the cr chronicles

chilling out in the cr just before the witching hour, contemplating about your life is... spiritual.

no, there will be no talk of libido or of bodily desires that needed to be quenched. it's just plain life reflections done while sitting on (not using) the toilet.

the comfort room has always been one of my most favorite spots in the house. whenever i'm extremely mad at somebody, whenever i am in bliss or whenever i feel like my life's melodrama is putting to shame the local teledramas, i go to the bathroom mirror. i just stand there looking at myself, sometimes even speaking to it---that isn't lunacy. i will appreciate it better if you term that as soliloquy.

i then sit on the covered toilet bowl and stare at the ceramic tiles that suit the small room like albino scales of a reptile. i stay like that and thoughts just sift through my head. i get most of my good ideas there. therapeutic.

what's with the cr, you ask? i could always lock myself up like a sardine inside my room but there's a little extra something in the cr. it's accessible by everybody of the house and when you board in it, it's a petty privilege of being the royalty inside your minute court. you own it. it is yours.

i usually do my cr soulsearching during the wee hours of the night. you must understand that there are a good number of people crammed in our bungalow so the time when all of them are frolicking their way to dreamland is one of the better instances when i can have the house to myself. i enter my kingdom and get entertained by my loyal subjects of water dippers and used soaps.

my reign ends when someone raps at the door for an early morning piss.