Elimination Game
Premee
I went around my apartment and got down all my poetry books (plus a book of prose poems by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn whose name I am quite sure I have just butchered) so I could work on this for a while. The pile is almost three feet high, not including kids’ nursery books. Jesus! I have a poetry disease. And not the clap. That’s a poet disease.
Anyway, I swept through some Milton (pleh: totally inappropriate) and then slowed down for some Ondaatje and it’s so good, so much better than I remember, I just cannot resist posting a piece of his (which may be illegal, anyway, I will reiterate that all copyright belongs to Michael Ondaatje, 1989.)
There is a note at the back of the book, and I quote, “…A few lines get dropped and a few get added every year. It is based on those horrendous dances where a caller decides, seemingly randomly, who should not be allowed to continue dancing. So the piece (I still hesitate to call it a poem) is in the voice of a mad, and totally beyond-the-pale, announcer.” So put on the voice and read along!
Those who are allergic to the sea

Those who have resisted depravity

Men who shave off beards in stages, pausing to take photographs

American rock stars who wear Toronto Maple Leaf hockey sweaters

Those who (while visiting a foreign country) have lost the end of a Q tip in their ear and have been unable to explain their problem

Gentlemen who have placed a microphone beside a naked woman’s stomach after lunch and later, after slowing down the sound considerably, have sold these noises on the open market as whale songs

All actors and poets who spit into the first row as they perform

Men who fear to use an electric lawn-mower feeling they could drowse off and be dragged by it into a swimming pool

Any dinner guest who has consumed the host’s missing contact lens along with the dessert

Any person who has had the following dream. You are in a subway station of a major city. At the far end you see a coffee machine. You put in two coins. The Holy Grail drops down. Then blood pours into the chalice

Any person who has lost a urine sample in the mail

All those belle-lettrists who feel that should have been ‘an urine sample’

Anyone who has had to step into an elevator with all of the Irish Rovers

Those who have filled in a bilingual and confidential pig survey from Statistics Canada. (Une enquete sur les porcs, strictement confidentielle.)

Those who have written to the age old brotherhood of the Rosicrucians for a free copy of their book ‘The Mastery of Life’ in order to release the inner consciousness and to experience (in the privacy of the home) momentary flights of the soul

Those who have accidentally stapled themselves

Anyone who has been penetrated by a mountie

Any university professor who has danced with a life-sized cardboard cut-out of Jean Genet

Those who have unintentionally locked themselves within a sleeping bag at a camping goods store

Any woman whose i.u.d. has set off an alarm system at the airport

Those who, after a swim, find the sensation of water dribbling out of their ears erotic

Men who have never touched a whippet

Women who gave up the accordion because of pinched breasts

Those who have pissed out of the back of moving trucks

Those who have woken to find the wet footprints of a peacock across their kitchen floor

Anyone whose knees have been ruined as a result of performing sexual acts in elevators

Those who have so much as contemplated the possibility of creeping up to one’s enemy with two Bic lighters, pressing simultaneously the butane switches – one into each nostril – and so gassing him to death

Literary critics who have swum the Hellespont

Anyone who has been hired as a ‘professional beater’ and frightened grouse in the direction of the Queen Mother

Any lover who has gone into a flower shop on Valentine’s day and asked for clitoris when he meant clematis

Those who have come across their own telephone numbers underneath terse insults or compliments in the washroom of the Bay Street Bus Terminal

Those who have used the following methods of seduction:
- small talk at a falconry convention
- entering a spa town disguised as Ford Madox Ford
- making erotic rotations of the pelvis, backstage, during the storm scene of King Lear
- underlining suggestive phrases in the prefaces of Joseph Conrad

Anyone who has testified as a character witness for a dog in a court of law

Any writer who has been photographed for the jacket of a book in one of the following poses: sitting in the back of a 1956 Dodge with two roosters; in a tuxedo with the Sydney Opera House in the distance; studying the vanishing point on a jar of Dutch Cleanser; against a gravestone with dramatic back lighting; with a false nose on; in the vicinity of Macchu Pichu; or sitting in a study and looking intensely at one’s own book

The person who borrowed my Martin Beck thriller, read it in a sauna which melted the glue off the spine so the pages drifted to the floor, stapled them back together and returned the book, thinking I wouldn’t notice

Any person who has burst into tears at the Liquor Control Board

Anyone with pain

Posted in General |
9 Comments »
January 12th, 2009 at 3:04 pm
This is a side of you I haven’t seen before. I approve.
January 12th, 2009 at 8:18 pm
Dean, we’ve met twice. All my sides are sides you haven’t seen before! Except, of course, for the side that sings eighties music very loudly in front of strangers.
…I digress. Anyway, I get eliminated five times. How about you? :-D
January 14th, 2009 at 4:42 pm
Five times for me too, if I’m counting “kinda”s. The first, as anyone who knows me may have guessed, is for stapling myself.
January 14th, 2009 at 6:08 pm
Hahaha! The best part of the elimination game is guessing why people got eliminated. Hey Kim, the Liquor Control Board is one, right?
January 15th, 2009 at 5:38 pm
Shut up! You don’t know me at all, man!
(OK, yes, that is one of them. I wonder how many of the others you can identify…)
January 16th, 2009 at 10:24 pm
Well, you are a notorious belle-lettrist. ;-)
January 20th, 2009 at 1:19 pm
…well I got two and a half… that’s not bad.
January 20th, 2009 at 8:44 pm
A half?
Oh, the truck must not have been moving at the time.
January 22nd, 2009 at 3:19 pm
Hee