Dear Universe,
I have to tell you, I’ve been enjoying our little chats immensely. I particularly find the hairless and tailess monkey a most provocative and intriguing animal to study. I would, as you know, as I am one of those resident Aliens I was speaking about to you the other day. These primates are absolutely obsessed with love. Their cousins, the Bonobos are totally and unrepentantly into it, so it must run in the family.
So let’s strip this hairless monkey down (I know we are getting naughty, aren’t we?) to its very core. We’ve talked about the chakras- well, now I see they are glittering pools of energized aphrodisiac.
From the root chakra the hairless monkey becomes the sensual lover. It is enticed by aromas, and feeling, the light of the moon, the gentle caress of the wind through hair.
It is through the Sacral that the monkey knows erotic lover’s limitless pleasures. See them madly drive into one another, as if to form (secret upon secrets which only the birds and the bees understand) some state of fusion.
The Solar Plexus allows the hairless monkey to rise, stretch and bask in enchanting love. Here the monkeys are enthralled by each other, delighting in the belly dance future promise. Here they wait on the edge of wonder at the way another monkey walks across the room, how they startle and command each other’s every moment’s attention.
In the gardens of the heart walk the hairless monkeys engaged in romantic love. They carve themselves on the face of every time, like monkeys carving their marks together onto a tree. Their story is your story, and it is as graceful as it is perfect.
From the Throat comes the words and with the word comes fetish. Here the monkeys engage in adventurous and kinky love. They use words, names and flesh to elicit sounds from one another; and, oh, what sounds they do make, what words they use!
The third-eye allows the hairless monkey access to compassionate healing love. They give each other energy like a gift which is the grace of each other. All else floats away, as the monkeys follow each other toward rest on the high climactic plateau.
The crown chakra is where the monkey has access to spiritual, tantric love. When the Chi gets flowing from the self to the other and then back again, the erotic entanglement leads to infinite bliss. Here monkeys let go of all subterfuges and deceits. The two have become one.
So, sweet universe, the hairless monkey is designed to love, so love it shall. I marvel to see how you have made each male for each female, but in varying varieties as limitless as you are, my eternally changing beauty.
We have talked of the types of men and the types of women. What of these? How do they find the ultimate expression of this love? Where does eat meet a challenge that does not preclude, although it may suggest, amorous disaster? In reminder of these types I will list them and the functions and cardinal directions associated with each:
But, what of the lonely Robot? How does he find love in a world so full of things to put in order? Who could better appreciate the robot’s manly help and loyalty than the Empress herself. The Robot can rest easy in his routine knowing that such a majestic royal nature is at the controls to his heart as the glittering Empress.
But, should the Robot find himself in the Witch’s lair, he shall be quite confounded. He must flee surely, for how can he put things in order when he understands less than half of what the silly witch is saying? And will the poor Witch prosper being forever doubted? No, I say.
And what of the shining superstar? He waits in the wings for something to strive for, some knightly quest to achieve. The Princess is made all the more gracious using her influence for the sake of her champion; and the princess knows that to influence such a knight is a prize indeed.
But, should the superstar enjoy his time with a Mother? How could the poor mother ever compete with the mother that is in the superstar’s head, or at the end of the line on the superstar’s speed dial? The mother grows haggard trying to connect with a shooting star.
And what of the displaced alien? What of me? Who could possibly make a home out of anywhere? Who could understand the unfathomable? Who could capture the attention of a dreamer with stars in his eyes? Only someone magic, of course. The Witch knows how to brew a concoction of love enjoyed on the most fashionable moons of Saturn. And what magical adventure awaits the ever curious witch on the Alien’s ship of life.
The Alien, however should think twice before languishing too long in the court of the Empress. The Empress surely would become incensed by this ragamuffin madman. How can you possibly control what you surely do not understand?
The Wildman whoops out a call of love which only the mother recognizes as a cry to be held, nurtured and attended with balm for all of the nicks and scrapes such a rascal gets. The Mother’s sensual needs are met in the Wildman’s arms. The Wildman enjoys all experience as the mother showers her love with sensual delights.
Here we come to the most mythic of misunderstandings. How can the Wildman find contentment with the Princess? So many tales sung by silly monkeys tell the tale of this love which is as ill fated as any love that was foolishly begun. Rouge smugglers never settle down to court contentedly on the arm of a Princess. How soon does the Wildman’s rough edges cut and wear at the noble princess’s sensibilities?
And so the stories of love go, down the ages, throughout your great spaces. I am just happy to have walked among them for this time with you.
Now, don’t you want to come back to bed?
Love,
Trav
T. L. Barrett 
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