God’s Gunner’s, Booty Bandits, & Bad Boys

 

By R25288 ( c ) 2006-2007

www.r25288.com

r25288@yahoo.com

                                     Chapter Twenty-One

                                     God Speed Your Love

 

“In the darkness of prison, he was my light;  I was his world, and he was my sun;  I revolved around him, and he nurtured me, and I did what came natural, and that was to love him back.”

R25288

 

 

“Whoa, my love,

my darling, I’ve hungered for your touch

alone,

lonely times,

and time goes by so slowly,

and time can do so much

on you,

still much,

I need your love, I need your love,

God speed your love to me.

 

“Lonely rivers flow

to the sea, to the sea

to the open arms of the sea

lonely rivers sigh

wait for me, wait for me

I’ll be coming home,

wait for me.

 

“Whoa, my love,

my darling, I’ve hungered for your touch

alone,

lonely times,

and time goes by so slowly,

and time can do so much

on you,

still much,

I need your love, I need your love,

God speed your love to me.”

Unchained Melody, by The Righteous Brothers

 

 

“7 million children have a parent in prison or jail, or recently released, or on probation or parole. 

“Black children are 46 times more likely than whites to be sentenced to juvenile prison.

“4.6 million black men out of a voting population of 10.4 million have lost their right to vote due to felony convictions.

“Newborn black males have greater than 1 in 4 chances of going to prison during their lifetimes.”

Prison Song, 2001, the movie

 

My dear gentle reader, those statistics are just one example of the systemic violence that we perpetuate upon our black brothers and their families, and children, in American society today.

In America, at the beginning of the twenty-first century, in the year of our Lord, we eat our own children, and spit out their remains into our prisons.  How uniquely civilized.  The Florida prison system is just one of the fifty cancers on the soul of America.  I think we can do better.  What do you think?

 

“No room is empty if your mind is full.  You learn that in a prison cell.”

Little Budda, with Keanu Reeves

 

“God is on trial here.”

“No, God is never on trial.”

Inherit The Wind, with Spencer Tracy

 

We are all on trial, and in the beginning of the 21st Century, in the state of Florida, we are failing God, and ourselves, in our laws and how we treat our inmates.

“He that troubleth his own house shall inherit the wind:  and the fool shall be servant to the wise of heart.”

Proverbs 11:29

 

I received an email from a best selling author today(3-7-07), and he said:

“By the way, read many of your book chapters:  intriguing and compelling, romantic and forceful.”

Thank you, kind sir. 

I was just an enigmatic paradigm in prison.  I didn’t come with any instructions or batteries.  I didn’t fit or belong in their system, so systemic violence was the natural outcome.

“Our strength lies in our ability to make mistakes, and then correct them.  Our strength lies in criticizing our government, and then offering solutions,  Criticism alone is destructive.  Bitterness is destructive.  Our strength lies in the reality of my freedom to type this, and post it on the Internet, for the whole world to see…week after week.”

R25288, chapter four

 

I told you that I would tell you about Malelos, and so I shall.

Malelos required two interviews, due to an interruption.  Maybe they closed the yard early;  I made no notes regarding what necessitated the second interview.  Our first interview took place at 7:20pm, on Thursday, April 21, 2005, on the bleachers overlooking the basketball court.  Our second interview took place at 6:54pm on Wednesday, May 18, 2005, again on the same bleachers.  Approximately one week after our last interview, Malelos attempted to escape Liberty with another inmate.  Does escaping liberty sound strange to you too?

He was twenty years old when I first interviewed him, and he looked sixteen.  He was 5′6′’, 140 lbs., white, with hazel eyes, and brown hair.  His name was Anthony Malelos, and I thought he easily could pass for Antoinette.

He was in prison for manslaughter with a weapon, and he told me that he was guilty.  He killed his stepfather.  Maybe it was an Oedipal complex, who knows.  He had spent most of his life living with his mother’s adopted mother.  Anyway, now his mother was also in prison, because she helped him dump the body off a bridge.  She received a two year sentence.  He received a thirty year sentence.

He had a ninth grade education, and was to be released in 2031, however, he recieved another two years, six month sentence for his attempted escape.  He had been born and raised in Iowa.  He had the wholesome look of most Iowans, just not the wholesome mentality.

He had been in and out of psychiatric facilities since age twelve.  He had been diagnosed as an egomanic, with a grandiose complex, so he said.  He said he was Baker Acted(involuntary psychiatric hospitalization) three times.  He said it was for depression, and cutting himself.  He last attempted suicide at age sixteen.

To question twenty-seven(vocation on the streets), he replied:

“Renegade-hustler-sugar mama, that is a man.  I moved to Miami when I was fifteen.  I lived alone.  I stole my grandmas’ credit card to get there by bus.  I bought a nice wardrobe, and hit the gay establishments. I got three gay lovers, one was my primary.  I was his boy toy.  I looked primarily to be the male. 

“Shane was thirty-eight, black, and we were friends, fuck buddies.  John and Lee were both in their forties, both white.  I was with them all for about one and a half years.  Shane still puts money into my trust account.  They all paid my expenses and gave me gifts, like $400.00 shirts.  It was nice upper middle class, nice clothes.  None of them knew of each other.  Overall, during that time, I had less than five sexual friends.  Some still support me.  I was emotionally involved with Shane.” 

Tennis was his favorite sport, and he doesn’t watch television.  So, I guess we can’t blame television sex and violence for his behavior.  His favorite movies were Good Will Hunting, Matrix, and Dogma.  Maybe we can blame the movies.  Just a thought.  Crimson was his favorite color.  Passenger was his favorite song.  Monday was his favorite day in prison, because that was the day you could get books through the mail.  That’s it, let’s blame the books.  His favorite day of the week on the streets was Sundays, the day to celebrate mass, his religion-Thelema.  That’s it, let’s blame religion, that should please the masses.  Ha!  Interestingly, he answered in the negative to any religious upbringing, or belief in God.

To the question of greatest lifetime achievement, he responded, “I’m twenty years old;  I have no fucking greatest lifetime achievement.”

To the question of sexual orientation, he replied, “I guess gay will work.”  To worst crime committed, he replied, “Other than me killing somebody, that’s about it.”  He was HIV negative, and had his first sexual experience with a twelve year old neighbor boy, when he too was twelve.  He called it experimentation.  His best sexual experience was with some thirty-seven year old guy, when he was an adult. “We did alot of different shit that I had never done before.”  Future plans, “Write, hustle, fuck, and live large.”

He had been to a JDC facility once, for arson, at age twelve.  A greenhouse was the victim.  Gunnin?  ”I dislike it.  It perpetuates sex offenses.  Gunnin someone down against their will is a sex offense, I think.”  Thoughts on prison?  “It sucks.”  Need prisons?  “Yes, for people that violates other peoples wills.”

If your son was coming to prison, what would you tell him?  “Don’t believe anything anybody says.”

What to you was the greatest lesson of prison?  “That this is life too.  Some think that they’re missing life, but this is an aspect of life.”

 

“You don’t seem like you’re from around here.”

“Where do you think I’m from?”

“Someplace beautiful.”

Boys Don’t Cry, with Hillary Swank, before she was killed for wanting to be a man, in a woman’s body.

 

On Wednesday, October 20th, 2004, at 8:56am, my journal reads:

“Sunny and 85 degrees today-rained last night.  J.D. and I rested on Sunday, and twice on Monday, and last night-now at fourteen.  Discussed me staying beyond my ER(early release) date, he said, “Don’t do it.”  It was the same thing he said to me yesterday morning when I touched him.  We went to DR(disciplinary report) Court and got fifteen days with no credit for time served.  Johnson and Lt. Grey-never saw Grey before-real butts.  J.D. got same as me, and P got thirty days-so I wrote grievance for P last pm.  J.D. got two issues of Ebony last night.  I got Interview magazine, and a notice from Lucy’s Bookstore, “Books on way soon”, getting USA Today and WSJ(Wall Street Journal)-got catalog from East Bay-where I got Blue’s stuff-turkey never wrote me.  J.D. got a letter from ma.  Batteries about burned out-lasted one week.  Seven days, and seven nights with J.D. has been a real treat, or as he would say, “tweet”.  I told him about my self destructiveness before prison x 3.  We shook hands on the track last week to be lifelong partners.  He’s given me alot of joy these past few weeks.  I got lots of love for him-which I think sometimes concerns him-like last pm-told him he was my home right now-said he didn’t want to be-or words to that effect.  He told me about Dianne, Bernice, and Yvonne.  He told me I was OK-good re:  blow jobs-he told me Dianne could take it all in.  I tried to take more in last night-said he prefers being jacked off to blow jobs.  He’s sensitive to me, even when he is rejecting me.  He says he can go six months without any workouts, and won’t change his physique.  No deposit slip from Ed yet-J.D. got his on Monday, from last Wednesday.”

On Sunday, October 24th, 2004, my journal reads(journal notes were sometimes daily, and sometimes sporadic):

“I wished J.D. Happy Anniversary today-four Sundays ago, I first touched him.  We got together Thursday night when he came down-not on Friday or Saturday-we’ve both been a little withdrawn-sleeping more than usual.  I know I’ve been disappointed.  Sonny came into confinement today.  Tucker came in yesterday-caught under Buddy Bows’ bed.  I wrote Steve-no $ receipt yet.  I asked J.D. if he wanted to do law work today, and he said “No”.  Tacos for lunch.  I coughed a couple of times last night.  After he turned me down again last night when I requested to play at 8ish, I retired.  He even wears two pairs of boxers.”

On Tuesday, October 26th, 2004, at 9:43 am, my journal reads:

“It’s another anniversary today-four weeks ago, I got him off for the first time on the rec yard.  We had two nice experiences last Sunday, and one yesterday.  Now at eighteen.  I got a letter from Steve yesterday, said he sent $.  J.D. got one from his dads’ friend who visited him.  Steve sent four cards.  I gave J.D. two.  We played hang-man, and alittle Charades.  We talked alot on Sunday about values and expectations.  He says he’s straight, and doesn’t always want to do this, and I’m just a female replacement, but says I’m male.  I told him we’ll deal with it when he’s ready to get married.  He says I’ll be best man.  We held hands, and held each others forearms as we each laid in our own bunks, and he leaned over his to talk down to me.  The guards are pretty routine with their thirty minute room checks, so it’s pretty easy to work around them.  He told me I’m his first real friend.  I like that, and he’s more comfortable/less restrictive to me touching him.  The other day I got to his private area, and asked if it was OK to go lower, and he replied, “I don’t know”, so I did, and he  developed pre-cum.  I asked if I could look at him/his while I got off, and he said,”No,” as he put it away, after I put it out, but he handed me tp to handle “your business,” with him standing up over the bunk, writing a letter on his bunk, so I did.  In here, we’re real comfortable together.  He says he can’t put himself out like that if he got I dorm, says it wouldn’t feel right putting blanket up with me visiting.  I told him that we’ll always have the track.  He didn’t reply.  I said we could get friendship rings on the outs.  He asked what finger we would wear them on.  I told him the little, middle, or index.  He still gets tickled with me on him after he cums.  We have another legal mail to mail today.  He says it feels better standing.  We tried it with him over me, with my head on my bunk-he feels bigger that way.  I need a shave today.  We’re aiming for the end of November for his appeal.  No word on mine yet.  I did it to him sitting back on my bunk, as he figured out the word “apprentice”.

On Thursday, October 28th, 2004, at 9am, my journal reads:

“I just got my physical, which only consisted of me signing a form for the nurse.  I got blood drawn again this am.  My blood count was 113 from two weeks ago-OK by me.  We both got legal mail Tuesday, so our names would have been on callout as being roommates in here.  I had a dental callout yesterday, and blood this am.  Mr. Jones picked up legal letter to my private attorney, re:  maybe a 2K payout(a civil issue from before prison, phen-fen class action case).  J.D. and I got together once Tuesday, and Wednesday-now at twenty.  Yesterday, I massaged his back, legs, and butt, and he pre-cumed a few times.  His butt was first time doing that.  It felt good, and he responded.  He was laying on a pillow, under his pelvis-writing a letter, with his dick facing south, and I felt it hard, as I massaged his butt.  We ended with him standing, and me sitting on my bunk.  I then asked him for tp, and relieved myself.  He’s really comfortable now with me touching him, and this has been the best two weeks I’ve had in over twenty years, since Iowa.  Officer Pain walked by right after we finished.  I asked for his hand around 10:30pm.  We held hands, and said goodnight-we expressed love for each other.  He now wants to go to college after prison, after I explained it to him, and grants, and scholarships.  We talked about maybe a C & J.D. club.  Reading the paper he pronounced the “promise” sound for the word “compromise”, and had “you’re” misspelled in letter I proofed for him last pm.  I gave him more math to work on, and I did a Robin Hood charade with him.  He told me that he didn’t like me kissing his arm or hands, so I said I’d do it less.  I was massaging his toes the other day, and put my mouth over them with his socks on, when he wasn’t watching, and blew on them.  He yelled out, “Hey.”  He thought I was going to bite him-we both laughed.  I’m real glad he’s not stopping or rejecting my playing with him.  I know it’s not forever, but I want it to last as long as we can.  We may get out tomorrow or Monday.  I think I’ll do a grievance over this.  I do believe it has the potential to last forever though.  I gave him half of my grits and one biscuit this am.  He has a nice butt, and I love him so.”

 

“Whoa, my love,

my darling, I’ve hungered for your touch

alone,

lonely times,

and time goes by so slowly,

and time can do so much

on you,

still much,

I need your love, I need your love,

God speed your love to me.”

 

“Lonely rivers flow

to the sea, to the sea

lonely rivers sigh

wait for me, wait for me

I’ll be coming home,

wait for me.”

 

“Whoa, my love,

my darling, I’ve hungered for your touch

alone,

lonely times,

and time goes by so slowly,

and time can do so much

on you,

still much,

I need your love, I need your love,

God speed your love to me.”

Unchained Melody, by The Righteous Brothers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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