Chapter 2

           IamDarrellStanding.Theyaregoingtotakemeoutandhangmeprettysoon.InthemeantimeIsaymysay,andwriteinthesepagesoftheothertimesandplaces.

           Aftermysentence,Icametospendtherestofmy“naturallife”intheprisonofSanQuentin.Iprovedincorrigible.Anincorrigibleisaterriblehumanbeing—atleastsuchistheconnotationof“incorrigible”inprisonpsychology.IbecameanincorrigiblebecauseIabhorredwastemotion.Theprison,likeallprisons,wasascandalandanaffrontofwastemotion.Theyputmeinthejute-mill.Thecriminalityofwastefulnessirritatedme.Whyshoulditnot?Eliminationofwastemotionwasmyspeciality.Beforetheinventionofsteamorsteam-drivenloomsthreethousandyearsbefore,IhadrottedinprisoninoldBabylon;and,trustme,IspeakthetruthwhenIsaythatinthatancientdayweprisonerswovemoreefficientlyonhand-loomsthandidtheprisonersinthesteam-poweredloom-roomsofSanQuentin.

           Thecrimeofwastewasabhorrent.Irebelled.Itriedtoshowtheguardsascoreorsoofmoreefficientways.Iwasreported.Iwasgiventhedungeonandthestarvationoflightandfood.Iemergedandtriedtoworkinthechaosofinefficiencyoftheloom-rooms.Irebelled.Iwasgiventhedungeon,plusthestrait-jacket.