I guess GPS in the cars should have a way of telling us the ‘next restroom so many miles away’, and it should have built in intelligence that gives us the rating of the public toilet.

PS: I would like to include this in the beginning because it might add some sense to what is to follow. I am not very good at humor, what I try to write, what I try to say, what I try to think are all disconnected, and I never intend anybody to believe me, I just hope to connect. Sometimes I wonder what makes me write all this stuff, I try to think what made me write about using public toilets, I sometimes try to use psychology and think about what were the preceding events that happened me to write this, but it is weird that I am sitting in the balcony of a hotel room, sipping some coffee, there is nothing in around me that paints a picture of a public toilet with urine sprayed over all the place.

My condition has probably intensified things for me, though I used to feel pissed off with idea of pissing in PTs. Always anxious, sometimes waiting, watching the faces around me who want to pee harder than I want to; everyone thinks they are more troubled than others in this life. Other times, when I have to poop in the toilets, I go blank, my identity swaps, as if for sometime, I become a stray animal imparted with just enough intelligence to find my way to a place where people can drop shit—and then I walk out in the open feeling like a guilty person who cheated on his girlfriend. I wish I could take a dip into the Ganges to expiate for my sins and flush my mind with thoughts of something incongruous to my situation—something that doesn’t make sense at all.

I feel filthier when it’s raining and I have to use the pubic toilet, the boundaries between waters of different colors fog my senses, and my face usually contorts while walking out of the PT and I am not able to get over it for at least 15 minutes or so. Of course there are signs on the PT area that it has been recently cleaned—some blue liquid, lack of sperm lying around here and there, lack of germs that might induce sexually-contractable-disease kind of things into you. But then, we still take the risk, we smoothen out the toilet paper, risk our lives by sitting on the toilet seat which has seen many filthy bums in its life time, the same toilet seat which has resigned to ever-lasting life of watching naked stuff and filth, and you sit down thinking the damage has already been done. And that is not over, you are literally scared to death in filth when somebody barges into your “space” when you forget to lock the door (if it has any), I don’t think life can get worse, you sometimes become really silent, and sometimes you scream just as you would do when faced with a tiger in front of you.

It gets even trickier for the women in India, where men just stick out their watering instruments anywhere they like and think about what their wives are cooking at home. No wonder lots of women in India think men are pigs, I mean we don’t eat shit, but we don’t do any better. Women would hate me if I start speaking the truth, about one of my cheap thrills in life, just like smoking at new locations, but mine is a more exotic thrill than most would assume.

Peeing is one of those beautiful feelings that human beings are endowed with, nobody, fucking nobody can take that away from us, in fact it is one of my cheap thrills, but here in America it is very difficult to find places to do it. But I still found few on the Pacific coast, with water saluting me, acknowledging the fact that not many do this thing in front of her eyes. Excuse me, I got to squeeze (damn I remember the Led Zeppelin number where Robert Plant keeps shouting, squeeze my lemon, I guess he was paralyzed, and his only way to pee was somebody squeezing—I know the body of what I am made of has got blood in it).  The cinematic values of pissing around the PTs is less than the narrative value that I am able to do here, that is why I am groping, scrounging for figurative that could make this post more sensational. My demi-explanation of the evil surrounding the public places has no clear grounds, no clear edges, I am getting self-obsessive, trying to get people read about things I deeply care about, isn’t that common?

I piss around almost all the times in the Blog, in my life, I get philosophical thinking as if I am one of the few ones who can do that (truth is far away from that), then I think that the French and the Greeks did it for number of years, not Everybody ended up being Voltaire and Kant, but I know I am just using innocence as my defense. My pee, which is really excrement, the residue of one living life being that which feeds, and tries to heal sometimes in other times.