As I get older I’ve been finding myself increasingly
ambivalent about thorough ass-wipings.
It’s like listen, everyone has an asshole and most people
shit out of them, so why do the two (assholes and shit) have to always be
mutually exclusive?
I’m walking slower than usual to the train, burdened by the
weight of cleanliness and visualizing tightly wound tubes of toothpaste being
wound tighter against the knowledge that it’s impossible to squeeze everything
out and anticipating someone wrapping his/her arm around my shoulder and
whispering something like “hey sphincter-face, why so glum?” thereby allowing me
to strangle him/her with my iPod earbud cord in an attempt to force out the
remnants of what used to be colloquially known as a soul and rub them in his/her dying face like someone berating their French bulldog for rug-pissing while muttering "look at what you did, look at what you did..."
As usual, no one makes eye contact except for children. I
want to wink and smile/grimace at them, but not in a way that suggests imminent
molestation. More like, ah, wistful acceptance. Like, "No worries little man, Time will rape all of us soon enough."
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