headboy9

Been to hell (...and not back) these past few days

I can't be expected to lawfully play by the rules when when strange rules are unlawfully being used against me.

I met someone from many lifetimes ago at the record office today. Someone I would rather not have met. Well, not like I wish to meet anyone I knew here. Or be met by anyone I knew. I'd rather many never knew my whereabouts nor what became of me. Let them think I simply up and dissolved out of material existence. Or think whatever they wish with their minds, as is their right to do, so long as they never arrive at this. This is my story, yeah, and I wish to control how it is told. I know the ink it is currently being written with is prison…an ink too harshly judged by society (and for good reasons). It is my desire to control the timing of the reveal. By then, the ink would have dried. That way, all that is seen is the finished picture, not the smudges that gave birth to it. When I walked into the record office with the correctional officer who took me there and saw a man sitting, nothing told me it would be someone I knew. Had I known, I would never have called his name. He sat there in dirty clothes, with puffy cheeks and a potbelly like him. Aside from the grey hairs beginning to line the edges of his hair, he looked almost exactly as I remembered him. If the man before me was a portrait of the man from those days, then it was a remarkably well-preserved portrait. The resemblance was so uncanny, so much him that before I could stop myself, I called out his nickname: "Chop Alone." Very sure he wouldn't answer. But he reacted instantly. Shit. Oh shit. Wish I hadn't done that. I thought to myself, already preparing to walk away as quickly as possible. Regretting my action and wringing my fingers in nervousness as I brought them to rest on the old, discoloured table in the office. The lady correctional officer seated adjacent, busy writing, pretended to be too engrossed in her work. But she was taking everything in. Her subtle facial expressions gave her away. Same with the warder who brought me there. Both eagerly listened to see how the whole thing unfolded. At first, it looked as though I might get away and escape undiscovered. “Chop Alone”, the nickname, was indeed his. I had recognized him. He, however, hadn't recognized me. There was still a glimmer of hope. Confusion spread across his face as he searched his mental archives, moving from file to file looking for which I might be in. It took a few seconds while he froze and scrunched up his meaty face. In the end, the search returned null. So he had no choice but to ask me directly. I remained mum, smiling sheepishly, allowing his mental processor to labour further while I silently prayed it failed again. Or better still, that he wasn't the Chop Alone I knew, thereby putting the whole thing to rest. Then I made my final mistake: I mentioned the name of his apprentice from those days. More processing happened in his brain box. It took him only a little longer. Then it clicked. He mentioned the name of the company where we had worked back then. Mentioned the name of the colleague I shared an office with. And that was it, I was made out. It was indeed him. The last time we saw each other was in 2015 when I left that job. Now this is 2026. Many states away from where we both once worked. And we are meeting again... In prison. Not sure… Sincerely not sure how I feel about it all. Chop Alone has always been a large man. Back then, his shirts barely covered his stomach, leaving much of it protruding. It made him look like one of those exaggerated caricatures often seen in old newspapers and magazines. This evening, he was seated though, so I couldn't see his renowned belly. He is a ghost from my days of working in a granite quarry, risen out of my distant past to come look at me and silently say: "Look at you now." As it turned out, he was processing out of prison right there. Bail had been secured in the matter that brought him here, and he was leaving… Just as we were meeting. He had already spent a few weeks in this yard. Looking back, I think I had seen him around without ever realizing it was him. Actually, had I known, I probably wouldn't have revealed myself. I took his number anyway. But I doubt I'll ever call it. Tomorrow is Friday. We failed to get the information that took us to the record office today. We go again in the morning. Goodnight Diary. #DiaryOfANigerianPrisoner July 16, 2026.

Day #1,149 I returned the disappointing book from yesterday in the afternoon. As it turned out the man I had been meaning to see at the education centre was around. Souljah introduced me. Or should I say over-introduced me. Way too much of an introduction for my liking. That guy is being too forward and doing too much. Soon his agenda should become clear. Almost immediately, the man wanted me to assist with a project he claims to be working on for a business venture. It appears difficult for him to understand that there is a difference between hardware and software components. And also that there is something like differences in skills. I tried explaining unsuccessfully. He impressed it upon me so I had to agree I would help...and I can. However after doing proper research about the custom solution for his idea, I realized it is something I don't wish to expend the amount of effort and time it requires. And he won't pay nor be able to pay. I feel ambushed by Souljah. Now I need to communicate clearly to him how I want to relate going forward: quietly without getting too close to warders or inmates, only interacting when I must, and not more. I'm still hanging around them because it looks like we might get access to a desktop and that will help me build, test, and learn. Yesterday, one was set up in one of the lecture rooms for general use, and I was able to create a password-protected user account for myself. It'll serve as my workstation. Also helped another cell member do the same. We all can use it individually without being in each other's business. The only major challenge is the epileptic nature of power supply here. There's also the issue of limited availability due to having to share with several others. At least having access at all is still something beneficial from the inconvenience I have to endure dealing with them. Though the ultimate goal is for me to get a dedicated one for myself. Preferably something very small-sized. Maybe a mini Windows tablet paired with a detachable keyboard or some small mini PC that comes pre-built with a keyboard, portable and small enough to maneuver. Even better if loaded with a Linux OS. As it stands, I can't afford one or have any hope of doing so in view. But I believe in possibilities. One thing I keep doing is learning and practicing everyday through any means possible. This is important and everything to me. Imagine me having access to a dedicated PC where I could tinker for fifteen hours a day? That's superpower like Thor's once united with his hammer, Mjolnir. With a PC here, it would only be a matter of time… Something important would definitely come of it. Something that would ensure I never lack for money here and hereafter. Something that will set me up for life, as well as pay others. Something useful to society. This is my one desire at this time. I send it out into the universe, hoping somehow the universe sends it back to me in the form of money or a PC. Perhaps that's how this wrong begins to right itself. And I believe it will come sooner or later. But while it tarries, I keep training everyday like an athlete training for a major tournament. When the day finally arrives I want to be worthy of the device and able to make it ever powerful in my hands. So adept at what I do that no one could've wielded it better than I would. Nowadays I forget my hunger for food and see only my desire to make this happen. This is a consummate passion now. It burns. Burns red-hot. No way it won't burn its way through. It's only a matter of time. Tomorrow is Thursday. Authority lecture delays, so late opening. Will spend time at the school area. Goodnight Diary. #DiaryOfANigerianPrisoner July 15, 2026.

Day #1,148 I walked to the library to look for a technical book during the wet afternoon and it seemed as if I walked into a time warp. Like I was in a place forgotten by change. All archaic books. When browsing for books from other genres it doesn't matter or strike any concerns. Most materials for entertainment are timeless and even get better as the years pass like good wine. But not technical books. I knew that but was still going to check anyway. I found a gigantic 1,500-page technical book that seemed to cover everything. It was so comprehensively all-encompassing. The kind of book that makes you feel you'd become a professor if you survived it. Browsing through its table of content got me so excited due to all the juicy stuff it promised to teach. Such awesome superpowers to possess. More flicking through the pages, and I was sold. I would go with it not minding its intimidating size, I thought. Excited, I hooked it under my armpit and hauled to my cell. I was going to read my eyeballs out and learn everything possible about the subject. Study so hard my ears would smoke and my tangled hair would catch fire. On getting into the cell, I needed to make sure I wouldn't be bothered once I began reading. So I went to shower…again. Did “numbers one & two. Got water and what little food I could. Then I climbed into my bunk. Closed my curtain. Put up a mental “Do Not Disturb” sign on my post. And began. The book was indeed awesome. It contained any topic I could think of under heaven about its subject in such great detail. All the aspects I knew and the ones that seemed completely on the edge of new. I mean it had to be new if I hadn't heard of it, right? More flicking through the pages. A tad bit confused. So much good stuff I didn't know where to start. Decided I would just start from the beginning. In fact, I would start before the beginning. From where the book began so I'd read every single letter and character printed in it. That way I could in truth brag I finished a 1500-page technical book. I performed my morale-boosting shenanigans. Arghhhhhhh! I got thisssss! Zeeeeeeeeezz! Steeling and mentally tuning myself for the task ahead. It's both self-development and self-challenge. Since I'm back to tech, I’m going all the way in. And what better way than a one-thousand five hundred pages book? Yeah. That. More and more until I know everything there is to know so I become an authority. They say reading a hundred good books on a subject makes you an authority. I would become just him–an authority. But, hold…. Wait a minute… I think to myself: “Something is missing.” The second thing I usually check after a book’s title and author is the year of publication. I didn't. I got all excited and carried away. But no issues. Such a serious book with such serious promises has to be recent, right? Right? Well… It wasn't. And by not being recent I mean it was more than ten-years-ago-not-recent. Its publication date was 2011. This is 2026. A whopping 15-year difference. For a field that changes before you're done blinking twice. I pumped the air in frustration and screamed “fuck me” without making a sound. That action should be similar to watching a movie with the volume completely turned down. No sound not to disturb others. But I screamed what I screamed. I was heartbroken. All that excitement, prepping myself, and lugging the book and its ponderous weight from the library, through the open yard, and to my cell. Only for it… A whopping 15 years. And that's the best we have here. It means that anyone with technical knowledge here is at best stuck in a 2011 skill capabilities or lower. More like being frozen in the friggin stone age. I see all of us here through this book and its publication date: If the newest technical book in prison is fifteen years out of date, then prison itself is at least fifteen years behind the world. Everyone trying to learn here begins from that deficit. And that's unfortunate. I wish it wasn't so. I wish the library was stuffed with current materials and that computers were loaded with software, updated periodically and available for inmates’ use and learning. But, well, you know what they say about wishes and horses. Tomorrow is Wednesday. I'm teaching from 1 PM at the education center. Goodnight Diary. #DiaryOfANigerianPrisoner July 14, 2026.

Nonstop rain and Monday lectures made the day pass in a breeze. Opening was even later than usual on the excuse that the downpour posed a security risk. Reading, reading, and still more reading. Heavy technical readings that aren't that heavy. They're more or less like revision since I've been around their subject for years. I feel charged up to be learning. I've always loved knowledge and learning. It gives me a sort of high. At one point my device began misbehaving. How I roll is to plug into the power source letting it charge while using it at the same time. It was charging more slowly than I was draining it, and that worried me. Being broke and no hope of money on my horizon at the moment means I would be in trouble should it pack up. Switched to watching House of the Dragon to see whether if not typing, swiping, tapping or any heavy tasking would help it charge. I have mixed feelings about that House of the Dragon show. At the back of my mind I subconsciously pitched it against Game of Thrones as I watched. It's a good show on its own but, I'm afraid to say, it falls short when placed beside its predecessor. The acting isn't all that convincing nor is the production realistic. Caraxes in particular left me questioning how a dragon could look like that. In addition to that, the reduced power of the dragons was another thing that The Crabfeeder held them off for three friggin years. More like toy dragons. Not the fearsome beasts Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen flew into battle on. Just a rewatch of five episodes of season one and I'm not sure… Maybe I might come back to it anytime I feel bored enough and have no book to read. But for now, TBH, I can't promise anything. The good thing here is that power has been fairly stable for some days now. Several hours of charging my phone didn't add a single bar to the battery percentage. I'll truly be in some deep shit should it become faulty. But it has tried too. I've been using it since late 2023 or thereabouts. Therefore it is due for changing. But, oh, well… I didn't eat anything until late in the evening and didn’t mind. I didn't even notice nor was I hungry. My preoccupation was with my reading and tinkering and getting my device to charge properly. Tomorrow is Tuesday. I'll try with new chargers and see if there is any improvement. Goodnight Diary. #DiaryOfANigerianPrisoner July 12, 2026.

Quick question, X: Let's say you were in prison. You had access to a phone and the internet. And you desperately needed $3,000. What would you realistically do? Assume you're starting with almost nothing. My life may very well depend on the answers. No fantasy. No "I'd just get a job"... unless you can point me to an active opportunity I can realistically pursue with the tools currently at my disposal. Thank you.

Day #1,145 Ama is an irredeemable nuisance. He is a relative of OGB, our cell's perennial troublemaker. It leaves me wondering whether madness somehow runs in their family tree. This Ama is a man of about seventy or more who came into prison recently and discovered this “long-lost” cousin, OGB, in our cell. He is said to be very rich, a father and grandfather to many, but sincerely, without meaning to be disrespectful, he is an embarrassment to all things fatherhood. His name and the word “responsible” should never be used together in the same sentence. This might be a shocker, but alcohol is quite easily accessible here without one needing to resort to DIY hands-on brewing with all its troublesome science. So Ama would drink senselessly. Then talks, curses, and disturbs the full cell and won't let anyone sleep by day or night. And many of us have had it up to our necks with him but still no one is daring to do anything. The average person here worships money or the idea of having money (not the person with the money). It’s so bad that I had to confront and tell them how valueless they are to their faces today. I used a simple analogy that if a pig was to be rich and come in here, they'd bow to it without minding. In fact, if the pig separated itself from its money and stood aside, they'd stop bowing to the pig, turn, and start bowing to the pile of cash instead. So it is never the person with the money that they worship, just the money with the person. The music they constantly sing when someone attempts to check him is: “He's a big man. Do you know who he is or how much money he is worth? He has huge hotels… This, that…” Blah Blah blah. All such prideful nonsense used to assert one is a big man. As if I give a hoot. But they clearly do and that's fine. It is a free world. But now how they exercise that freedom is beginning to affect my peace. Therefore that amount of freedom was due for a review. Accordingly a meeting was called at night between the twenty of us original cell members. Our visitors, the five lodgers, only listened but had no right to utter a word. When it was my turn to speak, I quoted prison law, invoking our law book, and asked the provost to exercise his provostly powers to ban Ama from drinking or being given drinks by any cell member. I argued that it was lawful and the right thing to do. He did. A one week drinking ban was placed on him. No cell member is to give to, buy for, or allow an outsider to give him drinks. Hopefully we can have a little respite from his nuisance while it lasts. Tomorrow is Sunday. Doing heavy reading and studying now. Wish my days had 28 hours. Goodnight Diary. #DiaryOfANigerianPrisoner July 11, 2026.