I saw monkeys digging through the trash today. One was eating out of a potato chip bag. There was a mother with an infant clinging to her. I found them downstairs, next to the bbq pit. Tamer than squirrels, I’d say—they hardly bothered to notice me. I talked on the phone with my friend Kevin while I watched them. “Kevin! Oh! There is a monkey! No. Two mon…no…three…four…” and I went on until there were 10 monkeys or maybe 15 monkeys. Tomorrow it will be 35 chimpanzees and some bonobos quietly humping. I am writing a story about a house on a flat piece of land in the middle of nowhere. I am reading a short story collection by a Russian woman. I have blue eyes. My hair is getting long. Two days ago it was Christmas. I ate fish head curry. Tomorrow is my mom’s birthday. I’ll call her and tell her about the monkeys, and some other things as well.