Monk

May 27, 2003

Pi comes up to Monk, and she says, "I've been thinking about how you like to say that men are so opportunistic and narrowly selfish and all that."

"Yes?"

"Well, we also know that men are rather stronger, generally speaking, stronger in terms of brute power, both in terms of physical strength and political strength (that is, in control of running the primary institutions of a society). This is certainly your understanding."

"So?"

"I was just wondering where this leaves women in your little world view. On one hand, men have the real power, and on the other hand, men are ostensibly so basely selfish and opportunistic. This would seem to leave women in a pretty wretched state. Do you really believe women to be as weak as that?"

Monk shakes his head laughing, "A trap, a trap! In our stable white democracies, women, of course, enjoy a much better position than that, having attained real political power. Even so, it may be worth pointing out that in the rest of the world that the situation is about as dire as you first indicated."

Pi waves this off, "Fine, fine. Without getting into descriptive sociology, how have women ever stood a chance? For instance, how did women in these stable white democracies attain more power? How could women ever stand a chance with your fundamental assumptions?"

Monk nods his head vigorously, "Love."

"Love?"

"Yes. Men still need love. And I believe that love is primarily the power of women. Love is where women enjoy some advantage, being able to give or whithhold this love. In order to better get this love that they need, men have to cater more to the needs and desires of women, which means that men have to be softer and giving. It is this that keeps the position of women from being as dire as would otherwise be the case, given these fundamental assumptions about men (that is, being basely selfish and opportunistic as well as wielding more power, physical and political)."

Pi smiles and giggles, and she spins and starts walking away. She stops and faces him for a moment, "I just wanted to make sure that you understood at least that much." She waves and walks away, a full woman's walk, as Monk stares after her. He just hears her say, "Toodles!"

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September 17, 2011

I like this one. I was obviously feeling a little inspired, after having just estranged a couple of gal e-friends. No doubt this is simplistic, but I still think there is a lot of explanatory power in the small number of words given to such a big topic.

When Monk opens the gate outside, he sees a grasshopper climbing it. He cannot recall seeing one of those since childhood. This is quite a substantial bug. He is nervous about opening the game, doing it slowly, even though he doesn’t believe that it is a material threat. He has one reservation about this being a grasshopper, because it’s not nearly as green as he believes grasshoppers to be. This bug is much more a lightly colored yellow.

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August 20, 2011

I have a slight recollection of this, though I cannot actually visualize the bug well. I’m surprised by the lightly yellow color. As I was reading this, I was prepared to read the color brown, and understanding that it was shaped quite differently from a cricket. It may have been something like the picture below, though I think that reddish spot would’ve stood out for me. In any case, I have not seen another like it since.

The next-door neighbor is doing some yard work, pruning the trees and shrubbery. I started bracing myself to make an approach about their dog. The dog has taken to moaning long and loud in the early mornings, a most piteous wailing. It hasn’t interfered with my sleep, as I am an early riser, but Father has complained. When I looked to see if I might be able to tell what is wrong with the dog, I noticed how filthy and disgusting the dog’s water container is, not to mention the empty food dish, empty who knows how many days.

Preparing for an opening to talk to the neighbor, I found and cleaned Bo’s old food dish, the double-dip blue one. Then it came. He was doing the bushes next to our yard, and I needed to collect our recycling bin anyway.

I asked, “Do you speak English?” and I am immediately stumped when he says no, but I press on, disbelieving that he doesn’t have some familiarity with the basics, as my request is a simple one, even if not entirely without its risks. As he was an older chap himself, perhaps around my age, I thought we could manage alright.

At first, I thought he was simply dumbfounded at my handing him this blue doggy dish. However, after he said that he is already using something and I finally made clear my concern about the dog only having dirty water to drink, I saw the flash of anger in his hot latin eyes. If I were any more clearly his inferior, or if we were only younger with our blood running hotter in our veins, I suspect he would have struck me. If we were European gentlemen in olden days, I am sure he would have challenged me to a duel on the spot, and seeing how horribly they treat that beautiful dog, I would have gladly accepted.

In the end, he brusquely hands me back the dish and waves me off like the annoying gnats of a summer evening. At least I tried, which should ease my conscience, if not the dog’s tough lot. I just hope I didn’t make matters worse. How I miss the Neumanns, that dear old couple.