Before I headed out to the airport this morning, I made a little humanitarian mission. Last week I received a letter that should have gone to my same address on 57th street, but the handwriting wasn't shit hot, so it ended up in my mailbox on 59th street. It was from an inmate at San Quentin State Pen.

As soon as I got it, I was torn about whether or not to open it up. I was just so curious. Wouldn't you be?The letter sat on my coffee table for a couple of days before I picked up. To my surprise (but I shouldn't have been surprised), it wasn't sealed. The inmates probably don't bother since the guards probably read evrything that leaves the prison anyway.

The letter was mostly a plea for this guy's mom to get him a lawyer. He was innocent (of course) and had been transferred to San Quentin, which clearly didn't agree with him. He was adament about his mom retaining a lady lawyer. I wonder why that should be?