Monday, January 30, 2006
My Monkey, Myself
Okay, if you are new to this blog, none of this is making sense. Perhaps if you are not new to my blog, none of this is making sense. I introduced the Blog world to the Monkey Playing Cymbals back in August of 2004. So if you are the type that needs linear structure to comprehend abberant behaviour go ahead and read that blog.
I don't claim to understand why the Monkey Playing Cymbals is my muse. But I am interested in trying to understand him better. I want to see what makes the little guy tick (other than new batteries). Because I think there is a little bit of the Monkey Playing Cymbals in all of us.
Don't tell him, but I have been hanging out in eBay trying to buy another Monkey Playing Cymbals. I think he is lonely and would benefit from another Monkey Playing Cymbals. Or it could be my obsessive/complusive self trying to start up a new collection. Or the Monkey could be manipulating me to buy more mechanical monkeys. You just never know what a Monkey Playing Cymbals is thinking.
Not that I'm been successful on eBay buying another Monkey Playing Cymbals. Those puppies are expensive. And apparently I'm not the only one trying to acquire a new one.
I suppose I should be content with the one Monkey Playing Cymbals that I have. He is quite a handful anyway. And with the Seahawks going to the Superbowl he has been a little unbearable to be around.
"Wipe that stupid grin off your face," Monkey I say (but not too loud since I work in a cubicle environment). But he just sits there mocking me because I didn't get season tickets this year (I haven't told him about the big screen TV).
Plus, he is supposed to be a muse and he can't even keep his own Blog up to date. Half the time he simply mimics what I do (monkey see, monkey do...). And honestly, I don't really care much for bananas and that's pretty much all he eats.
STOP THE CHATTERING MONKEY!!!
You know, sometimes I feel like just walking out on him. I mean, I really don't need a Monkey Playing Cymbals to inspire me. He stars in one bad movie and he thinks he is better than me.
When it comes down to it, I think he really needs me, though. And it is nice to be needed.
Sometimes he really does get on my nerves, though.
But then again, don't we all.
Posted by Time at 7:27 AM