Our Great Nation

Now I lived in Southern New England for four years of my life.  Its ways are not unfamiliar to me.  But having lived mid-Atlantic style for the past 7.5 years, sometimes I need a reminder as to the charms of one of the cradles of our fine nation.

This past weekend brought a kind of vacation to nowhere in particular, and the home base, in Northern Connecticut, was chosen for a supposedly haunted but generally fine (ie unremarkable) hotel.  The building was a classic one, and that means the HVAC system - things were very hot or very cold - and especially the plumbing.

Now this is not unique to New England, I've certainly seen it upstate New York and I imagine from New Mexico to Tennessee to Idaho you could encounter this, but being a city boy, there's a kind of old, taking-its-time, slow-flushing toilet that I both dread and admire.  Not that I personally clog these suckers much, I'm an easy flushing sort of fellow, I try to keep things trim and passable.  But that first time you flush such a toilet and perceive its slowness, there's kind of a oh here we are feeling that washes over you.

And it's good to be reminded where you come from, so it's not a bad thing that a person shits into one of these fine specimens some times, but it's more of a vacation thing than anything I'd want all the time.  And surely, things get more complicated when you go to other continents.

Pooish Guilt

Sometimes I eat so that I poop rather than the other way around.  Maybe that's perverse.  Maybe that sentence needs a because.

But then when you take a sizeable smash and are just incredulous that that thing came out of you, it's all worthwhile.

There's a been a general quality of sludginess recently.  Big, small, loose, firm.  It's just kind of sludge and more difficult to clean up after.

tremendousness

I was traveling this weekend.  Always an interesting time for crapping - not cooking in the way you would at home, new places to poo, perhaps fewer poos if you're busy and/or staying in a crowded place.  These things were all in effect.

However, I did leave in the city of Providence one tremendous crap.  In size, in relief it induced, in smell, in location.  Just all around.  Taken under the stairs (in a bathroom of course) of a historic building which was largely deserted, a very small room with old plumbing and a toilet bowl that amplified both sound & smell in a less than flattering way.  Felt right as rain thereafter.

And I became wistful for the parts of my life, mostly college and shortly thereafter, wherein I could be alone in a remarkable place, crapping the night away in a compelling fashion.  But these days I sure appreciate it every time I do.

brief tour

For those of you who missed the Doo Doo Bloggin 2012 Annual Report in July at Grace Space, I wanted to bring you all a little deeper into the fold.  These are a snapshots of my recent activities.  Nothing graphic, just some clearer perspectives on where I'm coming from.

There was a nice poo in the Park Avenue Armory.  The sign under the pipe said something curious but I can't read it here.

This one actually belongs on the pee pee bloggin site...

A very elegant bathroom for a post-performance doo doo.  In Park Slope.

In a very old building in Flatbush (note the nice crack in the door frame).  I had a nervous bowel thing happening before a performance.  This bathroom was a comforting space.

metrics

I have recently been sharing a bathroom with no one.  This is a new situation for me in my lifetime.  Such changes are, at the very least, good for reflection, and here is something I've learned: I go through, on average, less than a roll of toilet paper a week, even at present when I spend a good deal of my time at home.  And this is pretty long lasting TP, the Marcal rolls that you buy individually (the multipack rolls never last very long).

I'd say about a roll every ten days.  On average.
I guess in some sense I share the bathroom with the cat.

young stars of pooping, 2012

I am an aural person, this much is true.  I have been around 2-8 week old babies a good bit recently.  I like these babies, they're good folk.  I'd like to now draw attention to their pooping, and some sonic aspects thereof.

Just as the vocal chords of infants (and toddlers) are nearly as powerful as those of adults, only without the mental regulation most folks possess, the sonic potential of the baby fart/poo is unsubtle and brazen, just as an adults can boldly be.  Of course when your diet is just milk, things are different, but I've been struck for the first time by the sound of someone, anyone, audibly shitting through clothing (a diaper and a onesie in these instances).  Quite a powerful sound for the untrained ear, and I imagine not much different from the sound an adult would produce in a similar situation.

Just think of that next time you're around a baby.  Think of a grown up shitting their pants and what it would sound like.  I wonder if there's some sound-proofing built into diapers.