If you don't take her out tonight, she's going to change her mind

The Buddha said, " When a wise person suffers, she asks herself, ' What can I can do to be free from this suffering? Who can help me? What have I done to free myself from this suffering?' But when a foolish person suffers, she asks herself, ' Who has wronged me? How can I show others that I am the victim of wrongdoing? How can I punish those who have caused my suffering?'"


I am foolish more than I am wise, but I'm working on it. And so are you, in your own way. When I think back to the time of The Buddha, I imagine it to be exotic, almost otherworldly. So long ago, yes, but they were dealing with the same bullshit we are. As I intended to do after my last post, I went and listened to Duncan Trussel's latest podcast and immediately felt better. His first words were about not waiting for some sacred time to meditate, but to do it no matter how you're feeling or where you are. From there, he spoke about chanting (Nam-myoho-renge-kyo-nam-myoho-renge-kyo-nam-myoho-renge-kyo). He injected me with some truth, made me laugh, and helped right my ship. Thanks, Duncan.

So maybe we should talk about The Shitter. The building I work in doesn't have bathrooms in the various spaces it rents, so we all use the public restrooms. I usually visit the men's room at least once every hour or two, depending on how much water I've been drinking and how restless I feel. About 78% of the time I'm there, I see the same guy crouched in one of the stalls (I know his shoes - brand new-looking white Nike's). Because my imagination knows no bounds, I took to calling him The Shitter. I'm pretty sure he's multifaceted, but as far as I'm concerned he's just a guy who takes a lot - too many, in my opinion - of shits. Maybe he calls me The Pisser. I've been esteemed less.

I'm guessing he takes at least five shits a day. And I know he's shitting and not just passing time. Believe me, I know - the smells and sounds emitting from the stall offer no other possibility. I used to get annoyed when I'd enter the bathroom and he'd be in there - you can guess why - but now I just laugh at myself for being annoyed with a guy who's just answering nature's call and also at the absurdity of the frequency of said call. Sometimes I want to approach this roly poly shit factory and say, "Look, it's none of my business, but what's the deal with all the shitting? It's evident you're pretty out of shape and most likely eat a lot of food that is not good for you, but I bet even someone a hundred pounds heavier than you shits less frequently. If I'm out of line, please tell me, but do you have some kind of condition that has your intestines working double time?"

I'll never ask him. I want him to have sovereignty over his body. I want him to shit without feeling self conscious about it. It wouldn't be right for me to pose questions to him that would imply what he's doing is wrong and that he should do something to correct the problem. The Shitter needs to be able to thrive, despite what others like myself think. Sure, maybe he might want to explore the possibility of treating his body with a little respect and eat better and less, but it's not for me to say. So, yeah, The Shitter.

Time to end the post, which started out with some sage words by The Buddha and blossomed into a diatribe about a guy who shits a lot. I'm what you would call a renaissance man. Anyway, off I go. It would be wise of me to work on some music, to meditate, to read some Kafka, to watch some Herzog, to listen to some Ram Dass. All of this may happen; it is early yet.