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July 12th - 18th, 2004
July 16, 2004
A Thousand Words

Response to the contest so far has been quite good, though a few people have remarked that it might be difficult to make interpretive artwork based on the graphic killing of a cow with a handgrenade in Cambodia. As such, my publisher and I may be having a long conversation this weekend about replacing the Nunto for the the official launch of the contest on July 19.

So, for the first of many times in the next few months, I need yer help. What's the general opinion on making artwork for Nunto 35? Should we choose a different poem? For the love of all that's unholy, let me know.


Not so long ago, my publisher decided I needed new author photos, cause he'd like to see some crazy posters hanging in book stores or something. As such, he sent me out with a great local photographer named John Ternan, and I broke some weapons laws. I think this one's going to end up being the official head shot, but what do I know?

July 15, 2004

last night
between the two bit peep show
and the house of D

hired a pregnant woman
to let me
drink the milk
from her besotted breasts

in order to feel
like a child again

to feel life flow in
instead of flow out
as it does
night after night

July 14, 2004
The Big Announcement: Tourette's Summer Tournament
of MegaEvil

What better way to celebrate Bastille Day than to extol the spirit of revolution by announcing one of the most insubordinate contests to ever grace this fine nation?

Mingus Tourette, in conjunction with Zygote Publishing, is proud to announce to his loyal readers that Tourette's Summer Tournament of MegaEvil begins next Monday, July 19th. So dust off your photoshop, your paints, your pencils and your cameras, girls, cause this time, the prize is worth battling for.

Oh yes. This time it's personal.

In the tradition of the great Original Spring Tournament of Evil, the rules of the game are unchanged. Competitors read a poem from the forthcoming book, Nunt. They create a piece of interpretive digital artwork based on that poem. The artwork is submitted. A jury decides on the finalists, and the great vote begins. The winner is the artwork with the most votes.

But this time, the prize is substantial. It is obscene. It is mindboggling. Oh yes. This time, you can win Mingus Tourette's Official American Blitzkrieg Survival Kit. And it is grand. But don't take my word for it. Read the official press release and give me them motherfucking comments. Go now, for Tourette's Summer Tournament of MegaEvil awaits.

July 13, 2004
the Gobi

The greatness of a man like Genghis Khan is bewildering.

Genghis, when asked to described what in all the world could bring the most happiness, said that, "to crush your enemies, to see them fall at your feet - to take their horses and goods and hear the lamentation of their women.
That is best."

He did not make war for religion, but for his sons. What he did not understand, he destroyed. It was all he knew. He had twenty-two laws, that is all. His men were not allowed to bathe during thunderstorms. The simplicity is the essential genius.

Simplicity, yes.

The old man, his empire dispersed, headed south on his horse for one last battle, and was buried unknown in the hills.

When I am old and I have only months to live, what will I have to disperse to my sons? What wisdom will I be able to pass on to them. And where will I ride, and for what purpose?

I think.

I think I will go north, to sleep on the ground again, to wander the streams by day, and read old books by night, and write, and drink whiskey by the fire and lie with my woman as the strength leaves me. What else would I do, really. What would you do?

July 12, 2004
Shopping Trip

I was rifling through a rack full of used porn, and considering the selection of bibles at the used book store, when the storm hit. There was a roaring, and atmospheric pressure pushing everything downwards, and people pressing their noses up against the glass to see the street below. I shrugged and kept up my search for a Koran, but had to settle for a copy of Albert Camus' The Plague. In truth, I would much rather reread Camus.

When I found the copy of 'Soldier of Fortune' that I was searching for, I walked downstairs and carefully placed my selections on the counter, so that the porn would be revealed at the proper time and I could grin lasciviously at the counter girl at the precise moment. It was nothing like shopping for a double-headed dildo.

But when I looked outside, even I was taken aback. The ground was covered in hail, and I was confused and had to ask the girl if it was snow, which it wasn't, and she said that it all came down in about five minutes. There were inches of it in some places, and rising water careened down the street, dangerously close to flooding the sidewalks. It threw off my savoir-faire, and when she revealed the porn, I was unprepared, and she didn't say anything. Typical eye-avoidance that drug-store clerks use when a customer is purchasing a dozen condoms, Vaseline and an economy-sized tube of KY Jelly. I much prefer the interest that sex-shop workers provide, offering handy products like 'Toy Cleanser' to go with your purchases, and they always have an opinion on which massage oil smells the best. I don't much care for the Sutra-oiled wood brand, cause it overrides the natural smell of sweat and pheremones that I love so much. And the smell of rain, if the window is open.

People have been complaining about the rain recently, 'cause we haven't had this much for years, and it floods the streets all week. But I like it. It feels good on my clipped pate and it is good for the farmers, and the aquifers need it, and I am probably clinically depressed whether it is raining or not, so it doesn't bother me. In fact, the smell, at night after it has rained, reminds me of a time when I was thirteen and I would sneak out of the house and walk with friends and drink beer and climb up on schools and piss on graffitii'd playgrounds. Reminds me of being a kid, of being free, and sometimes, it reminds me of Nat and I, soaked to the skin, hiding under pine trees and waiting for the rain to end and it wouldn't and we didn't really mind, because we were both wearing shorts and loose t-shirts and when we pushed together we could feel the heat of each others' skin through the wet cloth and it was sort of like a warm rain, a sun shower in the middle of a thunderstorm.

And I'm saying all that, in order to say this. Get ready for a big announcement later on this week that will blow your freaking mind. I'm fucking serious. Consider this post a prophecy.

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