The poop standoff at my home has reached to mythical proportions. If I find time from studies - which I have been shirking in favor of other things, and work - which i have been shirking in favor of other things - then I could draw a fictional character derived from my roomie who has raised a storm in a teacup instead of issuing a minor apology/promise towards managing his poop (literally). He has put himself under room-arrest when in the sanctum of our home, and barely ventures out but to sneak away water and butter (and my facewash, i suspect). He even brought a friend home - and made sure to keep her under room-arrest too, crippled under the influence of aspirin, tobacco, junk food, and youtube - to prove how he's got his own circles. There has been not a single word between us. His daily exit for work has taken a dramatic persona, which is sneaking out when the access is clear and ringing the doorbell in his wake.
This has some Buddhist undertones going. Thanks to roomie, I understand the concept of Heruka better -
Herukas represent the embodiment of indivisible bliss and emptiness. Well, his emptiness under a pretense of bliss kinda reminds of that. I imagine him in a wrathful pose if confronted, too, albeit without a deity-ness about him.
This is turning into a bigger farce than I thought. Let me write about that some other time.
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