January 9, 2004
The Laurel Grows
It Withers Quicker than the Rose
One might wish for raging sessions of rum-induced
paranoia after such a flushing victory, but alas,
Mingus was sober and violating text till five AM
yesterday, staring at the ruins of his old marriage,
squeezing it down, precipitating it into sixty-odd
crystalline Nuntos in this ruinous
gamble.
There are times, I will admit, that I need a few
fucking drinks to get through a tenth or fifteenth
version of some piece of writing. At that point,
it can be difficult to think the material through
again, or to force one's self back to that emotional
core. And I would like a few drinks here, Christ,
would I ever, but I can't afford to lose any clarity.
Cause after seeing Nat in the bookstore, I'm seeing
her throughout the night, her eyes burning back
at me from the pages, sitting in front of me as
I write. And with that, I can almost remember the
way she would look without blinking, the way I would
touch her face, and the way she closed her eyes.
And the heat that came off of her lips. And how
that was just the most beautiful fucking thing ever.
Up late again tonight, thinking of the way she tasted.
Dreaming of the way she tasted. Imagining how she'd
taste again.
Go to bed, Mingus
January
8, 2004
It's Official, The Daily Mingus Crowned King of
All Losers
After all the excitement of waiting for the results
of the Asia
Weblog Awards 2003: Best Foreign (non Asian) blog,
we have arrived at a rather unique and historic
moment. Although fans of the Daily Mingus voted
fast and hard and voted for this blog a stunning
35 times, placing us directly behind shithappens
in voting, the results of the contest were finalized
as:
The winners are:
coolios
- 349 votes
Virulent.nu
- 58 votes
shithappens
- 54 votes
These results were followed by a message congratulating
the seventy-four nominees and a sympathy list of
the seventy-one sorry losers. There is no mention
of Fourth Place,
because if there were, it would be easy to call
that site The First
Loser. According to the last tally before voting
ceased, that honour would have been reserved for:
The Daily Mingus
- 35 votes
That is correct. I am proud to announce that the
Daily Mingus has unofficially captured Fourth
Place in the mighty
Asia Weblog Awards 2003: Best Foreign (non Asian)
blog contest and the right to call itself the
King of All Losers.
Or, if one prefers, you may now refer to The Daily
Mingus as: the Loser's Champion, the Prince of Lemons,
First Among the Defeated, The AllStar Washout, the
Canadian Junior Hockey Team, Numero Quattro, the
Big Disappointment, Finished Just Out of the Medals,
The Master of Failure, Your Favourite Mistake, Number
Four in Our Hearts, The Shame of Bristol, or, my
personal favourite, and what I should like to be
called from now on:
The Emperor of the Lost.
This is truly a new high in my capacity for spectacular
failure, and has inspired me to reach yet greater
heights. And I have you all to thank for it. I asked
you to help me avoid coming in 'Dead Fucking Last',
and you have answered the call. You have heaped
these garlands upon me, you have chaired this lad
through the streets, you have christened me thus,
and I stand proudly now, head held high and saluting
the world for all of you, for all of us, the vanquished,
the unloved, the crushed, the downtrodden, the displaced,
the refugees, the lost.
Thank you. Thank you, and God Bless us Everyone.
January 7, 2004
Viva King Schlong
It looks like I am the first one in the world to
name the 49 foot Indonesian python King
Schlong. Check it. Number
one. I have never been prouder. Except maybe
the moment when I thought that a 'nun's cunt' could
indeed be contracted into the much more concise
'nunt'. Two great additions to this world. This
must be what fathers feel like.
In other news, the United States started fingerprinting
and photographing foreign arrivals at airports &
seaports. Read the article
here. I haven't read much coverage of this exciting
new development, but it is good to know that
Big Brother is watching, and watching closely!
Hey, whattaya say we google bomb the shit out of
the Orwellian Secretary of Homeland Security, Tom
Ridge, with the aforementioned Big
Brother tag? I mean, in 1984,
Big Brother was the supreme ruler, which is supposedly
the Miserable
Failure, but is likely the Halliburton
Rep or old Rummy.
But of course, they're way to busy busting balls
in Iraq and getting ready for the big election in
November to actually be watching the comrades. That's
what
Big Brother is for! Cause Big
Brother is always watching!
Hold the phone, it seems Big Brother is already
well represented as a Google
commodity. We're going to need something smarter
than that. How about:
Minister
of Enforced Happiness
Big
Fingerprinter
Minister
of Decreasing Liberties
Bring on the suggestions, fellow blog nerds and
let the google bombing begin! This must be how George
felt before the war - anxious and hard and ready
to watch some explosions!
Or what about Assblasting
Assassin? Oh wait, that's taken.
Man, google is so much fun! Earlier this week, somebody
visited this fine educational site looking for the
2004 guestbook of a day care centre. Hope you found
what you're looking for! We don't take care of small
children, but bring your daughter by once she's
street legal and we'll take great care of her! And
if we happen to be overbooked, I know Terrible John's
got a big heart and a romper room full of great
toys and some soothing music and a soft and tender
touch!
January 6, 2004
Due Diligence
I'm starting to freak the fuck out. The final text
for Nunt is due to be delivered to the book designer
on January 17th. I've been through it hundreds of
times, but I continue to find stories that need
to be told in order for the whole thing to make
sense. I spent most of the weekend working and reworking
two of the longer Nuntos until I thought I was satisfied
with them.
I read them again today, and I was not happy. It
will be a long evening.
So please fucking humour me if I hassle you to reread
a poem you've already read eight times, and do so
quickly. You might get a free copy of the book.
But I wouldn't fucking count on it. Maybe a shot
of green fairy for the truly dedicated. And if I
hassle anyone to look at Gander's foreword, please
submit. I'm hoping it doesn't suck cock, because
it's too late to fire him.
Since Saturday, Chloe has left me to my own devices.
I remember barking at her in a moment of lesser
glory. I have no time to read her lines back to
her or feign interest as she tries on different
clothes for her minor role in some new play which
will certainly blow. I will still have to attend
the opening night, of course, or risk being shown
up by her cocksucking accountant. If she invites
me, that is.
In retrospect, I was a little abrupt that night.
After the fourth time she asked what I thought of
her pants, I turned and said "Who fucking cares
what you're wearing. You only have three lines."
She was unpleased with my response.
Last night, I didn't sleep until four in the morning.
I had to leave the fucking house every three hours
to start my car. If I didn't, it sure as hell wouldn't
have started today. -38 deg. Celsius with the windchill,
is what I've heard. For our tens of thousands of
American readers; multiply by nine, divide by five,
add thirty-two and you get: -36.4 degrees Fahrenheit.
Canada: a nice place to visit, but sure as fuck
not in January™.
The bed was cold last night, and I thought about
Colette as I shivered. And it is late again and
the house is cold again, and I'm still thinking
about her. Need some fucking heat in this life.
The screen bleeds white at this hour.
January 5, 2004
Properly Measured Response
Reaction to the Resolutions for the Year of the
Mingus continue to roll in at an astounding rate.
Many fans were concerned that I would drink less,
smoke less and masturbate less, thereby depriving
them of a vicariously unhealthy lifestyle. Don't
worry! I plan to break at least a few of these resolutions
as soon as possible. And maybe get into hard drugs!
How can writers be rock stars without the smack?
Other readers were concerned about softening the
Mingus ego by examing the various complexes, but
I must say, that runs counterintuitive to my proclamation
of the year of Mingus. Don't worry. It's all Ayn
Rand style from here on out!
In keeping with the various proclamations, I
would also like to announce that the links
page and a few others will change over the next
bit. If you believe you should be receiving props
and feel sleighted that you are not, please let
me know. I have been following through on Resolution
#11, and my memory is not all that it should be
at this point. Chances are I will consider your
plea and promptly forget about it, but let me
know! I may come down at some point.
In the most important news of the year so far,
I would also like to announce that a 49
foot reticulated python has finally been put
on display in Indonesia. The importance of this
cannot be understated. The largest snake on record
until this point was only 32 feet long. This new
snake, which I have dubbed KING
SCHLONG, crushes so much snake record ass
that it is fundamentally unbelievable. What a
great start to the Year of Mingus!
And in other news, the Bearded Wonder's father
was arrested
for spitting blood on Florida police officers
and was tasered into submission. Go Canadian Rock
Stars, Go!!! The
Bearded Wonder was unavailable for comment
at post time.
January 2, 2004
Resolutions for The Year of Mingus
1. I resolve that 2004 will be The Year of
Mingus. It has to be. If it ain't, I'll be
living in a box behind Dick Castrati's van about
the same time next year.
2 . I resolve to take the one and only shot that
I'll ever be able to afford in terms of time and
money at making a living as a writer. That means
becoming a published poet and that means selling
Nunt like a crackwhore
sells crack. It means a lot o work and it means
the possibility of making a fool of myself on
a national level, but I see no other way to fulfil
this dream. For more on my obsession of the year,
check the mission
statement.I resolve to work as hard as possible
to ensure that when the book launch comes around
in September, I don't fuck it up and that somebody
doesn't end up with 1500 copies sitting in their
basement. That means holding unique readings,
it means hand-mailing copies of the book out and
it means unabashed media whoring. Cause at some
point, a fucking poet in this country has got
to make a living writing.
3 . I resolve to drink 10 % less. Gotta start
somewhere.
4 . I resolve to tell the Folks that I write poems
and articles that might make them wish I had starred
in a home movie with Paris Hilton instead.
5 . I resolve to smoke 50% less.
6 . I resolve to do my part to ensure that George
W. Bush and Goebbels and the rest of the USS don't
get back into power. Cause if you thought George
did whatever the fuck he wanted in the first four
years, wait till he don't care about getting reelected.
Come on Clark,
or come on Dean.
7 . I resolve to fuck 66.7 % more in an effort
to become 66.7% more sane.
8 . I resolve to put on the gasmask and the American
flag diaper yet again when it is called for. I
resolve not to be intimidated by police or lawyers.
Don't Vote Bush, Vote Nunt.
9. I resolve to masturbate 18% less.
10 . I resolve to finish that fucking movie. If
you know what I'm talking about, you know what
I'm talking about.
11 . I resolve to smoke more weed. This seems
like an intelligent substitute for cigarettes
and alcohol.
12. I resolve to change my appearance in order
to properly reinforce what Tourette says. Truly,
I'm far too pleasant looking to be a drunk psychotic
Canuck poet.
13. I resolve to address my superiority complex,
my doppleganger complex and my hidden underground
bunker complex. I resolve to address vigourous
egoism and break myself on the Promethean wheel.
14. I resolve to resolve the triage of Chloe,
Colette & Nat. I resolve to break this resolution
often and with heated passion. Six tits in hand
is worth two brown bush.
15. I resolve to see LitSLAP to a decent cut and
cut it into a decent trailer and take a shot at
turning it into a real show.
16. I resolve to write a new book, or at least
lay down the hard structure of a new book, entitled
The Book of Enoch. Gonna need something
to follow up the blistering success or mind-numbing
failure of Nunt.
17. I resolve to keep on top of what Paul Martin
is doing, judge him in an intelligent way and
offer constructive criticism.
18. I resolve to realize that time is ticking
away. People who do interesting and amazing things
with their lives often have a single moment early
in their lives that sets them on the path they
want. I resolve to believe that I have found a
path to that single moment and I resolve to follow
it as far as it goes.
19. I resolve to write a haiku sephirot and use
my words to seduce an engaged woman.
20 . I resolve to get some sort of religious edict
issued against my work. Or at least a blistering
critique that starts out something like ... "Mr.
Tourette has done for poetry what planes did for
the World Trade Centre..."
21. I resolve to do some incredibly stupid things,
to risk pariah status, to put on a big fucking
show, to bring something new to Canadian writing,
to bust the year wide fucking open, to shrug a
lot, to start more fights, to piss in more faces,
fuck more love more hate more live harder make
a name shame a name sleep less earn something
for these bags under my eyes get rid of that ghost
forever get smarter, get harder get farther. And
then, have a laugh and a drink and a smoke with
old friends when it all caves in and the world
hooks this site up with 'spectacular
failure' and make bigger plans, more ridiculous
plans, and follow them through again.
2004. The year of Mingus. Like watching a car
wreck before your eyes.
Click For Previous Week's
Daily Mingii
|
January 5 - January 11, 2004