Sunday, December 26, 2010

I really mean this.

Lets not use such strong language, shall we? We won't say words like "existential" or "crises". We will use other words that suggest a subtler feeling. Instead of "existential" we will say "funny" and we will consider replacing "crises" with "matter".

I'm having a funny matter. Do you know what a funny matter is? I'll explain.

A funny matter may consist of, but is not limited to, a special feeling of neurosis. The kind that swims in circles in a downward fashion until you reach a ridiculous low, sitting somewhere starting a hole in the back of a chair wondering if all cab drivers have esp and if your life's work is valid enough to be referred to as your "life's work" or should you be putting more time and effort in to your work and if you do that, does it really make a difference in the end and what is the end and does it justify the means and if cab drivers are indeed psychic than did you say anything dark or evil when you were sitting there or were you just humming your own song in your head like a whelp?

You come to just in time to find yourself rolling pennies in your mothers apartment thinking about the logistics of depositing all these hundreds of rolls in the bank and you realize that the only reason you're even rolling these coins is to distract your mind from the way your family makes you feel at christmas time, all fond and vulnerable and annoyed like when your best friend tells a joke you made up at lunch and gets a huge laugh for it and as you roll and as you ruminate and fall deeper and deeper into a depression padded with food and darkness and forced smiles and small talk and subtle annoyances and temperature shifts and germaphobia you realize...

...we all feel this way once in awhile and it's ok.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

The Stall

Pissing in the ancient, 24 hour single stall of the women's washroom at the lakeview restaurant. 2am. Tired and mullish. I didn't lock the stall because the metal latch looked bent and i didn't figure on anyone bursting in. Voices loud outside the door. A young woman preocupied with fun opened the door to the restroom proper.
I fumbled with the lock absent mindedly with one hand while i rested my chin in the other hand, nearly done pissing.
"Fuck it", I thought when the lock wouldn't slide closed. I put my hand against the door to prevent her from barging in. I grabbed a fistful of toilet paper and began to wipe when i felt her shove against the door. It opened a crack. I pushed it closed. This goddamn woman pushed back even harder and caught a rewarding (and unfortunately prolonged) glimpse of my ass, mid wipe. She closed the door as I said, "what the fuck?!?!".
Humilitation was sinking me down the toilet with my own urine. "Well who doesn't lock the door??", she asked rhetorically, aiming to point out my own idiocy and how all of this was really my fault. Fair enough.
Once I was standing pants pulled up, I managed to lock the door no problem. I took an extra moment to allow my mortified shoulders to relax after stiffening with surprised embarassment. I didn't look at her when I left, but thought to myself, "Who the fuck shoves open a door in a washroom that has just been agressively pushed closed against them?!"