(Segment 17)
Toiletry bag sitting on the cistern. The upper toilet.
TOILET UPPER
Can you envision this? Can you be the bag to hold toiletries? (Toothbrush, toothpaste, dental equipment, tooth drill, extractor fan, fluid pipe, soap, etc.) A light rain is falling just in range of the slightly deafened ears (picture this rain as well). Just outside the frosted glass window. Calmness incarnate. The rain helps to geographically situate the bag, and in so doing, allows one more information for binding. Bind your being to the bag. All of my toothpaste tastes like soap and all of my soap tastes like toothpaste.
Bag – too small.
The man’s hands are full to the bursting brim with blood. Brought to the bursting from the excess blood therein. The pressure fills the man with an ecstasy, a warm soothing relaxedness. Eyes roll back into the upright position. Hands typing. Airplane food. Purple cloth hung above the bed, ‘oh my, this is comfy’ he says. The man lies in bed peacefully, yet he is having a stroke. Why does this seem strange?
People change internally, and as of recently the man has accepted this fact for himself as well. It is far too easy to think that only those around you change whilst you remain a constant. This is also false. Everyone changes, therefore the observer changes too. Measuring speed from a moving vehicle is inaccurate, but also a lot of fun sometimes. The man wishes for his past days, where have they gone? Long since abandoned, he really should have stopped to inspect the time more often[1].
Instructions:
Consume plentiful alcohol
Sit in a warm bed and remain alert
Attempt to explain how you are feeling
Notice your hands filling with blood
[1] Both Segment 6 and Segment 10 deal with my feelings of time passing. They also just so happen to lie one after each other in the day. 16:00 – 17:00 – 18:00. Perhaps I am more aware of time in the afternoon.