Shit Happens

'You are late. I ran out of paper waiting for you'

'Erm, sorry. But what's the big deal? You could have just used some toilet paper to write on'

That stuck with me. I wondered about what she said for quite a long time. For a while it seemed like an insult to my already diminishing writing skills. But later it started making sense to me. I could not blame her for what she said. It was but natural. Thinking about it I have always compared writing or for that matter not writing to passing bowels. 

Often, when I suffer from tremendous writer’s block I usually say I’m constipated. Then a long yet bad piece is a loose motion. There is a lot of it but it’s all full of germs. The regular writer is the guy who suffers from neither of the above. He/she is the one who enjoys doing it everyday with much ease. Writing in more than one way is comparable to defecation. Whenever I empty myself I feel very relieved and happy.  Every word that comes out flushes the toxic out of my body- One of the many reasons why I recommend writing and doctors recommend the other on a daily basis. And by practice I do not look at what I’ve written before. I just flush it down the pages of this blog or my journal. Once out I abandon it. It is mine before it is penned, never after. But the best part is once emptied I feel invariably hungry to read. That’s the time when I read books to satiate my hunger and fill myself. But reading needs a good filter, maybe a good connoisseur friend. The bad ones or the bad part of the good ones form the greater part of what comes out. I realise it’s bad but I understand the necessity to empty myself too. 

To write this as a public post might seem like sacrilege to many. But if you think about it, I’m just joining the 638 million of my country who defecate in the open.