I'm going to start keeping track of things that inspire me to write. This is the first of the series of such notes. The poem "Mitsubishi Colt" by Tim Minchin. See his performance of this poem here.
Tim MinchinMitsubishi Colt by Tim Minchin
He looks at me intensely
Eyes sparkle contact green with artificial envy
Cocks his head and fixes me with a condescending stare
Flicks his bleached, blond tipped hair
And theorizes thus
“You know what I reckon?”
Pause for effect
Adjusts his tackle as if it’s semi-erect
I feel I’d better give him what I know he expects
“What do you reckon?”
A hand on the shoulder
An avuncular wink
Sips his lemon drink
Spits out the pips
Hands on hips
Licks his lips
Like a wolf near a flock
Yet again adjusting this fantasy cock
He delivers his philosophy
“I reckon it don’t matter
It don’t mean squat
What you earn or what you got
Or the style of your hair
Or what you wear
It matters not
I mean what do you care
That I live on a hill with views of the beach
That my chick and my dogs have an en-suite bathroom each
That I’ve already reached my first million and I’m only 36
You’re as thick as two bricks
If you think you can fix
What is broke in your life with money
And the funny thing is
And I shit you not
That I would give it all up like that”
He leaves me to ponder his wisdom for a bit
And with a click of his fingers
He Beckons the blondest, bimbo-est barmaid
And grinning ridiculously
Orders a G and T
And a beer, for me
And before I can escape
He’s back saying
‘Cos mate, the thing is
All of that crap
It’s all superficial
It’s all just a front
Anyone can be a rich cunt
But the thing we all want
Can’t be bought with dosh
You know what I mean boss?
Cos you don’t give a toss
That when I want to get slim
I’ve got my own private gym
And a personal trainer called…Danielle or…fuckin Darlene
She’s got tits like those chicks in Playboy magazines
And it’s not like you care
That I own a controlling share
Of an overseas company
That builds accounting software
It matters not one bit
I mean who gives a shit
If I earn six hundred grand
And drive a brand new Land Rover
You know I would hand it all over like that’
He pauses for a beat
Long enough for me to retreat to a seat
And sit, elbow on the bar
And contemplate this guru
With his white teeth and his big car
And ponder silently my belief
That genius comes in many forms
And that this postulating, peroxided porn-star prick ain’t one of em
My speculation cut short
As he reforms
Like Terminator II
And before I have time to abort
He descends upon me and snorts
“I guess what I’m trying to say
In my own little way
Is that I reckon that musos and artists and that
Well I reckon they’re great
I know some people reckon you guys just sit on your bums
And don’t get out of bed til the pizza man comes
And smoke cones
And take crack
And wack-off all day
But I don’t care what they say
And I don’t listen to people
Who say that all actors are gay
Not that I don’t think that’s OK
As far as I’m concerned
Although it’s not my bag
If you wanna be a fag
Be a fag y’know?
I mean who am I to say
Where you come
And where you go
In the privacy of your own homo
Ha ha
Homo
Ha ha
Homo
Ha ha
He’s shitting me now
And my eyes start to glaze
And through the haze of my anger
I notice his G and T is gone
And he’s starting to dribble
As he dribbles on and fucking on
“But you musos are alright
I don’t know much about music
But I know what I like
And I reckon I’d give it all in
To be like you Jim (Tim)
I mean you might be poor in monetary terms
But what you earn spiritually
What makes you what you are
Just means so much more
Than what you earn from a really nice car
Or a tennis court
Or holidays in Greece
Or a house on the beach
Or stock market shares
Or thirty-one pairs
Of Calvin Klein underwear
Do you understand you are a wealthy, wealthy man
And mate I don’t want to piss in your pocket
But I’ve gotta say
Before I get on my way
That honestly, and I’m not having you on
I reckon on day you could play the piano as good as Elton John
The cops are still mingling
Though the crowd’s shuffled out
I’ve got ice on my hand
Where my fist met his mouth
And although I explained
That it wasn’t my fault
I’ve an eight hundred buck fine
For aggravated assault
So before it gets worse
I reckon I’ll bolt
A wealthy, wealthy man
In a 1981 Mitsubishi Colt
__________________________
Also by Tim Minchin that inspires me is his song "If I Didn't Have You." I want to attempt to use a wider range of difficult vocabulary and have it make sense like he does in this song. His performance can be seen here.
If I Didn't Have You by Tim Minchin
Yeah. Yeah.
If I didn't have you.
If I didn't have you to hold me tight,
If I didn't have you to lie with at night.
If I didn't have you to share my side,
and to kiss me and dry my tears when I cry.
Well I... really think that I would
have somebody else.
If I didn''t have you someone else would do.
Your love is one in a million.
You couldn't buy it at any price.
But of the 9.999 hundred thousand other possible loves
Statistically some of these would be equally nice.
Or maybe not as nice, but say, smarter than you
Or dumber but better at sport...or tracing.
I'm just saying.
I really think that I would.
Probably. Have somebody else.
Yeah.
If I didn't have you someone else would do.
And look; I'm not undervaluing what we have when I say
that given the role that chaos inevitably plays
In the inherently flawed notion of "fate"
It's abstruced to deduce
that I found my soul-mate at the age of 17
It's just mathematical unlikely that at a university at Perth
I happened to stumble on the one girl on Earth
specifically designed for me.
And if I may conjecture any further objections
Love has nothing to do with destined "perfection",
The connection is strengthened
The affection only grows over time.
Like a flower.
Or a mushroom.
Or a Guinea pig.
Or a vine.
Or a sponge.
Or bigotry.
...
Or a banana.
And love is made more powerful
By the ongoing drama of shared experience
And the synergy of a kind of symbolic empathy.
Or Something.
So I trust that it goes without saying
That I would feel really very sad
If tomorrow you were to fall off something high
Or catch something bad
But Im just saying
I don't think you're special.
I mean, I think you're special,
But you fall within a bell curve.
I mean. I-I'm just saying.
I think that I would probably.
Have somebody else.
I mean I reckon it's pretty likely
that if for example my first girlfriend Jacky
hadn't dumped me
after I kissed Winston's ex girlfriend Nia back
at Steffs party back in 1993.
Enough variables would probably
have been altered by the absence of that event
to have meant the advent of a
tangential narrative in which we don't meet.
Which is to say there exists a
theoretical hypothetical parallel life
where what is is not is
and I am not your husband and your not my wife.
And I am a stuntman living in LA
Married to a small blonde Portuguese skier
who when she's not training
does abstract painting,
practices yoga and brews her own beer.
And really likes making home movies
and suffers neck-down alopecia.
But with all my heart and all my mind
I know one thing is true;
I have just one life and just one love
and my love that love is you.
And if it wasn't for you baby
I really think that I would
Probably.
Have somebody else.
Yeah.
If I didnt have you doo do doo do doo someone else would surely do oo oo oo
