Kuku is sitting at his study, thinking.  Thinking about the life he had before prison, during prison, and after prison.  His life now-a-days was something of an open book.  And, well, his life before prison was eclipsed by his father, who many believe was the richest mobster that ever has, and ever will, walk these city's streets.  But what about life in prison.  Kuku looks at his Prison Diaries - who could be interested in these handwritten chapters that cover life inside the notorious Admin Jail?  Well, maybe someone.  Kuku climbs into his car, where he is driven to his podium.  He opens his diary and begins to speak...

FRIENDS, thank you for gathering once more to hear me speak.  Today I am going to read to you from my Prison Diaries.  Before I start, a little about the crime that I was convicted of.  I was still a young man when I was sent to jail.  My father knew the authorities were closing in and he was keen that I had a little bit of cash to take with me.  He sent me to take the daily takings from one of his casinos.  I can't recall exactly which one it was.  It was during a war and things were a bit hectic.  There wasn't much money, really, about $1,200,000,000, but I threw the duffle bags in my car and headed back to Rockingham.  On the way back, I cruised through Philly to shoot at a few Wiseguys, but none were around: they were getting hammered pretty hard by the war that they had started, but lost almost immediately.  Anyway, City Hall sent some special agents to apprehend me. and I was sentenced by a special court to a term of imprisonment about double that of the average life expectancy of this thing of ours.  It took some getting used to, I'll tell you that.  

Anyway, I'll start at the beginning of my stretch.

8 DECEMBER 

It's very cold here, and very busy.  All these people.  I have to wait in a large room, and then I'll called forward and sent to be photographed.  The guard leaves the room.  He'd been a bit cold towards me, but I assumed it was simply because I was so rich and he was so ordinary.  This happened a lot, I had noticed.  I just seemed to make people angry.  I felt bad for them, of course, but after a time, I realised I couldn't do anything to help them.  The photographer whispered "Hey, you're Kuku's son, ain't you?"  I said "why yes, I am, do you know my father?"  He said no, but he knew of him, and that he'd help "save my ass" if i gave him money.  I said I'd see what I can do, wondering why he had used such a strange metaphor.  Just then, the guard came back and said "you're Kuku's son, ain't ya?"  to which I replied "that is a charge of which I can plead guilty, my good man!  Do you know my father?"  The guard said "my brother is from Philly and your father shot him dead, right there in the Street, and was seen laughing about it.  I'm going to make sure that your ass is in perilous danger."  Shocked, and thinking about what the photographer had said, I replied "but, Sir, my father doesn't just shoot people for no reason!  Let's see.  I could arrange for some money to be sent to you?"  He got angry, saying my money wouldn't help me, even if I had any left by the time "City Hall" were done with me.  

I was sent back into the holding cell, then onto a bus, headed for the general population of the notorious Admin Jail.

To be continued...

8 December - entering General Population

I walk in, and people are staring and pointing.  I wonder if it's because I've had my hair styled earlier in the day, and I'm looking round for a mirror to check when suddenly a small, thin man with a really bad beard steps up to be.  "You're Kuku's son, aint' ya?"  By this stage, I'm wondering if I should get some kind of ID made up to prevent having to deal with so many questions, but I'm jolted out of that train of thought by this strange man saying "I am bisexual.  I like women and men, but there aren't many women around here."  I look at him, wondering if he's heard of the Kinsey scale, and I'm about to posit that sexuality is a fluid concept when a large man bounds over, his overly developed forearms swinging down past his bandy legs.  The large man shouts "TECK, YOU LEAVE THIS MAN ALONE.  THIS MAN KUKU BOY.  KUKU BE MY FRIEND!"  The small thin man - "Teck" - walks away, and I see him trying to menace a much smaller man, who bizarrely is on roller skates.  The large man, who I learn is nicknamed Big Ape, beckons me to go with him, and I do.  Once we are in a quieter place,he surprises me by being erudite, quietly spoken, with a mild lisp.  He explains that Teck is a notorious bisexual inmate, and that he wanted to have a sexual relationship with me.  I express surprise at this, but Big Ape says that I need to be careful.  He says that he himself enjoyed sexual relationships with a number of prisoners, and compliments me, telling me I am in good shape, handsome, and possessed of a charisma that is rare among the criminal fraternity.  Despite myself, I blush.  I enjoy hearing nice things about me.  Big Ape tells me that he has something of a charmed position among the inmates: he's big and aggressive enough to ward off the sexual predators, like Teck, whilst being able to protect the less physically agile prisoners too.  He explained that the less physically agile prisoners were frequently so grateful for his protection that they became his lover.  I was surprised at this turn of events, and resolved to research more.  But, I asked Big Ape, how does a physically pathetic man like Teck become the type of prisoner to attempt to intimate new arrivals?  Well, Big Ape explains, it wasn't always like that.  Teck was bullied when he first arrived, and went mad, stabbing several of his tormentors to death.  Since then, he has largely been left alone.  Wow, thought I, what an ordeal.  Poor Teck...

To be continued... 

10 December - A routine of sorts

I feel that I am now in a routine of sorts.  I have friends, and I have adjusted to the culture of this place.  Big Ape is a good friend to me.  We are sharing a cell.  Big Ape is a popular man, with lots of visitors.  Sometimes he asks for some "alone time" with his visitors.  To start with, I assumed that they were discussing some sort of business, that I wasn't to be privy to, but I realised quite quickly that Big Ape was a sensual, loving man, and that the pain of confinement led to him seeking out what the Greeks considered to be the most pure and the highest form of physical pleasure, that of man-on-man.  Coming from an egalitarian, but hedonistic, upbringing, I saw the physical act of love through a heteronormative dichotomy, informed by the contrasting and conflicting feminine and masculine.  I was therefore shocked at what I learned from Big Ape.  Big Ape was hypermasculine, powerfully built, strong, aggressive.  I assumed that he would want the feminine to contrast with his masculinity, but I was wrong.  Big Ape explained to me that he had initially sought out the most feminine men in the jail, but, over time, he had ended up becoming more and more attracted to masculine men.  So much so, he confided, that "if they don't have facial hair, I don't want to see their butt bare."   Never, than at that moment, have I ever been more acutely aware of my own facial hair.  But I never feared for my chastity with Big Ape, he seemed to accept that I didn't see him in that way.

And so I started looking at men differently.  The big macho men, they seemed different.  I noticed that everything they did, their demands for respect, their physical prowess, was geared towards the approval of other men.  I realised that, while I got on with men, and was considered by many to be a leader and a teacher among men, as well as a Prince, it was the endorsement of women that fulfilled an inner need.  Big Ape would sit with me near the weights bench and watch men working out.  For an erudite man, he could shock me with his candor.  He once said "see that big strong man over there?  As soon as his mustache grows in properly, I am going to make love to him.  I want to feel his upper mustache tickle my lower abdominal muscles."  Again, I felt aware of the mustache that I had been growing.

And the "prison punks" were attracted to me.  These were little, angry, feminine men, who constantly bitched and whined and complained.  A few times, tormented by the desire for a woman, I considered facilitating myself with these characters, but I always resisted.  My immense wealth and family name meant that conjugal visits could always be arranged, so I did these.  When I returned to my cell, Big Ape would look disappointed with me.   He explained that be believed that heterosexual sex, for a man, drained him of his masculinity.  He said that Greek sex, sex between men, increased strength and resilience.  He wanted me to be the distilled essence of masculinity that he was.

And Teck was bothering me.  Not directly, but he attracted a coterie of vulnerable young men and convinced them of some crackpot ideology.  I decided that the best thing to do would be to organise a prison writing contest...

To be continued...