" He's returned. He's back in town."
The stone crawls across the water, the light reflects off the smooth surface causing it to shimmer like a fairy skittering through the dusk air. You turn and look up at me, another flat stone in your little hand and ask, " So where did he go?"
" Oh don't you know? He takes every summer off. He just... sort of... disappears. Vanishes. Like a virgin on prom-night," in a confident matter-of-fact tone as I sidearm another one across the still pond. " Hey, six skips, not bad eh?"
" Do you know where he goes?"
" Yeah, I do. Or at least I think I do." My eyes scan the ground looking for the perfect skipper. " God damn, where are all of the rocks?"
You ignore my question by asking another question. " Where does he go?"
I turn and face you locking my eyes on yours. " You ever hear the tale of the monkey who climbed the tree and then deemed himself tall?"
Pause. Some silent thought. Then you bluntly reply: " No."
I snicker, " Ok I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell you...." My eyes narrow, " You see, every summer he drives long haul."
" What's that?"
" A trucker. Says it's the only time when he gets a chance to really think. Or to create... When he's by himself on a long, lonely stretch of desolate road. He calls it his "idea time." I know this because I used to do it with him many years ago. It was my idea originally, in fact, a quick cash scheme... anyhow, he continued our tradition whereas I gave up on it."
" Why did you stop?"
" Because this monkey realized he wasn't tall. Rather, he came to the realization that perhaps he's stuck up in a tree and it is time to climb down."
8 comments:
Like the Monkey proverb bit a lot - well I like the whole thing, but the Monkey bit is great. I'm that fucking Monkey.
You know Ruk, I think we're all that monkey.
Good to see you back.
Best to chop that bastard of a tree down. Use it for firewood.
Do you do it on purpose?
Do you intend for me to read them and react? It doesn't seem likely. It would be foolish and arrogant for me to think so.
But...
I can't help but wonder.
How can some one I've never met, never spoken to, never told anything about me... not really...
How can you see inside of my thoughts and see through my bullshit? You just lay it out. Right there for everyone to see.
You couldn't know that you are writing to me. You couldn't. But you do.
Now if you would kindly write directions for getting out of this fucking tree.
Why feel the need to be tall? If the tree bore fruit, and the monkey was comfortable, would there be any need at all to climb down the tree that you found a home in?
but without the tree, is there perspective?
this one had a ding-ding effect
if i could i would forever stay in that tree. i think ignorance is bliss. i ve come to understand that the hard way. there was this long beareded dude in Russia who walked around barefeet even in the long winter months. he didn't read anything and followed a philosophy that made you run around long bearded and barefeet no matter whether or not your family would be terribly embarrassed by that. and go to the Altai mountains once a year and run through it without eating for twelve days or so. i guess that was the easiest way to get wisdom input straight into you without employing any other means . anyways to make this long story short, this dude, Pjotr was his name always told me that the stupid ones are the blessed ones and that it is like a reward from god to be an idiot.
God bless him, he was probably right.
I would totally hope for the monkey to stay a damn monkey ..
i'm for evolution through revolution, myself ....
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