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breeden
ursulav

Faking the Rough Draft

(And thanks to archangelbeth for the analogy!)

Art derives from artifice and is inherently artificial. I may want to produce gorgeous authentic journal pages in my sketchbook, but I can't. So I scan the weird little doodles and frantic blatherings in the sketchbook and produce them on the computer, because I grew up on the computer, goddamnit.

And they come out looking like this.

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I can verify that there is at least one toilet seat in Botwana, in a rather nice safari-whatsis that does tours of Chobe National Park. Zambia, right next door, also has some toilet seats, but largely does not believe in them. (Quite often there would be a toilet, it just didn't have a seat. The rest of the time it was a pit latrine, and the nice ones would have the foot-stands and maybe even a lid. (And then, in perhaps the crowning clumsy moment of my life, I managed to knock the lid at the seemingly-impossible angle to drop it into the hole . . . At least I never dropped in anything else. I was always worried I would. Perhaps this is not the most encouraging story to relate at this time.))

Has anyone said anything about toilet paper? Even nice public toilets in Zambia only rarely believe in toilet paper.

Of course, Ursula's group will probably be visiting nicer establishments than I did, on the whole.

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