Something That Happened.

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Stories by Harold, in a variety of formats - including text, audio, video, and podcasts.

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Thursday, September 11, 2003

Regrets...
I've had a few.
But then again,
Too few to mention!

--"My Way",
written by Paul Anka

When I hear that song, I think of Frank Sinatra, and sometimes Elvis or Sid Vicious -- all of whom have been known to perform, in their own unique manner, that wonderful song. Wonderful because -- though I don't always enjoy hearing it, I've heard it so much -- the song is a wonderful personal anthem. That's something we all need: a personal anthem. A song that praises our individuality; a mark of devotion to oneself. After all, they say you're going to have a helluva time loving anyone else unless you've first learned to love yourself, right?

This is not to replace your love for your God, or your spouse, or your family. I'm simply saying that we all need to give ourselves a bit more self-love at this time of year. (No, not that type of self-love !) Too many of us beat up on ourselves throughout the year, and then nearly destroy ourselves at year's end. No wonder there are so many suicides during the Holidays; the messages bombarding us are to Buy Buy Buy and to Give Give Give -- but what if you have nothing to give but love? If you have a dearth of that good stuff, then you'll have a bitch of a time spreading it around to your neighbors.

So be good to yourself, whether you're Christian, Pagan, Wiccan, Athiest, Hindu, Islamic, Mormon, Podcastin, or otherwise. Don't take the pills, they won't do you or anyone else any good; you'll simply miss out on the Next Big Thing (which may turn out to be Your Next Big Thing). Just do things your own way, singing that little hymn as you do so:

For what is a man,
What has he got?
If not himself,
Then he has naught.
To say the things,
He truly feels,
And not the words,
Of one who kneels.
The record shows,
I took the blows
And did it my way!

Thursday, February 22, 2007

(Not autobiographical:) What It's Like to Read Poetry in Prison

Tags: incident, something that happened, poetry, prison, San Quentin, arts and incarceration

Labels: incarceration, incident, poetry, something that happened

posted by Harold 2/22/2007 05:39:00 PM | 0 Comments | Links to this post

Friday, February 16, 2007

One thing you gather when you spend more than half a week in jail is a renewed sense of perspective.

(Quick aside: I just Googled around for a good prison adage to apply here, but I wasn't able to find one relevant enough to insert in my post without it seeming forced. In fact, at the time of this posting, a search for "prison adage" returns only about 29 results. I find it somewhat remarkable that only 29 web documents contain the phrase...Perhaps more prisoners need to blog?)

Obviously, incarceration is not intended to be a fun experience; prisoners are, after all, being confined in order to punish them or, at the very least, curtail their unlawful behavior. But fun is a relative concept; what's floats one fellow's boat may instead choke another bloke's goat.

A nuclear blast: flood of light, scorched eyes, scritch-scratch on vinyl, a shout in the chaos, it's the jailer's commands, Everybody Up, scritch-scratch, scritch (Oh, the mattresses), people are moving (I think I'll just sleep in), a jostled leg, an inmate's voice It's breakfast, getupman followed by the jailer I said ev-err-ee-bah-dee up!!! Scritch-scratch-zlit, Line up single file, anyone's still on a mattress noh-bah-dee gets breakfast...

I'm in the top bunk, for a few seconds I look down unclear about my circumstance, the concrete below seems perilously distant. Noh-bah-dee gets breakfast. Nobody wants to be the one who screws it up for everyone else. Not here, not in Dangerland. I take an unsteady leap (Where are my shoes?), I stumble into the line (Am I cutting in front of someone?), my head is caving in, too much rum, I'm collapsing in dizziness and nausea, suspicious of my stomach. Urine on the floor soaks through my socks. (Where are my damn shoes?)

Later I find, some of the inmates seem to think this is all some kind of fun, an amusing diversion, a Festival of Humiliating Delights. A "vacation", one fellow described it. Others seemed (acted?) proud of their incarceration, the time they'd end up serving in Twin Towers. It's hard to tell who's real, who's bullshitting. Facing real time, what else you gonna do? Cry about it? Probably too dangerous for that in here. Act tough. Be tough. Or suffer, more than you can imagine. What's not to like about life in Hell? I want to cry but I'm too afraid.

Tags: waking up in jail, incident, something that happened, hangover, incarcerated, jail, fear, prison adage

Labels: commentary, incarceration, incident, observations, perspective, prison adage, something that happened, story, true stories, vacationing

posted by Harold 2/16/2007 11:30:00 PM | 0 Comments | Links to this post

Thursday, February 15, 2007

I never would have expected I'd spend time in jail. Ever. Not me. Yet there I was, for four days and nights, through President Lincoln's holiday weekend.

It happened at a Chili's, of all places. Not some seedy dive, a backalley bar. It didn't happen in a strip joint, or in a Red Light District. It happened in a friggin' Chili's, which makes it all the more humiliating.

A weekend of hell. Then a full day in court, a release without explanation. When inquired, the officer showed me the red stamp on my paperwork: Rejected, all charges.

Tags: incident, something that happened, jail, crime, criminality, misdemeanor, infraction, vice

Labels: incarceration, incident, something that happened, story, true stories, vacationing

posted by Harold 2/15/2007 07:05:00 PM | 0 Comments | Links to this post

Businesses in Huntsville, Alabama

I once posted, in this space (this right column), the following:

If I had friends they would be listed here

That particular bit o' text, that silly and idiotic phrase, was repeated a dozen or two dozen or so times and was intended to be temporary. I had been working on a project -- a new layout for this blog -- and had intended for that text to be placeholder content. That is, the text was supposed to temporarily replace the content that had previously occupied this column (which was a list of links to friends -- that is, other blogs and web sites I linked to). I didn't know what content I was going to place into that (this) space, so I placed a bunch of duplicate phrases here as a placeholder so that I would remember to fill in this space again later.

At the same time, I thought I was being cute with the heading:

NEW & IMPROVED FRIENDS!

The fact remains: I still don't know what content to put here, in this column. Links again? Pictures? Video? Audio? ~~Ads? Oh, hell no!~~ It hasn't come to me yet, but I'm sure it will eventually, and when it does it'll come quick and (as usual) with consequences.