65) From The Frying Pan To The Fire

Something serious must have happened on the yard today...

The guards are releasing a bunch of us from the hole early to make room for the, "newly in trouble inmates." A guard came by my cell right after they served breakfast and told me to, "pack it up!" At first I thought the nigga was fucking with me, but as I listened more closely I could here niggas on my tier talking. The problem with the niggas on my tier is the fact that they are all mostly Mexican. On each side of my cell the occupants are Mexican, and I've never heard any of them speak English. Out of all the excited chatter going on I could only pick out two Spanish words, "negro, and punalada... Whatever happen is definitely bad.



Okay, it's official... I've been ready to leave since breakfast, but my black ass is still here and the guards just served us our lunch... In paper bags! Lunch in paper bags means that the units are already locked down. I really don't give a fuck what happened in the units, right now I just want out of the hole.


I've made it back to Killer K and It's worse than I expected. The Blacks and Mexicans banged it out in the yard earlier. One white boy was injured badly. I heard this from my new cellie, Yohan. Yohan is a Crip and he rocks this long, funny ass fu manchu that somehow, he actually pulls off. He seems to be a little slow to me, but as soon as this lock down is over I'm getting my old cell with Fraction back.

There is a lot of back and forth talk coming from the cells occupied by the whites. Anytime a racial fight cracks off, both sides immediately go to high alert. I'm almost positive shit is gonna hit the fan as soon as the cell doors open. The AB's have to prove a point and they're gonna take it out on the first nigga caught slipping. It won't be me.


64) This Too Will Pass

Thesia has got to be one of the most gangsta bitches to ever walk the Earth's surface. Thesia is my grandmother. Mother of my mother. I received a letter from her today and it really lifted my spirits. She touched on a few subjects, but basically she was telling me to not let this prison stint break me. Instead of ending the letter with a formal personal script, she ended the letter with a quote.... "This too will pass." How gangsta is that?

The funny thing about solitary confinement is that each individual gets to analyze their life from a perspective that a person beyond the walls rarely experiences... Beyond the wall the struggle continues. Niggas still have to hustle to put food on their family's table, niggas still have to hustle to keep a roof over their family's heads, and niggas still have to hustle to keep clothes on their family's back. Providing these things can be stressful to someone on the bricks, but the life of an inmate is stress-free for sure. I think this "stress-free" life is the reason so many people return to prison. As an inmate, you will be housed... As an inmate, you will be fed... As an inmate, clothing will be provided for you. Shit, if they sold pussy in commissary I think mother fuckers would be beating a path to get locked up in this joint.



The light's in my cell came on a few minutes ago. It scared the shit outta your boy. Damn, I need a haircut bad!

I just noticed that the cricket is not chirping anymore. With the lights on I can read while I take a shit. Before the lights came back on I had to lay prone on the floor (No homo) in front of the cell door to get the little bit of light to read or write. The cell looks different for some reason....

Breakfast has come and gone 3 times and the lights are still on. They have not gone off since coming back on. The C.O. came by my cell to gloat. Eight words were all he spoke...
"And the Lord said, Let There Be Light." The word hate does no justice to the way I feel about this mother fucker!

63) Nigga, You Trippin!

There's a cricket in my cell... Maybe it's in the wall. It won't stop chirping and the mother fucker is driving me crazy. I can't even pinpoint where exactly the mother fucker is at. When the shift changes I'm gonna flood my cell with the water from the toilet. That should flush it out... Get it?... Flush it out. I'm tripping... I mean I'm really tripping!

A couple of hours ago I could have sworn I saw my dead grandmother. I'm not talking like "saw her in a dream" type shit. I mean I saw her while I was fully awake. She was standing inside my cell, directly in front of the cell door. She had on grey slacks, those black nurse shoes with the thick rubber soles and a black blouse with a flower pattern on it. She was looking at me with that, "Baby, what have you gotten yourself into look."

Logically I tried to explain what I was seeing, based on on my physical state. Lack of sleep ( due to the fucking cricket chirping all the time), lack of food (due to the fact that I can barely open my mouth), and lack of light (I remember reading somewhere that light deprivation causes depression). I know my grandmother is dead and what I was seeing was not real, but I could not take my eyes off of what I was seeing. I even muttered under my breath, "Your not real."

She just stood there not saying a word and suddenly I became ashamed. This was a shame of Biblical proportion. I could feel my eyes watering up, but I refused to let the tears fall... It was as if I had let her down somehow. I whispered between my teeth that I was sorry and she answered me back... Her words?...


"Hold your head high, child. A wonderful life awaits you."

Instantly I felt this calm come upon me. And then she was gone. As I write this, goose bumps engulf my entire body. Someone, or something... pure and beautiful, outside of this realm of existence is watching over me. I feel it and believe with my entire being!

I've decided to leave the cricket alone. Suddenly the sound has become soothing to me.

62) When Darkness Falls

I hope someday someone gets to read this... 

Especially my son, nieces and nephews. I don't want anyone telling them who, or what I was. This will be my testament.



This is my sixth day in the hole and I still haven't seen a doctor. I can barely open my mouth and my jaw hurts like a mother fucker. Two days ago I ripped my bed sheet and made this... "thing" to hold my jaw in place.
Basically the torn sheet runs from under my jaw, up the sides of my face and tied to the top of my head with a knot. I know I look crazy, but what the fuck am I suppose to do? I can't chew solid food so my diet consists mostly of milk. Most days I don't even eat. I did 500 sit ups and 500 push ups today. Go Mike!




I started writing a pilot for a TV show today. It's a twist on Gilligan's Island. I've always loved that show, but there was always shit that baffled me.

  • Why did Mr. and Mrs. Howell have so much cash on them? It was only a three hour tour.
  • If the Howell's were so rich why didn't they have their own yacht?
  • I know Ginger was a movie star, but why in the fuck was she wearing an evening dress and high heels on a three hour cruise?
  • What movie star travels without an entourage?
  • All that time together and nobody knows the Skipper, the Professor or the Howell's first name?
  • Are you telling me that there was no fucking going on? Mary Ann, with that plump lil butt was not getting dicked down?
  • Who in their right mind would pick Gilligan as a first mate?

I could go on, but you get the picture. Instead of a boat I've decided to fill the island with plane crash survivors. And yes, there are black people on the plane. My twist is that there are already people living on the island, but they do not want to be found out. I call these people, "The Islanders." The Islanders consist of men and women (mostly scientist) who have been on this island for more than 30 years. The islanders are guarding and experimenting on a UFO that crashed landed on the island. Each week I'll give out more clues that will eventually bring the two groups together.

(SPOILER ALERT) The Islanders have been on the Island since the mid 1930's and have not aged since. To them, the current year is late 1960's. The plane crash survivors took off from LAX on June 7, 1996. And to really throw a double twist in the game, two of the four UFO crew survived the crash and haven't been seen from since.



My cell lights haven't come on at all today. I know the C.O. is trying to fuck with me. I did 500 sit ups and 500 push ups today.



No lights again today. When I looked at my lunch tray today I noticed that there was spit on my cake. I guess the C.O. didn't get the memo on my "caveman" diet.
500 sit ups and 500 push ups.



I had the nightmare about the murdered guard again. Still no lights. The C.O. keeps banging on my cell every time he finds me sleeping. I now know what it feels like to genuinely hate a person. 
500 sit ups and 500 push ups.



I think I'm seeing shit. From the corners of my eyes I keep glimpsing the image of a person. No lights again today. Found spit on my cake again.
500 sit ups and 650 push ups.



Something is really wrong with my jaw. I took the "thing" off today and I couldn't open my mouth at all. Is this what Lockjaw feels like? Still no lights for me. Ashes on my mashed potatoes
600 push ups. My stomach muscles hurt bad!



They gave us showers today. I tried to tell the guard that he needed to send a medic down to my cell and have a look at my jaw. He laughed at the way I was talking through my teeth. I hate this mother fucker! No lights for me again today...600 push ups 500 sit ups.


61) Yes'em, Massah!

Code 201...

That's what they charged me with. It took 2 days before I saw the disciplinary board. I know they know, Delaware and I had a fight, but they can't prove it. They first thing they hit me with was the, "Delaware already came clean. Now if you want to make it easier on yourself tell us what happened." The guard actually said this with a straight face. Obviously if Delaware has already, "come clean" there is no need for me to say shit. Truth be told, my gut was telling me that regardless of how we felt about each other (No Homo) Delaware was a stand up nigga. They asked me about the cut on my arm. I told them that I cut myself with a razor while trying to open the packaging of my new headphones. Both of the guards looked at each other puzzled. The older guard looked at me and said, "You think we stupid, nigger?" The word cut through me like an Artic chill. I could feel my whole body tensing up, my jaws clenched, but I remained cool. "My name is Michael Emanuel. And it's irrelevant what I think about your intellectual capacity. Though, from this short conversation, I have concluded that the odds are highly favorable that yes, you are stupid." I saw the punch coming from a mile away, but cuffed there was

nothing I could do. I turned my face away and he landed a shot that rocked my world! The blow sent me out of my seat and onto the floor. I knew immediately that my jaw was broken. I could feel the tears welling up. Not because of the pain I was feeling, but more to the fact that I was in a state of helplessness. I wanted to kill this mother fucker! I begged my body to not give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Blood began to drip from my nose onto the floor. And then I started laughing. It started off as a few giggles, but soon escalated to full blown hysterical, "this nigga is crazy," gut busting laughter. I could tell that both of the guards were shook. "You punch like a newborn faggot! No wonder your wife is fucking half the niggas in this town! You a under cover bitch!" I was provoking him purposely. I wanted him to kill me. This is not life I'm living inside this prison. I'm dead, they just haven't buried me yet. I saw the officer coming in to give me more, but the other officer stopped him and ushered him out of the room. When all was said and done they hit me with 60 days in the hole and 15 days of good time. Fuck'em! What goes around comes around.


60) PURGATORY: THE SEQUEL

The guards took Budd to the hole last night after lock down... 

It had to be late because I was up until almost 2:am reading Toni Morrison's "BELOVED." (This book is so scary to me it ain't funny! I kept hearing shit all night long.) His cellie told me Budd just started trippin out in the middle of the night. Grabbing at shit that wasn't there, making bird noises and pulling his hair out. I knew my boy was a lil stressed out, but this shit threw a nigga for real! I have the combination to Budds locker, because I keep all my extra cartons of smokes, chips, coffee and sodas in there that don't fit in mine. I wanted to get my shit out of his locker before the guards packed it all up and shipped it to the hole with Budd. Everything inside of Budd's locker belonged to me with the exception of his clothes, a can of Bugler, his hygiene shit and a book. I left everything Budd would need to survive in the hole inside of his locker... smokes, coffee, stamps and plenty of junk food. (Only idiots eat for taste.) I grabbed my shit and went back to my cell and that's when it hit me... The title of the book I found in Budds locker. I looked at it again to make sure and sure enough...

Either this nigga Budd is a fucking genius or he's getting himself into some seriously deep shit!


Delaware, tried to test your boy today... 


Now the nigga, Delaware got two packs of smokes and four sodas from me last week. This week when commissary came around I expected three packs of smokes and six sodas. That's the vig... I watched the nigga go to commissary and I watched the nigga come back with a pillowcase full of shit. When I stepped to him at his cell about my shit he told me he forgot all about it. I ain't really trippin, so I told the nigga, "just give me 12 dollars worth of shit from what you got tonight and we Even Steven." That nigga Delaware told me he wasn't given up nothing! He said I needed to "chalk that up as a loss." As soon as he said it his cellie fell out laughing... FYI... My grandmother raised me right as rain! Ain't nothing coochie about me at all! I walked away from Delaware's cell without saying a word to him. I was never one to do much talking when it's time to repp. I should have walked a little faster to my cell, because the bitch ass nigga tried to rush me while my back was turned. If it wasn't for the Dread, Parsha calling out to me "Hype, look out!" the nigga Delaware would have mapped me with a least a buck 50. When I turned around I saw the bitch ass nigga with the ox in his hand, but it was too late. He was already coming down with it in full swing. The only thing I could do was protect my face. (A cut to the face in prison is like a scarlet letter) I barely felt the razor cut through my flesh... 5 inches above the wrist of my left arm... And then it slipped out of Delawares hand. I immediately countered with what I thought was a Mike Tyson, overhand right. It missed it's marked and grazed off the side of Delaware's head. Then the nigga charged me, with his head down and I'm almost certain the mother fucker had his eyes closed. I grabbed the back of his neck as he came in and kneed him in the stomach with everything I had. I could literally hear all the air come out of him. We both fell to the ground, but I was in the better position (No homo.) Delaware tried to crawl on all fours to retrieve the ox, but I dived right onto his back and threw him in the choke hold from hell. Jesus couldn't pull me off this nigga. Truth be told, the more Delaware

struggled the more tired I became. (Where the fuck is a guard when you really need one?) As I felt Delaware slip off to Dreamland I could see the guard. Well actually, all I could see was her back. The bitch was standing inside of C-Rat's cell. I left Delaware right there on the ground and walked my exhausted ass back into his cell. I took his whole pillowcase of commissary and his cellie ain't do shit! I was already in my cell when I heard the guard yelling for everyone to lock down. 15 seconds later every available guard in Lompoc was running into Killer-K yelling, "Lock it down... Everybody to their cell!" While I was in my cell I tended to my wound. I needed stitches. The cut was clean and not too deep, but I was having trouble stopping the bleeding. This nigga Delaware scarred me for life. The cut is no longer than 7 inches, but I know damn well it's gonna keloid. They walked Delaware out of the unit and began the cell by cell strip search. The first thing the guards tell you during a strip search is to "remove your shirt and stick your arms out." As soon as I stuck my arms out the guard saw the cut. They cuffed me up and took me to the hole. And here I sit... again. I don't know what they are going to charge me with, but I do know either Delaware or I will have to leave Lompoc. I refused to see medical for stitches. The reason... I'm tired as fuck! I realize now that I might be losing weight but your boy is still outta shape. The hole ain't that bad. I'm in a cell by myself and there were several books left behind by the previous occupant. I'm gonna make the best of this isolation and get my mind right. The first thing I'm gonna do is put a strategy together to get Delaware the fuck outta here. If they keep us both here somebody is going to die. (YWHW, please don't let it be me.) I've called out to Budd several times, but another nigga from Killer-K yelled out that Budd never made it to the hole. 
I've got a funny feeling (No homo.) that Budd may be in it a whole lot deeper than me. I have an idea of what Budd has planned and I hope the book I found in his locker, (Working With Schizophrenia: A Needs Based Approach) helps.


59) ONLY IN USP LOMPOC

17 damn days on Chubb's fucking diet... 


Why the hell did I give that nigga my word that I'd stick with it? I weighed myself this morning and I'm down to 229 pounds. (Actually the scale wouldn't make up it's mind. It teetered between 229 and 230 so I rounded down.)


Officer Thatch has been acting really funny around me for the last couple of days. "Funny" as in "nice." (No homo.) I'm not the only one to notice it. Fraction mentioned it to me Tuesday. Today he came to my cell with a screenplay he'd written. He handed it to me and said, "I heard about the movie you wrote." I had no idea what he was talking about, so I shook my head and smiled. Officer Thatch continued, "Tommy Boy, is one of my all time favorite movies. It's fucked up they stole your script, but if you look on the bright side you have plenty of time to turn out a real master piece. If you could just read over my script and tell me what you think I'd really appreciate it." I told him I would, and he left my cell all smiles... Okay, now this shit is getting out of hand!


For the last couple of days I've been working out with the weights. At first I really didn't know where to begin, but there was this nigga named Jr. that worked out at the same time as me and he offered to let me ride in his car. I've seen some huge niggas in my day, (No homo.) but not like Jr. Jr. is one of those black ass, cornbread fed, country niggas. You wouldn't see him in the Mr. Universe contest, but you could see him in one of those "Worlds Strongest Man competitions." Jr. totally dwarfs me. He said he is 6 foot 6, but I really believe he is taller by at least 2 inches. He weighs over 320lbs. and this nigga is BLACK! And to top it off he's got jacked up teeth and a James Brown perm. Put it this way, If
Mike Tyson was driving down the street and stopped for a red light... if he saw Jr. crossing the street towards him he would hit his power lock quick fast and a hurry! Jr. looks like the human version of Magilla Gorilla. 

Now don't get me wrong, to me, Jr. is a good dude and a hell of a work out partner, but this morning Killer Boom put a bug in my ear that fucked me up. Apparently Jr. is gay and behind his back (A person would be committing suicide to disrespect Jr. to his face.) they call him "The Top Ramen Man." I have no problem with gay people, but in the pen people judge you by the company you keep... Anyway, the way Boom told the story, Jr. is not just gay, he is a sexual predator. When you hear sexual predator the first thing that comes to mind is someone getting their asshole taken from them by knife point. Not the case with Jr. What Jr. does is gain your confidence and when you lest expect it he puts you in a choke hold until you loose consciousness... And then he fucks you in the ass, right?... WRONG! After Jr.

renders you unconscious he pulls your pants down and sprinkles your dick with the seasoning pack found inside the Top Ramen and sucks your dick until you come to. (No Homo.) I've decided to forgo the weights and try my luck on the pull up bar.

58) "They" will come for me...


I've been sentenced to 10 years... 


On 10 years you only have to serve 8 years and 8 months with "good time." I been trying to think positive, but I've come to terms that I will die in here. Either someone is gonna kill me or I am going to end up killing someone. Either way my life is over. I called my home girl, Peanut today, because I felt a little down. She tried to keep my spirits up by telling me to stay strong, but I explained to her what I will have to become to survive in here. I felt bad as soon as the words left my lips. She started to cry telling me G_D will keep me safe. The only god in here is made of metal, sharpened to a fine point and fits into the palm of your hand. When it's time to go,
mother fuckers are coming with me! Death in here is one journey I will not take alone.

57) Get With This Or Get With That!

Budd stopped by my cell today... 


We haven't spoken since the Bitches Love Me incident. The first thing he said was, "are you losing weight?" I was actually going to visit him today, to ask what was up. It seems that a couple of dudes from the Aryan Brotherhood have been pressing Budd about "socializing with niggers." The funny thing is that Budd's mother is Chinese. (So much for purity.) Budd said he didn't know what to do and wanted my advice. Now if we were in the streets my advice would be this... Run up on the nigga in broad daylight and blow his face out! Works even better if his wife, friends and kids are their to witness it. Unfortunately, Budd is a bird. Budd doesn't have a single cell of violence in his entire body. Budd was quick to remind me that we are not on the streets and he needed advice on what to do while locked up. My advice to him was this... wait until lunch and go to the chow hall with your "bone crusher" in hand. Walk right up to the section where all the Aryans eat at, find your victim and blow his face out! And for good measure blow the face out of the AB sitting to his right and the one to his left. Budd wanted no part of any
violence. I learned an interesting fact about Budd today. Budd has never had a fight in his life. Ever! The only chance Budd has of escaping the clutches of the ABs is to either go with another gang, go with a religious group or go crazy. As Budd left my cell frustrated I pictured him sitting at chow tomorrow with the Nation Of Islam brothers.

56) CHUBB, "Only idiots eat for taste."

Today is my ninth day on this "caveman diet" and I feel different... 

For starters, when I woke up this morning my dick was rock hard! I'm not talking about that normal morning wood. It felt like my dick was replaced by a steel beam. I honestly felt like I could hammer a nail through diamond using my dick. A great side effect, but it does nothing for me in here. Even after I pissed my dick was like, "Uh-uh, nigga! It's gonna take more than a piss to make me me chill out." So I put up a blanket over my door and jacked off. 


Another thing I noticed is that my shit floats now. It use to just lay at the bottom of the bowl, but not anymore. I haven't had any sugar, butter, salt, dairy, caffeine, carbs, or red meat and I feel great! For breakfast I have about 4-6 pieces of fruit. Usually banana's, oranges, grapefruit or apples. For lunch, I take two cans of sardines, or mackerel to the chow hall with me and get my fill of veggies. Usually raw broccoli, raw carrots or a salad if the salad bar is cracking. For dinner it's the same two cans of fish and a mixture of fruits and veggies.

I think Chubb might be onto something here. He says when he gets out he's gonna package it and sell it for $19.95 to the world. 

My weight 9 days ago was 244 pounds. Today I weighed in at..... drum roll please.... 236 pounds. Chubb says at 14 days I should start adding light weights to the program. Now I have to find somebody to workout with. 10 pack abs here I come!

NOTE: In 2005 I found out that Chubb was killed after being released from Lompoc. He was shot dead right in front of the halfway house he was living at.
R.I.P. CHUBB....