Tristan picks up a packet of ramen from the floor in the corner of our cell. We have no shelves.

He then takes a plastic single service cheerio container, given to us for breakfast weeks ago, opens the ramen and puts it inside.

He then goes to the brown and filthy shower tap, runs the hot water for a min or so, before putting it over the ramen.

He opens the flavor and stirs it with half a broken plastic fork.

Then he looks me dead in the eye.

“Yum. Local ingredients, simply cooked!”

Why is it every time I’ve “committed" a crime?

Tristan has “committed” a crime?

Matrix attack

Freedom is what you do with what’s done to you.

Men become noble through suffering.

Nobility is suffering more than the peasants.

Think of the weakest, least reliable, most cowardly, most backstabbing men you know… and you will see they’ve had easy lives.

Ordinary men hate what they can’t understand.

There are times in war when the sharpest emotion isn’t fear, or self-pity, it is the littleness you feel when faced with a machine designed to crush hearts and souls.

A man’s power is experience.

Experience is only gained via suffering.

Advice = other people’s experience gained by suffering.
Reason = Analyzing how you suffered and if it was worth it.
Imagination = understanding the suffering which could happen.

It’s suffering that gives man power, that gives him meaning.

Like a well-worn teddy bear, who’s comforted a child for years - the more damaged he is, the more valuable he is.

I was brave and what did this land do to me
I was free and this land took it from me.

I am being framed in front of the entire world.

Everybody knows what is happening to me.

If they can do this to me, with the whole world watching, imagine what they can do to people without cameras watching.

Give a child this choice of:

his old toy, with tattered cloth and missing eyes and a terrible stench -

or a brand new toy fresh out of the box

He will choose the old toy every time.

This is suffering, this is experience, this is wisdom to men.

You get hurt - badly.

But those who need you, love you more than ever.

Tristan: I’m super glad I’m here.

Me: Why

Tristan: My life purpose wasn’t to have 10 kids or get rich or even be famous, I never cared about any of that.

I just wanted to make sure you’re ok.

So I’m glad I’m in here with you.

I get thousands of letters, I read every single one, thank you all so much. I can’t possibly shout you all out, but I’ll start doing two shout-outs a week.

The letters that made me smile the most this week were:

1) Ben The Beast I see you outside protesting and your letter was great. Can’t wait to see you outside.

2) Linda, the 73-year-old woman from Mississippi who watches my videos. Incredible! If I get free, I’m coming over for apple pie.

You can write to me here:

Emory Andrew Tate, 52354-506
FDC Miami Federal Detention Center
P.O. Box 019120
Miami, FL 33101

Being a legend isn’t all glory basking, money and majestic music.

It's surviving what destroys others.

If it was easy, there wouldn’t be such a short list.

It’s an exclusive club with a brutal entrance exam.

The possibility that dreams come true keeps life interesting.

Even in this cell.

Today is one of the best days of my life.

One day, I'll look back on today and smile.

The universe doesn’t hand out status for free.

It makes you take the long scenic route through chaos, stress and high voltage adversity.

I fell to bits because of the rose,
What should I do with a rose garden?
Without you, oh, my beloved,
What should I do with life, and the world?
If anyone else in the two worlds has sight of your face
And in that moment my eyes fill with blood,
What should I do?
In remembrance of your lips, beloved
Now and again, I sip, but...
What should I do with crimson wine while
there’s blood in my heart?
What is a tulip in the desert?
Scented rose of the coquettish garden,
If your shining face isn’t there?
What should I do with the moon in the heavens?
My world and my life is you, my beloved.

Ever since I was cut from the reed bed,
My cries have caused men and women to weep.
I want a heart torn to shreds by separation,
so I may explain the pain of longing...