strange days

so i decide, since he asked for a "break", that i'll slow down on my reading about prison. not because i'm not still interested, in fact, a few days after the devastating letter, i started some book about a mexican prison. but a few pages in, every instance of the word "inmate" sent a shock through my heart so painful, i had to put it down. i decided to leave the prison books alone for a time.

i picked up albert camus' the outsider a few months ago and it was the next book on my mental list of books to read that wasn't some non-fiction account of prison life. i had no idea what the book was about. i didn't even read the blurb on the back cover, i never do, they spoil. soooo, as many of you already know, about halfway through the book, the main character goes to prison, where the rest of the book takes place. i finished it anyway. it was short. short, existentialist bullshit.

i finished the book around 3am on a weekday, and i found myself unable to sleep, saddened deeply by my thoughts, by who the book had made me think about, so i reached over to my night table for the next book in the little pile on it, and it was dostoevsky's crime and punishment. fuck. so i turned to the computer and read about the use of the guillotine in france until i passed out draped in the light cast by my screensaver.

the next evening i catch the flick "get rich or die tryin'" on tv, the one about and starring 50 cent who's acting skills were so humorous i couldn't stop watching. i'm not a huge rap historian so i didn't know he'd been to prison, or that the character goes to prison. whatever. he does. a few scenes in prison, where he meets his friend from cleveland. sigh.

later, A&E's inked was on in the background as i wrote some stupid article for work, and some guy walks in to get a tattoo for his friend in prison. and then dallas swat comes on.

this is just a smattering of instances in which prison keeps popping up in my life. maybe i'm just more alert to this shit now cause i'm so fucking sad about things, but if i could write down every last thing... this blog post would be miles long. i dunno. i feel like nothing makes sense without him. i always have.

every once in a while i wonder how he can just cut this off, and i think he musn't have felt as much for me as i do for him, and then i just shake my brain. that's so fucking selfish. none of this is about me. none of this will ever be something i can understand, no matter how many books about prison i read.

i just wish i could know if he's ok.


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posted by Courtney at 1:01 a.m.

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