Prison Hangover

I’ve often wanted to write about the concept of “success” and fully denigrate it as a bullshit construct of the corporate dictatorship, to control everybody. [Same as the invention of religion; but I’ll denigrate that concept another time.]

For the purpose of talking on life after prison let’s kick “success” overboard and talk about being 1) adept at something, and 2) getting a desired result. This generalized use of success defines exactly what is gone, for an inmate remerging with society.

Most transitioning inmates leave the penitentiary with the intention of doing anything to “get back on their feet,” “reintegrate,” “get back what they lost”…whatever. This good intention fades from their grip immediately. Felony convictions are engineered for permanent suffering.

The personal angle is what I am “done” with: relationships, booze…of course those were the easy ones. What about success…ever being adept and achieving results at…well fuck, anything? I’m at the post-prison stage of having to accept that I’m aged out and done with everything.

I’m done! Ok, I typed it in a blog entry and glimpse the dimensions, but the permanent implications haunt me worse than prison. The “everything is an option,” or “I’ll do whatever it takes” optimism that one has upon release (to parole) is a springboard to depression – picture an inverted springboard pounding Daffy Duck into the ground. Hmmm…how to manage that expectation?

→former favorite lyric quote: “Nothing really matters much, it’s doom alone that counts.” B.Dylan, Shelter From the Storm [Blood On the Tracks]

Let’s keep it morose…new favorite: “I spent all my money on a future grave…I’ll cut you in on twenty percent of my future sins.” Temple of the Dog, Wooden Jesus

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