Tuesday, February 17, 1998
Spend quality time reading the writing
on the walls
COLUMN: Bathroom graffiti can be inspiring, fun or just plain
stupid
What’s an entertaining way to appreciate the time you spend on
campus between classes?
Reading graffiti on the bathroom walls. Admiring this artistic
form of self-expression can be even more exhilarating than
confusedly noting the various dates and times for campus protests
concerning subjects you’d really like to be aware of but are too
much of an apathetic UCLA college student to care about, which
often glare at you from building walls in accusation as you
sheepishly make your way to class.
With bathroom walls, all you’re really asked to consider is how
great it is that "K loves S" or what a bitch Maggie is for having
"fucked my whore-slut boyfriend, Mikey." In both instances, you
remain un-upset by the lack of mental stimulation the literary
musings evoke. However, once in a while, a particularly irate stall
inhabitant will utilize their surroundings to voice a more
controversial standpoint.
This curious occurrence appears most frequently in Dodd Hall,
where many excreting individuals believe themselves to be attending
UC Berkeley. Perhaps some spirit of rebellion lurks in the swinging
wood doors and marble side-paneling that I have not yet noticed.
That is, until today.
For, you see, today I read a black-inked message on the inside
crevice of a Dodd Hall bathroom stall and became empowered by that
spirit of revolution to add my response. Before I reached for the
toilet paper. Before I even considered pulling up my pants.
Of course, marble does present the one problem of not being a
ball-point pen friendly surface, so I became caught in a momentary
panic. However, I resourcefully searched through my bag for tape
and paper, willing to attach my thoughts to the wall by less than
destructive means. It proved a small, un-graceful step, balancing
my materials on the crotch portion of my underwear, but someone
needed to speak out, damn it.
The black ink provided a quote which suggested that all people
were born liberals who needed to expand their minds. Then, the
enraged bathroom author went on to shred the stereotypical image of
a conservative, implying that the only alternative to liberalism is
the Republican party. I couldn’t just walk away and leave this
individual un-debated.
No, no, no. My addition included something about expanding your
mind beyond either side to incorporate a viewpoint perhaps
previously un-conceptualized. Am I losing you? Good.
Because that’s the thing with bathroom babble. No one really
knows what they’re writing about but no one really cares. You just
have a blast getting annoyed or saying "right on! Power to my soul
sista!" Or you just pee, your eyes following the familiar letters
while you leave your brain out of it entirely.
That’s why I encourage more UCLA students to partake in this
mid-class recreation. The campus, as we all know, is currently too
pristine anyway and could use some destruction. Tear the system
down, just a little a day, and soon we can find ourselves amidst a
young society bearing new thoughts and ideas – sort of like, well,
hey, a burgeoning university.
Not like my easy-to-tear-down stream of uninformed bullshit
really shook things up that much. Hell, a janitor probably removed
it already. But it’s a step in the right direction.
My dream is that one day all of the campus will be rotten with
the stale smell of rain-smeared ink. Ideas peeling off of every
stucco siding available and glued to every green nylon construction
fence. But we must begin small.
Next time you enter a rest room, use a writing utensil to quote
Freud and call him an incestuous pedophile, or concoct a really
horrific poem which pretentiously alludes to Coleridge. And, if you
can’t think of a thing to scribble, make sure you bring a copy of
the Weekly World News so you can post up an ad for "Anti-mating
spray" or provide proof that Elvis is alive and well in Egypt. At
home, we’re not too proud to have "Dear Dotti" decorate our toilet
chamber, her advice on how to deal with unloading your kid when all
you want to do is hit the bars, a fascinating read on every
visit.
In fact, I’d like to incite you readers to bring chalk to school
so you can add comments off to the sides of the protest rally
information. Questions such as "Is Joe going to be there?" or "Will
there be free food?" or even "What’s going on, like, I totally have
no idea where all this anger stems from dude, you need to surf,"
would provide more of an open forum for discussion than mere times
and stark statements. Who knows, a fight could break out and then
we’d really be entertained.
At the very least, someone may become enraged enough with the
excess commentary to explain their position. Anything to make these
dark winter days more exciting would be fine in my book. Besides,
doesn’t red tile and grey cement wear on the eyes just a little
bit?
We’re talking aesthetics beyond anything else, oh passive
Angeleno college students, and I know you can understand that one.
So grab a pen and join the revolution. You’ve only got a few years
left here to make your mark.
VanderZanden is a third-year English student.