Sometimes you have to read the writing on the wall...

I saw something interesting on Facebook, yes Facebook my enlightened readers. I saw a Bumper Sticker that stated (in the form of black writing on a red bathroom stall): "Since writing on toilet walls is done neither for critical acclaim nor financial rewards, it is the purest form of art. Discuss." Interesting sentiment, ain't it? The purest form of art is that done by amateurs armed with nothing more than a felt tipped marker or pen, whilst using a public toilet. I've seen some real interesting writings on bathroom walls. "Joe was here." Insightful, and often paired with the often inevitable, "Joe is a faggot," or any insulting variation. Artsy? I'd have to say nay. Rather, it's more of a way for someone to vent their frustration on an anonymous stranger. Others see it as a guy simply stating his presence, making it known. A smaller group still, might walk in, see the writing and cry out: "Hey! I know Joe! I didn't know he shit here! Holy hot dicks from hell, I'm going to call him and tell him we shared a toilet!"

But that's not the art we're talking about here. Rather, we're talking about the philosophical statement or poem scribbled on the walls. We've all read them, be it in a truck stop, bathroom stall, or what have you. They make us question something philosophically. If you haven't read something like this, I recommend going on a road trip, and eating some Mexican food along the way. Trust me, you'll find something. I'm referring to something along the lines of "Stop and smell the roses. Life moves too fast."

Now, for those of you who know me, you know that I could go on for days about that single quote, regarding how fast live moves, but I have a different intent for this posting. Why would I bring up the juxtaposition of the "Joe was here" bathroom squabbling of the potential beauty of bathroom poetry. I bring it up because that's exactly what life is. There are the little gems of beauty that give us a new lease on things, maybe a new view. They come in many forms, such as someone resolving an issue between you and them, maybe someone paying off a debt you had forgotten about, or maybe someone wants to rekindle a relationship that you had with them, that had since fallen by the wayside. Then there are the "Joe was here" moments; moments that had potential to be something meaningful on a blank canvas, but rather, clutter our minds, feelings, and emotions.

The dichotomy of life. We have times that change our lives, maybe alter our views on life, and then we have the senseless babble of a bathroom prophet. Sure, we all wish that life was just the beauty and philosophy of the former posts, but we can't completely disregard the latter. Sometimes the rage of a ranting indoctrinator breaks up the monotony of life, and gives one a little bit of senseless fun. Without such moments, the meaningful things seem less meaningful. To quote Jay, the incessant stoner from the Kevin Smith View Askewniverse, "He thinks just 'cause he doesn't say anything, it'll have some huge impact when he does open his fuckin' mouth," (Chasing Amy**). Really, the most meaningful things in life are only meaningful once we have some standard to compare them against. Can't have good times without some bad times to remind us how good the good times were.

Savor what comes by, my dear readers. Life moves fast, and you can miss it pretty easily if you don't take a breath once in a while. Besides, variety is the spice of life. It might come from a different type of jalapenos on your nachos. Maybe it comes from finding a quarter on the ground, when you thought you dropped a penny. And sometimes, the spice of life comes from the scribblings of someone on a public toilet stall. Time to write your own story.

By the way, do you have a Sharpie I can borrow? I had tacos for lunch.

-Matt

**For those of you who aren't familiar with Chasing Amy or any other works of Kevin Smith that take place in the fictional View Askweniverse, Jay is referring to a character, aptly named, Silent Bob. He lives up to his name in the sense that he never speaks in any of the movies, and, as implied by Jay's declaration, when he does speak, it often imparts some philosophical knowledge. The irony is that the quiet one, Silent Bob, will impart gems of knowledge once or twice in a movie, when Jay, the loudmouth stoner, won't stop talking, and rarely gives any insight more than childish babble of "Snoochie Boochies".