Summer of the Monkey

The beginning of a piece written during the Year of the Monkey. To me, this piece represents my world, The Realm of Possibility, in its purest form. A blending of the fantastic and the mundane. An ordered chaos of inspiring events. Enjoy!


by Jason DeGray

And there I was, caught in an explosive moment. One of those epic engagements of Romantic proportions. Life changed as the monkeys played, and I sat on the floor of the great hall in my castle named Mallard with my faithful companions in attendance. Here we entertained the musings of invisible bards while their timeless music titillated the most passionate recesses of our brains. Speed humps were ahead for we three cavaliers of mundane existence filled with the most fantastic hopes and dreams any mind could ever conjure. Yet there we were, amidst the certainty of our Divinity. We heeded no harbingers of destruction for none could truly touch us. It was our spirit that caused us to burn with intensity while it slowly soothed the old wounds with a salve of Byronic Sadness and regret. We kept memories as favors of love from Mistresses of Mist and Tears.

As we journeyed through the thick fog of haunted woods, we brandished our armor bravely and smiled in triumph as demons fled from our presence. There were countless tales of our deeds, if not in the minds, then in the dreams of people as we passed through unknown but not unseen. Often we found ourselves in the higher planes of Gaia adventuring amongst places unfamiliar to us. We chose our weapons and as new worlds were opened to us we charged in on our valiant steeds: The Mistress, Marley and Mary’s kiss (a most delicate and slender beauty that turned the most breath-taking colors the more you loved her). These were our companions on our numerous undertakings. We were lords of a sacred flow.

A bunch of pretty boys in search of the next exciting hunt. “Why else would you all hang out together?” If only they knew. Souls were on the line in this theatrical production for the amusements of bored Gods.

“Take this coin. Give it to the River Keeper at the River of Destiny.” The story unfolds for the brave Pirate Prince Perfidious. He holds on to the fated coin with a desperate intensity. He would part with his life before he parted with his destiny. But wait! Don’t step over crumbling edges just yet! For…

…the stars twinkle a new chapter.
“The fairy queen waits for you under the Ancient Oak. Let the moon shine your direction.”

What is a brash noble to do with such complexly simple instructions? Ah, but that is what dreams are for…to tell us the stories only our souls can hear.

And now I find myself amidst happier passionate times as I danced with my lost lover amongst the Dwelling Places of Angels. We danced the Dance of Tongues that rivaled those of the goddess Coitus herself. We would pay for that Divine Insult with our hearts. The night quieted for us as she sighed and promised me the promises of soul-lovers. Those covenants come in soft breathy whispers gently, sensually traveling on a delicate air of precious intensity into the all too receiving ears of an enraptured lover. It was there I found myself–In an exotic place-in an exotic time. Life could be no better. But it dissipates and returns to lurk in the shadows of my heart.

I return to the noble Pirate Prince. A dashing young fellow of good wit and a charming smile. He had the aura that attracted a particular type of girl. Which he obstinately rejected for he was lovelorn for another. He played the part well. Don Juan is most proud of his unknowing protégé. But he is what he is, we are what we are. Cream style mocus saturating the scene. Social chameleons most sly and charming.

Why else would a bunch of pretty boys hang out together?

“So hold on,” she sings. “Take me with you.”

Alas we know not where we are going. That’s why we are a Love Cliché. Valiant young cavaliers intent on conquering experience as well as ourselves.

There was the Duke of Slide. Sketching pain across the grand table of our dining hall. He had been recently divorced from some twisted engagements of Love. He sat on the Precipice of the Monkey; deciding if he should fall and re-gather the pieces of his broken heart. The moon rose as he wept blood for the loss of that particular piece of himself that will eternally bear her name. Yet he is strong. His resolve is unequaled in the realms of Here or even There. And I Notice the gleam in his eye. That laughing charmer completely securing the hearts of many a maiden without much aid or care for the matter. He we admired for his strength and grace, for his charming affectionate aura that radiated from him and controlled every mannerism of his exciting spirit. But mostly he was admired for his intense passion and his connection to the flow that governs this adventure. Without him I would have certainly been lost.

And I? I found myself swimming in a sea of Broken Krystle—tiny shards biting into my weathered skin mixing blood with tears. It’s the sky that weeps for the raping of my gray shrouded spirit. I announce my plans to retire.

“They’re not going to give you a watch man. You should smoke a cigarette with me first. Look at it this way: you’re on the clock. You’re fucking them.” This retorted to me by the Duke in a most Hunter of vocal intonations.


About That One Guy

Jason lives, laughs and loves in the Land of Enchantment. He has been many exciting things in his life, but his title has always been "author." His book, "The Ruined Man," was a finalist in the 2017 NM-AZ Book Awards. Follow him on Facebook at: Twitter: @infinityjones and Instagram @theruinedman and don't forget to check out his blog at

Posted on March 4, 2012, in Author, Fiction, Philosophy, Religion and Spirituality, Spirituality, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.

  1. I can’t say I fully understood this… but some parts – yes 🙂 Love: “Take this coin. Give it to the River Keeper at the River of Destiny.” & ”we passed through unknown but not unseen” … reminds me of this poem I read as a child ans to date, is still one of my fav:

    HAPPY the man, whose wish and care
    A few paternal acres bound,
    Content to breathe his native air
    In his own ground.
    Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
    Whose flocks supply him with attire;
    Whose trees in summer yield shade,
    In winter, fire.
    Blest, who can unconcern’dly find
    Hours, days, and years, slide soft away
    In health of body, peace of mind,
    Quiet by day.
    Sound sleep by night; study and ease
    Together mixed; sweet recreation,
    And innocence, which most does please
    With meditation.
    Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
    Thus unlamented let me die;
    Steal from the world, and not a stone
    Tell where I lie.
    Alexander Pope

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