The Novelist Portent
Johnny E. Mahaffey
March 1, 2018

LET THEIR BE LIGHT!

Not "there"—but "their" light!

The guy I'm forced to share a cell with didn't have a lamp. He's been locked up his whole life—but priorities, I guess. For me, as soon as I arrived in prison, I got what I needed: lamp, hot pot (a "safety version" of a coffee pot), shoes, thermals, typewriter, TV—the things that were essential for living in here and being able to cope. But some just live meal to meal, even if they do have money. They choose just to eat as much junk food as they can get their hands on.

I'll put snacks off in place of things like paper and pens.

The cells have large overhead lights, but those things are like personal suns—they're stupid bright. So when the other prisoner doesn't have a lamp, they're likely to be reliant on the large light. Like he was in my cell, but now I brought myself a new lamp and gave him my old one which was still like new. I have a place on the wall to clip mine, up near where I rest my head. His is clipped onto the bunk. The lamps are much better because the ambiance is more relaxing in comparison to the Trance Gemini from the ceiling.

The lamps cost us about twelve dollars. Bulbs are about a dollar. 40 watt. It's a wise investment.

Some of the prisoners end up getting into fights over the overhead lights. One will be resting after work—maybe a twelve hour shift—and these are anger management lacking individuals to start with in most cases, and the aggressively bright light will spark an argument that quickly escalates. Some guys will use it to purposely provoke their "cellie" into an altercation. These, of course, being manboys (no sense of manhood in them; not one adult brain cell in their cranium). Many of them being guys that never had a home and grew up in the institutional environment, knowing nothing else BUT bright lights, brick walls, and concrete floors.

But not me! I like comfortable lighting, nice artwork, and having the things I need at hand...