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Entries in chicago (1)

the Aurthur Fournrussel Story Corner, or minute, #2, an important analysis

I have been in the most forsaken bathrooms where the patterned hardboard is etched with names from the 80's and Van Halen logos rendered in old sharpie. Each one a distinct variation of gag-inducing stench that needles you right below the eye with a base of ammonia and a bouquet of 120 mph methane beef explosion.

There is a diner/ lounge bar bathroom in Blythe, California that did a really good impression of a hot summer exploded deer carcass. As patrons sip bloody Mary's through a fist punched luan door you are left dreaming, reminiscing even, of the good qualities of a good clean air drop next to a dumpster. Usually a public shit is not the way to go, but compared to you, Blythe diner/lounge bathroom, its all aces.

Moving on to the bathroom of Ted's hideaway in a secret Miami location. This is the place where Flipper the TV show was filmed. It is also home to a primordial foul beast that belches ammonia and brackish drool through shaking pipes and weeping orifices throughout the property. One never knows when or where the sneaking stench will kill the conversation. I am convinced that the clay of the bocce ball court is going to be important to future scientists who want to know the source of the odoriferous black oil scourge of misery that took back the swamps of Florida from the pitiful citizens who once inhabited the area.

On a more structurally intriguing tip there is the the miraculous feat of physics that is the bathroom floor of a Chicago shithole passing for an English pub. In this under the stairs wonder-closet next to the toilet in a soggy worn through hole in the floorboards, one can see kegs stacked in the green light of the basement. You could almost imagine that you were pissing into a toilet next to a soggy log. Conjure up little bit of moss and trash, some trees, little deer and chirping birds and its almost a good forest preserve piss, until that dreadful stench bring you right back to disgusting reality, a reality that somehow includes standing on boards that have the structural integrity of a kitchen sponge.

Let me tell you good readers, that I have been in some legitimately deadly rooms, but the worst was tucked away in an Alice in Wonderland hotel with cabanas and pool boys and towel boys and string bikinis and $30 seven and seven, which I said should be $49. Walking through the 25 foot tall fantasy curtain billowing in the air conditioned wind, anyone can walk into the heart of the lobby where there is a bathroom discreetly tucked to the side. In this bathroom, each hole has its own air-locked door and fresh flowers on a delicate ledge. Outside of the stall, there is a sink so large that you could take a bubble bath in it, and next to that, a teak platter with fresh white hand towels and hand lotions. This bathroom is so nice that you could easily forget that you have ever done any offense to anyone and that nothing was ever your fault, and that yes you do shit ice cream; lavender and sea salt ice cream dropped with a sprig of mint into a tiny little boat.


this is a picture of fog that Aurthur took. This is a benign fog unlike the treacherousness spoken of elsewhere in this important analysis.