Dear Diary,
The fall is near and it's starting to get cold. My bunk mate, Ortiz is hogging up all the blankets. He told me not to use the toilet because he was brewing some Hooch. I really had to take a smash, but if I use the toilet, Ortiz would beat me with a pillow case filled with bars of soap. My ribs are still healing from last time when I didn't clean Ortiz's shoes with my toothbrush.
Ortiz is thinking about selling me for a pack of cigarettes. The crazy russian fellow, Vic, has an eye for me. I'm to old for this crap. I don't know if I can keep up with all this. I must say that I am a bit happier than when I first started. I'm learning the system. I really don't have to do anything and I get hot meals, a bed and companionship with the criminal element. I feel like a don. A lot of times is bad, really bad, but I just roll with the punches.
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