Neuroses of a New York City Squirrel

I am happy as a squirrel. All day I search for acorns. Bumblebees say hello. Everyone has a pot of gold. Maple syrup, honey bees, what satisfies me: Breaking the winter frost, ice in the air, left over ice-cream, warm chocolate syrup; organic cashew nuts—I live for nuts. I live with a lot of nuts. There are murders on the subway, my cousin got run over by a bicycle. Tell you the truth, I am scared to be too happy. It is my birthday. I am late for therapy. Why do people wish they were dead? My existence clockworks with the seasons, we play in the sun; the earth is sapphire, emerald, dirt. They say it’s round, suspended in a black nothing of diamonds. Some people kill for diamonds (I do not support modern slavery). They say all that glitters is not edible, nor sweet, it’s fiery and burning with pride, majestic, awe-inspiring. The more I know….is this philosophy? Wonder. It is wonder. If I feed my mind, I am no longer excused, no longer naïve. But knowing makes you sad. Grief. Mourning. Loss is a choice, it can be the best or worst thing that ever happened to me. But it’s hard to believe. I chase my dreams, pack my suitcases, wear a fur hat. Or feathers. Even leather! They say alligator burgers taste good. If I had a choice to be human, I probably wouldn’t do it. Or would I? If you had to fight for freedom, what plight is that? You either exist or you don’t (but it’s really complicated for these people!) They exist but some don’t want to, some want others not to, some don’t know how to. Ideals, goals, politics, experience, progress, change, hate, liberty, justice, hurt hurt hurt. They use this paper to buy little freedoms, but can’t buy less hate. And no one is free. Because freedom is foreign. Just like that paper currency is foreign to me. So is my freedom alien to them. If I could give a seminar, I would make a fortune (a lot of that paper I assume). And I would buy….democracy! No, that’s been done. I wouldn’t buy things. Maybe learn a few languages, mate with a few other squirrelitas, raise a family, store acorns, read A LOT. Go for morning runs in Central Park, get shot by random crazy mofos at the Empire State, watch more plays, operas, concerts, refuse to watch commercials, eat better, go rockclimbing, salsa dancing, go live in Brazil for a year, engage in fierce debates if it’s Romney or Obama, take up drums, guitar, the saxophone (pretty sexy). I don’t know, learn ballet. Yes, I am forgetting I am a squirrel. But what can I say, I’m a free bird. And it’s a free country, I’ll be damned if it isn’t. 

© Alicia Khoo

New York City, April 2012 (edited Nov 2012)

First performed in 6th District, Paris, May 2012,

Upstairs at Duroc @ Berkeley Books of Paris

8 Rue Casimir Delavigne  75006

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