48 Hour fast, sushi break fast

I didn't intend to stop eating, it just happened that way. Food created an uncomfortable feeling while not eating feels a lot better. Right now I am hungry and that feels better than food moving around and creating emergencies. Races. That I lose.

Each bottle is a pint. I hit each pint independently. I usually slug 1/3 the bottle at a time. 1/2 the bottle is only 8 oz but that is a little too much of a slug.

G stands for greens and those are the most serious.

R stands for roots and those are second most serious.

C stands for citrus and those are the least serious.

You can do C and the melon thing all day long, while G and R take some getting used to. They're a bit much all at once. Your body goes, "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Evacuate!" It's not used to that serious an infusion all at once.

Fasting is the shit. Literally. I have a perfectly dreadful disgusting tale to relate. Want to hear it? Of course not!

Seriously. Stop reading. What follows is disgusting. It's the opposite of seeking pleasurable food.

My bed is not close enough to its own bathroom, there is a long intervening walkthrough closet, so I sleep on the sofa, and I have done this for decades. I don't even know why I have a bed. That thing is for other people. Two bedrooms but neither are used for their purpose. The sofa is elegant. It is covered with a sheet and a towel. I sleep on the towel. It is uncomfortable. Uncomfortable enough to help me get up.  

I felt a ping inside and way up that signaled a remote need for the bathroom. I should think about getting up and doing that. I stand up without creating internal pressure, my leg muscles doing the work, no grunting, just muscle movement and I evacuate on the spot. Goddamnit. I leave a trail of poop dots on the carpet to the nearby bathroom. 

I messed the carpet from the sofa to the bathroom, I messed the bathroom floor and I messed toilet seat. I messed my underwear that make me look hot normally but not when I poop in them. I shower, clean out my underwear, clean the toilet seat and I mop the bathroom floor for any unseen dots. But I am exhausted so I leave the mess on the carpet for morning. 

Then that happened again. I showered again. Cleaned up again. Except for the carpet.

Then that happened again. I showered again. Cleaned up again. Except for the carpet.

I took two Imodium tablets to put a stop to this bizarre drainage.

Now I have a stack of three wet underwear waiting to be commercially sanitized. 

I fall asleep on the sofa with poo marks on the carpet in front of me. 

I wake up and the same thing happens again. 

Now I've had four showers and I have four wet underwear waiting to be sanitized together. And I'm getting really sick of cleaning this bathroom over and over and over and over. 

It's been 48 hours. I must eat.

Two of these things are salmon ↓.  I'll pick the one that I want.

Rice before vinegar/sugar solution is added ↑.

Rice after vinegar/sugar solution is added ↓. 

This Pacific salmon looks terrible. It is a very bad choice for this. I'll use a small portion and cook it.  

The water was microwaved to boiling and the shrimp put into the water out of the microwave. They just sat in the hot water for a few minutes. They are sliced on the bottom and deveined. Which is weird because you must cut all the way through to the tube that runs along the back. Much easier to slice the back. But then you lose the shrimp-shape.

I ate four pieces, 2 shrimp and 1 each of the others, felt a remote inner sensation suggesting the possible need for the bathroom sometime soon maybe in the future. Stood up and instantly evacuated. Right on the sheet and towel that I had just laundered, right on the floor that I had just steamed-cleaned. The carpet cleaner isn't even put away. All over again. I must clean the carpet all over again. Clean the bathroom floor, the toilet, another pair of underwear. Another shower. 

I have the cleanest butt in Denver. 

I washed my butt five times in the last 48 hours. Rinsed my butt in the shower aimed directly into my butt crack. Over and over and over and over and over. 

Take one bite of salmon, and have to do the whole thing all over again. 

The juice can do that to you if you are not used to it. But I am used to it. I have my own juicer. I'm using these people because I cannot take all the whiteflies right now. Their juices are a little bit more intense than my own juices are.

I feel it again. I stand up. Goddamnit. No splotch on the carpet this time. Easier cleanup. But I'm still washing the bathroom again, showering again, and pile of wet underwear keeps getting higher. 

I don't even know where this poop is coming from. My body is pushing out remnants with water.

A pair of pants that got pooped in is in the dryer.

Another pair of pants that got pooped in along with a pooped-on towel are in the washer. 

I just now drank a glass of Metamucil to see if that can sop up this ridiculous internal mess. 

Sometimes I tire of being a human and I ask, "Lord, why haven't you already taken me?"

And I mean it.

And the voice of a man who has suffered says to me, "Just you calm down."