ankles so I could not see the hostess tell us what to do in case of a crash. I kind of hoped the plane would crash but it did not. That was when I first seen Pentridge and Barwon and Loddon.
Jail was all new for me. I know my crime was v. unpopular but also v. common. Everybody give me a bad time considering it. Name calling and spitting started on me. People punching and laying the boot in. Once a knife. The officers giving me grief as well. I had no one to turn to. My cellmate kept trying it on me and when I said âNoâ he would lay the boot in. Poured boiling water on me when I was asleep. A deep part of me did not care. One day the inmate who was trying to have sex with me was tipped to another jail. I was on my own now and began to feel better. Whenever there is a lockdown I feel happy. All at peace in my slot. I could see time passing without me having to do much. The other inmates started calling me caveman. A few other names besides like dog and boner and panlicker.
Then Margaret sended me some v. bad letters how I would never see my children which were mine anymore. I did not feel too good. I heard voices in my scone. I made a shiv and slashed up. They give me a few stitches and 2 Panadine then took me to the Assessment cells. So I collected some shoelaces and joined them together. People were happy to give me shoelaces. I was a great joke. People flapping about in loose shoes thinking they were doing the world a favour. The prison psych wrote a letter in her report that I showed no remorse for my crime. After lights out, voices started calling me Rocky and how they going to rape my sister when they get out. I donât tell them I donât have a sister. They were just words but even words get you.
One night with all my shoelaces I tried to hang myself in my cell. Nothing happened but the shoelaces broke and give me a bad burn around my neck. All well and good to laugh. I would vote myself to die but society donât think so. Tried a lot of ways after that to do myself in. Nothing did the trick. So I went back to the locked ward at the hospital on strict protection. More time passes or past. One day out in the yard and this is where I began my story, my ears heard a man reading something. I stood nearby in the sunlight and listened. I seed the razor wire and it is like froth on top of a dirty wave and this is what I heard.
They hunted them off the road once more to starve on the half-mile track
And Saltbush Bill, on the Overland, will many a time recite
How the best dayâs work that he ever did was the day that he lost the fight.
I axed him to read it all from the start and this man did that for me. Saltbush Bill. When I heard these words I feeled insects prickling my scalp. Afterwards, I feeled alive. Happy and alive and sad all at the same time. It was hard to explain, hard to know inside of me. This man read me more of Banjo Patersonâs words. He axed did I want a lend of his book but I telled him there was no point as I could not read.
After a while we were called in for muster and lunch. I speaked some more to that man whose name was Pete. Pete and me become good friends. When we go out into the yard on sunny days, Pete would read Banjo Paterson for me. I know now itâs not much to speak of but those mornings in the sun mean a great deal to me. In time I telled him about my crime and he did not seek to judge me, though he should and maybe he did in his heart. Later they gave me the chance to appeal. Pete said my lagging was v. harsh for what I done and I could cut 2 or 3 years off my top sentence. But I dunno. I am learning here about my mistakes. I am happy to pay and keep paying for them. I am learning about my self. And the self that is not me but who I was. I also dunno if this is justice to get what you expect.
As this time passes I can see that jail is good for me. It has been necessary. The food is food. I have done my education and have learnt to read and write. Of
Jail was all new for me. I know my crime was v. unpopular but also v. common. Everybody give me a bad time considering it. Name calling and spitting started on me. People punching and laying the boot in. Once a knife. The officers giving me grief as well. I had no one to turn to. My cellmate kept trying it on me and when I said âNoâ he would lay the boot in. Poured boiling water on me when I was asleep. A deep part of me did not care. One day the inmate who was trying to have sex with me was tipped to another jail. I was on my own now and began to feel better. Whenever there is a lockdown I feel happy. All at peace in my slot. I could see time passing without me having to do much. The other inmates started calling me caveman. A few other names besides like dog and boner and panlicker.
Then Margaret sended me some v. bad letters how I would never see my children which were mine anymore. I did not feel too good. I heard voices in my scone. I made a shiv and slashed up. They give me a few stitches and 2 Panadine then took me to the Assessment cells. So I collected some shoelaces and joined them together. People were happy to give me shoelaces. I was a great joke. People flapping about in loose shoes thinking they were doing the world a favour. The prison psych wrote a letter in her report that I showed no remorse for my crime. After lights out, voices started calling me Rocky and how they going to rape my sister when they get out. I donât tell them I donât have a sister. They were just words but even words get you.
One night with all my shoelaces I tried to hang myself in my cell. Nothing happened but the shoelaces broke and give me a bad burn around my neck. All well and good to laugh. I would vote myself to die but society donât think so. Tried a lot of ways after that to do myself in. Nothing did the trick. So I went back to the locked ward at the hospital on strict protection. More time passes or past. One day out in the yard and this is where I began my story, my ears heard a man reading something. I stood nearby in the sunlight and listened. I seed the razor wire and it is like froth on top of a dirty wave and this is what I heard.
They hunted them off the road once more to starve on the half-mile track
And Saltbush Bill, on the Overland, will many a time recite
How the best dayâs work that he ever did was the day that he lost the fight.
I axed him to read it all from the start and this man did that for me. Saltbush Bill. When I heard these words I feeled insects prickling my scalp. Afterwards, I feeled alive. Happy and alive and sad all at the same time. It was hard to explain, hard to know inside of me. This man read me more of Banjo Patersonâs words. He axed did I want a lend of his book but I telled him there was no point as I could not read.
After a while we were called in for muster and lunch. I speaked some more to that man whose name was Pete. Pete and me become good friends. When we go out into the yard on sunny days, Pete would read Banjo Paterson for me. I know now itâs not much to speak of but those mornings in the sun mean a great deal to me. In time I telled him about my crime and he did not seek to judge me, though he should and maybe he did in his heart. Later they gave me the chance to appeal. Pete said my lagging was v. harsh for what I done and I could cut 2 or 3 years off my top sentence. But I dunno. I am learning here about my mistakes. I am happy to pay and keep paying for them. I am learning about my self. And the self that is not me but who I was. I also dunno if this is justice to get what you expect.
As this time passes I can see that jail is good for me. It has been necessary. The food is food. I have done my education and have learnt to read and write. Of
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