Declan walks like a drunken monkey which will definitely be the name of the band I start one day. Unless we go with Genital Bear Hug. Which is what I titled one of the stories in my newscast a few years ago. It made total sense within the context of the story. I swear.

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The drunken monkey toddles around on wobbly legs with arms sticking out for balance. Sometimes he puts his hands up and his palms out like he’s testifying in church. He doesn’t keep a consistent speed. It’s more like the stereotype of a teen learning to drive in a school parking lot. Gas, brake. Gas, brake. Gaaaaaaas!. The path isn’t straight. The path isn’t narrow. He would fail a field sobriety test. But he is upright and he has shoes. And those are good developments.

Usually Declan is yelling (chriping? yodeling?) as he moves. I’m not sure if this is to warn others he’s coming, or if he’s concentrating so hard to control the rest of his body that the mouth is just on auto-pilot. At these times, he sounds a bit like a drunken monkey (full disclosure: I’ve never witnessed a monkey under the influence of any kind of substance). All those shrill “ooooooo’s” and “ahhhhhh’s.” It’s pure joy. His lust for life is enviable. If only we all could screech about small things like correctly identifying the color green for the umpteenth time without others questioning our mental stability.

Of course, the small things to us are big things to him. That’s the upside of limited knowledge and ability. Maybe it makes you a bit more excited about what you do know and what you can do.

And everything else, well, who cares? The genius of the drunken monkey is that he is unburdened by the judgements that we all attach to every little thing in our lives. Is it good? Is it bad? Is it funny? Is it sad? It just is. And one day, the color green will lose its luster and something else will take its place. And that’s cool, too.

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