2.) You never hear much chatter about pooping in the days immediately after you give birth. I'd like to hear more about that, I think. I imagine the experience of passing things out of your body must be very different right then.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Friday, July 22, 2011
I pooped in a room yesterday that smelled just like mothballs.
It was a bathroom.
At a reputable arts venue.
I mean, the clientele there are primarily old, but heck. Mothballs? In the bathroom?
One at once wonders what mothballs are made out of and what it would be like to poop in a non-bath room that smelled of mothballs.
For another day.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
This was really hot off the presses about 20 hours ago, but it's still relevant:
How's this for a day in the pooping life:
Monday night, a really abrupt, messy shite with a lot of constituent pieces, each having the red patina of beet greens, and coming in all shapes and sizes.
Tuesday morning, one of the most solid stools I can imagine. Like a diamond; condensed, focused.
Tuesday evening, loose, very loose, but in a completely different way from the previous day. The red was gone for one thing, and the constituent pieces idea was more goopy. Less fidelity in the islands, more like marsh land.
That's what up with me these days.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Naw, really nothing bad happened. But if I had more control over, you know, everythings, then it would have looked different.
I once again to the city that is the capital of my nation, and some of the surrounding cities, large and small. When in a home a close friend, I was finding it difficult to satisfactorily get everything out in the manner that I usually prefer. There was more waiting, more gas, more liquid than I am accustomed to.
There was also an amusing moment involving me squatting in a bathroom at the Smithsonian... but for a child's water fountain. With a large backpack on. Blocking some patrons from getting in. Making a child look kind of sad. Et cetera.