S T R E A M # 1 5
Dragging yourself out of bed way too early in the morning, on a daily basis, has an effect. The effect is forceful and cumulative and makes you sleepy earlier and earlier in the day. Or maybe that’s just me. They say the rain is moving out and the heat and the humidity is moving in. Oh, and now they’re calling the forecast a “futurecast.” And that tells you right there that they’re probably pulling it out of their arses anyway. They’re constantly introducing (or inventing) new, complicated meteorological-sounding terms that make them seem credible. Anyone who hides behind highfalutin jargon is either deeply insecure or an outright fraud. Who checks up on the accuracy of meteorologists? Who has the time? There’s always more weather on the way. It’s already sticky. I hate it. I don’t live here for the summers, I live here for the winters. When the cat ate the dog he didn’t consider the predictable indigestion and heart burn. The cat went to the drug store for some of the “pink stuff,” but he couldn’t get his paws around it, and he didn’t have any money, besides. So the pharmacist called Animal Control. The cat had to high-tail it outta there. Serves the cat right for eating a dog whole. He thought it would be a piece of cake (figuratively, not literally). He’d watched a python do it, no problem. This is called – in some circles, anyway – Bad Karma. The dog, after all, was a friendly pooch. Why do humans have to wipe their arses? Is it God’s wrath? You know, like an attempt to humble us? No other animal wipes their arse. Well, I guess that’s not entirely true. I’ve seen videos of dogs dragging their arses across front lawns and over (presumably) stain-resistant carpets. Do bears, apes, and/or monkeys use leaves? Perhaps they’re more discreet than they’ve led us to believe. After all, who, in their right mind, enjoys being watched whilst wiping their arse? In most cases, the task is neither a turn-on for the wiper, nor for the unfortunate watcher of the wiper. Then again, I’ve never had the experience of being watched whilst wiping, nor the opportunity to watch somebody wipe themselves, or somebody else. I’ve never even changed a diaper. Which leads me to public restrooms. I always use a fully partitioned toilet stall, even if I only have to pee. Never a urinal. And, unless it is absolutely necessary, I won’t sit on a public toilet. Besides, I typically pee in private; so it makes sense, I think, not to want to pee at an open-for-all-to-see urinal. I’ve no interest in catching sight of other dudes at it, and I don’t want other dudes seeing me at it. Most dudes don’t give a rats ass, of course. And, for that, I envy them. They’re not thinking about being seen; they’re just making water, taking this biological pause before moving on to the next beer and getting back to “the game.” Or any of the other absurd activities modern man squanders his life on. I dunno. Well, perhaps I do. I’m tired. I need to move on to the legitimate writing of the day. All this crap here? It’s a warm up for the Real Deal. Bottom reached.
5 June 2008