pro•le•gom•e•nonWell. You can talk about new journeys all you want, but sooner or later, someone is going to call you to task. "Hail there, monkey boy — show me this inner palace you've been building with all those bricks you've been recycling . . ."  And boy, o boy, o monkey boy — all you been doing is stalling; haven't you? You been down to Mad Monkey's knockin back the monkeybraü, feeling your shit, aping the monkeygirls, singing your songs and watching the creases on your face grow (in that spare late afternoon light in your still, still livingroom . . .). —and it's time, isn't it, monkey boy? Time to be accountable to your self. Look to your life, monkey boy. —What do you see? —What do you see? —What do you see? 
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