What’s up, World?
So, while my hope is to give the streets (and the public, in
general) a great book with an action- and comedy-packed storyline, one of my
underlying goals is to give some insight into the mental states and psychology
of men similar to Travis Smith, the main character of No Loose Ends (and, I
guess, myself as well).
The hardships of prison only start with the loss of freedom.
To the person that’s never really gotten into this kind of trouble, you’d
probably say, “So what, it’s your own fault”; and I don’t dispute that
we do create our own chaos. But after the blame game is done, the reality is that men are sequestered to same-sex populations for years on end, and
stripped of their basic human dignities. Initially, we're told to strip, squat, and
cough under flashlights; no matter your crime, and at any guards’ request. We’re
fed the minimal permissible amount of calories allowed by law, and further
embarrassed daily because every manner of contact we have with the outside
world is preceded by the scarlet waning that the person either writing or
calling is in the custody of the Department of Corrections. The human
injustices are boundless: from 50-500% price increases in basic necessities like
food, hygienic products, and clothing; to premiums on local and long-distance calls, and
outrageous connection fees so we can stay in contact with loved ones. It’s
rough! And on top of the administrative wounds, you have the heartbreak of loved ones or family that reached their compassion and tolerance limits. I’m not
assigning blame here, again, because I get it: when people won’t take the steps
to fix their own lives, there is only so much patience you can spare to forgive
their follies.
So, let me try something here. Going to prison brings an
abrupt set of life changes, and significant others are ripped from relationships
without warning. When it happens, the trauma is sometimes too much to overcome.
Let’s face it: unless a man/ woman has proven himself/ herself as worth the time, energy, and
sacrifices you’ll have to make in order to wait for him/ her, having a man/ woman that’s locked up is kind of a bad deal.
Now a great deal of women stand by their men, and we,
the collective body of men still stuck in the gulag, appreciate and
commend you ladies. I’ll say it right now, just in case your man hasn't in a
while: Thank you, ladies, for sticking around. But, there are a great many women
that don’t; and, though it’s understandable that your lives shouldn't be on hold
while we are stuck paying the price for bad behaviors, learning that someone
you love or care about doesn't feel like you’re worth the wait doesn't hurt any
less. And the changes that occur in men (and women) that are abandoned in this
situation are sometimes devastating, mostly critical, but always real.
Soapbox aside… lets get back to the fiction. Travis Smith
(of No Loose Ends fame) has a beautiful cocoa brown-skinned girlfriend, when
he’s forced to make a decision: either keep his cousin out of a jam, or let his
childhood mentor burn for a drug case (which would be his 3rd strike
and cost him the rest of his life behind bars). Travis chooses to take the case, and gets a light sentence because it's his first offense. While in the big house, his girlfriend Asia sends him a letter not unlike real
letters I’ve seen personally. And, though her letter is not saying it’s over, it's
one of those papercuts that cuts the heart like a machete chop.
Picture yourself in Travis’ shoes: alone in your bed area,
smiling ear-to-ear as you hold magical words from the someone that still cares
enough to write you. You open the letter from Asia and
this is what she has to say:
Travis,
I had your last letter in my backpack for like two weeks
before I read it. I knew it was gonna be some bullshit when you told me you got
in trouble. You only had a few months left, and now it’s gonna be longer? I
don’t know how long I can keep this up, T. I’m trying to understand your love
for your cousin, but I’m just like… What am I supposed to do for another six
months?
I hate school without you here. My dad has been acting funny-style with me since I told him about what happened. He won’t even give me my
car because he knows I want to visit you. Now, I’m walking to class, stuck in
the house, asking for rides; I gotta get a job or something.
Jayla, my girl from the Bay, told me she’s been getting money with this dude from Vegas since she left school. She’s traveling like crazy, and
she asked me if I want to go to Florida
with her this month. Dude is some kind of talent manager or something. He’s
booked her hella modeling jobs, and she just bought an ’09 Mustang. T, I’m tired
of these boring-ass classes and just being stuck in the house all the time.
What should I do?
I’m gonna take some pictures with Jayla if I go to Florida
with them, so I’ll send you some shots of me in a bikini : ). (But you can’t be
showing them off.) Don’t get in anymore trouble, T. You need to hurry up and get
out of there. I’ll write you again soon.
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