Words / Books

My admission date to Clifton T. Perkins Hospital Center (Maryland’s only maximum-security hospital), was July 19th, 2019. As of this entry August 4th, 2022, I’ve now been here just over 3 years. My point for sharing the days, months and years was NOT intended to evoke sympathy or even empathy. Rather, my aim is to impart what I’ve survived and learned thus far about “The Road Less Traveled”. A place I’ve come to see that very few (if any) return from. So, should you be faced with similar circumstances, perhaps asking yourself, “which way should I go?” May my story offer some solace… some direction. That said, I’ve added this content tab i.e. “WORDS/BOOKS.” Because without them there wouldn’t be a story. A well told one anyway. Now, if you’ll allow me, I’ll attempt to express what (at many times) has been a feeling… an utterance… an emotion.

The canvas, these pages. The colors, these words.

 “WORDS”

As a child, I guess you could say that I didn’t fully understand them. I mean, of course I knew they had meaning and together they conveyed my thoughts, feelings, needs, wants, ideas, etc. But ultimately, I didn’t realize the power, beauty and “yes”, even the evil of their utility until they found me. Alone, in a jail cell in Upper Marlboro, Maryland. It was there that a “do-right” old timer changed my life forever. Perhaps you could say, “he even saved it”. And it’s for that reason and that reason alone, I feel the need to pass it on. Just like he passed it on to me.

So, I’d violated the conditions of my probation after a D.U.I. offense (my 1st, but still… ), drunk as balls speeding, swerving and pretty much just being an all-around asshole behind the wheel. I was on my way back to “Mo. Co.” (i.e. Montgomery County) from a wicked after-hours party in D.C., at the Watergate Hotel (Nixon’s “Watergate”). Some trust funders all-you-can-freak-for-free-fiesta. Def, the good old days: real MDMA, bomb Thai Stick, organic Columbian Gold, Redback brews shipped in from Australia and wall-to-wall white girls. Not that skin matters, but that’s just the type of crowd Northwest D.C. drew back then.

Nevertheless, considering it was my 1st offense and all, I was given the standard “slap on the wrist”, which back then was a twice a week, 1 hour outpatient drug and alcohol TX program. With the judge’s sworn promise that if I didn’t complete the 6-month course, piss clean and stayed the hell outta trouble or blew brew, I’d get to see what the inside of a jail cell looked like. Better yet, what it would feel like to live in one for 6 months!

6 “positive” dirty cocaine urines later

Can’t say they didn’t give me a chance. But back to the aspect of this content tab, “WORDS”, a lot of them and how they’ve changed my life. And perhaps, if you think about it, yours too. But I’ll let you do that math on your own. As for me, my math is simple. It goes a little something like this…

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. (Jn 1:1-5) That said, the spoken word sets life into motion. Noise. It’s the “squeak” coming from the proverbial wheel that gets the oil. And what’s the “streets” mantra? … “Closed mouths don’t get fed”. Meaning, SPEAK UP! Use your “WORDS”.  MAKE SOME NOISE! What’s a horn for? It’s an extension of your mouth… of your mind.

beep! beep! ― “WATCH OUT!”

beep! beep! ― “MOVE IT!”

beep! beep! ― “LOOK WHERE YOU’RE GOIN’!”

beeeeeep! ― “CAREFUL!”

So, I shared all that to preface my story about “WORDS” and their collective effect on my life. And perhaps you can relate or even glean a crumb of wisdom, knowledge or whatever “WORD” you would use to define the emotions this tale may evoke.

Well, just like the man in the black cape said, there I was sitting in that jail cell. I guess you could call it my 1st real “bit”. Yeah, it was only 6 months, but when you’ve never been confined to an area about the size of a one-man bathroom, it truly feels like an eternity in a coffin. And just to give you an idea of my rambunctious nature as a child, my nickname was “Michael, Michael Motorcycle!” They’d chide me with a humorous, loving undertone… “Mikey! That kid’s confined in a field!” In essence, even as a moppet your boy needed more room to run than the stallions and steeds that dad kept out back on Red Rocking Horse Farm.

…but back to the “story”

So, I’m sittin’ in that funky, stinky, dirty, dank box. We’re talking 6 feet by 10 feet. Not to mention the area occupied by the bunk and the bullet (that’s the shitter for you no-timers). But that’s a good thing. I’d rather have been one of you when it comes to that. You know… (doing time and all).

Anyway, a standard jail cell allows just enough space to take 3 paces and then you gotta turn around. The experience is NOT meant to be fun. It’s punishment! Mind you, the word “penitentiary” derives from the word penance, and penalty i.e. the penal system which Webster’s defines as, “punishment for a crime or offense, something forfeited when a person fails to do something agreed to, disadvantage, loss, or hardship due to some action.”

But GOD, if you believe in the supremacy of a creator met me there. Right there in that evil mechanism. Designed to break the spirits of men and women who disobey. Ya know, there’s an ugly secret about the mass incarceration in the good old “U”… “S”… of “A”. A deep secret that will NEVER be proven. One can only learn this truth by living “The Road Less Traveled”. And it’s at this point, (about THIS POINT) that you can disregard the following as a crazy man’s drivel, or a truth lived, learned and now lectured on. And that is that, the g*****men*… man… and pure evil sets these strategies against God’s children.

I don’t give an “F” what anyone says, I’ve spent over 25 years of my life in one type of institution or another. I have literally lived within inches of thousands of men and heard their stories. Their pain, sorrow, madness, sadness, addictions, afflictions, derelictions, and even restrictions. Plainly said, the “g*****men*” put more drugs, alcohol, substances and other vices on the streets of this country than any/every drug-dealing hoodlum you’ve ever heard of or read about. “Yes,” there ARE truly, intrinsically good people who work within (and for), that bureaucratic mechanism that I mentioned above. Unfortunately, they are just too few and far in between to fill the gaping chasm that is the GREED and gangrene of man… Why, because CRIME PAYS!… lawyers, cops, judges, probation & correctional officers, clerks, detectives, drug runners & gunners & guys who grow & guys who sell blow. And I’m just getting started! Let your spirit go… meet your 6th sense.  Meet your SPIRIT! Your eternal self… your spiritual heart. It will confirm the knowledge of good and evil.

“… knowing good and evil.”

(Ge 3:5c)

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. But in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.

(Pr. 3:5-6)

I’m sure it’s pretty obvious by now that I’m a Christian. And “yes,” I fervently believe in Jesus Christ. But even more, I believe in His “Word” which scripture says, “is above His name.” So, if that’s the case, then I want to point out a “scripture” before I continue. I guess you could say it’s kinda paramount to me and my cause… my mission… “Saint Michael’s Mission!”

But before I drop this scripture on you, it’s extremely important for anyone who’s trying to understand the Christian faith… or “faith” period; to understand that “faith” is a matter of belief and trust in the things UNSEEN. The book of Hebrews chapter 11 elaborates further in spiritual terms (with examples), well worth the read. We’re talking the Word of God mind you! So, my bringing the issue of “faith” to the crossroads of this screed is for the following purpose and that purpose alone. In other words, I, like many of the biblical characters (you may or may not know about), feel that I am called according to a purpose. That said, we all have purpose. The question is… will you rise to yours? Will you find

it? And most importantly… will you fulfill it? Whether for simple or noble purpose. Read Romans chapter 8 in entirety for a much deeper explanation of this subject.

OK, sorry for the delay. It’s finally time to drop that “WORD”… that “scripture,” and it can be found in the book of Ezekiel… HE’S A BAD MOTHER!  *Paraphrased from chapter 2… “son of man, I am sending you to a stubborn and obstinate people… speak the Word of the Sovereign Lord whether they listen or fail― for they are a rebellious people― they will know that a prophet has come amongst them. And, you, son of man, do not be afraid of them or their words. Do not be afraid, though briar and thorns are all around you and you live among scorpions. Do not be afraid of what they say or be terrified by them, though they are a rebellious people. You must speak my words to them, whether they listen or fail to listen, for they are rebellious… ” (Eze 2:3-7)

I’d really read all of chapter 3 if I were you, but then again, after many cover-to-cover passes through the Old and New Testament; I’d advise reading the entire bible (as a 1st line of order) before I’d recommend reading anything else that’s ever been scribed upon the surface of the earth. Which couldn’t put me at a better place to continue with my story about “WORDS.”

So, let’s do a little “housekeeping” as they say.  Just to stay on track.

• • The Content Tab: “WORDS / BOOKS”
  • The setting: a jail cell
  • The Through Line: In my words
  • The Underline: God’s Word

Words of the day and age. Words that those of us in this generation and culture understand. And I’m sorry to say, the “F-bomb” is one of them. I actually read in Space X that it’s Elon Musk’s favorite word. And we can’t say it’s because he’s stupid, unlearned, or that his lexicon/vocabulary is lacking. Rather, perhaps it’s for the same reason that I use it from time to time. Because it evokes… it calls forth… it elicits a certain type of emotion. Sometimes erotic. Others, sadistic.  But let’s not get caught up on synonyms for coitus or copulation. I just wanted my readers to understand that in order to leave the 99 (Lk 15:3-7)… perhaps alone, and at night (the bear and the mountain lion on the prowl). That said, the shepherd may need to meet the derelict condition of the lost (in tone and tongue), in a manner familiar to them. All I’m trying to say is, now’s not the time to be “churchy.”

“Post Script” It’s been 3 year’s since i wrote this story you’re reading and I am still struggling with taming my tongue “Jas 3:1-12 “ Although there has been significant progress. That said, I could have simply omitted the flagrant positionI took years ago regarding the use of obscene language in “sanitized or not” i.e. “to meet the derelict condition of the lost (in tone and tongue), in a manner familiar to them… ,” but as i continue pressing into God’s eternal truth, a companied by the holy spirit I continue to learn that one should NEVER compromise the word of God. Plainly said… If they go low, go high hence you too get sucked into the spiritual of darkness “ Eph 5:4-21 ”, and so it is again the “TRUTH” that set’s me free.

With that, scripture teaches us to be as shrewd as snakes, yet innocent as doves (Mt 10:16). I understand the dove analogy and the inference of “innocence,” but is a snake really astute and clever i.e. “shrewd?” I’d say “no,” but Satan, the snake in the garden surely was. And still is! That serpent. The one who leads the world astray (Rev 12:9). Yes, in order to carry out The Great Commission, (Mt. 28:19-20), especially attempting to reach the sickest and most broken of heart. Those LITERALLY being snatched from the flames (Jude 1:23a). *Though I highly advise reading all of chapter 1. We as believers need to judge and jeer less and gel more, if we ever hope to share the love of God.

My the days are evil!

Now, please allow me to finish the story of that good “old-timer’s” good deed. Encouragement that caused me to read my 1st book cover to cover. And it truly did save my life… my brain anyway. Living vicariously through the countless lives of others. Some “free,” others in need of salt and light. We can always use more illumination and preservation. Don’t you agree?

So, I was in the section of The Upper Marlboro Detention Center designated for diagnostics and placement. In short, it was a classification unit. As with all prisoners who are sentenced to state or federal time, they undergo a type of “pre-placement” confinement until their security level, medical, dental, mental health, medication (if applicable), etc. are assessed. A process which normally takes months. During which, the prisoner is kept on “23 and 1.” That’s 23 hours of the day in a cell and 1 hour out. Usually to shower, make a quick phone call and stretch their legs a little. I’ve since learned quite a bit about solitary confinement. *See books #46, #47, #57, #59, #69, and #178 below for additional info on this topic (if desired). Notably, that being confined within a jail cell 22 hours or more per day constitutes as “solitary confinement.”

With the above said and read, I could write a book on the topic of “solitary” alone. Especially, the negative mental and physical effects it has on its subjects. That’s why I stated above how that the “old-timer (more or less) saved my life.”  Because being in a jail cell or confined space for years, is like being buried alive!

And so there I was. Sitting. Then lying down. And pacing. Then sitting again. And so the cycle continued. For days. Then weeks. My mind reeling with anxiety. Vacillating between suicidal thoughts, old memories, future hopes and inner dialogue with God (wondering if He was real), the devil and his demons (somehow knowing they were). Depression beyond your wildest dreams. The slot in the steel tagged door opened 3x a day… 3x food trays. The door opened once. But for some reason that day, it opened twice. And there he stood. The “old-timer.” Pushing a book cart. Men back then still had respect for one another, regardless of age or race!

“Hey young man, how ya holdin’ up in here?” The old-timer asked in a fatherly tone.

“I’m… I’m hanging in there.” I responded with half-hearted conviction.

“Well, what do ya say about a book?”

“I’m OK, but thanks.” I said with a noticeably heavy heart.

“You sure?” The old-timer pushed. “The book cart only comes around every couple weeks or so and besides, you could be in there for months!”

“Yeah, I’m sure.. but thank you.” I answered with sincere respect.

“OK, but you gotta do something with your time. If you don’t, you’ll go crazy!”

At that point in my life, I’d never read a book cover to cover. I was in special education classes all the way through my senior year of high school I didn’t learn this until later, but kids graduating “on time” versus being held back, dropping out, etc., effects property values. But that’s a story in itself. The point I wanted to make was simply that Thomas S. Wootton High School (Montgomery County, Maryland), simply pushed me and a handful of other students through. They call it, “social promotion.” It had really always been that way. From elementary school at Ritchie Park, to Robert Frost Intermediate School. My home life, simply too chaotic to ever consider such a thing as “homework” or “studying.”

I’d never had a father. And my older brother… well, you’d have to read my book NCR to understand that “f’ed” up mess. In any case, at that point in my life it was just foreign to have a man (a complete stranger at that) show me such concern. His words really cut to the heart… “you’ll go crazy… crazy… crazy…”  they seemed to hang in the air. And that’s why, when he turned around one last time before leaving, I almost jumped off the bunk before he spoke.

“Hey man! I can’t even believe this books on the cart!” He added with gleeful shock, pitching it in my direction. “You ever read Papillon before?”

“No… no I haven’t.” I replied. Much too embarrassed to add that I hadn’t read much of anything at that point in my life. But he joyfully continued.  The guard walking around with him cell to cell seemed just as captivated by his words as I was.

“No, well then, you’ve gotta read that book! Hell, you think we’ve got it bad… old Papi will teach ya ah thing or two about doing time and the world’s worst penal colony… Devil’s Island. It’s in the French Guyana. That book’s the truth!  Man I can’t believe I just found that on this cart!” He declared with such pride as he went on his way without so much as a nod . And just like that, the door to my cell was sealed shut. The metal-on-metal reverberating off the concrete walls… “WOOOM!”

It’s a strange sound. A sound I’ve never in my 35 year span of doing time gotten used to. If you could imagine the door of a vault or better yet a sepulcher being slammed. With you in it. That’d be close.

But not much changed in that moment. Except for the new addition of a worn book on my bunk with the faded picture of a butterfly on its cover. My emotions were still frazzled. I was still on the edge. I mean, what to do for six months?  Knowing very well that a good chunk of the time could be spent right in “pre-placement.” In a cell 23 hours a day! …

I’ll never forget the moment I first cracked Papillon and started reading.  Slowly. Like an injured, blind child. Groping in the dark. One word at a time. Then, one sentence turned into a paragraph. Then a page. Two… three… four. Soon I reached the 2nd chapter. The pain I felt when Papi was convicted and sentenced.  The fear and trepidation I experienced upon the boat voyage to the island… Devil’s Island!  My mind’s eye opened for the first time. I saw Dega. I felt his cowardice, his anxiety and foreboding. I wanted to help him. I wanted to be strong like Papillon, but pure and beautiful like his heart… “The Butterfly.”

A day or two or three passed. I still followed the routine: the slot in the steel tagged door opened once, shower, phone call, stretch the legs and “WOOOM!” The vault door slammed shut. But I wasn’t alone anymore. And I surely wasn’t bored. Hell, Papi and I were too busy trying to survive the island. And don’t tell anyone… but, “escape.”  Shhh… they might hear us. And so it went. Day after day.  I stopped caring about being locked in that cell all day and night. I was too restless and eager about the next “CAVALE” (ESCAPE). Seeing the “Butterfly” fly free was the most important thing in my life. Surviving years in solitary for getting caught was another.

The story was larger than life, yet personally touching. Literally, changing me forever. It became as the “old-timer” said, my “thing.” Reading has kept me, enlightened me, educated me. Plainly said, it saved my mind, body and spirit. My God, how I wish you could have seen those hellish conditions made enjoyable by simply “reading”. A gift I now cherish with all my heart.

Although it is not the perfect time, I’ll quickly say before I close, that “yes” I suffer from the disease of addiction. And “yes” I have a diagnosis of Bipolar I (w/ psychotic features). But, I can also say that I’ve never intentionally physically hurt anyone. I’ve also never (intentionally or unintentionally) committed a crime involving sexual deviants and/or a crime involving a child. And in the 35 years of being with my son’s mother Nubia, I have only put my hands on her ONCE. And I am NOT downplaying or diminishing that deplorable act. I was very, very sick at the time; physically, mentally, and (most problematic) spiritually. But by God’s grace and his never changing hand of love, my mind has been renewed.

Do not conform to the pattern of this world but, be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is― His good, pleasing and perfect will. (Rom 12:2-3)

Since reading Papillon (by Henri Charrière), I have read 1,000’s of books. The 200 or so below, since I have been admitted here (over the past 3 years). Not including library books, books I’ve gifted other patients, stolen books, and books taken by the hospital staff… deemed “inappropriate.” But you’d have to check out the content tab, “THE HOSPITAL” to better understand that mess.

Finally, if you decide to read Papillon or already have, my absolute next recommendation would be The Dry Guillotine (by Renè Belbenoit). It’s definitely my favorite prison/penal book of all time. But it all started with Papillon (book #98 below). A piece of work that I have reread many times over the years. Mostly seeking solace, hope and page-turning excitement. I pray you too find your “thing.” But, whether confined or in the free world, reading helps you better understand life and yourself. The Bible being a great place to start if you’re on the magical journey of self-revelation and spiritual enlightenment.

May God bless you on your journey.

Saint Michael            

         “To the Good Fight! ”