Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Beach
I remember when I was working in Singapore, my uncle took me to Sentosa Beach. Unfortunately I had eaten something from the hawker stalls the day before that really didn't agree with me and ended up having explosive diahrroea. Still, he insisted we go to the beach, much to my chargrin. Initially, and much to my surprise, after a quick swim I felt much better. Then at some point in the day I suddenly felt the urge. I was way too far from the shore to make it back, let alone find a toilet. Alas, I had to excrete in the ocean. Thank goodness for South-East Asias murky waters. I actually swam away from it hoping that it wouldn't follow me. To my horror, some of the lighter particles started to surface. To my greater horror, some small fish started eating it.
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8 comments:
First of all, you have chagrin spelt wrong
I thought you did it in a swimming pool...
Why don't we just do this on msn?
sad
I am presently unaware of anything more liberating than an aqua bog. i recall an episode in the kalbarri murchison gorge; it was early in the new day as the sun crept up over the ancient rock formation. the remainder of the party were still rousing from a peaceful slumber as i quietly strode down to the waters edge to splash my face with the spiritual waters of the dreamtime. a feeling of discontent rose inside of me and increased in severity until i knew there was no option but to have my own dreamtime. and so it was - i removed the few articles i had to protect me from prying eyes and slipped gently into the calming waters. immense concentration as the systems moved into gear and then....PLOP....such unheralded relief and a sense of exploring unchartered waters as i watched a piece of me drift away into the distance, lost forever into the dreamtime.
*sigh*
Poetry in motion
Apparently, crocodiles keep still so that they appear like logs floating down the river. Maybe someone might think there's a new species of brown crocodile?
i had to do a bog of the runny variety once.
it was in india.
i was in the middle of a 16 hr bus journey.
i had to tell the driver to stop. NOW!
he did. in the middle of nowhere. in the middle of the night.
i ran out into the darkness, dropped my daks, and let forth the torrent of unholy water.
i was out there forever.
to make sure i was safe, the bus driver felt it necessary to shine a spotlight on me and toot his air horns. everyone on the bus woke up.
there i was. daks down. squat position. probably some steam rising from the ground directly below me. a copy of the goa tribune in my hand, pages torn to account for the complete lack of anything resembling dunny roll.
it was a special moment.
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