I live on a steel bunk in a warehouse. Everything I own in this world is in the footlocker 
beneath me. It ain’t much; a photo album, a stack of letters, a few books. I’ve been in prison 10 years this time. My release date is 2032. A few hazy, drug-soaked months of strip bars, casinos, and fast living cost me most of my adult life.
I run across old friends and associates from that era on the yard sometimes. They look bad — rotten teeth, track marks, gnawed nails on shaky hands. They give me news of other old friends who weren’t as lucky: overdoses, shootings, suicides. Occasionally I’ll recognize the names of women in the arrest report of my hometown newspaper. Those wide-eyed college girls who were just beginning to experiment with coke and ecstasy in 2003 are now haggard streetwalkers, hardened repeat-offender prostitutes.
This is the natural evolution of drug abuse. Cause and effect. I know you’re thinking it won’t happen to you. I thought I was an exception too. Believe me, no one plans on destroying their life and coming to prison. No little kid daydreams about growing up to rob gas stations for dope money, or getting doused with pepper spray and beaten half to death by abusive guards in a confinement cell, or dying alone in a motel room with a needle in his arm… We call getting high “partying” and like any party, there’s always a mess when the party is over. In fact, the bigger the party, the bigger the mess.
The irony is that the kids we label squares and lames and dorks because they refuse to party grow up to be the doctors who resuscitate us when we overdose, the psychologists who attempt to help us put our broken lives back together, the lawyers who represent us in court when we’re arrested, the judges who sentence us to prison, and the men who step into our families and become the fathers and husbands we failed at being.
So if you’re 15 (or 17 or 24) and you’re popping bars, snorting Roxys or dabbling in meth or molly or whatever, this is what middle-aged drug life looks like. Guaranteed. And if you think it won’t happen to you, we can talk more about it when you move into my dorm. The bunk behind mine is open right now. We’ll leave a light on for you. The one from the gun tower.
[This post originally appeared on malcolmivey.com 2/1/15.]
Malcolm Ivey / Author 
Fresh as when you originally wrote it 2.5 years ago.
And sad! Not even so much for you. Yes, it’s robbed your life of too many opportunities, freedom to be a family man, spend time with your Mom when you or she desires. Etc.
Yet an Unseen guiding Hand led you to develop a new “addiction,” a new obsession or habit which has led you to take a whole new direction in your life. And most importantly, an extremely disciplined life. Which has created in you a whole new person. Namely your writing!! In fact, a new identity—you’re a WRITER, a BLOGGER, a published AUTHOR!!!
So back to my “SAD” comment. The hundreds and hundreds of thousands of inmates scattered throughout this country, who, well, I’m not going to attempt to describe that which you so eloquently pictured for us in this post!!
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Thanks, Marcus. I feel like becoming a disciplined writer has saved me. Now, if my work can influence somebody else to change, that’s an extra bonus.
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Just as you surrender your child—one of your books once published, especially as was the case with your last one, “On the Shoulders of Giants”—to make their way through this world, so I suggest you surrender who, when, and how will benefit from your “child’s” influence. This side of eternity you may or might not learn in full of your children’s influence and healing work.
Turns out that is true for anyone who like you surrenders to the Universe (or the Creator God as I see it), to serve others. The results are equally surrendered to the same Universe/Creator who gave you the stories to begin with, and guided you in writing them out.
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Great post. Hopefully some of the people who need to read this see it. You’re an excellent teacher, man. Keep up the good work.
I did a lot of partying in my younger days, but thankfully a lot of it was smoking weed, mushrooms and going to see bands. I love music so much that the drugs and alcohol were secondary to the music most of the time. Coke almost fucked me up, but I saw what it was doing to friends and was able to walk away from it. I channeled my energy into playing guitar and bass instead (while still smoking plenty of weed for a while). Eventually I got tired of all of it. Only the music is still around for me.
Peace.
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Thanks, man, appreciate your encouragement. Music has always been important to me too. I’m a guitar player myself, though I haven’t been able to play since I came in here. One day…
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I hear you. I haven’t played in almost a year, though for a different reason. I’m on the outside, but I’m stuck working a job that’s destroying my body – pinched nerve in my brain stem, bad lower back, knees, wrists, hands, one shoulder blade and one ankle. I can’t work more than 3 days a week, sometimes only 2. It takes a long time to recuperate. I can’t get back to playing guitar until I stop swinging a hammer, but it’s the only way I can find to make enough money to buy food. It isn’t enough to pay rent so I sleep on couches. It’s tough, but I’m not complaining. I’m free to walk around, grab a slice of $1 pizza or a cup of coffee, take a train or bus ride, whatever.
Stay strong man, you’re helping people. That’s what really matters.
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Wow man. After hearing your comment, my own life seems pretty cushy. Glad you’re present enough to respect the freedom in spite of your difficult circumstances. I know how easy it is to get caught up out there. Thanks for the kind words. Stay free.
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I wouldn’t say you have it easy by any stretch of the imagination. I may not have a room, bed, dresser, my own bathroom, etc. – but I can freely walk the streets and grab a train or get something to eat or drink any time I want. I can go to a park or an inexpensive show. I’m going to see the blues-rock band Indigenous tonight at B.B. King’s in Times Square. $23 Excellent guitarist, cool music. Life can be good. Know what I’m saying?
Peace.
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