Frog was looking at the stove.

“What’s that?” he said, pointing at a pot heating on the gas flames.

“It’s potpurri” Shayla said.

“It’s not food.” I translated for him.

“What’s in it?” he asked.

“Apples, cinnamon, and some pepper corns” Shayla told him.

“Sounds like food to me,” he said, grinning at me.

Ha ha, funny Frog.

How many times, while listening to a bootleg, have you wished you could reach through time and space to slap the guy standing right by the microphone and going “WOOOOOOOOOO”?

For me, the answer is many.

We were shuffled into another room after they took our fingerprints and given ID bracelets with our pictures on them. There were phones on the wall in here, and we were allowed to use them.

It was about 5:30AM my time, which means it was 4:30AM where my Dad lives. I called his house. Someone picked up.

“HELLO!” the computer voice intoned over the line “THIS CALL IS BEING RECORDED AND MAY BE MONITORED. YOU HAVE A COLLECT CALL FROM AN INMATE AT THE HENSCHWEILER COUNTY JAIL. YOU MAY PRESS 9 TO BLOCK ALL FURTHER INMATE CALLS. TO ACCEPT, PRESS AND HOLD ZERO. TO DECLINE, PRESS ONE”

There was a click and the computer voice shouted at me that my call had been declined. I guessed my pops figured I’d end up in jail sooner or later and didn’t much want to fuck with it.

I called my sister and gave her all the information. She said she’d call my job and let them know why I wasn’t there. I hung up and found a place to lie down on the floor.

In jail, you get pretty used to lying around on things you wouldn’t normally find yourself lying on, like the floor. There’s nothing to do, no one is very friendly or talkative, so sleeping is the best way to pass the time. Fortunately for me, I can sleep damn near anywhere. The floor smelled bad, but I was able to sleep anyway.

Another Sherrif’s deputy came to the door, after about a million years or so of me snoozing fitfully.

“Everybody UP!” he shouted. We all shuffled around and got to our feet. He had a couple of inmates in orange jumpsuits with him who were pushing a cart full of peanut butter sandwiches and orange juice boxes. Everyone filed past and got one of each.

The deputy looked at his clipboard.

“HODGSON!” he barked. I pointed at myself. “Let’s go. Sit there.”

I sat there, at a little table with another fellow.

Everyone else filed back into the jail cell. I looked down at my jeans. They were dirty. I thought about those people who buy jeans that are scuffed up on the thighs and ass to simulate wear and thought “Hey, fuck those people. My jeans really are dirty.”

The guy at the table with me was eating food out of a styrofoam box. He didn’t have anything to say and neither did I. The deputy came back and took the styrofoam box away from my table mate. He threw it away, and ordered the guy back into the cell.

I gathered the guy was diabetic, and had to eat different food than the rest of the people. I looked around at the holding cells. People peeked out of the windows, looking at me.

The deputy ordered me up. I got up. He ordered me down the hall, through a metal detector. He took me in a little room with a teller-type window in the wall and had me sit down. Some ladies fussed around on the other side of the window with staplers and computers and whatnot.

I wanted to ask them what was happening to me. I had no idea why I was in that little room. I figured either I was being checked in to general population or being let out.

The window in the wall had a little circle cut out of it so sound would go through. I wanted to put my face in that circle and say “What is happening to me, please, nice ladies?”, but sooon enough one bustled over with some plastic bags full of my crap.

I figured I was being let out.

I signed some shit, and she gave me my bagged crap back. I shuffled out the far door and into a hallway where other free people were wandering around. I didnt know which way to go. I followed some ladies down a hallway and eventually got to a big desk with more cop types at it. On the other side of the desk, in a big waiting area, sat my former boss and my new boss. They smiled at me.

“Hi, boys.” I said.

We walked outside into the harsh sunshine, and I bummed a smoke off my boss.

“How was it?” he asked.

“Jail sucks.” I told him.

We got in my boss’s nice red car and drove away.

The truth is I was wrong to blame the person I blamed, although what they said and what happened was the catalyst for the change I am about to make.

I’m embarassed and flattered that so many of you chose to encourage me, because I didn’t consciously mean to ask for encouragement, although subconsciously I was hurt and so forth, so I probably wanted some support. Really though, it’s not needed. I’m not depressed or anything like that. I just think I need to move in some new directions to continue to grow as a writer.

I’m questioning whether I am writing what I want to write in my diary here, or if I am goofing off in exchange for readership. This concerns me, so I’m changing things up a bit. Honestly, I don’t know how yet.

Ultimately, all those who wish to read what I have to say will be duly and properly notified of where and how to find me. I just need to throw myself a bit of a curve ball.

Batter up!

I was in the middle of writing another entry to try to finish up my jail experience, but something has happened that has made me not want to write anymore here.

Someone I respect and like a lot has decided that I am no longer wirth talking to because I differ in opinion from them, and I don’t feel like writing anymore.

I might be back. I don’t know right now.

I’m totally shocked at the inability to compromise in someone who values fairness and equality so much.

I’m sick of typing and sick of being attacked.

There will be no funny Hodgson today.

ADDENDUM:

Thank you for all your kind words. I’m not going to stop writing, I just might stop doing it here. I haven’t decided yet, and I don’t really feel like thinking about it at the moment. I do, however, greatly appreciate your concern.

My consideration centers around whether or not I should be sharing my private thoughts with people since I seem to be somewhat of a monster inside my own head. I may just end up locking it up.

Incidentally, this is not an april fool’s joke, although those of you who guessed that it might be are wise. I’ll remember to pull a prank next year, wherever I am. :)