Dylan Carpenter AIS Journal 1

Day was a rough day. Samez always. Eveh sense duh crops gone bahd, cant find no work no more. My mama always was uh sayin , Little Joe Roberts, mark my words, when duh cotton aint growing no more, we gonna get hit the hardesd. Boy, she was right. Seemed to always be right about those thangs. And all this un-Godly stuff, now? Hell, come happening jus when I was-uh-thinken things started to be ok, fuh me. Had a job, sho didnt pay much, hell, still somethun for me. But then dam beetles come , messin everythang up, and duh cotton aint a growing no more, and I, well, I aint got no job, aint got nuhtin. Nuhtin, ever seem fall my way, never since I was a lil chile. Growin up in Cape Girardeau, Missisipa, Id always be a losin, to everyone, seemed like the damm game was created fo me to loose, an dem to be winners. Growin up here was tough. Jus lived wit my motha. Shes a great womun, tough on me tho, but I didn mind, was fo the best. She worked harder, than anyone I eveh kmew. By day, plucked duh cottun, and by night, was a waitress to pay da bills. Raised me alone, too. Father, by gone run off, when Is just a chile. Neveh met the man, sho as hell don wanna eveh meet em. She dropped dead last month. Didn even get no funeral, I had no money to pay fo it. I damm broke eveh since the bugs come. All I got was some type of certificate. March 18, 1901: Date of Death was awlt said. Hell, my own motha, dead when Is only 18 years of age. Shoo, now I don got no one in this here wurld. But Is used to it. Been dat way my whole life. Ever since Ia chile Ive been lonely, real lonely, growinn up wit no brothes or sistes to play wit teaches ya to fend fo yoself.

Now, da Cape usa be uh gran ole town. Buslin wit bussinis, all time uh da year. But witout no cottun, its crumblin. Lookin all, raggidy, like an ole dog. Jus startin to look like any ole, run down, rivuh town. Is gotta get outa here, find me a job. Need sum hope.

Journal 2 While I was a walkin down by da train, a man come on up to me, ntell me I ought go up nort. Hes wearin one of dem fancy ole suits. Tole me Id be a sure bet to make it big, real nice fella. We got ta talkin bout da north, an maybe itd do me sum good to try somten new. He come from Chicago, dats where a tole me to go, lot of jobs in Chicago. Maybe, Id go, git myself job, make myself sum money. He gave my one-uh-dem papers, wit sum directions. I tole him, I aint got no money to move up north, but he tell me it aint much. I can work it off a lil later, substract it from my future wages. Seemed to good to be true. Hell I got no choices now, might as well take a chance. Ill go to Chicago, thingsll be betta there. Ill take a steamboat, up da rivuh, an to freedum. Leave dis horribull place, start fresh n new. I jus hope to death, dat man in da suit, was tellin me da truth. Too many bad things have come nhappenen to me. Jus once, I wanna suceed. Wanna do something productive, wanna win da game. If Chicagos what he tell me, maybe Ill go live happy, maybe.

Journal 3 I made it ta Chicago. Trip was real grueling. Took a week o so. Boat was crowded, and smelled turrible. But, eventually I made it, and now im in Chicago, feelin free. Right aftuh da boat pulled in I followed da directions da man in Missisipa gayv me. Tole me go on and see the National Urban League. Tole theyd giv me some thangs to help find housin. So I went, and day gave me an adress in a neighbohood. Dats where Is now. Sho is crowded, barely a place a real man can live in. All dirty n unclean. Sho doesnt seem the way dat man described it to me. I thought Is be free in Chicago, but now jus seems sames befo. Still chained, never leave those

chains, long as I live. Always have to work fo everyone I get, but as longs try, and work hardur, and hardur, I nevuh move. Always stuck, in da mud. Always losing da game. Seems like most things, nevuh change.

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This heres a picture of my mota, workin in da fields. Workin so hard to tryn make money. I carry dis here pictre everywhere I go. Always wit me. In sum ways, I feel it pretty eerie n all. Reminds of my true place. No matta how hard I fight and struggle, Ill still be chained to my past.

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This picture shoin when I arrived in Chicago. Right off da boat, I took myeslf an few possesion out to da Urban league where Is tole where to stay n work.

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Heres da house Is stayin at now. Real ole, and decrepid... All crowded, full uh people jus like me. Lookin fo somethin differen, somethin free. But, like me, they too been duped. Doomed to the same life everywher they go. Always chained to da past.

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