In most homes, the closest we come to having literature in the bathroom is a magazine or two on the back of the toilet. The Thing Quarterly and American nonfiction writer Dave Eggers have made a move to make bathrooms a little more high-brow with a limited-edition publication printed on a shower curtain.
The shower curtain is printed with a monologue told by the curtain to the author. The unconventional expression of an inanimate object’s innermost thoughts ought to keep any shower-taker busy while they wait for their hot oil treatment to set.
The Thing Quarterly publishes each issue on a different useful object, putting a new and wonderfully quirky spin on literature. Eggers’ shower curtain puts the words of an accomplished author in a place of honor in the home: the center of the throne room. You can buy it here, and read more about it at The Guardian.
Curious what the full text says? Here you go:
“I am your shower curtain and I am watching you. I surround you, I shield you, and I like you. I like to see the water touch you, travel down upon you, searching, falling away from you. I like to see you lather. I like to see you rinse. I like to see you thinking your thoughts with your eyes closed. I do not like to hear you hum. I do not like to hear you sing. I like you quiet. I like you thinking, silently, your lips moving, your eyes closed tight. I like your fingers. Your wrists, your toes. I like your shins. Your knees. I like the way the water funnels between your legs and cascades down, turning in corkscrews. I like it when you like yourself. When you give a moment to your thighs. When you give a moment to the back of your neck, to the inner fold of your arm. Take a moment. Give yourself time. Take the soap and make circles on your flesh. Make slow circles on your flesh. Make long elliptical shapes upon your beautiful flesh. Your beautiful flesh today. Tomorrow your flesh will be different. It will be older. Appreciate it now. Your flesh is a miracle. You started from nothing. From an egg too small to see. Then a relentless multiplication of cells, each one a miracle, each one a preposterous happening. And from this ridiculous profusion now you are you. You are a giant. You are a giant and water is falling upon you and you are cleaning yourself because you are beautiful. Please don’t think about anything else. I know I said I liked to see you think but that, i realize now, is not true. I don’t want to see you think. I only want the elliptical touching of your flesh. throw your mind away and enjoy your wet flesh. thrill in your existence. Your persistence. the fact that you can be here, under this falling water. this, as much as any other reason, is why you are here, why you exist. to enjoy this. to feel this. it is good enough. It is good enough to justify everything else.”