The following interview took place on the afternoon of Thursday, April 10, 2008. It was a voice recording, and later was recorded into text verbatim.



Me: Hello.

B: Welcome.

Me: Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?

B: No, not at all, go ahead.

Me: Okay great, I wasn’t sure how you would react; you don’t mind the audio recorder do you?

B: Nope.

Me: Okay, my first question is - do you like what you do?

B: I don’t believe that’s not really a valid question for me.

Me: Why not? The answer isn’t obvious in my eyes.

B: Well, I believe everything has its place. It isn’t a duality like that. I have no choice in the matter; it was what was set out for me. What I do is what I do, and that is that. You wouldn’t ask a river if it likes carrying water, because that is what a river is in its essence. I am what I am like a river is a river and a table is a table, there isn’t a choice I have of liking it or not.

Me: Wow, that’s a very Sartrean view of existence.

B: I’m not sure I know what you mean.

Me: Never mind….

Me: I didn’t really expect you to know what a river is.

B: I know a lot about water.

Me: Yes, I guess you would. What is it like to be around people so often?

B: I could ask you the same question! It’s nice though, rarely a dull day. People are interesting in so many aspects.

Me: I feel like you wouldn’t see the same people from day to day, is this true?

B: It’s true. I rarely ever see the same face, with the exception of the regulars.

Me: The regulars?

B: Yea, the people who come in every other night to clean. They aren’t always the same person. But the same faces show up regularly, which is why I call them the regulars.

Me: What kind of affect do people have on you?

B: I only change because of people. They use me and dirty me. They write on me, pee on me, and shit on me. They turn the lights on and off. They use the toilet paper and paper towels. They create trash and leave the trash.

Me: How do you feel about all that?

B: It makes no difference to me, as I said earlier – I am what I am and nothing else.

Me: What do you think about people engraving words in your walls or writing on you?

B: Regardless of how crude or meaningless the message is, it’s always fleeting.

Me: I’m not sure I know what you mean, care to explain?

B: Well I feel like I have an advantage in perspective when it comes to something like this. I mean, most interactions that go on in here are so isolated. Everyone pees. Everyone poops, and they do it alone. There’s only one toilet in here. It’s hard to understand people from my perspective, because there’s no context do define them in. Are you understanding this?

Me: Yes, but where does graffiti fit into this?

B: Visual appearance aside, graffiti is one of the only ways I have begun to understand humans. And what I have learned so far is that it takes a certain type of person to write graffiti. But that type of person does not necessarily correspond with any age or appearance, although young people do it much more often. I bet if there was a marker attached to a string hanging from my wall, this whole place would be marked up at the end of every day. It’s about isolation and anonymity.

B: If you put a person in here alone with the means of expression, they will express. Some people come in here with the intent to mark me up - signing their name or writing some slanderous words. There was once this old man, much older than you are. He came in here and sat on the toilet for a long while. Before he left, he wrote “I wonder who you are” on the door.

Me: Does this happen often? I don’t see anything written right now.

B: Whenever something like that happens, the regulars wipe it off, paint over it or buff it out. It happens more often than you probably think. Messages like what the old man wrote helped me understand a little more about humans. “You’re not alone,” “there is no god,” “I miss you,” “help me,” “I hate you.” These things are directed towards nobody, but obviously meant for someone. Some of these things are written so small, as if the author didn’t want anyone to see them. “God save us,” “peace be with you,” “fuck you.” All these messages are left with me. I had a young woman write a poem on my wall, it went like this:

This graffiti is
fleeting human contact
both of us are lost,
but for a moment
we’re lost together.

B: That was the one that helped me understand the best. Not because of what it said, but because the regulars didn’t clean it up for a week, until someone wrote “CUNT” really big over it.

Me: But not all the graffiti are meaningful, what about the other stuff?

B: Like the kids who just write their names on my walls?

Me: Yea, sure.

B: Some of the kids are just ignorant, but others I have my own theory about. Unlike you, I am not going to die, because I am not really alive in the first place.

Me: Okay, what does that have to with graffiti?

B: Hold on. The way I see it, some people just want to make their mark on the world. To let others know they were here. So someone will know they existed. It’s these people who will probably have a more destructive footprint on the world.

Me: Interesting. So all you know about humans you learned through graffiti?

B: No, graffiti just gave me a deeper understanding of people. I learn a lot from people when they talk to themselves, or other people on the phone or in person.

Me: So more than one person comes in here sometimes?

B: Yes, rarely. And usually it’s not to pee or poop – that seems like more of a solitary thing.

Me: Yes it is. What do they do?

B: Wash their hands, blow their noses. Girls paint their lips together. Some people vomit, usually accompanied by a concerned party. When more than one person comes in here, they don’t usually close the door. Some people come just to make it dirty or to be intimate with each other.

Me: Intimate? You have seen sexual activity happen in here?

B: I guess that’s what you would call it. I have seen it a few times –boys kissing boys, boys kissing girls, girls kissing girls. Sometimes they take off their clothes; some remain in here for a while. They usually don’t talk much, just moans and whispers. They do it standing; some sit on the toilet, or on the sink; some lay on the floor.

Me: What do you think about that?

B: Again, I rarely see interactions between people. I find it interesting and it just helps me understand them better.

Me: Care to elaborate?

B: At first when I saw two people kissing, I thought they were just talking into each other’s mouths. But the amount of movement in the arms, and the closeness of the bodies were nothing like I had seen before. They didn’t make that much sound, so I figured out that they weren’t talking. It’s been my experience that kissing is just the start; people do so many other things. I didn’t understand what it was. It wasn’t until I had thought about it for a while that I realized that it was intimacy. It was the closest that I had ever seen people. I think of it as just another way to communicate. The movement was fluid, loose and natural. Sometimes their faces became the same as they often were on the toilet – mouth slightly opened, tongue relaxed, eyebrows and forehead tensed, and eyes unfocused as if they were pushing out a big log, to put it bluntly – that’s how I knew it was natural.

Me: So you would say your line of work is natural?

B: Yes, pretty much, just with a little more sanitation.

Me: Would you consider yourself dependent upon people?

B: No, I think if there is any dependency between humans and me, it’s the other way around.

Me: People are dependent upon you?

B: Yes! People could not come within my walls for as long as they want and I will still be the same, just sitting here being a bathroom. The only reason I am here is because they need me. They need me to go to the bathroom in, but not only that. The regulars need me to for a job, so they can get paid and live a life. The gas station that I am attached to needs me to serve the needs of its customers and employees. Does that make sense?

Me: Yes it does. So you know you are attached to the gas station. Do you know where you’re located?

B: No, not really.

Me: Do you ever get lonely? Like when the lights are turned off, or nobody comes in here for a while

B: No, I never get lonely.

Me: Do you ever feel unappreciated?

B: People overlook what I am and what I offer to them. I keep shit out of the street to put it bluntly. I am important to people, and I know this. So it doesn’t matter to me if whether people appreciate me or not.

Me: That’s a very mature view. How did you learn all of this?

B: I have been here for a very long time. I kind of just pick it up as I go along.

Me: Would you ever want to be a person?

B: Yes.

Me: You answered that question quickly.

B: Well, because it’s true.

Me: Why would you want to be a person?

B: Because I cannot change myself. People can change themselves and change each other.

Me: Doesn’t that statement go against what you were saying earlier – that you are what you are and you accept that?

B: I do accept it, because there is no chance that I could ever be a human. I would like to be a human to experience something new. Humans can be what they want to be. For example, you aren’t a student like I am a bathroom or a river is a river. Because you are also a son, and maybe a brother – you aren’t bound to some singular definition of existence like I am. That is what is so interesting to me about being a human.

Me: Yea, I guess that’s true. But, we’re running out of time; before I go I want to ask you one more question that only a bathroom can answer.

B: Okay, go for it.

Me: How many people wash their hands after they go potty?

B: Most people do, I would say about 20% don’t.

Me: Does everyone wash with soap?

B: Nope, about 30% of the people who come in here wash, but without soap.

Me: Wow, okay thank you for answering all these questions I really appreciate it.

B: No problem.

Me: Goodbye!