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Straight Outta Compton was the shit.
    The old ladies in the building were all scared of the odorous smells and aggressive sounds of young boys with no direction. They repeatedly called the police on us. That meant Moms would have to take time off of work to come and get me. She questioned how many times she would have to come get me out for smoking weed. I felt bad for her having to come and get me. She couldn’t make sure that I wouldn’t do it, smoke weed, and I didn’t stop.
    The primal beats of our music and the harsh words that we sang reverberated throughout the building, shaking the walls and rattling frail nerves. Our favorite joint was “Fuck the Police” and we knew all the words.
    We sipped our 40s and smoked our blunts, getting higher and higher.
    There was still no hiding for me. My Moms always dreaded hearing the sound of my gruff, scratchy voice in the hallway when she came home from work after twelve thirty a.m. My unusual voice had always been like that, but smoking all that weed probably made it deeper and even more distinct.
    In the hallways, Moms could hear me and spoke softly to me into the darkness. “Jeff, is that you?” I would sink deeper into the folds of my sweatshirt, hoping that she would just go upstairs and go to bed.
    I was just a kid that was doing what he saw others doing.

    Â 
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    June 20, 2011
    The weekend done came and went and it’s now Tuesday. I had fun this weekend on TRF. We’re allowed to stay up til 2 AM and 6 AM on Saturday. I dubbed it Club Oneida LOL. We stayed up both nights, me and Q, Smitty, JB and Pito, talking about life and watching movies and shooting the shit. They’re good dudes. It’s kinda hard to write on the weekends being that we stay up so late. I be tired as hell but it helps pass the time. Me and Hank been busting ass in spades. I haven’t lost yet. I’m the champ around here. Ha Ha. I’ve been speaking to Ish and the kids every day. They all came to see me this weekend along with my Mom, minus Britt. She has her acting classes on Saturday and I don’t want her to miss it so I’ll be seeing her on Sundays. I was worried about Lil Rule taking this situation hard, but now I’m worried about Britt, she seems to be taking it the hardest. I love them all so much and these are such critical years for a young girl growing up. She really needs her Dad right now and me not being there hurts but she’s strong and I know she’ll get through it. Times like these build character and you need a good support system to get through.
    I was tired as hell on Sunday, going on my visit fuckin wit these inmates all night. We’re like little kids sneaking around, for me to get my haircut so I could look half way decent on my visit. Smitty played lookout, smoking cigarettes in the dayroom and then blowing the smoke into the vents so we don’t get caught while the C.O.’s are in the bubble. LOL. We also hid bread so we could have extra to make our meals. It’s real high school shit. LOL. But fun Nonetheless. Saturday we watched a couple of good movies, Inception and Animal . While watching Animal we all were touched by a dose of reality, because we realized that we’re all young Black men caught up in an ugly cycle that’s been going on for generations—the Willie Lynch Syndrome—which made me mad at myself for still playing my part in this fucked up game. We all felt stupid as we watched, knowing we were right where society wanted us, in jail away from our family and kids. It’s hard to break the cycle when we’re not there to teach our sons to be men and our daughters to be women. As I sit behind these walls I’m learning that life is not a game, it’s a reality show and every episode is a learning experience, where hopefully you get that second season to right your wrongs after you’ve made a fool of yourself. It’s easy to make excuses, but at the end