Unwanted visitor

Here I am, sitting at a large steel spider table at a California state prison near Bakersfield, California. It would be easy to complain about my living situation. I could say I’m living in a filthy, staph-infected dormitory with close to 200 criminals. I could elaborate on the uncomfortable beds, the lousy food, the extreme noise pollution, being cut off from society, the abhorrent state of the restrooms, power-tripping corrections officers, or even that I have eight more years to spend in prison. But I won’t.