one fateful afternoon, after a re-read of jane bennett's vibrant matter, i went to take a shit.

 

i then sat, right here on the bathroom floor, for a good 10-20 minutes, staring at my own shit, trying to understand its vibrance.

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after awhile, i felt like an idiot having accomplished nothing but trying not to gag while contemplating the agency of matter, and i'd just spent 20 minutes staring at my own shit in the name of scholarly research.