The Brown Revolution

We have been extremely fortunate to witness the birth of several extremely important movements in the past decade or so. Being on the most productive sides of both the green and energy revolutions has shaped our society greatly! Not to mention the revolutions taking place in religion, lifestyle, and hopefully politics (granted you know who wins the election). However, I'm eager to talk about a revolution that has seemed to ease ever so gently from the recesses of our mind into the stream of consciousness undetected. Ooo What movement is this I speak of?? Why it is none other than the bowel movement! The Brown Revolution!
Like most movements, it's hard to pinpoint the exact time or location in which the bowel movement was conceived. Was it the creation of South Park's Mister Hankey by Tray Parker and Matt Stone that relaxed every one's fears? Or possibly the wild influx of Indian and Mexican restaurants into the country, which left us with no choice, but to find the closest toilet. Whatever it was, it changed things.
The bathrooms of the 90's were a very strange scene. The urinals were always full, and the stalls were only reserved for those who also had to urinate, but were too afraid to use a urinal, due to the fear of the man next to you peeking at your junk! This was usually the case because you were either A. Equipped like a 14 year-old or B. Extremely homophobic and arrogant enough to think that gay men were interested enough in you to try to take a peek at your wee wee, when they probably had no clue that you even existed.
Either way it was silly and one day, somewhere around the year 2003, it started to deteriorate! People stopped caring! not only about dropping a dirty brown or two in public, but about the entire subject! People began to open up to each other about their own fecal experiences, sharing restroom exploits and potty humor! Why I remember it like it was yesterday, the first time sir Jesse told me that he hadn't had a solid poop in 8 years and when a week later motley ster told me that his poops were so sharp that they had sliced his cornhole into a star shape! It became a normal thing for a man or woman to say "Man! I'll be right back, I've got to take a Huge shit!" Stalls are no longer occupied by teeny weenie homophobes or chronic masturbators, but by people taking poos! And those waiting in line for stalls and not urinals? Not a man embarrassed because his johnson curves to the left a bit and then back to the right like a spasming king snake or a hunch backed newt, but a big ugly bastard who has to drop a wet sausage so mighty that he'll know afterwards the pain that is giving birth to something that's a 16th of your body weight! (Now the healing can begin). Let's keep this thing going world! Pooping in toilets is only the first step! I say we take this movement to the streets! To our jobs! To the fields and forests! No longer will our feces only fall in familiar facilities, but all over the world! So when you ask your friend "Hey man, does this bar have a nice bathroom?" and he sarcastically replies "Does a Bear shit in the woods?" (translation:definitely or most certainly). Then your reply will surely be a triumphant and resounding "Yes he does!!... and SO DO I!"

P.S. A note to all of the boys from Carnage GT middle school in Raleigh, NC circa 1999: Please stop kicking down the doors to all of the boys bathroom stalls, It's really hard to drop a deuce comfortably when every one can see you, point and laugh, and throw things... I'm not ashamed or anything, but that's just a real asshole thing to do.

Pathos in Prose

I had lunch with my comrades, my seed-heavy wayward revolutionaries - a pot luck. We decided we would not bring food for the body but food for the soul. We passed around a few cigarettes and opened our hearts to each other in a park in Red Hook at an old picnic table. We fed each other substantial spoonfuls of childhood memory, vulnerable expressive idea, offered gulps of personal opinions - no judgment involved! This type of honesty and utter acceptance, my patrons of revolution, is a strip lit path toward revolution.
We sat their with Sir Jesse and listened to his story about the first time he put on reading glasses. How he stood completely still in that same place for 62 hours. 62 hours! His initial feeling of pleasure and empowerment enabled him to ignore the countless Duane Reade workers trying to pursued him to exit the store or at least reposition further from the cashier area. How the longer he went without acknowledging anyone or moving from where he was built mental strength upon courage, and furthermore how he underwent physical tests of endurance from not sitting to rest. He pissed and shat in his pants multiple times! He was not fearful of what others thought or said, or when they took pictures and giggled. Despite managers and watered down rent-a-cops Sir Jesse stood there with dignity for his own accord, then when he was ready - he chose to leave. He went back to his apartment and turned on the romantic comedy When Harry Met Sally. I love that guy more deeply in a wayward way now.
We sat their with Ben the Spider and listened to his story about the day he didn't eat a pie. For weeks - hell - years, Ben the Spider has said, 'eat a pie, save a life'. He opened up the painful memory of the time he was loitering on the street and feeling woozy. A good-natured family passing through happen to pick the Spider for asking directions. The Spider was turned around himself as his focus was all off and he sent them down a one-way road. They thanked him graciously - fifteen feet and one right turn later a hummer suddenly ended the life of that honda civic and any other miserable existence inside the civic. The Spider played audience to this real life real time drama. (He also found one of the five year olds fingers in his jacket pocket. Weird that it happen to fly in just right like that.) His blood-sugar was low for he disregarded his innate predispositional beliefs for the importance of sweets earlier that day at a diner. Ben the Spider feels the burden of that familys miserable deaths. I understand his pain and passions more fully. I, also, love that guy more deeply in a wayward way now.

So as you go about your seemingly boring lives: readers, seekers, and re-seekers; open yourselves up to each other. Share yourselves, don't be shy. I'll bet the person behind the eyes on the other side of the table is just as fucked up and has just as much baggage.