Surrealism

I just took a dump. I was going to take a photo of it. Of my shit that is. Floating around in the toilet, waiting to be flushed. It could be art, couldn't it?

People make films about abuse, violence, poverty, war. And they call it art. Misery is beautiful. Let's do something to provoke! Cause a reaction, let's be controversial. Let's have our shit in galleries, let's make headlines. Let's be noticed. Remembered.

If I was superintelligent I would create a mental toilet. If only I could have such a place, to squeeze out all the shit in my brain, all the crap in my thoughts, and flush it down. Let it out to a place unknown. Have it contaminate the waters of human minds. That would be the most amazing invention of all times. But I'm not superintelligent. I'm nothing. NOTHING.

If only the brain could function like the rest of the body. If we could gain long-lasting mental strength from nutrition and exercise. If the mind could sleep. Not even in our sleep does the mind sleep. My mind fucks me backwards in my sleep. I can't decide what is worse. My dreams or my reality. I want a fucking mental toilet.