Thursday, December 27, 2018

clock strikes 12

A quick year-end rear-end check-in:
Right now my shitting routine is consistent for the first part of the day. I'll shit once between 8:30 and 10am. A second one will follow usually in the mid-afternoon, though sometimes sooner. Maybe there's an evening one too, maybe not. This is all pretty status quo for my adult life.

The change is that the last week or two I've been forced to add a shit just before bed. Now, if you have a large shit before bed and really say your piece, then it can be a great institution. But these are slow, pushy shits. They're not fun. It's creating a kind of work at the hour when you'd like to be done with work. I don't care for it and I hope the solid mass I'm excreting in these instances is subsumed into other, more mentally uplifting shits.

Happy end of 2018, dear readers.

Friday, December 14, 2018

having domain over certain areas

When I was 12, I went to a great religious school. It was at a reform congregation, and it was one that took seriously the idea that obeying all the mitzvot in the Torah was one way to do Judaism, but that probably as a young reform Jew, you were going to scrutinize the mitzvot and come to your own conclusions. I think it's a beautiful way to pass down religion if you're gonna do that kind of thing - be thorough, but have no judgement or expectations.

I knew what mezuzahs were, we had one on the doorposts of our house to the outside, as per the Veyahavtah. What I learned at 12 from Naomi the b'nei mitzvah instructor (who also broke down kashrut law and why it was there, or what all the strictures for YK were, all kinds of stuff, she was amazing) was that custom has it that that line "inscribe them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates" meant that you had to have one mezuzah on the frame of each door in your home. You touch it when you enter that room and then kiss your hand. Except the bathroom, don't put one there.

Diligent rule follower that I was, I found an unused mezuzah (or was gifted one?) and put it up on the door to my room. I also cheekily thought: if G-d [this is in the mindframe of then, I have no problem typing God now, I'm an atheist] doesn't want to be paid tribute to whenever someone enters the bathroom, I'm happy to fill that vacuum. Pay tribute to me and I will deliver you to the throne that you seek!

First thought is, I mean yeah if your hygiene game is medieval, kissing your hand after wiping your ass with it is not a great idea. Good call on not mandating mezuzahs for bathrooms.

Second thought is that this sort of has come to pass in a gentle and local way. People who know that I've written this blog for 9+ years tend to direct their thoughts about feces my way, will text me when something notable happens, will introduce me this way (never my favorite thing to have someone know about me off the bat, but at the same time, why not?), will respond with knowing glances when I come back after a time interval that corresponds to shitting.

I mean, I don't want to have any actual dominion, but I'd like to think I've honored the sentiment of 12 year old me in religious school.

Friday, December 7, 2018

In unit sink

I like a stall that contains within it a sink. It opens up some possibilities for changing the order of your clean up routine. But the best thought of what to do with a stall with a sink enclosed is that if you wanted to, you could get shit all over your hands and wash it off before anyone else would even know.

Thursday, November 29, 2018

doing baking work

I turned around to have a glance at a shit that I was flushing away, and I noticed the pock marks on it, the craters, the bubbles. I was reminded strongly of baking bread. I thought, is that what my guts are? Are they just an oven to cook chewed up food into a bread of sorts that you'd never want to eat? Wouldn't that be something beautiful.

Friday, November 16, 2018

new environs

The office space I've been working in the last four years has idiosyncratic bathrooms. One-seaters both, relatively privacy, even if you can hear what's going on in there from adjacent spaces pretty easily.

Due to lack of basic amenities in that building, my job is now happening out of another co-working space nearby. This is the soulless type of co-working space dreamed up by a real estate person who has a building they can't get top dollar for from some big client, so they make little airless rooms for people priced out of the previous concept of urban office space to pay too much for. The lights go out every five minutes if you haven't moved.

The bathrooms here are like a fancy doctor's office in Manhattan (there's one in particular I'm conjuring to mind). Everything touchless. The bathroom I use most often has two urinals and three stalls. One stall has a sink in it's enclosure, which is obviously the best one. The seat on the toilet in that stall is loose though, which is disconcerting, given the way I clean my ass.

The most notable thing though is the sound. I used to think, in the idiosyncratic office space, about how you could sometimes hear things through the door and 50 ft away. But in this bathroom, you can definitely hear things because there's not even a door. A lot of grunting and muttering. I support both of those as stool delivery assistance. But there's some re-calibration in getting used to it.

Wednesday, November 14, 2018

Language is Meaningless, an example

The dumps you make are the dumps you take

Saturday, October 20, 2018

Something's Coming

True story:
Sondheim wrote the song "Something's Coming" from West Side Story about being in line for a public bathroom while having to take a shit.