Inside the Mind of the Monkey

There are more than just bananas in there...

Page 23 of 57

Follow the Black Rabbit

“While we acknowledge your point, that time is just a construct” he began, “we also recognize that this construct has certain tenets and even measurements that have been agreed upon by all who conform to this construct. Seconds begetting minutes, minutes leading to moments and hour and days, weeks, so on and so forth.” It was clear that the headmaster had heard this argument from first years who had not yet discovered their own ignorance and still thought themselves quite clever, not realizing that the staff had trod this way many times before. Clearing his throat, he continued tiredly, “Over what we agree to call “time”, these, admittedly, abstract increments have become so ensconced in our culture that they have taken on the weight of actual concrete existence, to such end we have created mechanisms to measure these purely imaginary periods. My point being, that implements are now readily available to even the most backward of young men that will awaken their bodies if not their spirits at any time prescribed, even those drowsy enough to believe that a philosophical discussion of the concepts of time and space will somehow excuse their habitual tardiness.” With rising passion he intoned, “Well, not in my class, sir! I strongly recommend that you avail yourself of one of these modern horological devices known as an alarm clock and never again arrive in my hall even a moment after the appointed hour!” As he took his seat, he continued quietly and even kindly, “Am I understood?” I just nodded and shuffled to my place in the back of the class, happy that once again, I had escaped actual repercussions with only mild injuries from the public scolding. So, in the spirit of punctuality and never again being late for an important date, won’t you please join me now as we stand and make the Follow the Black Rabbit.

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War of the Roses

I am always drawn to folks who don’t quite play by the rules. Not rebellious types who tear things down or light fires just to see the world burn, but the folks who see a chance to make things better and say “Why not?” The ones who make “good trouble” as John Lewis put it. We spend a lot of time going through motions and doing things because that’s the way they have always been done without taking time to stop and ask why or if there is a better way. So in the spirit of not accepting the status quid pro quo, won’t you please join me now as we stand and make the War of the Roses.

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Groundhog Intervention

OK, campers! Rise and shine and don’t forget your booties cause it’s cold out there today. It’s Groundhog Day, again. It seems like I should do something special in honor of this auspicious occasion. Obviously, by special, I mean a hip and timely reference to a film released 38 years ago. The whole movie is based on a situation that would drive a fella to drink, but there is only one interesting beverage in the whole thing and I feel like I would be ripping you off if I had you carefully craft a cocktail by pouring 2 ounces of sweet vermouth over ice and expressing a lemon peel. To be fair, that is an excellent thing to sip, there just isn’t a lot of craft in it. So, in honor of doing things till you get them right or till you learn a lesson or at least until you can move on, won’t you please join me as we stand and make, the Groundhog Intervention.

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Chocolate Orange Martini

Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit; or so they say. A bunch of you nod knowingly, and the rest are all “what’s he on about this time?” It is the first day of a new month so we honor it with this odd tradition of saying rabbit three times, to ensure good luck for the rest of the month. Since this the first day of February and St. Valentine’s Day is right around the corner, I am going to shoehorn in something sweet and elegant. So, in the spirit of mysterious and unexpected treats, won’t you please join me now as we stand and make the Chocolate Orange Martini.

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Rusty Nail

There are odd memories that percolate up from a misspent childhood and one of them involves this drink, a family friend that I did not trust and a lesson learned. It is funny the things you forget until some little trigger brings them back in full technicolor. The first sip of this drink tonight brought back an afternoon many moons ago, when I was younger than my son is now. So, with a nod to forgotten youth, won’t you pease join me now as we stand and make the Rusty Nail.

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Lemon Bar

They say that when life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade. They clearly have no clue what else is in the pantry. Maybe you have water and sugar, maybe you don’t. Some folks have butter, sugar and eggs, but you don’t see anyone telling them to make Lemon Curd. I tend to lean more toward the Cave Johnson school of gifted lemon management, but that can be less than practical. No one gave me any lemons today, but I was sent a recipe, so I went all bootstrappy and bought my own lemons, in order to make a drink for you. So in the spirit of dealing with unsolicited lemons, which I assure you is way less of an issue than the adage would imply, won’t you please join me now as we stand and make, the Lemon Bar.

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Coffee House

Some days you just want something simple. No muss, no fuss, as they say. Asked what he wanted in life, a friend of my father’s once said, “What every man wants, a peaceful existence.” That sounds pretty good today. I checked the news and things seem nice and boring. Well not quite boring, there are some possibly earth-shattering things going on in the market as a bunch of folks use reddit to turn the tables on hedge fund managers, showing just how ridiculous it is that “short selling” is even legal while also exposing just how much more equal some animals are than others in the eye of US finance law. If there was ever a house of cards that could use a burning down, well they may have found it. Me, I’m feeling like a coffee, maybe some acoustic music from a band only the cool kids have heard of, enjoyed on an old overstuffed sofa, with good friends and maybe a little poetry. So, won’t you please join me for a quiet evening as we stand and make the Coffee House.

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Explorer Martini

It was a clear day, we were on the playground, playing handball or lounging under the shelter. We had the option of watching in Mrs. Cerniglia’s room, but a bunch of us would rather be outside, besides you could always see the smoke trail going up, which was cooler than watching on TV anyway. The launches had become fairly mundane, the only reason this one was being played in a classroom was because our teacher had been involved in the program, and had a vested interest. Not us though, we were outside in our Guess jeans and Swatches, listening to Mr. Mister cassettes on the Walkman. Looking off to the north we saw the smoke trailing into the sky and then it stopped, expanded, almost like a bloom opening, at that distance. We did not get it, and went back to gossiping about who liked who and whether Dave and Maddie were finally gonna do it. A bell rang and the loudspeaker instructed us to make our way to the cafetornasium, for a special assembly, where we learned that the bloom we had seen, was the Space Shuttle Challenger being lost. In the spirit of those who went before us, won’t you please join me, as we stand and make the Explorer Martini.

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Red Light

Once upon a time, that’s how you are supposed to begin a tale, right? I am pretty sure so many stories start with that one sentence because just staring at the blank page is one of the hardest parts of writing. The getting started is daunting. In some ways it is even worse in the computer age, instead of a patient piece of paper waiting for ink, you have a little cursor winking on and off, sort of tapping its imaginary foot as you try to figure out how to begin. It reminds me of the old side scroller game “Captain Goodnight” whose title character would take out a yo-you and stand there in all his 8-bit glory playing if you weren’t giving input. I want to talk about a terrifying evening in college but it is really more than we should get into in the intro and I have already taken up a good bit of space talking about how it is hard to start, which means, we have in effect, already started, so I’ll get to the opening catchphrase and pick up the storytelling after the break. That is, if you will please join me as we stand and make, the Red Light.

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Gonzo

I haven’t been properly drunk in a while. Which is a shame. I should be drunk or otherwise lubricated to write this missive, but I am not and I am not inclined to fix that. It’s gonna make it hard to really dig into the stream of way too conscious ramblings, but I going to try, for America and other interested parties. Though I make a drink everyday to share, I rarely drink it all. The wife and I split it and go on with our evening. Proper drinking is a thing to be done in crowds, shared with friends, even if you just met them. In this year without contact, I just haven’t had much impetus to drink more than a couple of sips at a time. I need for people to come along, for me to really enjoy the ride. And today is all about the ride, so I need to be out there looking for the edge, but I am doing it sober and it is hard to get there on your own, well, hard to get there on your own without a handful of pills or other chemical assistance. The thing is, I never really liked drugs. Maybe I just did the wrong ones. If I’d have had some sort of shaman or spirit guide to lead me along that particular path of enlightenment, may be I would feel differently. But I didn’t, so I don’t. Sure I experimented with the light stuff, but I never found a really good fit, so, beyond social stuff other people offered, I left them alone and never got to experience the truly mind-altering things. Drinking was different, that one was easy for me. It was accessible and I am open minded. It worked for both of us. But you don’t really get those mind and consciousness expanding revelations from a bottle. You get a penchant for story telling, laughing too loudly and embarrassing your more sedate friends with your antics, but if there are any true and deep lessons to be learned they mostly get lost somewhere between the hangover and that first cup of coffee. So, in the spirt of a certain laissez-faire attitude toward the truth and self aggrandizement, let us gather at the river as we stand and make the Gonzo.

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