48) What's up Doc?

The feds returned Doc back to Lompoc today. 

Doc is in his late 50's, but could pass for his early 40's. He's got wavy hair, cut short with just a splash of grey. He's about 5 foot 10 with a muscular build. (Good black don't crack.) Doc was convicted of 5 counts of bank robbery in the 70's and was released to the outside world late 1995 after serving close to 25 years. (I'll say it again, 10 years ain't looking too bad to a nigga now!) Doc knocked on my cell early this morning to cop a carton of smokes. He said Killer Boom sent him. I introduced myself and asked if he wanted a shot of coffee. I made two cups of Joe and Doc and I chopped it up for about a hour. I found out some things about Doc that kind of put in perspective how long he has been incarcerated. 

The last movie Doc
saw before his arrest was, "Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song." One of the hottest songs of the year was, The Jackson 5's "Never Can Say Goodbye." (Doc even sung a little bit of it out loud.)  The must have car of the year for ballers was the Cadillac Coupe DeVille, Nixon was President and Idi Amin took control of Uganda. The fact that this man remembers all of this amazed me. When he saw me taking notes of our conversation he kinda tripped a little. When I explained to him that I was keeping a journal he really opened up to me. I asked him if there was a reason why he didn't make it on the outside. He told me he tried, but there was not much a person can do earning $5.15 an hour. After paying rent, bills and buying food there was nothing left over to put away in savings. He said his felony conviction held him back from all the decent paying jobs and he felt depressed all the time. I felt bad for Doc. 50 something years old and fresh in on an 8 year bid. I've promised myself that I would rather be free, broke, hungry and homeless, than to sit my black ass up in here with a million dollars.

47) WTF!

By 10:30 am I was high as a kite. 

I decided to just chill in the unit until the acid wore off, but the effects were fucking with me big time. Every time a person spoke to me I saw musical notes coming out of their mouth. I kept smelling Smooch's perfume and there was a loud ticking noise that only I could hear. I couldn't come down off of the high for shit! I went back to Budd's cell and we decided to pull out the board game, RISK. We had just started playing when Killer Boom popped up and wanted in, so we started the game over. We discussed every topic under the sun. When the guards called lock down for the night I realized that we had been playing RISK for over ten hours. When I went to my cell for the night I was still frying. I didn't fall asleep until almost 4:00 am. This kind of high ain't for me. No more acid for Hype. Period!!

I heard the cell doors open, but it sounded all wrong. It was at that moment that I realized that only one cell door had opened. The alarm clock read 5:02 am. I jumped off of the top bunk and went to see what was going on. Not to be nosy but to see if the guards were sneaking someone in, or sneaking someone out. Transferring an inmate at this hour raises all kinds of red flags. Four guards and two civilians stood in front of Spiritual's cell. I watched as the guards cuffed Spiritual up and slowly led him away. One of the civilians, an older, grey haired white man said something to spiritual that set him off. I've never seen Spiritual act in an aggressive way since I've known him, but here right before my eyes my nigga Spiritual threw a nutty. He kept screaming, "no, no!" The guards roughed him up a little to put him in check. It didn't take much, since Spiritual is so skinny. By now the whole unit was up and peeking through their little windows... "Who is like El?!! God is with us!!!! God is with us!!!" The way Spiritual shouted these words sent goose bumps up and down my skin. I grabbed my pen and a piece of paper and wrote down everything he screamed.  "77 dates! 77 dates! Who is like El, I give them to you!" These were the last words Spiritual spoke before the guards took him away. Now you tell me if this nigga is crazy or not?

46) The Dark Knight and Superman under attack...

Friday night I gave Budd 2 hits of acid...

We promised to take them first thing Saturday morning, before breakfast. Budd took his first hit about a half hour before me. I took mine while watching cartoons and waiting for the guard to call chow. An hour passed and I still wasn't feeling a thing, so I said fuck it and

took another hit. I went to check on Budd and I knew that nigga was on his journey. Budd was in his room alone. He had a sheet tied around his neck. Not like he was gonna commit suicide, but the way little kids do when they're playing superhero. I knocked on his cell with a big Kool-Aid smile and asked him what he was doing. Budd looked crazy with the sheet and nothing but a pair
of briefs on, but he he invited me in and asked me to have a seat. Right then and there I knew that this nigga was frying. I took a seat on his toilet and Budd asked me who my favorite superhero was. I had to think about it and decided to go with Batman. I chose Batman because he is a character that a kid could aspire to actually be. Okay, he is the best hand to hand combatant on the planet in the comic book world, but his greatest asset is his mind. He's the thinking man's superhero. No superpowers, yet he's still able to compete on the level of a Superman. Budd's favorite superhero of course is Superman. I like Superman and told Budd this, but I think he's a big ass fake. Parading around as Clark Kent like he's afraid to embrace who and what he really is. This escalated into a full blown argument. I guess we were talking really loud because Killer Boom yells up to us, "Can you niggas keep it down? Mother fuckers is trying
to sleep!" Budd walks out side of his cell in his "Superman uniform" and yells back, "Fuck you Boom!" Boom's Favorite superhero must be the Flash, because he made it up to the second tier in about 2.2 seconds. Boom was hotter than fish grease. "What the fuck you say nigga!" I tried to hold Boom back but Budd wasn't helping any. In a voice you would use to communicate with a retarded deaf person Budd says, "I said, Fuck (long pause) You (Long pause) Boom." By now half the tier was watching and Booms rep was on the line. So Boom mushes Budd in the head... HARD! Budd falls back into his cell and I grab Boom and attempt to hustle him away from the scene. I say attempt, because Killer boom is huge! (No homo.) He stands about 5 foot 10, but it's all muscle. I've seen him bench press over 300 pounds easily. So I say to Killer Boom, "Nigga chill! Let me explain what's going on." I tell boom about the acid and that Budd and I are frying. Boom looks at me like, "Nigga
Please!" Budd was not helping the situation any, because he came out of his cell and started squinting his eyes at us. Boom asked Budd, "what the fuck are you doing?" Budd's reply... "I'm cooking your ass with my heat vision!" Killer Boom falls out laughing. HARD! The kind of laugh that makes other niggas laugh without even knowing the joke. So I ask Boom, "you wanna trip nigga?" "Hell yeah!" is all he said. So I take Boom down to my cell and watch him take his hit. Later on Budd and I go to chow together. He keeps repeating over and over, Dude, I'm so fucking frying!" By this time I afraid to leave Budd alone, but I need to go to the yard and handle some business. After leaving the chow hall I decide to take Budd to the yard with me. I figured he'd be a little safer with me, than by himself. We found a nice spot in the middle of the yard and copped a squat on the grass. We didn't speak much but I noticed Budd staring up into the sky. There was a passenger jet leaving a trail of what ever it is jets leave behind. Budd asks me, "Do you think their serving drinks on that plane right now?" "Yeah, probably" I say. Budd tells me that his first time in a plane was when they flew him to Lompoc. He said he was scared as shit. I knew I was frying, but it was at that moment that I started getting that feeling like my skin was alive. My legs and back felt like they were being pricked by a million little needles. I tried telling myself that it was the acid making me feel like this. No need to freak out, Hype. Then I noticed Budd scratching like crazy. His back, his legs and his neck. I asked him what's wrong. And then I noticed... Our dumb asses were sitting on a ant hill. Red ants were tearing my black ass up. I jumped up and realized that hundreds of ants were on me. I freaked.... I tore off my shirt and saw bite marks all over me. I yelled to Budd, "let's go!" I started running toward the metal detector and I turned around to see if Budd was keeping up with me. This nigga Budd had stopped to take off his shirt, his shoes and his pants. He was running behind me with all the items in his hands. But here comes the kicker... The nigga still had his "cape" on. Bud had actually worn the "cape" under his clothes. The whole yard was laughing. I explained to the officer at the metal detector what had happened with the ants and he let me and Budd through without any problems. I ran straight to my cell, grabbed my towel and rushed into the shower. "Superman" was right behind me. (No Homo.)


As I kid I was all for the death penalty...

Growing up in Brooklyn the death penalty was no concern of the courts. If someone fucked with your people you took matters into your own hands... Judge and jury, no stay of execution. All of my views on the death penalty changed the summer of 1984. A few weeks before school let out for summer vacation, my favorite cousin blew trial and got hit with a 5 year bid. That left me at the age of 15 with access to all of his guns. There's a old saying in the hood, "Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it." I've never been a violent person by nature, but I've seen things in my youth that have scared the shit out out of me. I know what people are capable of and if it comes down to your life or mine I'm going to do whatever is necessary to arrange the meeting between you and the Creator. The summer of 1984
started out as a nice one. I was working for a summer youth program and it felt good to have some spending money in my pocket. I remember coming home from work and finding no one home. A few hours later my grandmother and my brother walked in the house. My 12 year old brother's face was bruised badly and he had stitches across the back of his head. He later told me that he and Billy were playing on the roof of an apartment building messing with some one's pigeons. He said the pigeon's owner caught them and beat them up. What kind of sick fuck attacks a 12 year old kid? My blood was boiling. The nigga that put hands on my brother was about to pay in a big way. Later on that night I left the crib with the heater tucked snugly in my pants waist. I went to the apartment building my brother told me it went down at and waited. It wasn't even 10 minutes before I saw my move. Two kids going into the the apartment building with their bikes. They rang the bell and got buzzed right in. I walked right in behind them. I went straight to the roof and waited in ambush. My victim was gonna be easy to spot, since my brother told me he wore a hearing aid. I sat on that roof close to a hour working myself up mentally to do what I felt had to be done, when suddenly the door opened. It was him. I didn't ask any questions. I came from my hiding spot and struck the man from behind with the barrel of the gun. I put everything I had into the blow and watched him drop. Once down, I stomped him savagely. I was like the ghetto version of the Tap Dance Kid. He didn't even try to fight back. Blood was pouring from the back of his head and I could see that his lip had split almost down to his chin. I kept the gun trained on him and asked him one simple question, "You like to beat up kids, huh?" I felt like a wild animal had been let loose inside of me. I placed a knee onto his chest and put the barrel of the gun under his chin. The man began mumbling something over and over. It sounded like he was saying, "Dre's stacked creed." I couldn't understand him and I didn't want to. I struck him with the biscuit a couple of more times for good measure and he yelped out, "Dre's stacked creed, Dre's stacked creed!" This was it. I was about to end a man's life. Tears were pouring down his face and as clearly as possible, for a man in his fucked up condition, he says, "Dre's stacked creed."......My heart stopped. He wasn't saying, "Dre's stacked creed", he was saying, "They attacked me." I removed the gun and he explained to me how he caught my brother and Billy terrorizing his pigeons. He told them to get out of his
building and he wouldn't call the police, but one of them pulled a knife and came at him. The man said he grabbed a board from the pigeon coop and knocked the knife away from one kid and then they both attacked him. He said he kneed one of the kids in the face by accident causing him to fall back into the pigeon coop. A piece of mesh wiring cut into the kids head. The kid that had the knife fled. My brother, head bleeding bolted for the door also. As I looked this man in the eyes I knew he spoke the truth. I left the roof in a sprint, never looking back once. As I went over in my head what had just transpired, I became sick. Physically sick. At the corner of Classon and Monroe I vomited and began to cry. I never mentioned to my brother what happened on that roof that night and it wasn't until many years later that he came clean about the events surrounding his injuries. That night, in the summer of 1984 I had my great epiphany..... ALL LIFE IS PRECIOUS. I'm writing this tonight because I met a nigga earlier today that was sitting on death row. He recently got his sentence reduced to life in prison. And the fucked up thing is at least two people know for a fact that this man is innocent. I just kept imagining the government killing this man and hours later the two witnesses decide to come forward. How would the person (on the government's behalf) that ended that man's life feel, knowing he killed an innocent person?


Budd asked me, "Would you drink a glass of spit, if they let you out of jail

I thought it over and said, "My spit, or someone Else's?"

(Budd)"Your own spit."

(Me) "How much spit are we talking? And is it regular spit or loogies?"

(Budd) "8oz glass of regular spit, but if you throw up it won't count."

(Me) "I'm about to throw up right now. I'd probably have to pass. I don't do spit well."

(Budd) "Would you lose one eye, if they let you out of jail today?"

(Me) "Do I have to poke it out myself?"

(Budd) "Naw, surgically removed."

(Me) "Yeah, I'd lose the eye."

(Budd) Me too...

(Budd)"Would you eat a piece of shit, if they let you out of jail today?"

(Me) "Is it my shit?"

(Budd) "It can be any one's shit you choose.

(Me) "How big a turd?"

(Budd) "Two inches long, but if you throw up it won't count."

(Me) "Yeah, I'd go for the shit."

(Budd, laughing) "You'd eat a piece of shit but you won't drink a glass of spit?"

(Me) "Nigga, I just can't do spit!"

(Budd)"Would you cut your pinkie off, if they let you out of jail today?"

(Me) "With no hesitation."

(Budd) "Yeah, me too."

(Budd)"Would you drink a glass of piss, if they let you out of jail today?"

(Me) "Is it my piss?"

(Budd) It can be any one's piss you choose."

(Me) "how much piss we talking, nigga?"

(Budd) "8oz."

(Me) "Can I have ice in it?"

(Budd, laughing) "Yeah, you can have ice... And a umbrella if you want."

(Me) Nigga, I'm just saying I'd probably have a better chance at keeping it down if it's not all hot and shit."

(Budd) "Okay, 8oz of chilled piss, then."

(Me) "Yeah, I think I could knock out 8 Oz's of MY OWN PISS, for my freedom."

(Budd) "I don't get you, Hype. You'd eat shit and drink piss, but a glass of spit grosses you out?

(Me) "You know what... fuck you Budd!"

NOTE 2 SELF: Never get drunk with Budd again!!!!


Yesterday someone sent me a book in the mail... 

It was John Grisham's, "The Chamber." The odd thing was that I recognized neither the address nor the sender. When I presented the dilemma to Budd he said to,"stop looking into things so deeply. You've got a good book, so enjoy it." So that's what I did. And I must say, The Chamber is a well written piece of literature. 

Last night I dropped the book while lighting a cigarette in bed. Fraction handed the book back up to me on my bunk and I
flicked through it attempting to find the page I was on. That's when I noticed it. It, looked like someone had stuffed 10 single stamps deep into the spine of the the book. I removed the item and realized what "It" was instantly. 10 hits of acid.
I showed Fraction what was hidden in the book and he was like, "Oh shit!" I've taken acid before and I tripped out really bad. I remember cleaning my house from top to bottom. I started at about 4:pm and made it to the kitchen around 11:pm. As I washed the dishes in the sink I kept washing this one glass over and over again. Finally my girl came into the kitchen and asked me what I was doing. I told her I washing the dishes. She bust out laughing and said, "you've been washing that same glass for half an hour." I told her there was a small piece of food on the glass that would not come off. She took the glass from me held it up to the light and said, "That's not a piece of food. It's a crack in the glass." I remember thinking, "this is not the high for me." I gave Fraction two of the hits to do what he wanted, but this weekend Budd and I are gonna fry.