monkey

A couple of years ago Julia gave me a small, stuffed monkey. Usually when I receive inanimate objects as gifts I cringe. I am not the type of person that enjoys surrounding himself with trinkets and tchotchkes. If I cannot wear it, listen to it or produce music from it, I throw it out. Every time I buy an article of clothing, I get rid of another one. This purging brings me immense pleasure, probably an unhealthy amount. I have often thrown something out only to realize days or weeks later that I need it.

Despite this ritualized, maniacal cleansing, I became quite attached to the monkey. It sat on my right studio monitor, staring down at me and looking mildly depressed while I worked on music or wasted away on the same web sites night after night. The monkey was probably designed for a child aged 1-3, but he seemed to be feeling the kind of emotions that only an adult could relate to. The last couple of years have not always been enjoyable for me, but I could always take solace in the fact that the monkey seemed to know how I felt.

The monkey’s greatest accomplishment was serving as the subject for a photography project for my Foundations of Media Design class during my first semester at The New School. I photographed him throughout my commute to work as if it was he that was commuting. His unwavering facial expression captured my feelings exactly as I endure the same monotonous daily commute. My friend Tara recently told me that the monkey looks like me, which I took as a complement.

A couple of weeks ago we had some people over for Julia’s birthday. Our friends Jenn and Raul brought their son, Raulito, who is perhaps the cutest (and most thoroughly photographed) child on earth. At one point early in the evening I brought the monkey down for Raulito to play with, but since it did not have wheels or a mock engine, he was not interested. I don’t remember what happened next – more people showed up, I was busy hosting. At some point very late in the evening I realized that the monkey was gone. After a brief panic I concluded that Jenn and Raul must have accidentally brought him home, having scooped him up with Raulito’s other toys. They are responsible people, they would call the next morning.

They didn’t call. I forced Julia to email them, but alas, they did not take the monkey. We have since torn the house apart looking for him, but to no avail. I even called my sister, who was (surprisingly) one of the more sober people in attendance, to ask if she could remember seeing anyone with the monkey, but she had nothing for me. Everyone is a suspect at this point, even her. Even Julia, who seems a little too eager to buy a replacement.

So if you were there and for whatever reason took the monkey (maybe you were drunk and lonely and needed some company) and felt too embarrassed to mention it, or perhaps thought no one would notice, I beg of you – please bring it back. No questions asked.

And if this is someone’s sick idea of a joke – have you no decency? At least leave a ransom note or send a picture from an anonymous email account to let me know he’s O.K. For the love of god, you’re toying with people’s emotions here!