Fat monkey, cheeky monkey.
You’re so funny. Sat there evolving, resolve dissolving.
Dealing with big, scary feelings that make you feel like bolting.
Have you straight up flee, running like hell for the trees.
Like you’re fighting a disease cos your mind’s a maelstrom.
And right now… you’re about to fail, son.
Cos your brain’s a storm of conflict as blood vessels constrict and you deal with these thoughts.
Fight the cause.
Embrace them or drown and get sucked under by unrelenting force.
But be mindful of the way you retrain your brain, naively thinking there’s a get-out clause.
How can you have such little control?
You need to breathe.
Uneasy feelings have you trapped in a bitter hole.
Maybe that’s their goal?
And anyway, why is it you and them?
You’re on the same team, right?
Kindred spirits, brethren.
Least, that’s the theory.
But paper versus practice is incomparable.
A poor man’s test with too many variables.
So you muddle along, saddled with this burden you can’t sell for a song.
Why is your mind so dark? Every thought so wrong.
Maybe you should smoke more and start hittin’ the bong.
Til blue smoke chokes the trees as it floats through jungle leaves before long.
But kicking back like this leaves you open to predators.
Face facts, you’re too wasted to cover your back.
Odds are you’re due a visit from a morbid messenger.
But there’s a glint in your eye, for now isn’t your time.
You’re still evolving and jungle law dictates there’s no room for folding.
Soon you’ll emerge in the morning mists, sun-kissed like a beast from the chiller.
Skin ice cold you’ve clearly evolved.
You’re now a stone-cold silver-backed mountain gorilla.
With feelings firmly faced and abated, now you’re armour plated.
The jungle holds no drama, you’ve fed the flames that bubble in your brain, you’re sated.
You’re monkey version 2.0.
Cheeky, carefree and elated.
A little while back I wrote a post about how I managed to sustain quite a bad injury during parkour/freerunning practice near Archway, London, UK. Well it put me out of action for about a month. Most frustrating.
Many people suggested I should perhaps try a safer sport, one where I don’t pick up quite so many injuries. Whilst I’m hardly – nor do I want to be – the Six Million Dollar Man, phrases kept floating through my head such as, ‘We can rebuild him. We have the technology.’ Simply put, I was beginning to feel a bit patchwork; a broken toe, stitches in my leg, various ankle sprains.
I then had an epiphany of sorts. Something I touched on in my previous parkour posting. The reason for my injuries was that I was trying to push myself too hard at an extreme sport without enough training. Yes, you can improve to a degree. But it becomes much, much easier if you put in the training. Obvious, but it takes me a while to grasp things. Be nice.
As a result, in the last week or so I’ve stepped up my training. So, if you happen to be in South-West London around Putney, keep an eye out for a guy with a mini backpack haring about the place. That’ll be me. You’ll most likely spot me tightrope walking along railings or attempting precision jumps off pathetically tiny walls. We all start somewhere right?
So I begin my slow and steady progress, building my strength until I can leap around like some sort of cat/monkey/man-child. Also, if you do happen to walk past and see a guy laying on the ground next to a wall screaming in agony. Again, that will be me. Have a heart and help me limp to the nearest hospital. Of course I’m joking. One hospital trip in the name of sport and fitness is more than enough, at least for a few years.
I’ll leave you with a video I found of some young lads training in and around Putney somewhere a few years ago. I’ve no idea who they are but they’re clearly better than me and at least half my age. Let’s finish with a Scooby Doo ending, damn those pesky kids!