation to escape

Well, since the damage has been done, I might as well continue. You, on the other hand, need not continue. So in light of the fact that you have already lost several minutes of your life, which you’ll never get back, you may put the paper down, smile, nod and back away slowly if that makes you feel better. God knows I’d like to do that. I wouldn’t make eye contact with myself. It only potentially instigates a situation. I would distract me with a shiny object or television show before quickly and quietly slipping away.


Image: 2007 overcrowded California prison (HuffPo)

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