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Falling Foul of Frustration


You know what? I’m frustrated.

Yes I said it.

Two words; if you’re being pedantic, three.

I’m frustrated.

frustrartion!!

I’m frustrated by people. People annoy serene and apathetic monkeys like myself. Not because they’re odd and lack hair on their bodies (what’s with that?). People annoy me because they say stupid things.

A Bird in The Hand Is Worth Two In The Bush” – Being from the depths of the Congolese jungle,  I can guarantee you, in my experience, that a bird is a bird, no matter where you are. People say stupid things.

A Leopard Can’t Change Its Spots” – This is ridiculous. Talk about stating the obvious. I suppose if you really want to test it, you may as well pop down to the jungle and you know. Wash a leopard. For fun.

Actions Speak Louder Than Words” – People say stupid things. How do you put that in action? Oh I know! How about a game of charades? Because everyone knows that by waving your arms all over the place, you’re more likely to be heard over the wail of a siren. People say stupid things.

Now listen (or read on or whatever) I’m not saying that all people are stupid, I’m just saying that all people say stupid things. Turns out the smarter you are, the more stupid things you say.

But that’s none of my business.

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Don’t call it a comeback


Honestly though, it’s been almost two full years since I’ve been on here. 

It’s been two years of wandering the city with my alter ego. You all know him. The guy with the converse and the camera? Well, turns out he’s ditched the converse and got a better camera. I haven’t got time for this.

As I said in the title above, well, just don’t call it a comeback.

I’ve been around, occasionally glancing at my old entries, a tropical monkey, lost in Dublin.

An occasional grin.

An occasional sneer.

I lost my sense of apathy for a while, but I finally feel it return. I feel it return with enough gusto to.. to… to…. not really do much. It is apathy after all.

I guess if you really wanted to be weird about it, you could call a comeback leaving somewhere and well, returning to it.

So this is a comeback.

Just don’t call it a comeback.

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Your existence? Or mine?


My existence up to this very point, I could have described as jovial, happy and easygoing. If push came to shove, before a judge and a jury, I would maybe have descended to the dark depths of carefree.

I believed this was my life, lounging around, thinking up half funny, half epiphany inducing thoughts and sharing them with the rest of the savannah that is my world.

Two days ago, my existence, my life, the very essence that is me, was shattered to the very core. I am hopelessly lost, LOST I TELL YOU!! I feel like a man dropped in the middle of a never ending desert with nothing but a half litre sack of water, two AA batteries and nail-clippers for company. I am not MacGyver.

Imagine the scene. I’m at a table enjoying a delicious dessert of banoffee pie, three of some of my closest friends seated around me. We are laughing, joking around, finding fun in others misfortune. There is a sudden lull in conversation. The three of them exchange looks and point their eyes at me; like the last piece of ham at the butchers on Christmas Eve; a feeling of dread washes over me.

They proceed to list the following points: intervention style –

*They have decided that I am deluded.

*They have decided that I live in a fantasy world.

*They have decided my mind has taken up permanent residence in a parallel dimension, occasionally taking a holiday to their familiar shores.

These are some of the solutions they settled upon –

*I must wear a camera on my head at ALL times to document any and all info that crosses my lips.

*I must think BEFORE I speak.

*I must give up all access to mobile devices and my favourite toy – The Internet.

Well, imagine the hurt I must have felt. The absolutely soul destroying, spirit crushing feeling of hopelessness I must have felt. Like a man who up until a second ago, teetered on the abyss of a black hole and still harboured belief of regaining his balance.

I did feel like that but only until I decided to write this down. I have come up with a set of my own solutions to their perceived problems of mine –

I DON’T CARE.

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It’s a bee-utiful day


So like, what more could you want from a perfectly crisp, sunny, beautiful spring afternoon?… Maybe a cappucino and a croissant?… Al fresco? Maybe a walk in the park, feeding eager ducks (definitely not feeding deceptively gorgeous yet murderous swans).

What you certainly don’t expect is to be joined by a swarm of bees. And I don’t mean joined in the sense of having a tea party with a hundred thousand little bee-sized cups. I mean joined by a hundred thousand little bee-sized stingers.

Well, welcome to my world… These are the sort of unfortunate events that seem to define my existence. So, as I’m slaloming down the street, frantically trying to call an emergency mobile exterminator, in the back of my mind, I can’t help trying to find sense in the madness of ny life. There has to be a moral in this story.

Do not poke bee hives with sticks.
Lesson learned. I hope.

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Lah-Dee-Dah and a Bucket of Rum


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As I sit here on this beautiful evening, enjoying a (Fabulous) banana milkshake while laying in my banana skin hammock, I’m forced to have a conversation with myself. I have to admit, I’ve been keeping this conversation at bay for a good while.

The truth is, I’ve got a bad habit. Not on terms with picking one’s nose, and certainly not on terms with licking, rolling and flicking the pickings but still a bad habit. Every time I relax, I seem to find myself doing it again.

So basically, I’m sitting here. I feel good!! Great even. I’ve had a productive day, My belly is full, and this milkshake is absolutely divine!! And then I take a deep breath…. and my face transforms into that of a pensive bronze statue, complete with inexpressive frown and frozen eyebrows!

What the schnitzel is going on? I haven’t a clue… I sense a mystery. Knowing my luck, it will be plagued with shook witnesses and meddling kids, but I have a parrot I plundered from a half-wit pirate on an ill-advised visit to a utopian Somalia.

Wish me luck.

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The Myth of Concentration Becomes Legend


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I’ve been in hibernation for a while.

It’s been my groundhog day for a time.

Inspiration is here, It hasn’t left me just yet.

However, Concentration seems to visit me sporadically.

I didn’t always consider concentration a myth. There was a time when I could peel a hundred bananas, eat the bananas, chain the peels together (Family secret) and make a pretty comfortable hammock all in 25 minutes. Albeit one that comes with a Best Before Date.

Now however, 15 minutes in and I often find myself staring into the third or fourth banana and pondering on various topics from the meaning of living to the location of the headquarters of that elusive company ‘The Internet’.

At first, the situation worried me. Tasks started taking 5 times longer than usual. A single blink taking almost 1,150 milliseconds. Valuable seconds were beginning to get lost to the annals of time. It was only a matter of time until Juvenile Alzheimers would set in.

On one of my mind’s wanderings, I started to think….. Maybe the power of concentration is nothing but a myth. A myth created by ‘who knows’ to keep us too busy to notice the things that they get up to? Hmm… I continued to think… Why is it that when I lose concentration, I come up with THE most amazing ideas, only to lose them when I regain concentration and thereby awareness of the world around me?

Just the other day, I’m pretty sure I came up with what could have been the solution to the Middle East peace crisis, Only to annoyingly lapse back into concentration (Major bummer). Safe to say that by this point, for me, the idea of ‘concentration’ had become a myth. But then, Isn’t it more than that? Isn’t a legend something popularly believed to be historical? or more relevantly, real?

So concentration is nothing more than a legend. How convenient. I can ignore it just as easily as I ignore tales of men prowling highways with hooks for hands. All I can hope for now is that with concentration seemingly not the problem, laziness doesn’t end up being the source of my hibernation. Which is very, very likely.

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Delusional State Of Self Duplicity


Life can be difficult at the best of times, and at the worst of times it can be horrible. So is it any surprise that the number of reported cases of Multiple Personality Disorder is on the rise? I think not.

You see, a ‘wise’ man once said “Give a hundred monkeys a hundred typewriters and given enough time, in amongst the gibberish, you will find a text as profound as the complete works of Shakespeare. Well, I beg to differ; this monkey, with nothing but a modest laptop (be it with windows 7 functionality) is attempting to make the infinite monkey theorem moot and 99 monkeys redundant in the process; And herein lies the contradiction that the monkey is.

Infinite Monkey Theorem

On occasion, under certain unknown circumstances, I have been known to descend into a delusional state, sometimes adopting one of a random series of personas, some of which have names, professions and even families in other planes of their ridiculous ‘realities’.

For reasons unbeknownst to myself (but possibly not to another of my personas) when it comes to self duplicity i.e lying to one’s self, I am nothing short of a master technician. I often drop into another persona to avoid the truth or to accept a lie in order to properly believe it.

Now, one of my personas just so happens to be a twenty-something year old child (Being that a child can grow up and still just be a big child) with a penchant for a certain sort of laughable casual ‘shoe’ called Converse (shoes are an alien concept to the monkey as they have always been an unnecessary distraction from his beautiful toes). Now this latent persona of mine fancies himself as a bit of a writer and insists on from time to time dropping excerpts of his work on my blog.

Well, I insist that he is delusional and I maintain that he is an even greater practitioner of Self Duplicity than I am, and for this very reason, I will indulge him from time to time… If only to feed my curiosity; After all, curiosity is only fatal to felines, right?