I Become a Human Being Again

It is past 9:00 p.m. and the time for me to resume writing. I bid good night to Jorgito with an amiable handshake and promise him that I will never reveal his dishonour to anyone. And I walk out the office.

As I hit the street, the sky is already dark with twinkling stars. I walk on the streets leisurely with my hands in my pockets. When I come to the middle of the bridge, I halt, so that I can take a good look at the highway and night views. From here I can see the illuminating buildings and starry night sky. It is one of my favourite spots to brood over, looking at cars wheeling-by. The night is quite warm. Cool breeze is caressing my cheeks. I am lapsing into reverie. What Jorgito said is indeed true. When he was a slave, he constantly complained about his boss and constantly got stressed out. At that time, his illness was worse, and he was worried about his rectal bleeding at no end. However, he is now in his own way and doing what he loves, somehow his condition of the illness is getting better. On top of it all, he looks happier by comparing to three years ago when he visited Japan. At that moment, I had spent one of my miserable periods in my life there to boot. I was constantly depressed and stressed out because of my ashamed job and unimaginable mean colleagues. I had forever suffered from their meanness and churlish behaviour. The work environment made my illness unbearable, that I have no doubt. However, like Jorgito, I am now doing what I love every day, I am far away from Japan and mean colleagues, and I am happy by surrounding with my friends in Mexico, my illness has been getting better magically as if I had never suffered from it. I still cannot forgive my diabolical colleagues for showing me unpardonable wickedness and making me yell at the top of my lungs in the public from desperation, “I am a shit man!” Whenever I think of Japanese meanness and devil-may-care demeanour, my blood is boiled by rage, and a revolting shudder shoots through my whole being.

When I turn back to look at the past, I think how much time has been wasted, how much of it has been lost misdirected efforts, mistakes, and idleness, in living in the wrong way; and, however I treasured life, how much I sinned against my heart and spirit – my heart bleeds now as I think of it. Life is a gift, life is happiness, each minute could be an eternity of bliss.

I am looking at the celestial sphere with eternal reverence, and I am thanking God for being born under the lucky stars and for sending me wonderful friends into my life. I am relieved and gratified that I am in Mexico; not in Japan. I am heading back to the apartment slowly and jovially with a full of grace in my heart. Far away from my own country, I become a human being again. I have finally started living my life to the fullest despite of fact that I should have started it for a long time ago.

Please Stop Worrying

After Gerardo enjoyed reading my tragedy thoroughly, he wrote me back: 

Ha-ha-ha…  My friend, I tell you that your e-mail was extremely funny (well, just for me), because I guessed that it was not funny for you; you were very desperate when you wrote it. I wish that your stomach condition will be better soon.

Well, I have an appointment with my doctor on the coming Monday. I feel much better now; however, most of days I have fucking diarrhea. I do not know why I have fucking diarrhea all the time. Maybe, because of alcohol or spicy food, but I am not sure. I absolutely understood the trepidation when you said that you are afraid of going out, because you do not know whether you might be going to shit in your pants. Really, trust me, my friend – I have been there and in your shoes countless times. It is horrible when you cannot hold a caca. Once out of desperation, I started yelling at Almighty Lord in heaven, “Lord, why did you choose me over other billion people? Why did you particularly choose an innocent Mexican boy? I have to go to work, so stop this unpleasant sensation on my stomach in this right instance. Please I beg thee!” But He never answers my prayer as He ignores yours.

Anyway, why did your intestine get inflammation? As I know, you neither eat spicy food nor drink a lot. I think that your meals are good, and you always eat very healthy food. Perhaps, tobacco causes your illness, since you smoke a lot as me. Or perhaps, Japanese atmosphere causes your illness. Maybe, you are stressed out. You should leave Japan for good as soon as possible, man, ha-ha-ha…

My friend, you cannot bang girls anymore, ha-ha-ha…. Oh my God, what a shame! Because when you start banging a girl, you might get the unpleasant sensation on your intestine and might get UC attack. And the worst situation is that you might scatter shit all over a bed while you are banging a girl aggressively. So, you will be virgin again for a very long time, ha-ha-ha. I do not think that you can survive without banging though.

All joking aside, stop worrying, my friend. It is in your mind. I think that you are always afraid of shitting and constantly think about a bathroom which make your illness worse. I really think that it is a kind of psychological problem. For that reason, please stop thinking about your illness and try to think about something else. I assure you, my friend, that this is in your head. You will be fine, so please stop worrying. Take all the medicines that the doctor has prescribed for you and try to stop smoking. Well, Mr. King of shit, ha-ha-ha…. Take great care of yourself and good luck to your stomach.

Mr. King of Fornication

Gerardo Casanova

What Have You Done to Me?

I perfectly understand when Jorgito said that it was impossible for him to hold it. It is indeed true; it is just impossible, because when you get UC attack, you cannot control your bowel movement; you can do only one thing, surrender. I remember when I got a terrible UC attack and wrote to let Gerardo know about the opprobrious misadventure. At that time, Jorgito was as healthy as a spring chicken and had not had ulcerative colitis yet. Gerardo was worried about his stomach then:

Dear friend,

How do you feel about your stomach? I hope it does not distract you too much. I went to the hospital yesterday. The doctor told me that my intestine has inflammation that causes the rectal bleeding – that is why I cannot hold shit. That is the reason for going to a bathroom countless times a day, as if I were not a human being but an animal. And also, he told me that the exact cause of ulcerative colitis has still not been discovered yet: How can people get it, where it comes from, and how to cure it, and so on and so forth. Therefore, he cannot cure the illness completely, but he can keep my stomach in good condition with pills. Furthermore, my doctor told me that I will have to see him frequently, and perhaps I will have to keep on taking pills for next ten years. I suppose that I should see if pills can relieve the inflammation or if they can keep good condition on my stomach.

Only God knows how long I have to suffer from obsessing with shit and a bathroom. I thought that I could return my job from this Sunday on, but today I am not sure although my stomach has become little good to compare to the previous state. But alas, please listen to a poor orphan, my friend, I will tell you a horror that I have experienced this morning. Today I ate breakfast and let myself relax about an hour, because I was afraid if I went out soon, I would definitely want to go to a bathroom. Thus, I went out with good care, but alas, after forty minutes, suddenly, I got a strong seize in my stomach and immediately realized that it was UC attack, so I was frantically looking for a bathroom and dashing on a street at the top speed, like a man just grasping a missile landing toward him, but it was too strong urge, man! It was too forceful, like a tsunami which is impossible to stop, and shit came out like toothpaste. My friend, I was so humiliated and ashamed on myself; I could not hold it, which literally scattered in my pants. I eventually surrendered to such a horror as a raped woman, went to a bathroom as a vanquished warrior, silently washed, and whipped my underwear and pants as a devoted monk, so that I would go home to perform ablution.

After emerging from the bathroom, suddenly, an indescribable rage assailed me. I looked at heaven, made a most disdainful grimace on my face, that any human beings have not showed yet, crooked my left middle finger, raised it heavenward, and shouted at the top of my voice in the public in English, “Why Father, heavenly Father! What have you done to me? Do you want to punish me? Is it not enough that I am sent back to my prison and stay in Japan which has caused me so much distressed and made me depressed occasionally? Haven’t you heard of mercy? Why do I have to suffer from the most stupid thing on this earth every single day, that prevents me from doing anything?  But shit, shit, shit, shit… damn it! Hey, heavenly Father, I will give you final notice before abandoning you! If you cannot rescue me from this miserable situation immediately, I will renounce you, I fully mean it!” And then I performed the most sacrilegious dance on the street like a native Indian and shouted, “I am a shit man! Do you hear? I am a shit man!” Then I went home as if nothing happened.

Gerardo, what do you think? I tell you that it is so ridiculous for a man to occupy his thought with a bathroom and shit all the time. Let me visualize you with some examples: what every victim of ulcerative colitis thinks first when he wakes up is that if he wants to take a caca. And then he eats breakfast and is worried if he is okay to go out, because he might be soon to get UC attack to look for a bathroom on a middle of his destination where he might not find a bathroom nearby. He is worried about if he can eat outside, because he might want to go to a bathroom immediately, even during a meal. He is worried about if he can take a train, because he might want to go to a bathroom on the middle of ridding that is impossible for him to go to a bathroom. The worst possible situation you can think of is that when he gets UC attack on a train, he knows that he cannot prevent from the disaster, since it is like an avalanche which no one can stop, even Almighty God, so to speak. He knows that if he goes out, he cannot have any pleasure, because he is always afraid of shitting and knows beforehand that he will get only shame and disgrace. I think that this is a very serious problem. Moreover, I enlighten you that ulcerative colitis is the most miserable and humiliated illness for human beings to be afflicted on the face of earth; therefore, please tell me how you would feel if you were in my shoes? And also tell me what your doctor will say, and if he knows how to cure ulcerative colitis when you see him. I am desperate, man! Please report back to me as soon as possible.

Give you a strong handshake with you in my thought. May God protect our stomachs from shitting, amen!

Japanese shit brother,
Shogo the disgrace

Good-Bye And Good Luck to the Stupid Job

He drinks a bottle of coke and is looking at the outside painfully for seconds. And then he lets in, “Shogo, I would like to share my worst experiences of ulcerative colitis attacks with you. Do you remember that we were in Acapulco four years ago when I first got UC attack? It was the second nights. When we came back to the house from the night club, everyone was so tired and went to beds to sleep right away. I was so tired too, but I felt strange sensation on my stomach. I tried to ignore it and fall asleep. After thirty minutes passed, I suddenly wanted to go to a bathroom. I tried to get up and lift my ass carefully, but it was too late, brother. I couldn’t hold shit, and it scattered all over the bed. It was so humiliating, you know – I was helpless. I just couldn’t hold it. My stomach totally lost control. It was a fucking nightmare!”

I totally understand how he felt that night, since I actually have the same illness, and I have had the same sorts of horrible experiences; however, I cannot refrain from bursting out laughing and let myself laugh uproariously. After I laugh my head off, I reply with tears of laughter in my eyes, “Sorry amigo, I’m laughing so much. Please forgive me. But don’t worry about your misfortune, because I completely understand how you felt and how humiliated you were that night. It’s impossible for you to hold it when you get UC attack. But allow me to ask you – how did it happen, amigo? Because we slept in the same room with Gerardo and Gabriel, and nobody noticed anything unusual.”

He explains abashedly, “Because I cleaned and washed the goddamn sheet and blanket myself in the bathroom surreptitiously.”

I am still laughing like a madman. “Was it really true?” I tease him, “you washed them in the crack of morning. Did you tiptoe out of the room? Sorry man, but it’s one of funniest things I have ever heard in my life. Heaven, it’s so hilarious!”

“Oh, please, Shogo, stop laughing. I’m so serious and worried about the stupid illness and caca!”

Pause.

“Pay attention, brother, I haven’t finished it yet,” he continues, “the other horrible incident occurred while I was driving for a job interview. In my despair I was caught by a traffic jam, what a bad luck! You know how terrible Mexican traffic jam is – it’s unbelievable. Anyway, I couldn’t move due to the fucking traffic jam, and suddenly, my stomach got a familiar and detestable sensation. Can you imagine that I got UC attack in the middle of the traffic jam? I was so panicked, man! I couldn’t get off the car and couldn’t find any fucking bathroom. And it was too late. While I was panic-stricken to find the way out, shit was shooting out like an avalanche. I couldn’t hold it; actually, it was impossible for a human being to hold it. I gathered all my superhuman strength to hold it and squeezed my ass with all my might, but the calamity of UC attack was ineluctable. And the worst part was that I surrendered to the forthcoming disgrace with dismay, ah!”

“Ha-ha-ha…. Oh my God! What a humiliating blow!” I am guffawing. “You got UC attack in the middle of traffic jam? Heaven, you don’t say! It was helpless, man. What happened then? Did you go to the job interview?”

“Idiot!” he screams. “Are you out of your mind? How could I go to the job interview with shit on my pants? No, brother, I didn’t go to the stupid job interview. I called them and said I don’t want to take a fucking job anymore. Good-bye and good luck to the stupid job. With that, I hung up. I had to endure such an unpleasant feeling over two hours to get home to wash myself. Can you imagine that shit was in my pants for two hours? I opened all the windows to let the fresh air in, but it didn’t work. The smell was repulsive. My BMW was contaminated by my own caca, so to speak. It was abhorrent and humiliating!”

The Same Old Song And Dance

I am being on the way to the office for paying a visit to Jorgito. His life has changed somewhat since Heather’s arrival. He has rented an apartment and lived with her in Queretaro for two weeks. However, during a week, he stays at his parents’ house in Mexico City due to his business.

It is getting around 7:00 p.m. when I come to the office. As soon as I emerge from the threshold, Jorgito’s face brightens. He welcomes me jubilantly, “Thanks for stopping by, brother! I know you’re very busy with writing, but you know, I want to talk with you and miss you so much. Now you no longer spend time with us anymore due to your mission as a writer. I know you have to write every day to finish your book as soon as possible, but I want to enjoy my life with you while you’re in Mexico, you know….”

“Don’t worry, Jorgito, this is my break time, so you’re not disturbing me. And also, you should know that you’re always welcome,” I point out amiably, “remember, amigo, I’m always available for you. But you should understand that this is my big chance to change my life, and I must complete writing the book in a month.”

“Of course, I understand you thoroughly,” he nods and goes on, “I really want to read your book as soon as possible. I hope you can complete it soon, so that we can sail in a table dance, ha-ha-ha…. By the way, how is your stomach? Getting better?”

“Yes, it’s much better; thanks for asking,” I say happily, “my stomach is indeed getting better. The good thing is now that I don’t need to be worried about diarrhea anymore!”

“Shogo, remember when we had a job, we constantly had ulcerative colitis attack. We had to go to a fucking bathroom over six times a day. It was horrendous. I know every doctor says they don’t know the cause of illness, but I’m pretty sure that stress makes our illness worse. Look, amigo, I’m now free as a lord and work for myself, and you, too, you’re free and doing what you love every day. And our digestions are getting better. What do you think?”

“I totally agree with you, amigo,” I am nodding contemplatively. “In Japan, too, every doctor told me the same old song and dance that they don’t know why and how I got ulcerative colitis at the first place. But I’m sure, it’s because of stress.”