Message in a bag

Day 26: Greek style yogurt, banana, honey and seeds; leftover minestrone, sausage roll; fagioli all’uccelletto with egg, parsley, avocado and fennel salad, cheesecake, bread with nutella.

I bought the wrong bags. They are very big and make my poo look very small. But they are the perfect length for being lowered into the water without me risking to fall in the canal. I could have just let the bag go with the stream. I didn’t. But imagine: little Poo Bag floating at a leisurely pace, all on its own, on a beautiful Sunday morning, whistling its favourite song. And as it coasts the respectable boats of Little Venice where people are just rubbing their sleepy eyes, it gets noticed by a fellow boater having their coffee on the deck. Fellow Boater is enjoying the silence and solitude when Poo Bag approaches. They look at it with curiosity and since it’s so close to their boat, Fellow Boater reaches for Poo Bag, grabs it by its hair and, lifting it quickly from the water, lays it on the deck. Poo Bag is now scared and silent as it awaits to see what Fellow Boater will do with it. Fellow Boater handles Poo Bag with curiosity while sipping on their warm coffee and since they’re quite unsure of what this thing is, they give Poo Bag a good squeeze. But Poo Bag is a fragile little thing and it breaks, pouring over Fellow Boater’s coarse fingers and leaking onto their sleeve and forearm. Fellow Boater suddenly realise that Poo Bag is a poo bag and spit a mouthful of coffee back in the cup while shaking their hand furiously into the air. The guts of Poo Bag splatter in all directions, hitting Fellow Boater’s Friend in their face as they come out on the deck and a group of Cheerful Italian Tourists walking on the footpath. What started as an innocuous adventure quickly turns into tragedy and still to this day, no one knows exactly why.

Sometimes I feel like that about text messages. They are so prone to being misunderstood. You may not mean to be especially nasty, or especially nice, with your message, but the person at the other end takes it the wrong way because, say, they are pissed off since they just burnt the last garlic clove or they’re in a good, relaxed post-masturbation mood. And so things start unfolding in their own, independent way and end up going to shits without anyone understanding exactly why. If you can look someone in their eyes it’s easier to avoid misunderstandings. But of course you’re still absolutely free to throw them – or generously gift them – a bag of shit, if that’s what you meant all the way.


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