This week I contemplate some of life’s quandaries, join me if you will for a discussion about life, the universe, and everything… kinda

I don’t have satisfying shits.

That’s the jist of it I guess. Most people are able to have a decent load, some go a just feel better. Whether its or normal run of the mill shit or some super-sonic-glass-shattering-make-old-grannies-feint shit, there is a sense of relief and release. And I due experience some release but I get no relief, like I just birth some chocolate butt-baby however a foot was left behind and refuses dislodge itself from my rectum. I love the eating and the content sensation of being fed, fueled, and generally fucking well off. But all good things must end and rather than being enjoyable or even amiable, I end up put out feeling unsatisfied.

And I wonder if this is some grand indicator, other than I fucking need fiber, should think about this too long in some mad stupor of booze and cigarettes I might begin to see a pattern. The first glances, our hands touching, all moments of anticipation- along held breath that keeps you in that moment. The first kiss, sating your thirst like the finest wine, satisfying and yet only maddening your need for the meal. And then you are rewarded, food is here setting your heart a flutter, you take the first bite. And when it works, really works, there is a moment when time stops. Hangs there as you savor the moment, the time the place stamped on your cortex as your little lizard mind does jumps for joy lost in bliss. And for a time you continue to eat, and the moments after keep you content.

Of course it would this part of the brain that brings us to ruin, the shriveled ball of nerves that the rest of the brain is built upon-controlling our heart, lungs, and other vital organs. Its sole concern is sleep, eat, fuck, and shit- this is core of our mind, grown from eons of useful mutations and cancerous growths. A diamond built on a turd.

However between attempts to appease this portion other needs are met. An appeasement to the social and emotional needs, time spent out, talking for hours on end. Eventually you come to rely on this individual and it feels good. Growing closer through mutual satisfaction, a sense of fulfillment, few things are more… satisfying. But all must come to an end, where this comes from is always different and sometimes never known however it does. However why must it suck the high hard one so much, must it always feel like something malformed and aborted.

Or is this just me, are you able to avoid the hurt and heartache. Are you able to make the end as painless as the start. Are you able to avoid the mire, muck, and shit… FUCK YOU, fuck the lizard brain, beginnings, chance meetings and fuck endings.

I don’t have satisfying shits.