Love drops or warmed encounters?
Black studded sheer thin?
I’ve been traveling through Colorado and New Mexico the last few days and I subconsciously captured every foreign bathroom I encountered along the way.
I think I suffer from some embarrassing malady like Irritable Bowel Syndrome. I say “like” because I’ve never really had it diagnosed but I’m positive that something is wrong. A trip to the doctor lies in my future, a future filled with embarrassing conversations and uncomfortable truths. This is aging.
When a sudden attack arises I always regret not having planned out where the nearest bathroom is. Whenever I get that “Damn, I gotta hit the head in a hurry” feeling nothing else matters but finding it and taking care of business. It hurts which in turn makes me angry, and then I’m just like “I don’t give a f*ck just get out of my way.
Anyway. This is all TMI I’ m sure. The point is I’m in bathrooms a lot and I’m a photographer. At least that’s what I’m calling myself these days. A cross eyed weirdo photographer with IBS who obsessively takes pictures when he’s stuck in bathroom purgatory.
I’d say that the bathrooms I encountered on this trip were pretty substandard. The bare minimum was being done to keep them operating and clean. One didn’t have soap and I realized that I might be obsessive compulsive about washing my hands because I was freaking out about it on the inside.
One was flooded. One had a picture with a broken frame and shattered glass. One was still warm from the guy before me. I’m sorry. Public bathrooms just make me sick, but I’m so grateful for them regardless.
Not that it’s breaking news or anything, but it would seem that taggers LOVE bathrooms. I saw an etched tag around the toilet seat today. All I could think about was how long it took that person to get their name cut into a nasty toilet seat that may have seen as many as a million asses over the years and how close was his face?
Racism still shows up in public bathroom stalls which is another photo essay altogether. Sadly, I guess nothing’s shocking anymore.
These are the bathrooms of the road. The ones that saved me from having to squat in a bush or risk a ticket for public urination. The place I spend 70% of my life. Bathrooms.
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