I graduated from Unicorn School! There was a last bit of performance art and I still have the markered word "Surrender" visible on my right forearm. These kids notice everything I wear, say, and do with my hair, but don't notice that. God love 'em, they think I'm weird enough.

I got lots of great things out of the training, and they are all rolling around my head and my body. This is where the surrender comes in--what next, what next, what next. It feels solid that whatever follows Kid Jail is going to have to be a Big Deal, at least to me. I will need three to four regular jobs to fill the emotional space of this monster. And it is a monster, the embodiment of our culture, now, just as much as records released for Japan and good art. Here's where Fear reigns and we trade in Black bodies to make more money for high concept dinners. My co-workers, the ones thrown scraps of Kid Prison Power and a bullshit 'Doctor' title they purchased from chain schools, they refused to unionize, and bad feelings are staying bad all around. I'm neither dissappointed or surprised, I'm just watching fear motivate more fear, and watching how hard it is to pretend that these kids are ours, and their mistakes aren't our fault.

I'm worried I'm going to float right out of here because I can get so heady. I don't get that heady, though, because at some point my face is flaming and I've covered a sheet of paper in direct quotes that don't mean anything to anyone but me.

They talk about the stupidity of "this system" and I imagine giants standing on the necks of children and mournfully saying "these shoes" while slowly shaking their heads.

Someone wrote something around 9/11 time, and it quoted someone else, someone like Blake or Keats. Google it. The point was that nothing should be feared more than a giant who thinks himself a tiny man. Our head guy, all white hair and false teeth and Cook County sleazebag swagger, he repeatedly utilized the Hobbes quote that "life is nasty, brutish, and short" while discussing the fact that our contract may be challenged. Get this: the Beancounters are demanding receipts! They want us to be accountable for the public monies we have been spending! My God, it's like Abu Gharib up in this piece!

He is using this Hobbes quote in a jail filled with poor Black kids to illustrate the tragic nature of how he might lose his right to golden shoes. These kids, their lives and bodies, are grist for the capitalist machine of Chicago. We no longer run the stockyards, but we are making money off bodies.

A boy showed off his torso to me tonight, refusing to put on his shirt. When I left for Canada on Saturday, the super-max super-punitive subprogram had been shut down because someone from the Law had seen it and realized it was Illegal and a Bad Idea. I felt vindicated! But it's back already, and here's this kid with his shirt off and learing at me and I'm pissed. I call him a jerk, he's not getting any attention from me tonight. And he starts kicking the metal door, crying that I called him a jerk. Suddenly I realize I'm a fucking monster. This boy is SLOW. This boy is NEEDY. This boy wants to show some lady his pretty chest and so I just calmed down and he put on his shirt and he showed me a halo move that helps him calm down. He's retarded, guys, and poor, and his brother's in here and he's sorry he was a jerk, he tries to be respectful to women cause his dad beat on his mom and his brother beats his babymama and he tries to be okay with women.

And I remembered not to be a defensive ass, the End.