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This morning, I got out of the shower and forgot to put the plug back in. I got stoned and sat in front of the sun lamp for a bit, then danced a little because I needed some exercise.

And I started thinking about a SF book I’d read lately about a woman who got a dose of sentient microbes. They brought her a lot of success; this inducted her into a fabulously rich society… and changed her artistic output from things that mattered to her to things that mattered to her microbes. Ultimately I was left wondering if this was a trade-off really worth making for her. There were other strains of less-civilized sentient microbes in this world, who would just go sit on their host’s dopamine receptors, wipe their minds out with endless pleasure, then proceed to reproduce like crazy until they had to find a new host because this one was about to die.

That got me thinking about what having a plug in my ass 24/7 might be doing to my own microbiome. What ordinary microbe inside of there, helping me digest food, was suddenly experiencing a population explosion? Which one was getting a population crash? And what were they excreting into my bloodstream? What’s feeding on the lube I keep putting in there?

Lately I’ve been feeling prone to Not Thinking. Is this a side effect of this new regime in my gut? Is it one I want to keep reinforcing? No, I don’t think it is, to be honest. I’ve got too much stuff that needs doing. Spring’s here, too, and with it the sun — time for me to wake up again.

I have taken the Butt Stuff off of its towel on the bathroom counter, washed it, and put it in the drawer with all the other sex toys. I think my Higher Self just declared this experiment complete.

Time for the next one.

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