Bathroom Stall Literature Under Attack

An anonymous artist quotes Castro. Staff.

Last month I entered the men’s bathroom on the first floor of Fanning and was greeted by the smell of new paint. I banged open the nearby stall door and found hastily-applied brown brushstrokes slapped oppressively on the stall walls. The paint thickly covered what had been some of my favorite stall literature on campus. It was here that I had once found quirky, perhaps meaningless phrases like “and the pontoons came first” or the large etched face of a joker with the phrase “Why so serious?” carved below. Those walls were the original Conn Coll Confessional, an anonymous male forum for anyone armed with a sharp ballpoint or, more fortunate, a felt tip marker.

Physical Plant’s dull brown hues had sent me into frenzy. I quickly scanned the rest of campus to see if more damage had been done. A prime source of entertainment and campus culture was being exterminated. The doors of Cro had been saved but all others had met similar fates. The bathrooms in New London Hall, Blaustein and the Library had all been washed out with bland shades of white or brown.

There is a difference between genius stall remarks and run-of-the-mill profanity. This is an important distinction. Some people choose to write the most unoriginal junk one could possibly conceive and call it stall writing. These people are not true stall writers, and are most likely the same brand of person that still thinks Ed Hardy is cool and were enthralled by “The Decision” of 2010. True stall writers are the witty ones, the ones who leave jokes in the library or emblazon the wall with unique quotations, seeds of intelligence.

For example, had I never used the men’s bathroom on the first floor of Cro (one of the bathrooms fortunately saved from the campus Big Brother) I might never have read T.S Elliot’s poem “Hollow Men.” In this bathroom you can find the quotation “The world ends not with a bang but a whimper,” the final line of Elliot’s poem. Google quickly led me from quote to poem.
Similarly, had I not seen Fidel Castro’s quotation, “History will absolve me,” inked onto the wall of a library bathroom, I may never have downloaded the four-hour speech in which this line was delivered. Fortunately I caught myself about thirty-eight seconds into this speech and realized that not only is it four hours long but that I also don’t speak Spanish. Nevertheless, I am calling myself better for having sought it out.

All one needs is an inquisitive mind to take the best stall writings and turn them into something bigger. I am speaking of the currency of ideas, ideas intended for circulation. Thoughts should be handed from person to person through a network with near limitless opportunity, one connecting the aspiring musician to the aspiring playwright. Amateur and degrading stall writers can leave their pens at home but the ones with true potential are the Johnny Appleseeds of campus creativity.
Our campus stall writings could be orderly, neat and precise, a far different brand from the typical scribblings in movie theaters or bars. Each member of our community has something to offer the stall-writing front, and with the proper amount of discretion our stall walls could be something of pure genius.

Thus I say, let the campus battle begin. I am not talking of a full-scale graffiti, spray cans running in the street type battle. I am simply talking about branding bathroom stalls, the most tempting of canvasses, with the pure imagination that makes life on a campus so great. Fifty percent of the campus is exposed to these blank walls and I deem it our job to choose any path but a boring one. Naturally, ideas on bathroom walls will lead to a reemergence of Physical Plant’s earth tones, but stall writers should not despair, there is opportunity in all of it.

Arm yourself with a pen and leave us all a message. It’s not vandalism; it’s just a contribution to a community seeking inspiration. •