It is commissary day. I have the opportunity to purchase a few snacks, instant coffee, soap, shampoo, stamps and shower shoes. I don't want to load up on too much as I have a feeling I'll be leaving here any day now. At least I hope that's the case.
Last night I witnessed an inmate trying to sell his collection of hardcore porno (don't know how he managed to get it in here) magazines for a combination of coffee and phone call minutes. A deal was struck (who says there is no honor amongst thieves) and both sides seemed content.
My first week here I could barely stomach the food, but it's amazing how the body and mind soon take over. After all, no matter how disgusting it is, I have to eat something, plain and simple. The temperature outside is a sunny 95 degrees. I can catch a glimpse of the blue sky through the windows in the hall, as we line up single for dinner ... at 4:00 p.m! Why so early? My thoughts will then drift to happier more normal days, when I would be at work right now, finishing up at the office or whatever the days chores would be, getting ready to head home for a run, see the boys, and have a cocktail. I miss going to the movies, watching TV, making a sandwich, or grabbing a fresh cup of coffee whenever I want. I miss fresh air, not this circulated stale, smelly air that permeates throughout Rikers. I miss putting on clean clothes, throwing them into the washer instead of having to wash them in the showers and sinks with a bar of soap like I do now. But more than all this, I miss my family, brothers, sisters, and my Mom & Dad.
The word "nigger" is bandied about amongst the inmates all day long. It's a bit of a shock to me, but it seems not a sentence is spoken amongst the black inmates without that word being used constantly. I don't get it, I thought they found that word offensive.
I received a pair of sneakers today; my Mother sent them. Yes, like Christmas morning. Now at least I can shed those hideous orange slip-ons.
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