Pee In A Bottle

February

It’s mid-February in Brooklyn so the snow is black and slushy and then icy and the melting and freezing distributes garbage up and down the sidewalks and we’re all a little sad because we need more sunshine. Alongside Greenwood Cemetery it is particularly bleak (and not because of the dead people… they seem okay) but because it is unkempt and strewn with litter. And truckers like to park there to get some sleep. Which means we get water bottles of pee.

I think about this a lot, or at least, a lot today because I try to imagine the thought process of peeing in a bottle and chucking it out your window. It is cold out, so I understand not wanting to get out of bed. And I will admit, I have some jealousy about the male anatomy being able to refill a Poland Spring bottle like that.

Then I think of the truckers, high up in their cabins, driving everything we need for everything we want around. How they must hate us. The way we drive in their blind spots, slow down in the fast lane, slide between them to keep from speeding. How we’re in our LED warm bulb lit homes right across the street from where they are parked, eating rotisserie chicken and playing video games none of which would be possible without that driver. He’s why we get to be happy. And we’re sitting inside and he’s gotta piss in a bottle. The mind can get fixated on how little people care about you and then you decide you don’t care about them. Fuck em. Piss in a bottle. Throw it out the window. Feel for a moment like you won a round.

And then I think about the election, and this country. And how Democrats and MAGA approached the millions and millions of Americans who feel a rage every day. An absolute unending fury because the world seems not to give a shit what you are going through. And how the Democrats calmly said that we care and we want it to be better and we’ll make it better. We can fix it. Just come with us. It will be fine. And then MAGA said fuck em. Piss in a bottle and throw it out the window. Hurt them the way they hurt you. Maybe it is DEI or maybe it isn’t but who the fuck cares. You’re hurting and if you vote for Trump, everyone will hurt too. So come on. Let’s feel good for a moment. A moment may be all you have.

And now we are all angry. There’s no joy after the pee bottle. A sour victory, slightly worse than the dopamine hit of a good Insta video, slightly better than speeding by a cop who doesn’t pull out. The snow keeps melting uncovering more and more garbage and we hope that this ride we are on won’t kill everyone we love and we are exhausted because the news keeps pummeling us.

I don’t have a pithy ender here. I’m sad and the sky is grey and I hope you’re doing something good with your anger. Someone should.

Don’t throw pee.