I ran a wad of toilet paper around the rim of a toilet in El Paso, Texas. I sat down, looked at the Goat Weed dispenser and took out my iPhone. I looked at my iPhone and sensed a mass in my stomach. I stopped looking at my iPhone, put my head in my arms and pushed. I stared at tiny pools of liquid on the tile floor. I searched for things to distract me from the tiny pools of liquid on the tile floor. I pushed. I had thoughts like “life is consumption and waste” and questions like “Why did I eat fajitas?” I thought about how much low-level janitorial work I’ve done in my life. I imagined a white man from El Paso pissing all over the toilet, turning around and buying Goat Weed. I pushed. I imagined two words in 400pt helvetica bold: lodged and rotten. I pictured computer-animated bacteria in my intestines. I half-remembered a Radio Lab where someone put their hand through a giant hole in a cow’s stomach. I thought about a post buried in some feed or another about the correct way to use your rectal muscles. I remembered it said pushing too hard was bad.