Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Monk's Week off Blog Project, Day 2

So today while I try to close the books for the year and file away this mountian of recipts, making nearly 18 miles of rope in 12 months tends to do that, enjoy this post from my fellow rogue, first mate, and a much respected friend Griffin.

Lots of people have asked how I ended up working with Monk. He likes to tell the curious that I’m working off my community service. I like to tell them that like Jane Goodall and her chimpanzees, I’ve spent months earning Monk’s trust and I’m now studying him in his natural habitat. The truth, while not quite as funny, is no less odd. My first anniversary of working with Monk is almost here, so now seems like a good time to share how it all began.

I met Monk shortly after his first Folsom. He was low on rope and needed some help making more. I was quitting my high paying tech job to pursue some creative endeavors and go back to school. I needed a new rope kit and had some extra time on my hands, so I proposed a trade. I’d help him get his stock levels back up in exchange for my rope. It’d only be for a week or two. That’s it. No long-term commitment.

Monk invited me over to his house and we agreed on a day and time. I arrived one cold, rainy winter morning and knocked on his front door. No one answered after a couple of tries, so I went to the side gate and peered over it. The backyard was flooded. It looked like some sort of strange, suburban swamp. I called out and after a minute, a hooded figure came shambling out of the mist. It was Monk, dressed head to toe in warm, woolen clothing. He looked like a resident of Dagobah.

He let me in and together we trudged through the backyard swamp to Twisted Monk headquarters: his garage. With all the equipment and raw stock inside, there was just enough space for two chairs and a propane tank heater. However, the space for the chairs came at a price. The garage door had to remain open while we worked, leaving us exposed to the elements.

We spent hours huddled around the propane tank, talking and finishing rope. We talked about kink, poly, and our individual outlooks on life. We cracked jokes and swapped stories. In short, we hit it off, like good friends often do. He is not just a friend, but also someone I can collaborate with. We feed off each other. We encourage one another to be more evil and wicked. We plot and scheme about scenes. For the good of mankind, we should never, ever be left unsupervised.

Naturally, we enjoyed working together, so I continued to work with Monk well after I’d earned my rope kit. We never really discussed it. There was more to do so we just kept on doing it. It wasn’t about the money. I don’t need it. Most people don’t know this, but I only moonlight for Monk. We each have our own dreams, but we support and encourage each other while we pursue them. It’s a very rewarding symbiotic relationship.

It’s amazing how far we’ve come in the last year. When we first started out in that little garage, it’d take all day just to prep 800 feet of rope. Now, I can process over 2400 feet of rope in the same amount of time. In the past year, Monk and I have traveled the country to sell rope and tie up beautiful women (and a few brave men). We’ve added Nerdy to our little family and formalized our working relationship. So much has changed, but the most important thing has remained unchanged since that first cold, wet day: We love what we do and we enjoy doing it together. It’s as simple as that.