The time of chimpanzees

Did Count Paris attack Romeo (and die) for killing Tybalt (for killing Mercutio) because Tybalt was his friend, or was it because he really loved Juliet and wanted to marry her? Is this the same Prince Paris (suckled by a she-bear) that eloped with the previously married (thousand ships) Helen causing 1) a (trojan) war, 2) the death of "voice of reason" brother Hector, and 3) after his own death, the gruesome dismemberment of his other brother who also married Helen? (I guess the prettiest girl in the world gets around.) Paris shoots Achilles in the back (of the foot) for killing Hector which might be considered cowardly if Achilles hadn't set the tone by coating himself in the invincible aegis of the gods (getting crazy with the cheez whiz).

Men kill each other for the love of a woman, but of course this is just the revisionist version. What other version exists? But isn't that always the animus modus operandi? Blame everything on a woman. So maybe in a thousand years, an Indochine princess named Marilyn Monroe (MyLaiLyn NgongRoe) will be the reason Emperor Kennedy sent his thousand bomb army into the French Cochin. After millions die for their love, through some contrived misunderstanding the princess marries Edgar Linton and the spurned Emperor (after marrying the princess's sister-in-law) languishes in self-pity making everyone miserable until he destroys the princess and inherits Thrushcross Grange only to be assassinated by his own (marksman) ego. Then a Polish Jew ends up killing his ego in a bar fight. You've probably all heard this version from Scheherazade, but I think she added the evil Jewish guy to appeal to her demo. Soy un perdedor.

I was a monkey.

Who can it be now?

Sometimes I feel like a hamster running in a wheel with someone watching me in what must be the most boring experiment ever conceived. If anyone out there believes in Intelligent Design, then sit back and let me show you my whole life in a home movie and not only will you be cured, but you may even question the use of the term "evolution" as an alternative model. Something like Kaleidoscopic Metamorphosis might be a more accurately descriptive slogan for the progression of mankind.

You ask why? No? ...well I'm going to tell you anyway. I feel like a raccoon in a room full of shiny objects. Maybe it would be better to be Bullwinkle, but I am tempted by every difficult hurdle I see. I want to learn guitar, I want to paint watercolors, I want to be a yoga guru, I want to be a philosopher, writer and a poet, I want to make everyone laugh and cry at the same time, and most of all I want to be a good father and husband, but there seems to be a lot of contradictory mutually exclusive objectives even when I pick only one or two tasks as my focus. Consequently, jack of some trades would be a generous account of my path to this point.

I must hide in my apartment and tiptoe across the floor not because I'm paranoid the man is coming to take me away. It's more the dread some distraction could replace my current obsession with a more attractive one. Stack each of my (overkill) compulsions as the sum of my existence and...

Ghosts appear and fade away.

More human than human

Accelerated decrepitude is an issue we all have to deal with. If only we could confront our creator(s) and force them to let us live longer, stronger, harder, faster, better, cooler, etc. We assume our average lifespan is just an arbitrary number that made sense when god answered the question; "How long do they need to lead a productive life?" Sixty to eighty years should be plenty. If we don't manage it by then we probably wouldn't in a thousand.

What are humans supposed to do with this short (productive) period of time? That's another reason to interrogate the divine architect. Why do these cells get old and stop working properly? It's not like paper dolls where one more fold and cut leaves too little material. Each new cell divides away from an old cell like a baby separating from a womb. If the real baby can live eighty years spawned from twenty to forty year-old material, why can't we gestate all new flesh and blood throughout our bodies every couple of years and molt off all the dysfunctional layers like Homer when he figures out the moral of a Simpsons episode. So many questions. No wonder god ignores us.

It's not an easy thing to meet your maker.