Fornits
Treatment Abuse, Behavior Modification, Thought Reform => Straight, Inc. and Derivatives => Topic started by: starry-eyed pirate on January 08, 2006, 09:56:00 PM
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Well, what could I write that would be worth your attention, your energy in the first place ?? What would be worth your time, your deal with the devil anyway... Pro'ly nothin at all anyway.
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Unless ya got a thirst for anti-$tr8 rebellion and tragedy...
...'cause that I got and can write about.
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Noww...whatever,anyway...the point is that I was there, bein' held agianst my will in a place I had already run from 3 times and been returned to each time by either the police(local and state gov.) or decietful and manipulative, lyin adults, who have since demonstrated that they were never worthy of my trust and at this point can never be and should never be trusted in the least.
I'm nowhere near as ideal as I used to be.
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Well, that is the first and most basic lesson of my experience.
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So. To cut to the chase...because I'm sure ya'll know the set-up by now
I was on 3rd phase and had already "copped-out" 3 times. My host bro was from N.J. and had already copped out 3 times too. There were some reservations among the authorities(upper phasers and staff) concerning whether or not 2 kids who shared a cop-out record should be host bros' but we pulled it off by independently stating in group that we each felt that we could relate to the other because we had both had tough programs or whatever, it was just B.S. to get us into a position where we could talk to each other. This wasn't somethin' that we planned, but somethin' that evolved naturally out of necessity.
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Ye ok, man?
-DP :smile:In order to live free and happily you must sacrifice boredom. It is not always an easy sacrifice.
-- Richard Bach
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One night as my host bro and I passed the newcomers off on my other host bro, who was from PA(springfield was a huge program, there were kids from ever'where), we went to get away...we went into my brothers' bedroom, my real brother, not a cult brother, my real blood brother. He was 3 years younger than me but still had a real nice record collection under his stereo. My host bro sat on the opposite wall from me as we listened to one Neil Young record and then a Pink Floyd or Grateful Dead record and we began to talk. I don't remember who crossed the line first, but suddenly we were talkin' about "druggie" stashes and how we were still in love with our "druggie" girlfriends. Neither acknowledged the others' transgressions but speakin' for myself I took much comfort in my host-bros words. It was a test to make sure it was what we thought it was. We were both full of shit, as they say, and now we both knew it!
After a few minutes of talkin' about all kinds o' things that we shouldn't have been talkin' about ever't'in got too intense, I mean I became paranoid and nervous...we dropped the conversation, sorta just acted like it hadn't even happened and went back to just goin' along with things for a while, for another week or so anyway...
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I think my timing must be off tonight...
None the less... My host-bro and I had both taken employment at the same landscaping company, "Green Thumb Enterprises".
One mornin' as I woke up and realized I could not go into group one more day, I put my blue jeans on under my Green Thumb uniform. I felt real awkward and paranoid and was sure someone, maybe my dad would notice the jeans under my uniform pants. But no-one did. Somehow, I got away with droppin' my newcomers off at the buildin' 'n' ever't'in without anyone noticin' or reportin' me. My host-bro and I were dropped off for work...
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Once at work, in the shop that is...I tried to get some distance from my host-bro, but he was perceptive and followed me, knew I was up to somethin'. I sat down on some steps in the shop, which led up to a storage area above the garage. He asked me $tr8 up: "Whats' with the blue jeans under the uniform ??"(once on the run I didn't want to be easily identified in a Green Thumb uniform)
I tol' 'im $tr8 up I was splittin'
He responded to me: "I'm gonna split too, but I was gonna wait for a paycheck"(That would have been a smart move, but I was completely full of shit and majorly paranoid and just couldn't hold out any longer)
I said:
"I can't wait, I'm takin' off right now!"
He decided to split with me...
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Fuck!!...this is a long story and I just wanna walk away for a bit...there is a part of this story that is real hard for me to tell...especially to you...
I'll come back to this in a bit or when I can...
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Like...I think if this thread was an episode of "The Streets of San Fransisco" that would pro'ly be the end of "Act One"
Act "2" opens with 2 juvenile males approaching their former place of employment 2 full days after having dissappeared from work and the "program"($tr8) they were in. It is a dark spring night about 11pm, no-one is around...they have the key to the shop and use it to open the door and go inside...
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Thanx Deprogrammed...I'm O.K. Your concern is nice.
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Im listening :smokin:
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Thanx I'll see if I can muster the ranks...I got Johnny Cash on the turntable now..."Folsom Prison Blues" and "Live from San Quentin"
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So it was a dark spring night and as my host-bro and I approached the shop/garage I questioned my course but truly felt I was righteous, even unto stealth. I mean that at that point I was not so much concerned with upholdin' the law as I was with escaping from $tr8. It had been my host-bro all along with the grand and elaborate vision of our escape and not me. I would have been content to just run as far as I could by my own feet, well and see my sweet druggie girlfriend too...but as it was, my host-bro had swiped the key to the shop on the day we split and now as we approached the shop in the dark night I had no idea what he was thinkin'...
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Well, anyway...we got into the place no problem. While I looked around in the darkness, Host-bro snagged the keys to one of the work-trucks. He jumped in behind the wheel and started it up while I threw up the garage door and then closed it behind the truck after he pulled out. I had never driven, let alone stole a truck...
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I was all for it though...stealin...steali-in',
stealin' back. to my same ol'...used ta B.
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We took off outta there in that "Green Thumb" work truck headed for my host-bros hometown of Mannasquan, N.J. Host-bro drivin'
Before we got too far though we stopped by my "druggie girlfriends"(not Mindy; Sharyn) I wanted to pick up the leather jacket which I had stolen from some unattended vehicle the last time I copped out. I had left it with her. It was one of those real cool buckskin jackets with all the fringes, ya know.
When I met her though, she had my jacket, and wanted to run with me. I tol' her "No", knowin' she didn't understand how crazy and difficult our situation was, but she insisted on comin' with, and considerin' how lonely and forsaken I'd been I agreed that she could come. In the meantime my host-bro had been waitin' in front of her parents' house with the engine runnin'. She brought the jacket and we ran around to the front of her parents' house and jumped into the truck. I introduced her to host-bro as he sped away with us safely inside the truck, she was in the middle...
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That's O.K Dragonfly, more power to ya.
So...where was I ??
...Oh yeah...
Ridin' away from my "druggie girlfriends" in a stolen work truck 2 days after coppin' out from $tr8.
As we drove outta Mantua that night, around 11:30pm someone from "Green Thumb", some loyal employee I take it, saw us as we sat at a red light just at the edge of Mantua. He pulled up right behind us in his jeep. I recognized him. It was obvious we were stealin' the truck. The company logo was right on the side. He tried to signal us to pull over. Yeah right. I could see him talkin' on his C.B. We pulled outta there and headed into D.C. on Little River Turnpike and 495. The cat from work followed behind us all the way down interstate 395 to the 14th st. bridge over the Potomac. At the last second my host-bro negotiated a brilliant manouever and decisively cut across a lane or 2 of heavy traffic for the exit ramp on the left(??, yeah I think the ramp was on the left), We barely made it without wreckin' I remember lookin' back and seein' the cat from work, who'd been followin' us sail by...there was nothin' he could do. We came down that exit ramp on 2 wheels we were movin' so fast and suddenly found ourselves runnin' redlights and tryin' to act cool on the streets of D.C.
End of Act 2.
Goodnight...
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When Johnny Cash went to Folsum, one of the guards laying down the rules told him not to remind them too much that they're in prison. Johnny said "Think they forgot?"
Write on...Government is not reason, it is not eloquence, it is force; like fire, a troublesome servant and a fearful master. Never for a moment should it be left to irresponsible action.
George Washington
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I love Johhny Cash, well especially that "Folsom Prison Blues" and "Live From San Quentin"
I would write on Ant but I'm tired and the tale is only half-way told. I'll have to pick it back up in a day or 2.
Peace...and Goodnite.
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My cousin Reggie busted Johnny Cash. :razz:
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i have a buddy that rewrote all of the words to ring of fire and made them have to do with your anus after eating really spicy chicken wings all night. HOLDIN' ON TO THE HANDICAPPED RAILS IN THE PUBLIC STALL IS NO WAY TO GO THROUGH LIFE SON
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Oh no, Pirate. I didn't mean write then. I meant to say I'm listening and, well, I hope you had pleasant dreams. Write on later.
Infidel: In New York, one who does not believe in the Christian religion; in Constantinople, one who does.
--Ambrose Bierce
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Hey pirate, Reno Divorce does a Johnny Cash tribute album. You might dig it.
http://www.myspace.com/renodivorceonline (http://www.myspace.com/renodivorceonline)
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I thought for sure we would be pulled over by D.C. metro cops any minute. It was late at night. We were drivin around the mostly deserted streets of D.C. in an easily identifible stolen work truck with the name of the company clearly visible on both sides of the truck. Our adreneline was so high at that point we were just runnin' red lights and drivin' all crazy 'n' such...We knew we had to get out of that area though, and we did.
Somehow, we found our way back to the interstate and were once again on our way to Mannasquan...Along the way we had to stop and beg and panhandle for spare change so we could buy gas and pay tolls 'n' such. It was a desperate night...
Somtime the next mornin' we ran outta gas in Mannasquan and just left the truck where it was(as it turned out we had left the stolen vehicle on the local sherriffs' property)
We walked away from the truck, the weather turned cold and the rain fell. We looked for shelter. We were all wet and hungry and tired. Sharyn began to lose her cool. Host-bro wanted me to ditch her but I tol' him we couldn't do that. She was complainin' 'bout just about ever't'in it seemed(I tol' her not to come, but she insisted). For 2 days we slept in cold unlocked cars. One mornin' we startled some woman who jumped into her car and found us 3 delinquent run-aways asleep in her backseat. We jumped out and ran. One afternoon Sharyn and I were so cold and miserable that we tried to sleep for a while in a cardboard box inside an ol' barn. I thought the cardboard would help to keep us warm, but it didn't help much and we were unable to get any rest. I don't think we'd had anything to eat for a day or 2 either.
Sharyn became more and more distraught. Eventually she decided she couldn't take any more and tol' us she wanted to turn herself in at the cop-shop. Well by then neither Host-bro nor I could hardly stand the sound of her voice anymore. We dropped her off at the cop-shop as per her request...bringin' her along had been a big mistake.
I don't know then if it was later that same day or whether it might have been the next day or what, but Host-bro and I had finally made contact with his "druggie girlfriend" and we went to her house to meet her and hole up for a while. We were up in her attic bedroom for about an hour when there was a hard knock at the front door. Yeah, you know the sound of that knock. Someone looked out the window and said: "It's the cops!!"
I ran down the front stairs as fast as I could. As I came down the stairs I could see the top of the cops' hat through the front door window. I was in a strange and unfamilliar house, was sort of runnin blind to where I thought the back door would be, but when I found the back door there was a cop standin' there too. I was cut off. I ran into the back bedroom and was considerin tryin' to climb up, over a tall dresser and out through a tiny window. The cop at the back door saw me through the screen door and just came in and caught me in the back bedroom. I was trapped. I was Handcuffed and put in the back of the police car. Host-bro came out next, cuffed too, and was put into the backseat with me... As we were taken away in that police car I caught a momentary glimpse, over the sea wall, of the Atlantic ocean...
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We were put into seperate holding cells. I remember the hard cold clang of that cell door closin' on me...
End of Act 3.
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Later that day we were transferred to Freehold Youth Detention Center, which is right near Asbury Park, N.J.(I have "Greetings From Asbury Park" on vinyl, great record, pro'ly Springsteens' best) On the way the cops warned us to stick together, keep each others' back, etc.
When we got to the Freehold Detention Center we were each put in seperate cells, by ourselves. There were hardly any white kids in there besides me and my H.-bro. Most of the kids were black and Puerto Rican. I was there for a week or 10 days or so. It was a rough place but I managed to survive it without gettin into any fights or puttin' my tail between my legs either. There are some crazy stories I could tell ya about my time in that joint but maybe I'll save that for later, this story is long enough as it is.(See appedixes 1 and 2 for stories about Freehold Detention Center, Monmouth County N.J.)
So after a while I was extradited back to VA to stand before a Fairfax County judge. The Fairfax cops who had come to pick me up were in plain clothes in an unmarked car. They put shackles around my ankles and cuffed my wrists. I had to wear a heavy, wide leather belt around my waist and a long chain ran from my ankle shackles to that belt. My hand-cuffs were also attached by a chain to the same belt. There were a lot of chains on me and of course i was in the prisoners uniform.
It was a bit of a drive down the interstate back to Faifax. At one point the cops decided we had better pull into one of those interstate plazas to get something to eat, you know the kind with a Roy Rogers and and a coffee shop with vending machines and a gift shop 'n' all. The state and federal flags were flyin' high in the wind.
The cops parked the car and got out. Then they got me out. I had to walk into that place all chained up. Ever'one was lookin' at me kinda sideways. I couldn't walk very fast because the shackle chain was only about 12 inches long. It was an agonizing walk into the Roy Rogers. I felt righteous in a way, because I knew I was bein' persecuted by a corrupt system on the other hand I felt a strange kind of shame too. Mothers with young children looked at me in fear and hustled their children along before me.
The cops took off my cuffs long enough for me to eat a hamburger 'n' fries and then escorted me back to the police car. We started down the interstate again. They suggested to me that I pro'ly knew a lot of drug dealers in Faifax and would I be interested in workin' for them as a narc. I tol' 'em noway. The radio was on and I remember "Help" by the Beatles came on and it was the first time I really listened to the lyrics:
"Help!, I need somebody,
Help! not just anybody,
When I was younger, so much younger than today-ay I never needed anybodys' help in any way,
But now those days are gone and I'm not so self-assurred...
Now I find I've changed my mind, I've opened up the door
Help me if you can I'm feelin' dow-own..."etc.,
Yeah I had alot to think about durin' that ride, in my chains, in my police car cage...
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On 2006-01-09 11:21:00, starry-eyed pirate wrote:
I remember the hard cold clang of that cell door closin' on me...
I remember that too, and all the forboding, and the nice lady (reminded me a lot of Mrs. Cunningham from Happy Days) checking on me from time to time. Really, I think it was like a suicide watch or escape attempt watch or something, cause I never did get that extra blanket I asked for when she asked if everything was ok.
I hope w/e it is Pirate is doing.. he is feeling the same, Alive! and Free!
Withdraw
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Finally we arrived back in Fairfax and I was taken to Faifax detention(See appendix #3), which really was a Holiday Inn compared to Freehold, or $tr8.
After about 3 weeks in there my court date came up. I was taken to the Fairfax County Courthose and placed in another holding cell with some other poor folks. My public defender came and tol' me that I was lookin' at 1-20 for Grand theft auto. I had heard all the horror stories about bein' raped in jail while I was in group. One particular story I'll never forget. This older cat stood up one time and talked about how he was gang-raped by 4 or 5 dudes. He was shakin' so bad he could hardly even tell the story. I was pretty fuckin scared, I have to admit. Then my public defender came back again and tol' me they would accept a plea if I copped to unauthorized use of a vehicle, which changes the category of my charges from a felony to a high misdemeanor. Well that was great news to me and I accepted the offer. I went in front of that Muther-Fuckin' judge in hand-cuffs and he explained to me that I was being sentenenced to one year in jail, then he explained that he would suspend that sentence if I completed treatment at $tr8 Inc. Failure to complete the program would result in my incarceration. At the time I was actually grateful to be goin' back to $tr8 instead of jail.
Thanx for listenin' to my story...I know it's long, but I had to tell ya what happened to me.
Fuck $tr8. Fuck the law. Fuck authority.
::dove:: ::dove:: ::dove::
_________________
If you would have justice in this world, then begin to see that a human being is not a means to some end. People are not commodities. When human beings are just to one another government becomes obsolete and real freedom is born; SPIRITUAL ANARCHY.
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O. The End.
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Did you go back to Straight? Started all over again? did you have to get up in group and tell what you did & what happened? did staff let you tell group of your alternative to that lesser plea vs going back to straight?
What happend to the other foster brother? did he go back to Straight too? Was it his girlfried that called the cops on y'all?
I bet telling all that was exhausting. But I bet it feels good to get it out.
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Well, yeah tellin' that story took a toll on me, but yeah it feels good to get it out.
Yeah, so I did go back to $tr8, and was started all over yet again(that was my 5th start-over) and yes I stood up in group and told the whole story.
I don't know what ever happened to my host-bro. Kinda sux cuz we were friends and at that point obviously shared a common bond. I never saw him again. Once at a Dead show at the Cap Centre though, I ran into his older brother who had also been in the program. I asked him about his brother but he was wasted and just told me: "Oh he's fine...You know Host-bro"
I don't know how the cops knew where we were. We made a lot of mistakes and were pro'ly not too hard to track down. Droppin my "druggie girlfriend" off at the cop-shop was a big mistake. The cops pro'ly got a lot of information out of her. Bringin' her along was the biggest mistake of that whole ordeal. Should have left her at her house.
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Did you finally 7 step?
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yeah. By the time all this went down I knew how to progress through the program pretty easily. Had made it to 3rd phase 3 times already but copped out each time. I could go through the brainwash program if I wanted to and so I did that under the duress...uh...mentioned. My final program was only 7 months.
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Freehold was a wild place, for sure. There wuz all kind a cats in there. Mostly black cats and some Pueto Ricans and then us whites. The white kids all ate seperately from the other kids and I ate with the white kids too, so did Host-bro.
One white kid had carved his arms all up in some ridiculous effort to claim insanity for his crime, whatever that was, I don't remember.
The cafeteria was right next to the indoor basketball court. There was a clear plexiglass window that began at about 3'n'a half foot up the wall. It ran the length of the dividing wall between the court and the cafeteria and went higher than anyones head. This made it easier for the guards to watch all the inmates whether they were shootin' hoops or still eatin' or just hangin' at the table. There were no other options. You either played basketball or sat at your table and talked or somethin' until it was time to go back to our cells in the block. The black and the Puerto Rican kids mostly, all shot hoops and the white kids sat around and talked. I could shoot hoops but knew there'd be a fight if I tried to enter the game. I would go out on the edge of the court and hang out and watch, and those mother-fuckers could play and they were bad.
Then this black kid, not too intimidating, about my own size come around and started tellin' me about James Brown and had I heard o' James Brown ?? 'n' all...So he does his James Brown immpression and wants my help gettin back to his feet 'n' all. I had never heard of James Brown at the time and had no idea of the humor I was missin'. I just laugh about it now :smile:
One day in the classroom at Freehold we had a substitute teacher, or maybe there was just a high turnover rate at that job. Even in Detention they make you go to school, but of course it was a joke. The substitute was standing in front of the class...trying to get some respect. Her desk was in the front of the class and she was trying to address the class of juvenile delinquents as she stood next to it. Our desks were seperated from each other in rows. In the back of the classroom was a row of approx. 7 foot tall bookshelves which weren't very full of very much of anything let alone books but there were some books scattered about its shelves and maybe an old typewriter or some old maps 'n' such, they were really just storage shelves. There weren't any windows to the outside as far as I remember.
After a while the sub. teacher was able to get some control over the class. She began to try to teach her lesson. Occaissionally even askin' the class a question and even gettin' an occaissional right answer.
Then from the back of the class I heard the words "Teacher...teacher...I have a question..."
I saw the look on the teachers face. Her jaw dropped, not completely but some, and her eyes stared for a moment. Ever'one in the class turned around to see what she was lookin' at. The one Puerto Rican kid who seemed like he was closer to 21 than 17 was lounged out across the tops of like 3 of the bookcases, with his shirt off and his pants all the way down and his schlong hanginin' over his leg. Ever'one laughed. It was hysterical. The teacher didn't know how to respond. :rofl: . She just had to try to get some control again and try to ignore what was happening. That was a wild place for sure...
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One day in the hallway just outside the cafeteria I watched as 3 of the guards beat this big black kid with their clubs...and dragged him away somewhere.
A few days later I was lined up right behind the same kid in dismissal line(for lack of a better term), you know the guards make you line up single file before they transport you anywhere. And this big bad-ass black cat was in front of me. As we were walkin' along on our way back to the cell-block he suddenly turned on me and asked me what I said about his mama.( He was real threatenin') I tol' him I didn't say nothin 'bout his mama. (Whoa man). He just looked at me real hard for a few seconds while I gave him a look of resosolution back. He backed off, but fuck that was close.
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I had a small cell to myself with a cement bed. I think there was some kind of a thin mattress or somethin and I had a pillow. There was a metal toilet in the corner. A slim rectangular window allowed in the moonlight at night. When I was a small child riding along at night in the back seat of my parents Delta 88, Oldsmobile and my Dad would be singing:
"I went to the Animal
The birds and the beasts were there,
The big Baboon by the light of the moon'
Was combing his auburn hair,
The monkey he gort drunk,
And sat on the elephants trunk,
The elephant sneezed,
Fell on his knees and that was the end of the Monk, the monk, the monk!!
And I would look up at the moon and think that it was followin' me. I thought it was my friend...flyin' along next to me along the tops of the trees.
At night, in my cell I would sit at my monastic window and pray to the moon.
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O. -starry-eyed pirate ::dove::
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that was an interesting story pirate......i have one i'd like to tell....but i don't want to "step on your toes"..... :lol: :lol: :lol: my story didn't happen to me,well 2 stories,one did happen to me.....the one that did happen to me,put me in str8,the one that didn't,happened when i was in str8....don't know which is better,but i think the one that didn't happen to me,had a more profound impact on me.....it happened in the first 3-4 months i was in there....if any of you want,let me know and i'll tell you the tale....it had a profound impact on why i didn't cop- out or "split" as they called it when i 1st went in there!{they changed the term "split" while i was in there because it sounded cool/was a druggie slang}funny how "split" was changed for its druggie slang..but "heavy/heavies" didn't!hell,i used the word "heavy" in my days before str8!Other than being in Fla. and being from Va,this story is the reason i didn't try to leave! let me know...hippie564
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Well, I'd love to read it.
The legislature is to society as a physician is to the patient. If a physician ignored side effects of medications like today's legislators ignore the side effects of their legislation, the physician would be accused of malpractice. I accuse today's legislators (with rare exception) of legislative malpractice. Many of the ills that are so obvious in our society are a direct result of previous legislation. Their solution? More laws!
-- John A. Bennett, DO
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ok...i'll write it......hippie564 :smile:
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matt i would love to read it. your mom did my intake.
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i will pm you, i thought i did but my computer was having problems, but check your pm.
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Glad you found my story interesting...Let's hear yours.
Also, I was in Indiana the other night, just kinda found myself there due to a percieved crisis havin' to do with a friends sister. It just kinda happened real quick and I didn't have time to find your phone # before we had to get on the road. After we got there the crisis faded fast and after a while I slipped out onto Philadelphia St. and started to look for your place. I found the Boomerang bar. Isn't that near your studio ?? I can't remember what you tol' me. Anyway I went into thge bar and looked around but you weren't there. I walked around in the alley lookin' for your studio too. Couldn't find it. Was I even in the right neighborhood ?? How close was I ?? It would a been cool to get a beer or 2 with you that night.
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Thanks for your story Starry-Eyed. It reminds me of the feeling of sitting in group thinking about how freaking hard it was to cop out. But how much you wanted to. That's a fucking shitty feeling.
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Yeah, JMA.
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you were very close!!!!! damn.....since you wrote me back...i'll especially tell it now....ok new posting coming up...hippie
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:poison: :peace: :poison: