Tuesday, July 8, 2014

In Support of Bravery

Let us praise those particles who, when the rest of the stool settles for the bottom of the bowl, bravely rise above and float to the top of the water line.  Why do they do it?  Where do they find the strength?  We mere mortals are not blessed with this knowledge, but we are given hearts to appreciate such steadfast courage.

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

office poo research

One Jacob B, a wonderful man who's known me since I was not yet a person, wrote a fine novel called The Bend of the World.  It's about Pittsburgh, about friendship, about paranoia, about saying yes to things because it's easier that way, about the escalation of suspicion into something more sinister.  Et cetera.  It's great.  Anyway, there's a fine thought by Peter, the narrator, on having a great office to shit in, and I share it with you below.


Sunday, June 22, 2014

small and knobby

Just passed a turd that was small and dense. It came out in slow motion, sort of like when a printer is printing something hi res and it takes a long, steady trip to get it done. And then there was nothing more in my colon.

Monday, June 2, 2014

it's no fun

I've been keeping this channel quiet of late.  It's just that it's no fun right now.  Having some butt issues that are common throughout humanity but new to me.  It's just uncomfortable, and it takes the fun out of pooping.  There's a whole range of new experiences, but I don't care to share them right now.  Maybe at a later time.  But I feel like I'm getting better.  Here's to better butt times.

Poop one well for your boy,
- D

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

From Airports in the Past

There's something really beautiful about the steady stream of guys pooping in stalls in airport bathrooms. Patiently waiting while others use the urinal, getting in there, blasting a dook, having a little privacy. I'm doing it right now!

multiple Alberta takes

In Calgary, I took a great many little poops.

I'm Edmonton, it was fewer, more significant poops. One such Edmonton poop occurred in perhaps the finest bathroom I have ever known. It happened in a church. The bathroom, or washroom as the signs say up here, was a single-occupant model. It featured a comfortable toilet, a floor urinal (the best kind), two sinks, a choice of two hand soaps, and a lot of art on the walls. There was a general feeling of privacy and calmness that prevailed there. A feeling that your dookus was been dooked in a respectful environment. An honor to have crapped there.

Friday, April 25, 2014

Canadleroo Doo Doo

My first poop in Canada in six years. A small one. More substantial poops shall be had in this substantial country.  Will keep you posted.

Once, at age 15, I didn't poop for a week in Canada. My first time there. In the woods, way up north. I was scared. I wasn't up to the wood-pooping task at that time. At present, that idea, not pooping for a week, seems simply ludicrous. Why? How? A kind a catharsis I hope to never have again. That was early Canadian pooping, or lack thereof.