And it shows them pearly white
Just a jackknife has old MacHeath, babe
And he keeps it out of sight

Bobby Darin, "Mack the Knife"
---
So I've found myself whistling one of the most enduring tunes of the 20th century, and I'm always stuck with curiosity of how many people in the facility recognize it when the notes walk past them.

I've been keeping myself busy the past couple of days by molding wire hangers that people throw away in the laundry room. I've made a cradle for my alarm clock, a magazine clip for the bathroom, a cup holder on my locker, and now a stow-away bar that can dropped down to clip an LED light when a North Carolina cutee sends you one.

I'd take a picture, but I'm not allowed to bring in a camera, though it is easy to smuggle in a cell phone. Another inmate was recently reprimanded (two days added to his sentence, which is remarkably lenient) for having his cell phone: he was caught yelling at his girlfriend, and he was overheard outside by an officer on her cigarette break.

The most consistent comment I get when someone finds me working on a wire hanger is that I must be tweaking, as if lucidity and creativity is borne solely from external chemical stimuli. I simply desire that which is convenient. It's sheer laziness that led me to want a cup holder on my locker. And when you're in the bathroom, I want a place where the magazines won't get wet. Laziness must be creativity's ugly stepsister.