SantiagoBear

05:48 pm: A guilty admission
Or should that be Emission? This post is basically on farting. It may fall under the heading of TMI, or even WTMI. So, if the concept of farting is offensive to you (and I have no idea why it should be) or you don't WANT to know what my guilty admission re: farting is, I suggest you pass over the remainder of this post.

Blonde #1: "Why do farts stink?"
Blonde #2: "That's easy, silly. It's so deaf people can enjoy them, too!"

EVERYBODY farts. Everybody. If you think you don't fart, just wait until you relax, while going to sleep at night. My friend David SWEARS that he never farts. I have slept with him, however, and at night, the anal aroma brings tears to my eyes.

Ladies are particularly prone to deny farting. But ladies fart just as much as gentlemen do. Most people generate about 1/2 liter of fart-gas per day. On the average, this is distributed in roughly 14 gas-passing-events in a 24 hour period. If a person refuses to fart, and holds the gas in, then the number of farts may be reduced. The amount of gas, however, remains the same, and WILL pass - - often when you least expect it. (Anna Russell Mode ON: "I'm not making this up, you know!" /Anna Russel Mode: OFF)

You can read all you ever wanted to know about farts at http://www.heptune.com/farts.html . Really. And no. I didn't put a link in, because it's been SO LONG since I've posted any LJ HTML that I've forgotten the commands and am too lazy at the moment to look them up.

Farts come in a variety of . . . . well . . . .varieties.  There are the wonderful, earth-shaking, trombone-like farts that shake the rafters, but can be almost completely odorless, and then there are the quiet, deadly "stink-bombs" that we all recall from childhood.  And, indeed, they range from the SBD to the orchestral farts that we all try to pretend that someone else let.

Many people consider it inconsiderate to fart in public.  However, those same people might very well stand up from a conference table, where they've been struggling to wait until they can get to the bathroom, and find that the very change in position triggers a tuba. It's particularly difficult to refrain from farting in a gym, or other venue of exercise - - especially when doing limbering up exercises, crunches, or sit-ups.

Face it.  We all fart.  We have no choice.  It happens.  Adjust to it.

NOW - - my admission.

I LOVE to fart.  I adore farting.  The very sensation of the deflation of the bowel, of the shudder of the sphincter . . these are a delight to me. Farting is a sensual experience, and sometimes is an experience for more than just the senses of touch and hearing.  The sense of smell often gives my farting adventures an added pleasure that is somehow undefinable.

I have no problem farting in places where I know no-one.  In restaurants, on the Metro, walking down the street . . . I DO refrain from farting while I'm teaching.  As much as I can.  But I'm a fat guy.  I produce a good deal of gas; likely more than the 1/2 liter that the average joe comes out with. It's difficult and often painful for me to hold in a fart for very long.

Of course . . .the act of holding a fart inside makes the release all that much more delightful. I relish the sensation - - the relief - - the release - - the aftermath.

Farting, for me, borders on the aesthetic.  It's pleasing to the senses like few other things in life can be. A thunderous toot is a joy to behold, whether in private or public.  It's just GREAT.

I particularly enjoy farting in enclosed spaces.  I like to fart in empty elevators, and imagine the looks on peoples' faces when they get on (after I've gotten off). It's a load of fun.  A gaseous gift to the gentry. Subway cars are often too big to sufficiently fill with the farts of only one person, but I have fantasized about having a dozen, sweaty bears, fresh from the beanery, load into a metro coach and let go. Imagine the mixtures. The texture of the smells. The variety of the sounds as one anus vibrates at a higher or lower rate of cycles per second than another.

What a joy!

And then, at the next station - - all off and wait for the unsuspecting commuters to enjoy the remains of the trip.

While we were on vacation with Van and Ron, I was having a particularly odorous day in San Pedro, and when I got into bed with Carlos, I had no choice but to let one rip beneath the sheets.  Carlos hurriedly tightened the blankets around me and said, plaintively, "Don't move. Don't move. Don't move." in perfectly accented English.

Farts can bring out the best, and the beast, in all of us.