Saturday, March 26, 2016

William Myrl; Letters to No One (43)

Let's talk about the gays. In prison, most folks are either homophobic or all too comfortable with the genitalia of other men. Earlier today, I was gunned down while speaking with my family on the phone. Gunning has a very specific meaning in this context. I was talking about magic cards with my brother and my dad when I perceived motion in my peripherals. There wasn't anyone else around the phones, it was our pods time to be outside and many prisoners had availed themselves of the opportunity. The gentlemen in cell five was standing on his toilet pleasuring himself in my direction. I turned away, because making eye contact means your into it. They actually believe this. They think that an officer who doesn't write them up immediately is in favor of their masturbation, and one who meets their gaze at any point is "locking in." Later that afternoon he apologized to me and asked that I not mention what had happened to anyone else. This works for both of us. He doesn't want other people to know hes into dudes, and I don't want to tell the story. Also, the homophobes, which is a category that I sometimes think includes everyone other than me and the gays, would insist I fight him over it. Like other primates, the homo-sedereus needs to prove himself physically to others. It isn't a real issue, he was testing me. Most people will lie if you ask them whether they are gay, so the easiest thing to do is show them your dick and see what happens. It seems odd to me, but this is the way of things. I've had it happen on one other occasion. I was at another prison, and had just come out of my yearlong stint in segregation. .My celly seemed nice, and he was. Also, he whipped it out halfway through the Sherlock Holmes movie on TNT. I expressed my flabbergast, and he apologized. We never spoke of it again, and we were together two months without any issues.
Sometimes, I find out from other people that I'm gay. While I was at work a few weeks back one of my confreres passed me a note. It was a couple of paragraphs asking whether I was into "that life", which is what they call it. I wrote "nope" on the bottom and handed it back. 
He later told me that he had wanted to talk to me about it because someone else had told him that was my persuasion. That someone else continued to insist to him that I was. I knew this other fellow, though not well, so I discussed the matter with him in he chow hall not long after. Apparently, he was at the other institution when I was, and he had learned there that I was engaged in activities of the kind with my aforementioned celly, and also this other guy I used to play scrabble with. It is amazing how many homosexual relationships I can be party to without knowing it. To clarify, I'm not into dudes, and I did clarify that with him. I don't care about what people do to themselves or to each other, but I would rather they left men apart from their bacchanals.
This isn't something I get excited about, but that's true of almost everything. Is ataraxia a medical condition or just a fun word?

William Myrl 

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