MUNCY STATE PRISON
November 20th, 2024
Wednesday
8:30pm
We were locked down yesterday and today. Yesterday for a whole shakedown of the Unit, which was a nightmare. Locked down from 9am till 6pm, and they shut off the water, so the toilets were all full of shit, piss, and blood.
Disgusting.
Also, they passed out water bottles to the bottom tier but not the top tier, so we had nothing to drink, even for lunch. Then Daisy literally peed her pants because at first they weren’t letting anyone use the bathroom.
It was horrible and inhumane.
I hate this place.
Then handcuffs, strip searches, and metal detectors.
Then tear your cell apart for no reason.
They dumped Swiper’s entire box of paperwork on her bed.
I can’t believe I have a year of incarceration left.
Kimberly leaves in the morning.
I will miss her.
November 22nd, 2024
Book:
“Children of the State: Stories of Survival and Hope in the Juvenile Justice System” by Jeff Hobbs © 2023
P. 25-26
“Over the past decade, roughly 2 million minors have been arrested in America per year, and any single day found around 30,000 of them locked up in secure placement facilities. The high turnover within such facilities meant that in the modern era some 150,000 young people spent time in jail, even if only for an afternoon, in the span of a year.”
P. 26-27
“The overarching goal of all changes in treatment and accommodation has been to reduce the recidivism rate among incarcerated American youth. In any era or year, this one statistic has always been absolutely paramount, signifying the effectiveness of a given system in a given place and time.
Judging by this simple metric, the systems that had never worked well were still not working well in this increasingly progressive era. Though no comprehensive national recidivism database existed, the aggregate local numbers suggested that despite improving conditions and programs, children were still far more likely than adults to be reincarcerated within three years of release–up to 84 percent by some estimates. The figure was harrowing, especially in contrast with the far rosier outcome numbers for juvenile arrestees who were put directly on probation or sent to drug treatment facilities or diverted by other routes from the full weight of the justice system. The disparity in these numbers spoke to some near-universal breakage of spirit that occurred within young people the moment they were confined in residence, which was one of the myriad terms used in juvenile courts to leaven the term’s actual meaning: prison. Whatever resilience that children inherently possessed seemed to vanish the moment a dead bolt fastened loudly behind them. Whatever national ethos championing the notion of self-determination that still presided over the country’s educational systems became irrelevant.
Entering a juvenile hall was statistically dooming. While juvenile records legally expired at age eighteen (or a certain number of years after one’s last offense, depending on the state), the unlikelihood of a juvie resident ever fully unshackling him- or herself from the justice system was writ in the grim outcomes of nearly all who’d been incarcerated before, pre-dating the nation’s founding. These outcomes had little to do with food quality or exercise. They were a testament to the way that life-affirming essences such as hope and perseverance didn’t just retreat within young souls in small rooms behind locked doors, but ceased to operate entirely.”
Book:
“Crazy Enough” by Storm Large
Excerpt, p. 261-262
“And the greatest performances I’ve seen or given are not unlike the most incredible sex one can ever have. It’s when you are truly torn open and powerless, and you lose it completely. You can call it God, or spirit, or art, or whatever chaotic mystery that sounds right to you, but when you are stripped of all your defenses, that’s when miracles happen.
Maintaining composure during those experiences is beside the point. It’s so much better to feel like you might not survive the encounter, shit the bed, and touch the infinite.”
“The universe is made of stories, not of atoms.”
–Muriel Rukeyser
9:30pm
Cricket doesn’t say much. That’s why I named her Cricket–whenever it’s her turn to talk at the “Self-Help” meeting that is really an AA meeting–crickets. On her 40th birthday, she found out both that her friend had hung himself to death and that her “victim’s” family had won a lawsuit for $1 million. Cricket brought drugs into a county jail, where she shared them with a friend, who subsequently overdosed and died. Apparently, the friend’s family sued the jail and won.
Lights out.
I miss Kimberly.
I hope she’s doing okay. She was so funny. What the hell am I going to blog about now? I wonder if Daughters magazine would publish my blogs.
Probably not.
Too crude.
So, I read Storm Large’s book. It was good. It reminded me of how I used to write. She felt terrible for feeling relieved when her mother died.
What does that make me?
I felt relieved when my son died.
He was so sick…but so was she.
I can identify with that.
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