Thanks to Mark Reid’s tweet, I came across this great piece in Harper’s by David Foster Wallace. My favorite section is when he’s describing his cabin; the toilet in his bathroom in particular:

The toilet’s flush produces a brief but traumatizing sound, a kind of held high-B gargle, as of some gastric disturbance on a cosmic scale. Along with this sound comes a suction so awesomely powerful that it’s both scary and strangely comforting: your waste seems less removed than hurled from you, and with a velocity that lets you feel as though the waste is going to end up someplace so far away that it will have become an abstraction, a kind of existential sewage-treatment system.

Harper’s has other articles by David Foster Wallace available online.