The prison blog of an Orwellian unperson. Welcome New Readers! I wrote with a golf pencil sharpened on a cement-block wall or metal door, and my aunt Ann, who visited every weekend, smuggled my writing out of the jail. My parents in England posted my writing to the Internet. The blog went on to attract international media attention, and the Madison Street jail was shut down a few years later. Sheriff Joe Arpaio is still in charge of the Maricopa County jail system and its various facilities.
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The prison blog of an Orwellian unperson. His email began: "The good news is that you will be a published writer. It also opens the door for the stories of the prisoners I write about. My agent said the earliest my jail memoir will be in the bookstores is September. Sheriff Joe Arpaio is up to his usual Xmas antics. Arpaio claims to have chosen music from all faiths, and for agnostics he has selected songs by the Chipmunks. Citing the music as cruel and unusual punishment, inmates have filed six lawsuits against it.
Perseverence and single-minded determination will carry the day. So stick to your plan, dwell deeply in the present moment, and live life in every breath. Kathi is wearing five pairs of socks. Mmmm, it tastes sweet.
So we ended up hiding from the cold in the house occupied by Netti and her ferrits, with names such as Maya and Katis, who repeatedly tried to sneak up the inside of my jeans, no doubt aiming to steal that last store of heat between my legs.
They live in a hundred-year-old building formerly occupied by priests. There is a Catholic church to one side, and a Protestant church to the other whose bell rang every fifteen minutes, including all night long. Many years ago, one church was occupied by monks and the other by nuns. That a nun and a priest, Lioba and Bertram to be precise, used the tunnel to consummate their love until a rival for Lioba, Urban, caught them in the act and stabbed them to death.
Fleeing the crime scene, Urban fell off a mountain and perished. And deservedly so. Now the threesome haunt a local forest at midnight, Lioba and Bertram making all kinds of ghostly wails as Urban continues to keep them apart. The parents took good care of me, ensured my vegetarian needs were catered for, and Eberhard kindly insisted on us venturing out into the white yonder so he could buy Kathi and me additional layers of clothes from the outlet in the neighbouring village.
Cheese with big holes in it like you see in cartoons. Brown bread, and I mean dark-brown bread that takes a serious amount of time to chew, real bread, bread for real men, bread liable to put hairs on the chest of a food softie like me.
Chewing the bread, meditating on its taste, gave me flashbacks to the brewers yeast tablets I loved as a child. Tablets that no other children liked. The German mouth must be well adapted to this bread, as I was still masticating long after the others had stopped. Or perhaps it just felt like that. I found myself in the awkward position of having to hold a fart in for the duration of the first meal. Last night, I had my first sleep walking experience. Apparently, I got up around 3am and started searching my tiny bed and the floor.
When the commotion woke Kathi up on her seperate tiny bed, I demanded the flashlight from her, yanked up my mattress, and illuminated below it. It is a little wood. Wake up. You sit or clean the toilet with your tongue!
I came back, apologised, and Kathi went and reheated my hot-water bottle. They were a golden colour, and served with parsley on them. There was a veg medley heavy on peas my favourite. And veggie burgers Kathi brought from Halle that raised a few eyebrows from the devourers of meatballs and bratwurst.
Anyway, bye for now. I can finally feel my toes again.
Jon's Jail Journal: In Sheriff Joe Arpaio's Jail
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Jon's Jail Journal (by Shaun Attwood)
The prison blog of an Orwellian unperson. His email began: "The good news is that you will be a published writer. It also opens the door for the stories of the prisoners I write about. My agent said the earliest my jail memoir will be in the bookstores is September. Sheriff Joe Arpaio is up to his usual Xmas antics.