365 Mutch-less days
- Lindsa
MUTCH, Lindsay.—
Our friend Lindsay Mutch died this
day last year. A lovely man, a great
journo, a funny guy.
Lindsay, if only we’d known you
were going to kark it, we would
have borrowed more money.
Belinda, Carolyn, John, Phil, Bill.
That’s the memorial notice the Supplements Dept of The Dominion Post put in for Lindsay in the DomPost to mark our year of not having him around the office.
The joke is, nobody every borrowed money from Lindsay, the bugger was always broke, usually spending his money on, among other things, friends, workmates and his family.
Anyway, to do something a bit more constructive than moping around, I thought I would try and print up one of Lindsay’s completed works. It is a novella called Dispirited and is a super tale of the supernatural set in a place not a gazillion miles from Timaru. An extract is below, just to serve as a taste, but the general plan is to see how many people would like a copy, and then get them printed up. (It sounds so simple now …)
At the moment it looks like costing about $16 -$17 per copy. There’s no commitment, but if you would like to be put onto a select mailing list, just email me with the words Lindsay Book in the subject line. I will do my best not to harvest your email addresses to on-sell them to Lithuanian Sensual Ladies or whatever the hell places my email gets sent to for reasons I am completely innocent of.
The email address is
ksp@actrix.co.nz (it stands for Kiwi Space Patrol, the company behind the uncelebrated Internet sci fi comedy Super Awesome Mega Battle Tank which Lindsay enjoyed mocking, mainly because of its super-high production values and peerless acting. He also created a couple of props for it.)
So give me an indication of how many copies you might like, and whether you would like the deluxe starlight and pixie dust version (bound in golden unicorn leather), or the wood pulp and black ink version.
Anyway, herebe some words from the start. For free.
Chapter One
Zakretired.
As the days passed he lazed in a rocking chair on the veranda of the two-bedroom weatherboard cottage he called home, and the council called derelict.
A loose board on the veranda creaked both loudly and annoyingly with every rock of the chair. Its sound was similar to that harmonic symphony created by an eight-year-old child two weeks into violin lessons.
The rocking chair would rock forward, the board would creak, andZakwould remind himself to fix it – straight after lunch.
Zakwas racing into his retirement head-on. He had pondered his fruitful and reasonably successful life, and decided it was time to relax and quietly dwindle away his twilight years.
At 25,Zakneeded as much time as possible to mentally prepare for the impending onset of middle-age. He shivered to think he was more than halfway there.
His promising career in unemployment had ended rather suddenly at 19, when he was employed as an apprentice exorcist. He soon settled into the more mundane aspects of non-consensual spiritual release (politically correct speak for exorcism).
Zak’s four year apprenticeship as an exorcist ended, and he started his own business.
A year later, a skilful combination of extremely high fees, incredibly low costs and a very, very clever accountant, enabledZakto retire comfortably. (He felt guilty that so many people were being forced to retire uncomfortably, but with true caring he thanked God it wasn’t him and thought about something else instead.)
(All copyright and fiercesome legal stuff – Lindsay Mutch)
.
And that’s your lot for the moment. Just a wee taste. It’s got lots of great stuff … ancient demons, annoying ghosts, a rat kingdom … by hokey, a person would be mad not to pre-order a copy.
[And thanks to Rachel C. and Cheryl K. for organising the memorial notice in the DomPost. ]
Nearly a year …
Yes, it was June 28 last year Big Lindsay died.
I found this somewhere on Les Web, which I think must be Lindsay twittering with his friend Cindy O’Neill.
.
April wit from the Mutch boy
This is a collection of witticisms, observations and Mutchisms collected in April by a fan.
I nearly drowned after trying to use a great dane as a breathing device. That’s the last time I go Scoobie diving.
I’ve joined an agency dedicated to the promotion of stupid people. It’s called the Witless Projection Programme.
Roll on 4pm. Then you’ll all have to beer with me. 🙂
I keep a secret dairy. It’s like a secret diary, but it’s filled with cows.
I’ve developed a new arcade game. You put your money in and nothing happens. It’s called Space Evaders.
They advised me to take a novel approach to the situation. I said no thanks, I’d rather take a non-fiction approach.
I’m such a bad cook, I couldn’t even get the sun to set.
I killed a chicken. It was murder most fowl.
The difference between a line graph and a pornograph is that the latter has a triple-X axis.
Remember the boyband Five? It would have been great if one of them had been named Juan. Lots of “Juan in Five believes aliens exist” jokes.
So… is the Fortune 500 a NASCAR event?
Does it concern anybody else that many New Zealanders pronounce “Tua” and “tour” exactly the same way?
No power in Wellington. Damn. We’re turning into Auckland.
Strange that if you’re over the hill you’re old, but if you’re over the moon you’re happy. I think the hill’s much lower than the moon.
Always aim low… that way when you come up with something genuinely good, everyone’s surprised 😉
I don’t know why they call them chop sticks… it took me hours to fell a tree with one.
I’ve decided to become a fitness trainer for evil spirits … that’s right, I’ll be exercising demons. 🙂
I used to be a mad scientist … now I’m just moderately irritated.
I asked for an inspirational quote. She said: “$15.95 plus tax.”
I’m an apthiest. I don’t believe in bees.
I had a butterfly once. But every time I saw a cute girl my pants fell down.
I have this great idea for a pyramid scheme. If everyone on Twitter sends me $1… um, the plan hasn’t really evolved past that point…
An orca just ate my seal of approval.
My train of thought just hit a cow and de-railed
You can now buy really cheap monkeys. Hell, they’re practically gibbon them away.
I can’t help it. I always read “therapist” as two words.
My mates used to throw baseball caps on the tops of houses to mark where the pretty girls lived. That’s right: Hats on a hot teen’s roof.
Don’t judge me because I’m beautiful. Judge me because I’m weird.
My life lacks direction. But it’s got an excellent script.
Last night I dreamt I fell asleep. So I was asleep dreaming that I was asleep. I had to wake up twice! Mine is a weird reality.
“It was a distorted monstrous thing of many heads, none of which were pretty.” — constructive criticism from a workmate
US to NZ translation: US “broiler” = NZ “grill”. US “grill” = NZ “barbecue”. I hope this helps.
If I ever get to name a volcano, I’m going to call on my Icelandic friends.
If that Islamic cleric is right and scantily dressed women cause earthquakes, then California is in more trouble than we thought.
Dynamite. Or Dyna might not. You can’t tell with Dyna.
Only uranium will truly make your skin glow.
Rule of thumb: The higher the cc rating, the fewer the brain cells of the person driving it
I hold myself to a lower standard. 🙂
Really, I think this deserved a better title.
The Young Mutch
This is another story from the molyworld.net website that Cindy alerted me to.
It is entitled Wet Dreams. Oh Lindsay, you card …
Here’s the first few pars.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
The alarm clock gurgled.
Willis opened his eyes and stared at the light playing at the surface of the pool. He got out of bed, stretched, yawned, and swam to the surface.
Beside the pool was a plastic picnic table, three plastic chairs and a tasteless yellow Hawaiian-style umbrella. On one of the chairs was a severe man worn beneath an equally severe suit.
The man had a name. It was foreign-sounding. Forgot it within seconds of first hearing it. He wore the black suit which had become corporate uniform. He belonged to a Super Secret Government Agency (SSGA), the name of which had not been mentioned.
The whole thing is hosted here:
Not that he was a morbid sod or anything …
This story, called Two Feet Under, was posted on a website called
http://molyworld.net/laughterloaf/arch/2feetunder.htm
and Cindy O’Neil alerted me to it.
It’s about 5000 words and starts off:
The door handle was higher. He noticed as he left the bedroom. How odd.
It had been lower yesterday, and the day before. But today the bedroom door was just a little further up than normal. Simon Aitken didn’t realise there was a problem until half-way down the hall.
There was something wrong with the toilet door too. Indeed, the toilet itself reached further up his legs than before; his knees connected with the seat as he flushed.
It wasn’t until showering that he noticed the problem. He looked down and saw his feet were missing.
The whole thing is downloadable from here:
Timaru remembers The Mutch.
Claire Allison reports 20 people, mostly Timaru Herald staff and former colleagues, went along to The Sail and Anchor in Timaru on Saturday “to raise a glass to the Mutch”.
Pictured, former Timaru Herald sports and racing editor Pat McCord (left) and former news editor John Middlemiss.
A tribute from Sarsha Dowers
Lindsay, Sarsha and Lindsay's mum Joan.
Does any one know the 0800 number for the after life?
As my dearest uncle Lindsay I would like to tell you how very, very much I miss you. You loved me, teased and touched my heart, guided, played and taught me so much over the 31 wonderful years that I have been so fortunate and grateful to have shared with you.
Lindsay, you are well aware that I have not worked out what I believe happens to us all when we have passed away (YET), which has made losing you so very painful. I read the email you had once sent to Carolyn Enting, when her grandmother died, and although it was painful to read and very dark it was also very true … I want you to know that those words made so much sense to me, they also gave me such a better understanding on life and death, and have also helped me with the whole grieving process. So thank you Lindsay (you always knew the right things to say at the right time). Also thank you Carolyn Enting for sharing this personal information at Lindsay’s funeral and on his tribute site.
I know that you would hate to see me upset and hurt and I have decided that instead of mourning your death I am going to focus more on celebrating your life. Although you have been rudely taken away from me, no one can ever take away the many wonderful and treasured memories of you that I hold so close to my heart.
I use to love all the heart-to-heart conversations we often shared. I could tell you my deepest secrets, and you yours.
I wish there was some way you could tell me that you are somewhere safe with Nana and the two of you are carefree, and are awaiting the day when all the family meet again and live happily in eternity. (Sounds a bit like a fairy tale, eh?) But I wish you could somehow, someway tell me that my fairytale will one day come true.
Lindsay, I love you so much, and thanks for always being there for me. Thank you for loving me as much as you did, and thank you for the many, many wonderful memories you have given me. I will never ever let go of them.
Goodbye my brother, I love you always and forever. Sarsha.
This weekend only … The Lindsay Mutch Zing Thing!!!
This came in today from the Kiwiwriters website folks and they are dedicating their Zing Thing for July to Lindsay, which is a beautiful thing.
That Mutch kid, aged about 18. A menace to society and to pool tables.
————————————————————————————————————————————————-
Hello Kiwi Writer,
Inspiration never ceases, creativity is all around us and there should always be a challenge out there to keep our imagination having boundless fun. That’s what you signed up for and that’s what Kiwi Writers will provide.
*Zing Thing*
The July Zing Thing is dedicated to Lindsay Mutch and begins 5pm this Friday.
Pick a genre, any genre and shape the following ingredients into a story that’s all your own. The challenges closes Sunday at midnight. Sign up now!
http://kiwiwriters.org/content/july-zing-thing-dedicated-lindsay-mutch-lindsa
The http://kiwiwriters.org/forums/write-write-write/challenges and chatroom http://kiwiwriters.org/content/zing-thing are open for your discussion.
Opening Line — “It’s not going to end well for the ostriches.”
Setting — New Zealand
Character Name — “Amber is a girl’s name, not a bloody colour.”
Silly Thing Seen — “I was nearly killed by a freak Mexican wave.”
Random Object — “Vanity thermometer.”
*The End Is Nigh*
Wouldn’t it be a relief, a celebration, an amazing feeling to reach The End on one of your writing projects in August? We know it would and that’s why The End Is Nigh. Reaching the end closes one door but can also allow us to step through to something else, to a new beginning, a new project. Sign up now http://kiwiwriters.org/content/end-nigh and make sure you’ve stepped through that door before it closes. Post your own progress thread in the forums http://kiwiwriters.org/forums/write-write-write/end-nigh, nab yourself a participant icon and pop in on the chatroom
http://kiwiwriters.org/content/end-nigh-1 to get all the support and encouragement you’ll need.
Join Us!
Kerryn Angell
The Qantas award winning piece.
Still tidying up a bit around Lindsay’s desk at the DomPost, and yesterday I found an envelope with three of the stories that won Lindsay a Qantas award when he was writing for the Timaru Herald. This is the first of them.
Published in the Timaru Herald, 9/10/1999 under the heading:
Scintillating Scarfies – Director spot on with home-town movie
Scarfies is one of New Zealand’s most successful films. Its 15 prints have pulled more than $1 million from the country’s box offices in just two months. Timaru Herald reporter Lindsay Mutch spoke to director Robert Sarkies about the country’s film industry, learning the trade, and the importance of failure.
Robert Sarkies’ first movie cost $40. He has comparatively been doing more with less ever since.
But that will probably change with the success of his first feature, Scarfies, a comedy-thriller about the lives of some Otago University students.
Its images flickered across Timaru screens for the first time yesterday – the print’s arrival delayed by its popularity elsewhere.
At the age of 10, Sarkies destroyed the model of a Dunedin building. Filming the event was the first addictive step on a long road of celluloid. At school he saved his lunch money to finance film projects and later won the Spot On film competition.
But a steep learning curve lay ahead. It was called Peter’s Story.
“It’s a forgotten film . . . and I’m doing my best to keep it that way, ” Sarkies laughed.
The 24-minute work examines a courier driver’s relationship with his son.
“It was really through the experience of making Peter’s Story that I realised you can’t make films that mean something solely for you. You have to make them for an audience, otherwise no-one will see them.”
But, he said, you learn more from failures than successes. A fact, fortunately, that Dunedin’s infant film industry could grasp. Forgiveness abounded.
Peter’s Story was a big project for the time. The city had not really seen anything like it and the young director received a reasonable amount of funding. Money entrusted to second-year varsity students.
“The great thing about making films in a place like Dunedin is that you have the room to fail. It’s a nurturing place. It has nurtured a lot of young musicians and was very nurturing to me as well.”
Sarkies and friends grew with each other in the film business, while nurturing their own business, Nightmare Productions (so named for various reasons). They stayed together for Scarfies, though more experience was called in where needed.
The mandate was to make the feature “our way”. It worked with the short films. There was no reason to change.
Scarfies was actually technically easier to make than 1996’s acclaimed short Signing Off – a comedy about a 1950s DJ’s last day at work. It won a Silver Spike award at Spain’s Valladolid festival in 1997.
Scarfies, at 97 minutes, was shot in a real house and on a specially-built rooftop. Signing Off, at 15 minutes, had 18 locations around the city. The short took a month to shoot. Scarfies took six weeks.
Now with an all-important feature film under his belt, Sarkies is eyeing up his second. Something of similar length to the first, but with those Signing Off complexities.
Details of the new project are firmly under wraps, though it will probably be filmed in Dunedin too. There is immense support for the home-town lad, he can move cast and crew around easily, there is a diversity of scenery and the extras are not difficult to find or expensive.
“I know Dunedin because I’m from Dunedin. Audiences can spot a fraud a mile off. As a Dunedin film-maker who makes films in Dunedin, I am definitely not a fraud. But if I was making an Auckland nightclub epic I’m sure I would be spotted.”
Asked to describe the depth of the South Island’s movie infrastructure, Sarkies said simply: “There isn’t any.”
Film is a location medium and modern equipment is designed to be portable. So South Canterbury, for example, has the potential to attract film-makers. It needs just one thing.
“Stories.”
“I don’t think people make films in particular places because of anything but good stories.
“Certainly South Canterbury has all the scenery you could want for shooting commercials. But if you want to see a South Canterbury feature film someone needs to come up with a really strong, intrinsically South Canterbury story.
“It will happen. I’m sure of it. Hopefully Scarfies will make the idea of making films down south cool.”
If film-makers were coming to live in South Canterbury there would be more local films.
New Zealand has had a raft of city-based films recently. Most, including Scarfies, being low budget.
“We just decided to spend our low budget somewhere other than Auckland or Wellington.”
Now, at 32, the director struggles to explain his motivation for making films.
“Certainly the process of making films is painful . . . and horrible, and incredibly stressful. So the glamour of it doesn’t motivate me.”
But pleasing an audience does.
“That is what gives me most satisfaction – sitting in a cinema and hearing an unbiased audience laugh is enough motivation for me to go on to the next one. It’s the biggest factor.”
He has joined Scarfies audiences more than 10 times. He has seen the film itself “a few too many times. I’m hoping not to see it anymore”.
There was satisfaction in having cynical buyers laughing in the right places at Cannes. But the real thrill was showing it to people who appreciated the subtleties and Kiwi-isms infused in the script.
“You can’t get any more satisfaction than screening the film in front of 1800 home-town supporters who are crying `Ota-a-a-go!’ before it starts.”
A similar cry signalled the Wellington premier.
“It’s great. People are really getting into the spirit of where the film comes from.”
If Scarfies achieves international success, Sarkies will take Peter Jackson’s initiative and remain in New Zealand. Bring Hollywood here rather than moving over there in the steps of such ex-pats as Roger Donaldson and Geoff Murphy.
“I don’t see any possibility in going to Hollywood as long as I can keep making films here and hopefully attract American money to New Zealand in the same way Peter has.”
Such a scheme is a long way off. But the dream is there.
“If Matrix can be made in Sydney and Lord of the Rings in Wellington. Then why can’t Lethal Weapon 8 be made in Dunedin?”
He hastens to add: “I’m not saying I want to make Lethal Weapon 8.”
For now he will push Scarfies. A film which, if not the cream of the Cannes crop, was certainly not lurking in the bottom three-quarters of the bottle. For Cannes had 600 movies shown and 300 premiered. The competition was enormous.
“In order to stick out you need either a marketing army or to adopt guerrilla tactics. We did the latter; generally by painting our faces and racing through the streets making idiots of ourselves. We did that to get the film noticed both in Cannes and back home.”
It worked. The bonus being that attention came not just from the marketing. Scarfies received excellent reviews.
The film has already sold to Germany and Spain, with smaller sales to Poland, the Netherlands, Belgium and various territories throughout Europe. It will be dubbed into the appropriate languages.
“Europe tends to buy films first. They’re prepared to take more risks and I guess are more interested in buying films from this part of the world.
“America buys films last. North America is a very difficult nut to crack. They want to see that your film can be successful everywhere else before they think of picking it up.”
Because of Scarfies’ success in New Zealand it will probably secure releases in the United Kingdom and Australia.
“It’s not Once Were Warriors or What Becomes of the Broken Hearted, but it surpassed what most New Zealand films do in their entire season in its first two days, so that’s a really good sign.”
One criticism doing the rounds was that former Otago University students do not feel Scarfies accurately portrays what life as a scarfie is actually like.
“That’s probably true, ” Sarkies conceded. “But it’s not a documentary.”
“Its audience goes well beyond ex-scarfies. Some of the reviews say it reflects the transition people go through from innocence to adult while they’re a scarfie.”
It has elements of scarfie life, “but it goes well beyond that. I think if we made a film that accurately reflected what it was like to be a scarfie then scarfies would have loved it and everyone else would have said `oh yeah, tell us something we don’t know’.”
Dave Cannan writes …
Toyerism - From the Little Book of Generally Ultra-Modern Sexual Perversions
Dusted off my priceless copies of Lindsay Mutch classics tonight – Home Before Breakfast (Aug 1991), Dispirited (Sept 1991), Every Tom Dickens and Harry (Dec 1992) and the undated, hilarious The Little Book of Generally Ultra-Modern Sexual Perversions – all given generously by the author to me during the Timaru Herald years (1991-1995).
Farewell Lindsa, one of the funniest and most talented writers I’ve had the pleasure to know. Sorry for being so shit at keeping in touch. “Davcan”
Not enough Mutch 