The weekend, my friends, approacheth; and to ready ourselves we consult my iPod, known right here in my very own head as a perfectly normal and reasonable way to foresee the events of both my and your weekend.
And it’s absolutely free.
The Trapeze Swinger by Iron & Wine
Love Train by Wolfmother
Electric Feel by MGMT
Shout Me Out by TV on the Radio
Ramble On by Led Zeppelin
Black Soul Choir by 16 Horsepower
Neat Neat Neat by The Damned
What have we learned here? The word this weekend is “relax”. Prepare yourself for drop-ins, interpretive dance, existential conversation, and guacamole.
It’s weird, but I see guacamole in everything.
So I was laying on my yoga mat the other day, pressing my forehead into the ground, as is my wont, when it occurred to me that I had entered a new stage in my life.
The stage?
The stage wherein I successfully cage my inner monkey.
There we were, perspiration rolling off us, contemplating the next move (“you will plant your hands on your mat, shoulder-width apart, tuck your knees up into your armpits and simply lift yourself off the ground”). We were inches from each other, breathing deeply and rhythmically.
The temperature in the room was this side of a hundred degrees, the humidity just short of awakening the vestigial gills I’ve been holding on to for just such an occasion.
Yessiree, Bob, there I was: just me and 49 of my favorite people (between the hours of 5:30 and 6:30 p.m.).
And it wasn’t long ago that my brain would’ve chosen this very moment to ricochet with panicked, chattering thoughts. It’s too hot! Is that guy looking at me? It’s too hot! What’s the temperature in here? How much longer before I can lay down and play dead? Have I mentioned to myself that it’s too hot?
But indulging my inner monkey is not why I go to yoga.
The monkey casts a sideways glance at the tepid moat of sweat surrounding the mat of the man eight inches to my right and begins to work on the comment that will keep me from concentrating. I successfully fight her back into the same corner of my mind where I keep Metallica songs and the closing times of local fast food joints. I promise her that we’ll look for cigarette butts on the way home (I may have quit, but she doesn’t know that) and watch Cops afterwards.
The monkey loves Cops.
There are advantages, I think, to choosing where and how you’ll let your monkey run free.
The bus, for example, is the perfect place for monkey thoughts.
Don’t get me wrong. The monkey keeps me entertained, says terrible things I cannot repeat about the woman in the gold Spandex and the odds of finding loose change in the folds that make up much of her topography.
The monkey was the one who suggested I turn off my iPod Wednesday morning and listen in on the fight between Pookie and Boo.
Frankly, Boo’s trippin’.
The monkey also, however, makes obscene references during solemn moments and encourages me to eat uncooked cake batter. The monkey likes to inline skate drunk and quit my jobs.
She had a good run, that monkey.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that there isn’t room, now and then, for her chattering.
I’m just not buying her bananas anymore.
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23 comments:
You're just lucky to have a female monkey. Do you realize how hard it is to remain prayerful in church when an inner male monkey is running loose. That's one of the reasons I kicked myself out of church.
The Fred Effect
I like the monkey. Dont cage the monkey. I have been considering getting a monkey myself and getting rid of my tapeworm. The tastebuds wont like it but you cant please everyone.
BTW if you see me with my knees stuck in my armpits call 911.
Fred, ah! Grateful for the small things. I like it. (And btw, I've done and re-done the link to the Fred Effect a dozen time and it won't pick up the new address! I've never had this problem before. I'm going to delete you from my blog roll, let it sit a bit, and re-enter it with your new address. Hope it works this time.)
Simply, I suspected there would be sympathy for the monkey, and I agree that I should not rid myself ENTIRELY of the monkey. Me and that monkey have had some good times.
p.s. Where did you get the tapeworm?! I could use one...
I was going to ask about the tapeworm as well ... and I just watched an episode of House where there was a ginormous tapeworm in someone's spleen or somethin or other ... I was too busy watching the doctor with the blue eyes to really pay attention to where the ginormous thing was located ... she had no pain tho - another advantage to this tapeworm gig.
oh yeah! I see guacamole in everything too, can't go wrong there!
I understand the inner monkey struggle, mine makes very inappropriate remarks in my head, sometimes she screams them and other people actually hear them and think it's me ::: gasp ::: imagine the embarrassment!
diane rene, there is a time and place for the monkeys. :-) I figure by the time I die that I"ll have figured it out!
Pearl your inner monkey loathes bananas.
You know this. Stop monkeying with your monkey.
Shock The Monkey on the ipod.
Rene
I am the monkey.
My absolute favorite post of all time.
And the comments are just as golden.
BTW, I nearly peed my pants when you commented on my blog this week. Thank you. This love I have for you expresses itself in strange ways. I know.
The secret to the monkey is to not let your monkey monkey with other monkey,s monkeys.
Is that clear?
Ah ... the monkey! I had one once before I dedicated my life to sanity and good clean living.
Life without a monkey can be pretty dull ...
... or at least it was until I got myself a white rabbit called Harvey.
Wow, you've given me a whole new way to think about what's going on in my brain...it's the monkey! Mine loves to play 3-dimensional mahjongg online, among other things.
OH! We like the monkey! My inner monkey likes guacamole. Weird, huh?
The inner monkey can indeed be difficult to tame. I still don't always succeed, but every now and then, and more often than ever before, I find the monkey has been firmly tied up, gagged and sat on the naughty chair in the back corner of my mind while I act like an adult and get something done. It's almost frightening how grown-up I've become. After all, I'm only 53.
I would miss the monkey if she ever left for good, though.
Glad to see 'Black Soul Choir' on the list again. Last time it featured, I listened to it and immediately bought a copy from iTunes and synced it up on the ol' iPod from whence it comes to amuse the quick and the dead (and the perpetually tardy).
Prospects are lookin' good for 'The Trapeze Swinger' I can tell you for nothing. Monkey likes. And what monkey likes, monkey usually gets.
We all have the inner monkey, it sometimes leads us to great things, but most of the time to disaster. I thank your I-pod for letting me know what's in store for me this weekend. I especially look forward to the existential conversation, and the guacamole :D
I have always believed that my inner monkey is my creative force. Hence, the time I handed my step-daughters slotted spoons and homemade bubbles in the backyard. Or the time I discovered there was leftover money in the red velvet cushions at church. Or the time I chased my kids though the house in an old-western shootout scenario - me with a mega-squirt gun and them....feeble water pistols (and I pulled the "Mom Card" when they ambushed me). Or the infamous Diet-Coke and mentos debacle. Hmmm... on second thought, you may be right....
First off... love MGMT and TV on the Radio, but have you heard the NEW MGMT album? It's awful. I would not recommend it.
Do the dudes that take yoga look at ladies?
You've made it so clear to me now.....it's not ME saying those snarky things that fly out of my mouth at regular intervals; it's my monkey! I really must teach that there is a time and a place.
Your monkey loves Cops! I wish I'd known it was the monkey pushing me to eat uncooked things.
And bikram yoga? I'm dying to try it. I just need enough rope to tie up my own monkey. And a studio that offers it.
my monkey runs free as a breeze!!! [and sometimes free as a tsunami, truth be known!] :)
My inner monkey's gotta get her groove back so I can eat more guacamole.
Happy weekend, jj
I think I gave up my Inner Monkey for my Husband.
Especially since we live where most of the time, we are sure no one can understand what we are saying.
So we do our own little muttering, mocking, commenting, critiquing monologues ... sometimes we are too funny and one of us has to walk away.
I can see us now in Yoga. Lying there on our backs, helpless with mirth.
I have already been sent out of an exercise class for cracking up my friend, I know better than to go with the husband or the inner monkey.
I love Ramble On.
My monkey just wants to drink...rum.
"As is my wont". Pretty funny!
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