Alright then let’s get this rolling. Where are the writer and the egotist.
Is that exhibitionist or egotist.
Frankly, they are the same.
Exhibitionist: That it. Imagine how many people could be reading this. A hundred, no a thousand, may be tens of thousands, oh imagine a million, millions. Ya that’s it baby,show me what you got.
Writer: Ok, ok, here is the piece I wanted to. It is about the toilet graffiti.
I beg your pardon what!!??
Toilet graffiti.
I HEARD you. Didn’t you hear, millions are reading this and this is what you come up with for the grand opening.
Millions? I doubt that. Let’s not get our hopes up.
Is there even one?
After toilet, we sure won’t have to worry even about that.
It’s not about toilet, it’s about graffiti.
I can’t believe that’s the best this guy has. Why Lord why?
We don’t believe in God.
Oh gimme a break. We are about to get flushed and he is worried about His stature.
But why toilets?
Yes, pray why.
Well we do spend so much time in there…
It’s really about graffiti people, and it is actually more about socio-cultural landscape and some insights…
Did he just say socio-cultural landscape?
He is a writer. He feels he has to use big words. Pardon him for he knows not what he says.
Alright people, settle down. I said I will give him some priority. What’s this thing about the toilets anyways.
Can’t we at least call them bathrooms or restrooms or powder room or something else.
Did somebody just say powder room!
How does it matter. Soon people will feel uncomfortable saying any word in public and we will have to coin a new word.
I heard there is no graffiti in the women’s toilets.
Thank goodness, no blog titled Powder Room Graffiti. That’s it: John Doe’s art. Get it! John as in toilet, well, loo, restroom, bathroom, whatever the hell you call it, and John Doe as in anonymous, which is what the people here are.
Alright, we got it. Let’s get moving.
Well this is why I want to write about it. People do not appreciate toilet graffiti. I believe it is one of the truly honest art forms there is. What is that drives a person, sitting on the throne, busy with his abulations…
occipital lobe: too graphic, pleasant images immediately please
occipital shut up
Giggling heard. Ha ha occipital lobe
Right big toe what so funny?
occipital lobe, it’s a little funny. Medulla Oblongata
Huh?
It’s also in the brain and I find it also funny. Medulla Oblongata, Medulla Oblongata.
Longer toe: Is it part of the brain or the spinal cord?
I think it’s the end of the brain or the beginning of the spinal cord or something. Who cares, they are all the same up north.
Leftie, stomp the bloody loonies shut.
Ouch not so hard damn it.
Writer has been murmuring— I can’t write like this over and over all this time.
Alright get on with it then.
I just can’t write like this. Have you guys heard of a concept called focus.
Photographer: Oh ya, Nikon does a pretty good job. I heard canon is not so good.
SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP all of you. I just want to write.
Ok diva, calm down. Let’s hear what profound stuff you have to say.
Alright this is just too eerily silent now. Just keep up some normal chatter.
No, no we want to hear you.
Like I was saying, the anonymity and the simplicity of the purpose strips him of the layers he hides behind (whispers: pun intended?; let’s hope its metaphorically speaking). It brings forth an honesty rarely seen in the crass commercial outside world. What would possess a man to scribble, “ I hate niggers” (Colon: probably he is just constipated), or , “When you are angry you are red, when you are something something… and you call me colored”, or “Only Jesus can save you”. This is not people on podiums with clenched fists, this is as real as people get. They are there as vulnerable as they can be and this is what they feel. If course it’s not all sad and angry. There is boredom too: “to play tennis look the other side” and of course there is the arrow pointing the other side on the other side (that guy eats his fiber to keep things moving smoothly and uninteresting, you know what I mean; too graphic, shut up). There is of course the usual toilet humor and graphic images which render all governmental funding on sex education unnecessary. Do you ever wonder what you would find if you walked into the restroom of the Capitol Hill: For a good time call so and so number, Senator from Idaho sucks good dick (Is that a R or a D; man or women; why Idaho)
Oh it doesn’t matter, it’s just an example and quit whispering. It is more annoying.
Alright continue.
And how does it work. Does a person go in with the intent of writing something. Does he carry a pen or a sharp metallic object just for this, or is it more stream of consciousness kind of a thing. What would happen if a hand magically appeared under the stall and handed me a pen? May be I will be jolted into a burst of creative fury, writing an opus on the gray walls for everybody to read at their leisure. May be I am just a magical restroom pen away from becoming a great writer. But I digress. I have always been intrigued by how things evolve. The way I see it a fancy becomes a fashion becomes a habit becomes a tradition becomes a culture and ends up sacred. Imagine people going in there to pray, may be they already do…
Entrepreneur1: Fashion, that’s it. Idea: Large public restroom. White boards, no, no electronic boards, neon lights, yeah baby that’s it. Wired up to internet, writing, blogging, painting, music, you name it. We will call it: Let your creativity out. I think I like it…
Entrepreneur2: You know what we can do, imagine a restaurant. Ultra uber. Modeled as a run down bar, graffiti everywhere. Have entire kama sutra has been scribbled on the restroom walls. People come to check out the restrooms, and oh we make the suckers pay on expensive entrees
Alright, enough of this puerile nonsense. Let’s wrap it for today.
But I am not finished.
Buddy at this rate we will never finish. This is as good as it will get.
