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.

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.

Language is Meaningless, an example

The dumps you make are the dumps you take

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.

The only correct reaction is to root for dumping, always.

It's not what we're taught. It's not an inconvenience or a malady when someone else takes a shit and then you have to go into the bathroom or wherever. They did an important thing. Be happy for them. Way to go, defecator!

But one prohibition that's good to follow is don't eat stool.

Dave's Scale of Friendliness

This is a thought I've had since high school and I'm kinda shocked that I've never shared it here before:

One metric for whether or not you're really friends with someone is asking yourself if you've pooped at their home.

Caveat: there are some people that will pretty much only poop at their own home. But for me, this is a revealing test.

Most people I'm close with, I've pooped at their home. It's rare that someone is a casual acquaintance and you've pooped at their home. Also, causality and correspondence not being the same thing, etc. Anyway. You're not friends with them because you pooped at their home. But try it out, do a little mental geography, or when you're at someone's home, think about how close you are with them and whether or not you've pooped there. Extra friend points for having pooped at multiple incarnations of someone's home. Also, think about which friends of yours have and haven't pooped in your home.

Sophomore Year Abroad in Italy

This is incredibly sophomoric:

I was in Midtown Manhattan today and I saw this

Look closely at it.

I just assumed that if you went inside the building with your scaffolding, it'd be a place where they help you achieve your largest possible dookie.

I didn't go inside. I'm not looking to maximize, just enjoy.