Friday, June 12, 2015
After 8 months of incarceration I was released last week to a world that changed completely.
Rest in peace Dad and Walter, my two supporters. Walter aka dukeskywalter has been part of both business and pleasure. Always by my side, the boxer lost his life to cancer.
My father, a bi polar american who lived the way of the great fathers, died 4 days into my lock down. One of the last things he did was put money on my books.
Because he and I came to terms that I wanted Nothing other than to know my origin of existence. How could I be in a world with no fair play? Good intentions are up hill wind in your face. But I'm sure when I say there must be freedom for all.
Not my dads bag, he just wanted me to be safe, the rest of the world be damned.
Kern county sheriff's arrested me Oct. 23, 2014, and spit me back out, charges dropped, on June 4, of this year.
It's much different out here now, it was an ordeal to be in jail with no ability to reach the people I love and who love me, without money and assistance.
August 29th and I'm still trying to understand all that I have to process as being shoved behind walls, only to languish everyday in a dark, dank tank somewhere on the outskirts of Bakersfield.
I must tell you putting people or any other life form in a place where it is meant to be crushed, demeaned, and practically useless takes some serious reflection abou-t what we mean to this world.
Most in the jail, pre trial, but previously judged before the whole system then kicked to the curb with no acknowledgement when it's all over.
Sad seeing so many young people, locked up for being poor, not able to afford bail, no individual representation, and not much hope that after the whole put on ice capades is over that anything will change.
I was amongst those judged to be a Problem to society. Yeah, I would say I am a problem to any system that considers harming those most oppressed, scapegoating young people with the cause of the blight out in our current social structure.
I'll get around to telling you, I put up a fight while I was in there. A fight for my right to a life not overtaken, judged, insulted, by those who write laws that make criminals as a consequence.
I was offended.
I am offended, not just for me, for everyone who has to suffer this system.
There is always something you can do. In the tiny cell, with the scant attention from guards, the food stuffs offered to simply keep us alive, there was a growling and it came from me.
It hurt to feel the brow beating everyday from middle class workers who "guarded us" or transferred one time human resources, now only bodies needing to be in certain places, fed to live, and healed only if the injury was obvious.
Me, it made my blood boil, and a watched pot does boil over and in the most unexpected ways.
I will make an effort to tell the story of my arrest, my protest, my passion to overcome the situation, and the humor it takes to make it happen.
Stay safe and awake and I'll be back.
Yours....The BiPolar American