A wonderful family member gave me a book for my birthday. It wasn't my birthday. I tried telling her but thankfully the book arrived in the mail anyway. It's the story of a chimp adopted by a childless couple. The narrative bounces from focusing on humans to ape and back again, chapter to chapter, until it's hard to tell who is who.
I'm an ape. I know, because I don't think I am one.
If a chimpanzee does not need another to acquire food, he will not bother trying to get along with anyone. And if he wants the help of someone, he will always choose the one he has found success with in the past.
As a little monkey with a drum I am in the thick winter of what I call Festival Rejection Letter Season. As you may know, these letters are group emails from the festival organisers explaining how they received too many applications, how the standard was high and how artists have been selected based on a combination of merit, their fee and what they may be able to contribute to the festival.
So, I get the Thanks But No Thanks unless, of course, I know someone at the festival or have played it before.
Wherever they are, apes invent culture and their culture is strengthened through the exclusion of others.
Ever been there? Geez...
There are leopards in the memory of every ape, leopards never seen. Some look like dragons and some look like drains.
Maybe I'm a leopard.
It is an ape instinct to look down on other apes.
I feel like throwing poop at a bunch of monkeys today.