Inside

The best thing about jail, now that I think about it, was the applesauce. I mean it was really extraordinary, something special.

My friend Sheila and her boyfriend Federico came to visit me after about a week. I don't think they'd ever been to a jail before. They're not the kind of people who go to jails. I'm not either, but didn't let that stop me from soaking it all up. The visiting room has a plastic panel to look through and a phone to talk into, just like Hollywood. Federico looked like he was afraid of getting dirty. He kept dusting off the shoulders of his yellow sweater although there was never anything on it. Sheila seemed nervous. She kept asking about my bed: if I had blankets, a pillow, was I getting any sleep, blah blah blah. I finally replied that a man's boudoir was not something a lady discusses in mixed company. Federico needs to wise up or he'll miss what he's in for before it's too late.