Entry #11 - Quick, Do Something Manly - 2.4.07

The Colts took down the Bears earlier tonight in Super Bowl XLI. I was going to use this as a backdrop for a critique of the excess of male bonding one is exposed to in prison, as Super Bowl Sunday is nothing short of a holiday in prison. Oddly enough, this is shaping up to be just the opposite. As worn out as I am with the company of men, tonight was actually a fairly enjoyable experience.

This is my second Super Bowl behind bars, (aside from those made of mahogany). Last year I watched it in county jail, which was considerably more rowdy. Existence as a whole is more rowdy in County. This is likely due to its large population of petty criminals. Federal prisoners tend to be more shot caller types. Either that or tax evaders, who are often better educated than those picked up for small weight and assaults. So far as the game went, I was largely ambivalent. If the Patriots aren’t playing, I could care less. They’ve won half of the last six Lombardi Trophies. If only the Bo-Sox had that sort of success—still, “The curse was reversed” so I really can’t complain. I was considering sitting this one out all together, but I’d done nothing but read and sleep all day so I figured that I should check things out.

The buzz throughout the day here was festive and masculine. You could feel the excitement and machismo pulsing through the compound. I, myself, have never been much of a joiner or even a man’s man. Aside from having been the first to go to fisticuffs for much of my life, I tend to be fine as a misfit. (Die, die, die, my darling.) I’m not much of an Alpha male. Nor am I an Omega. I tend to go off and do my own thing—only child complex. I’ve got plenty of friends here, but I’m more of a one-on-one type of guy, and definitely my mother’s son. Still, it feels good to connect.

Every TV on the compound was tuned in, but the Unit’s TV rooms were packed, as was the cafeteria. The visiting room wasn’t quite as crowded, so I took a seat in the back by myself. After only a few minutes, my buddy Cal came by. He didn’t initially intend to stay but, upon seeing me, decided to take a seat with me and watch the game ‘til the half.

Cal is my brother in recovery. Despite the fact that Cal is in his 50’s, I have more in common with him than I do with most people here. The biggest commonality we share is a serious commitment to recovering from our mutual addictions. I’m sorry to say that this goal is a major rarity around these parts. The two of us spent much of the first half discussing issues pertaining to sobriety.

Cal has had major successes and low failures. He was once a successful stockbroker, but his affinity for meth brought him to other avenues of work. He’s got some good sobriety under his belt, as well as some serious time down. He’s a good source of advice about dealing with life inside, but like all of us, is a work in progress—thus the give and take between us is invaluable.

Our exchange tonight evolved to the point where, before we knew it, we had stayed for the entire game. Part peer-to-peer, part father to son, our conversation reminded me that there are really good people here and positive experiences to be had. In the end I will remember this Super Bowl for years to come, even minus the presence of Brady & Co.

Playlist

Song: Tool, the entire singles catalog - This band has 6 minute songs on regular radio, which include off time signatures that would make Candiria jealous. My high school buddy Aaron Harris’ band Isis (along w/Aaron Turner of Hydra Head Records) is opening for them during their current tour. We loved Tool back in the day but had no idea they’d progress to this level.

Magazine (which are called “Books” in prison – perhaps a testament to the system’s lack of educational materials): Esquire, March ’07 – Fellow phonophile Chuck Klosterman is mandatory reading.

Books: Girl Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen – Minimalist prose depicts mental illness and institutionalization so fucking well.