The Sounds Of Pissing III

It had been months since I could have a good night sleep. I used to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the soft goose feathered pillow. But something changed that night. I would stare blank at the white ceilings. With heavy eyes and sore thoughts the nights would roll out.

All I wanted was to fucking fall asleep. I didn't care if I had nightmares or if I just slumber for a while.

I had tried it all. I ran as fast as I could to get my body as tired as possible. I had tried masturbating. I had smoked joints. Nothing seemed to keep me from being awake. I was slowly rotting inside. I could feel death calmly creeping underneath my bed as I laid still.

Was it the secrets? Was it the rain outside? Was it the full on booze nights I spent trying to black out?

I kept drowning in a sea of empty thoughts and eternal seconds. I was so empty.

Time passed and the bodily urge of pissing reminded me that I was awake. 

Like a glitch in my system I hypnic jerked out of bed.

I rushed to the toilet. My dull self crawled in a lackadaisical fashion.

Once in the white room, I lowered my pajamas pants, and took my member out.

I leaned against the wall trying to make the whole situation bearable. Silence was golden. Suddenly I began pissing. And the pleasure reminded me that being awake was a blessing nobody really cherished. At least not me until that very moment. 

I was more conscious than most people I knew. And I was able to enjoy, in the precarious of my situation, a mundane act.

"And I hope I can live another day", I thought.

Hermes Coldwell

11.12.2018  

A Pissing Nightmare

It was December 31st. Everyone was ready to party and ready to leave the year 2017 behind. It had been a year that took so much away from us. Not only had a bunch of people committed suicide, but the year's political and social events had taken a toll on everyone, including me.

I was already sipping on my second vodka with peach juice. There was something about this juice that reminded me of home, my long time forsaken home. The sugar and added chemicals of this particular brand of beverage always reminded me of my years in high school. I guess I was happy to have found this particular drink, to mix with the Russian vodka leftovers from one of the summer parties we had had.

Everyone was grouped already, and several things were being discussed. Politics, music, and generally shit. I was trying to find the right moment for me to laugh, giggle, of sigh. it was like I was looking for a cue of sort of to interact in a natural way, just to make it till midnight, or until everyone was drunk and possibly high to stop pretending to be the way they all wanted or expected me to be.

I remember looking at my phone, just to see the time. To see if my predictions on when would the people around me would become tipsy or even drunk. Just to see how much longer I would have to be there.

My glass was suddenly empty. I moved like a shadow into the kitchen and refilled my tall glass with the potato distillate of the land of the Czars and the saccharine solution we all called juice back home. I didn't even need ice cubes. My drink was perfectly chilled and ready to be gulped down. It didn't really matter. I would pissed it eventually. And I would power walk the carbohydrates left in my system not to gain more weight. Yes, I had began walking a couple of months ago, and I had began seeing the results. At least, I would sleep better, without acid reflux. A good night sleep was what I had secretly longed for already many years.

I went back to my assumed position in the party. My group was still talking about things I didn't understand, or secretly didn't want to.

"So, we heard you didn't have any friends", someone fired away

"Uh, I do have friends", I said

"Good", a girl standing to my right said

"I have friends, they just don't live here" I continued, "they are scattered all over the world, one lives in Germany, another one lives in Rio and there is one in Mexico, so I do have friends, they are my best friends, we just don't see each other as often as we would like"

"Why don't you have friends here?". A guy mumbled across from where I was standing

"It is difficult to connect with people with whom I don't share anything in common with", I said

"That sounds a bit weird, don't you think?", another girl asked me

"It does, I guess, but when you have decided to live things ahead of what you are supposed to, it makes perfect sense. You lose proximity with the rest of the people, but gain a stronger bond with those, who like me, have chosen their own path in life, rather than following what is expected from them, socially".

I was having a conversation with the people in the group of party goers. It wasn't a very productive talk, I gathered. However, I was interacting. But after so many Vodka drinks, my bladder was totally full and I needed to relieve it from such burden.

I sneaked away from the living room and headed towards the toilet.

As I opened the door, I found myself in a huge room, which was barely lit and had lots of gigantic mirrors above the sinks. Around the place where one is supposed to wash after doing their business  —or like me, before actually doing anything, because to be honest, I do not remember all the places where my hands have been— there were the urinals and cabins. 

All the cabins were in a pretty deplorable state. There walls, all sported punch holes, and some of them were falling apart.

I tried to find one with the best cover, as I am a very shy individual and at least when pissing, I like my privacy.

Once I did, I began to unzip my pants. 

But for some reason, lots of guys came into the toilets and began searching for a place where to get rid of all their alcoholic urine. So in question of seconds, before I had even start, a guy was pounding on the door of the cabin I was in, shouting: "hey, come one, I need to piss".

I saw how the other cabins on the right and on the left became occupied and I could see the guys staring at me while they pissed their beer and their liquors. I couldn't even start. I was a shy motherfucker trapped inside a toilet cabin, being watched and being expected to finish pissing real soon.

"What a nightmare", I thought to myself.

Hermes Coldwell

31.12.2017

Let Me Out

"All my friends are embryonic

All my friends are dead and gone

All my friends are microscopic

All my friends wake up alone"

Hole's song began shaking the walls of the bar. The crowd continued to drink. Beer is often a powerful medicine that allows the quiet to interact in ways no one could expect expect. 

"Gutless...you're gutless

You're gutless...you're gutless"

Love continued to roar through the sound system. 

I was in good company, like most of the times I went out to drown myself in booze. Unlike the rest of them there, drinking as an outlet, was not for me to numb my shyness but to dull the voices in my head. Unlike being in high school and drinking to get fucked up, I learned to drink to get to that state of mind in which I am mostly relaxed. At time quiet and observant.Yet thoughtful and disguised in the shadows of the world.

Courtney's song faded in the blackness of Melodka, the bar I was at that night. 

My companions were almost as thirsty as I was. Another round of beer and Jager appeared on our table and I lit another cigarette. I puffed on it and I exhale a large ever-changing cloud of grey nothingness. And I killed the shot of booze sitting next to my beer in a sigh.

It had been a long day. It had been a tough day. So I went to empty myself from all the voices, booze and urine. And then I was ready to do it again. I was free and I was feeling good.

Coldwell 

28.01.14

The Sound Of Pissing II

"The following is an unreleased interview for Empire Magazine"

Prague, Spring of 2013

One of our reporters managed to get a hold of the infamous artist Hrms Etc, as his fans call him. 

We are sitting in the hotel suite of one of Prague's most expensive hotels. Hrms Etc has asked the hotel staff to decorate his room with several screens, blocking the over-decorated walls and making this room darker and colder. Different things are playing on each screen. We recognize 'House of 1000 Corpses', and 'The Exorcist'. Straight porn, gay porn and nudity on other screens. Alejandro Jodorowsky's "El Topo", is what catches out attention. A series of unnatural shots put together in such a appalling way. A master piece of the spaghetti westerns.

Hrms Etc is sipping on red wine. He is staring at the screens showing nudity. 

We clear our throats and proceed with the long awaited interview.

Empire: How's the wine?

Hrms Etc: Quite good. The fact is that I didn't have to pay for it. So it is better and stronger for that reason. I like red wine. I like it when I feel romantic. I like it when I feel like getting wasted. I like red wine.

E: That's good. So, we wanna thank you for this interview.

H: No, thank you for coming all the way down to my hotel in such a terrible weather.

It is pouring cats and dogs outside

E: So tell us, What kind of food could you do without?

H: Hmm, I think I could do without many different kinds of food. For instance, I think I couldn't care less if i stopped eating broccoli.

E:What's your favorite song at the moment?

H: Teenage Nosferatu Pussy. It has a funny dark side to it and I just can't stop listening to this one.

E: What's your favorite vegetable?

H: I don't have any favorite one

E: What's your favorite part of your body?

H: My dick

E: Is there any movie character that resembles your mother or your father?

H: Well, I think "The Shinning", and I would be the little kid repeating RedRum 32 times.

E: What do you think when you are pissing in the men's room?

H: Strangely enough, I like to think that someone is watching me piss. Call it a fantasy. Call it what you want. Sometimes I think that guys in the men's room enjoy the situation and look at other guys' dicks. Women are lesbians by nature. Men like to look at dicks pissing, I think. At least I do. And I know some other men who would agree with me. I do not know whether they just like to stare.Or if they like to compare size and girth. I like counting so sometimes I think I come up with the strangest games. In my head I have to count things. So sometimes when I am in the men's room I like to count how many cocks I get to see. But most of the times I only see mine. That's arousing.

E: What was the last nightmare you had?

H: I was in a mall and everybody was shopping.

E: What do you think of the Boston Bombing?

H: I think Americans are so good at media manipulation so they make this single act of violence into a huge world wide thing that has nothing to do with more important things that are going on right now. But please compare this with the thousands of people American troops have killed in Iraq or Afghanistan. Boston is nothing compared to what they have done in those two countries. But I feel sorry for the guy who lost his legs and his dick.

E: Is there any fantasy that you haven't fulfilled?

H: Yeah, some.

E: Coffee, black or with milk?

H: Milk

E: Favorite celebrity?

H: The Artist

E: Cocaine or E?

H: Neither

E: Thank you very much for your time

H: Thank you for yours

Courtesy of EM

19.4.2013

The Sound Of Pissing I

When I was in college, I was always afraid to urinate when girls were around. I was afraid to pee directly into the toilet bowl because I had the feeling that girls judged the size of your cock by the sound of the flow, and I didn't want any kind of judgment going on. So I would always pee on the inside of the bowl and sometimes it would go a little over the edge. But with Melanie, I would take two big empty grapefruit juice bottles, fill them with water and dump them one at a time, very slowly into the toilet bowl. This would go on for five minutes while she was outside, screaming with laughter. [Taken from "College Girls", by Spalding Gray]

10.01.13

Contributed by Villardo Ricalobos