So I was on the Toilet…

I’m not sure why, but people like to read in the bathroom. I just get in, get it done and get out.

I read in the bathroom once. I was in a public toilet. Etched into the lima bean green wall was a 12 year old’s imagining of what a vagina might look like. It was like a rendering of that scene from health class so many years ago, when the couple from the 80s teaches us where babies come from by launching one at the camera.


I like the art in public bathrooms. It’s scrawled on the mirrors in red sharpie, black sharpie on the metal stalls. When people’s pens run out they scrape off layers of paint, years of that sea foam, teal, taupe, the cheapest bulk latex paints.


The best public bathroom posts come in high traffic downtown areas. Bars, fast foods, and universities hide gems of bathrooms. They are poorly maintained allowing for great accumulation of call and response chains like a forum flame war. They are also near a dense variety of persons, backgrounds, attitudes and beliefs allowing for an equal variety of expression.

I think I’ll make a book of it.


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