September 2001 - Sinister

Sinister: closet lurking queen
by Katia913＠aol.com 10 Sep '01

10 Sep '01

Someone just posed about them thinking they were turning into a sinisterine, well, since school started I think I have become or are starting to become a lurker. Wow! Well, to tell you the truth that isn't it. First of all I think I will start of the chain events that everyone wants to say. I am so jealous to everyone on the west coast b/c it all sounds so wonderful. I am also very excited for everyone in japan (I hope I dont set off a string of scary emails that Niel and Honey will yell at me about). You are all so very very lucky. I was talking to a friend today while I was reading the set list for last night, and I was saying how exciting that was for all of you to hear "leader of the pack". That used to be my favorite song when I was a litttle girl. Second, ***I know that this is not content anymore, so all of you who dont care about my life can leave now. *** Well, boys and girls, I have talked to a few of you recently about how my life was sucking, seemed to be spiraling and I was becoming a closet introvert. Well, after deciding what the problem was, i decided to slowly change. People invited me to go see MU330 and Against all athority at a club on friday, and i tried to find a way out of it but couldn't. So, b/c of that i say thanks to you, I think its b/c of you all. I love you all kate +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: I think I'm turning into one of you...
by Dahling 10 Sep '01

10 Sep '01

usual introduction to a post by dahling: don't reply to me, reply to dahling(a)ismydarling.co.uk . she's probably out of the nursery by now, but for some obscure reasons she still can't post. she send it to me. I took care of it. I made a post out of a word document. I read it. I thought of a subject. I made her name appear up there. Finally, I wrote an introduction. Now I'm leaving, leaving you alone with her. Take good care of her, bye from me, Dimitra. ps She's turning into one of us. That's for sure. But then Ally, and Pinefox, say we are turning into lamposts... who knows what's going to happen... ------------post starts here--------------- A ring of tea bags hang from the ceiling their shadows creep toward the open window like spiders leaving behind a faint scent of mint. Maps scamper across the wall in circles, diamonds, swirls. Blocked by the corners, they settle into the ebb and flow of a giant wave, enclosing three portraits, taking the blue man places he never thought he'd see. My dingy grey sheets are saturated in sweat and I lay upon them, twirling my oily hair into a mini pompadour, wondering where you are and if you will ever get here. So I think I'm turning into one of you. Satisfied to lurk forever on the list and titter about in #sinister only, I am now obsessed with the idea of writing things for sinister people to read. I don't really understand it. It seems a bit egocentric, or psychological in a therapeutic sort of way. Well, really, it's a great cure for writer's block. When I can't stand trying to find a new way to describe blue seas or am sick of reading quotes from dumb basketball players, or when I am just plain LAZY, it's a nice change of venue. And even better, since I write them in Word, it appears as if I might actually be writing work-related things in some inspired, feverish frenzy. Only you know the truth. And I know you won't tell. Also, I'm having a slight career crisis. Shall I tell you about it? As background, it is important to know that I spent the last two years slaving away at a small newspaper (circ. 30,000) in New England. It was fabulous, despite the shit wages, long hours and the scary way it consumed my entire life, for I was hanging out with cops and criminals, with druggies and rape victims and welfare mothers and inmates and everyone in between. Fantastic. Being a crime reporter is not as glamorous as it seems, but it was still damn cool. For although I am rather shy and naive, I got to witness the true stuff of life in all its glaring reality. These people opened up to me in ways I still don't completely understand, and I felt what I was doing, telling their stories, was important in some way. Somewhere along the line I decided to up and move to Greece with a colleague. Crazy. Since I've arrived four months ago, I've spent the majority of my days laying around our largely unfurnished apartment, doing absolutely nothing and feeling damn guilty about it. Occasionally I travel. Actually, I've traveled quite a bit this summer. And the only writing I've done is in the form of really cheesy travel articles that I'm not really proud of. Here's the rub - I used to enjoy travel immensely, but I'm beginning to hate it. It's become all about going to a place, anxious to analyze it and strip it of all it has to offer - in the most efficient manner possible - until it's reduced to a product. And it is quite unsatisfying, especially when traveling alone. How do you truly experience a place by yourself? To me, the place only becomes important once it is infused with experience of some sort. It can contribute to the experience, but does not achieve significance until the experience is had. When you are alone, all you do is observe other people's experience with the place and reflect upon your own experiences elsewhere. At least, I do. I realized all this while I was by myself in the Pelion Peninsula, after a delightful visit with Miss Velocity Girl herself, who I should add here, is the most gracious hostess and regaled me with sinister gossip and ice cream and scary movies until I was ready to burst with comfort and joy. Anyway. my first stop was a beautiful, if not a little touristy, village. I walked around a bit and thought, "Aw, quaint. Must take photos." And the next half hour was spent doing just that - exploring for the sake of photos, not for the sake of discovering or enjoying the place, really. There were lots of cute shops and cafes, and I briefly considered visiting them, but decided to move on instead, and get as much done in one day as possible - as if it were a chore! And it quickly became one. The bus ride to the next town was breathtaking. Then I had no idea to get off the bus. I didn't much care, since the whole point of the journey was to be somewhat adventurous and random. I stopped at a town - it happened to be the right one. As I got off the bus, I thought, "Now what?" I was planning to spend the night, so my first task was to find a hotel. I couldn't find one. I could hardly find the town center for that matter - it was impossibly spread out along the height of a mountain. I trudged up and down the mountain with my pack in the mid-day sun, feeling impatient and miserable. Eventually I found an affordable room, took a shower, rushed out to get photos in the setting sunlight, got dinner, and retired to my room for the evening, not caring to "experience" the town any more. I was supposed to visit another town the next day, but slept through my stop and ended up in Volos again, all too happy for an excuse to curl up on a sofa again and watch films. Isn't that awful? When I'm alone, traveling is reduced to work - the pursuit of photos and product for an article I will undoubtedly hate and be ashamed of because it is so fake. Of course I wrote the most topical, cheery article about the "charming' villages of Pelion, and felt only a tinge of guilt because they weren't really that charming for me. But I imagine what they would be like if I was with someone else and write with that in mind. So, I don't know how much longer this can go on. I want to write about drugs and people on the fringes of society again. But my Greek is horrid. And it's hard as hell finding people who will pay you on the basis of succinct little query letters and insistences that you are THE person for the job. Especially when you don't believe it yourself. I am secretly terrified of talking to anyone, which is quite comical, considering my job. There were days when it took me half an hour of bracing myself to make a phone call. Of course, I was calling people who were just raped or charged with rape or whose kid just died in a motorcycle accident. But you'd think these things would become easier. They don't. I was considering the summer as my grace period, my long-awaited and deserved vacation of sorts, during which I would traipse about, writing a few travel pieces here and there, learning Greek. As fall came along I would buckle down and get a real job somehow. It's not happening. And the money is slowly whittling away. Instead of doing something practical about it, like getting a tutoring job on the side or just going onto the streets to meet drug addicts, I'm doing something completely rash and expensive, flying to the UK to join the lost list of sinister pilgrims who have made their way to the Mecca of sinister, Glasgow, stopping at a few picnics and pubs for listee meet-ups along the way. I think I am a bit mad sometimes. Then I think I'd rather have a complete experience and spend the money while it's still there and before I have to fly back to the States and take a real job, much to the mockery and delight of my parents. Some perceptive little listees have been noting lately how no one ever seems to be satisfied with where they are - the whole grass is always greener thing. And we are all such restless souls. I think dear Gavin is the only person I know who is satisfied with his home, and I find that so wonderful. What does it take to be satisfied? It's probably just as much about people as it is the place. I travel to one place to escape the other, but realize when I get there, it's impossible to escape myself and that was where the problem lay in the first place. But, if anyone out there feels compelled to escape to Greece for a bit, give me a ring. My, this is getting on. One would think that with all my journalistic training, I would learn to be succinct. Hmm. I wish I could contribute something masterful to the lovely Runaway Thread series. But it is too good and I am intimidated. Although I suspect a mysterious Mr. Trousers had something to do with it. Or a crazed lurker who could not bear to sit quietly in the shadows any longer. Or an Aussie. Yours till Victoria falls, dahling +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: Just another foxy girl in glasses
by Therockvixen＠aol.com 10 Sep '01

10 Sep '01

Hello Sinister ... Well, I just got out of the nursery (about a year ago) and I figured it was time to make my presence known. My name is Meghan and I live in Little Rock, Arkansas. I have a degree in expository writing and I work in a coffee bar. One time, when I was about three, I had to go to the dentist to get a cavity filled. As it turned out, though, I had only eaten a black crayon. As for B&S content, my friend and I went on a roadtrip yesterday and I made her listen to Tigermilk. She bitched about it all day. The moral of this story: Never travel long distances with a crybaby. I love you all. Hugs, Meghan +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: Introductions and 9/8 SF Setlist
by Jacob Mishook 10 Sep '01

10 Sep '01

Here is my quick introduction: Jacob, 22, Palo Alto, CA, on the list for about 5 months, biding my time until I actually had some content to post. And, courtesy of the soundboard guy in front of me at the show (thanks, soundboard guy!), here is the 9/8 SF setlist: Leader of the Pack Le Pastie De La Bourgeoisie There's Too Much Love The Magic of A Kind Word I Fought In A War My Wandering Days Are Over Jonathan David Slow Graffiti The Model The Boy With A Thorn In His Side (audience participation/request) Simple Things The Boy With The Arab Strap Fox In The Snow Family Tree The State That I Am In Dirty Dream #2 The Wrong Girl Woman's Realm Legal Man Everyday People I agree with Holly's post that Isobel looked rather bored. Though I would disagree with her take on "the guy who opened for them." I thought Richman's performance was great, especially his dancing during "I Was Dancing in the Lesbian Bar." I dare you to find a more youthful 49 year old. And finally, a special thank you to those at the SF picnic for making me feel so welcome. I'm sure Kyla will file a full report on the afternoon's festivities ;-) Jacob +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: How to survive a sore throat
by MyMomSays＠aol.com 09 Sep '01

09 Sep '01

Dear Sinister, I'm sorry I've been away so often, Sinister, I've been quite busy with school and work and all that jazz that seems to interupt my frenzied Internet addiction. I've been quite jealous of the West coast comrades for being able to enjoy all these wonderful B&S shows, and not only that, but Juicy Lucy and I discovered yet another reason to be jealous of the Seattle listees--according to Carson Daly, we should all be seething with jealousy because those lucky Seattle folk get to see <gasp> Alanis Morrisette and Pearl Jam ALL IN ONE NIGHT. Let me say, I was up all night daydreaming about the possibility of flying to Seattle in one hurried, frantic huff, glazed over by fandom for Mr. Edward Vedder. Just to say, my Jaw was a little bit on the ground when I read a certain listees post about how she didn't care for "the guy that opened for B&S". I was shocked, I will not lie. How could one regard The Legendary Jonathan Richman as just "a guy", and also, juxtaposed with a dislike for him and his music? It's appalling, let me say. I won't lie. But that's just a side note--on a regular note, the real note, I have been enjoying the company of a certain Ms. Lucy Alder throughout this weekend, my first proper Sinister mini-picnic, and it has been grand--on Friday night we drank gin and tonics and debated as to who was the worst dressed in the joint, as a balding man with a mullet serenaded us with "Joy to fishes in the deep blue sea.... "... he stumbled by us, staggering, and said, "I'm sorry, I'm drunk." I appreciated his honesty. The weather has been representin' in regular Colorado style, bipolar, confused, always carry an umbrella--it's rained heaps. Even started to snow. I love the feeling of the sunshine on my face along with a startlingly cool breeze filtering through the windows. Last night I took it upon myself to complete a difficult task--I was on the drive home from Denver, the lights approaching on the other side of the highway visible from miles and miles away, blurring together to look like one enormous light hurling itself through space--the radio was playing some vague, familiar hits, including an acoustic set of Better than Ezra (I had no interest. Can you blame me? I switched it off). My sister was in the seat next to me, snoring lightly--all of a sudden, I tried to imagine every person I have ever known and what they were doing in that particular slice of one moment--My friend Ian milling around his apartment looking for soap for which to wash his feet, Nicole asleep, clutching her teddy bear--Sebastian on his drive home from the mountains, Lisa and Sarah asleep, they too snoring lightly--my parents, two mounds of mashed potatoes under piles of blankets, SportsCenter blaring from a vacuum of silence--and even some of you Sinister folk that I can only be forced to imagine because I have never encountered your friendly faces--an early English morning and Ken Chu engaged in consuming glistening cans of Red Bull--Kirsten Kenyon being awoken by her dog jumping on her bed with wet paws--it becomes so difficult, so time consuming to try and imagine this, but at the same time, it just slithers by like a carousel of slides, one after the other, next, next, click, wait, go back... it's like my mind stopped even trying, these images just entered my mind--sort of like how Ray suddenly thinks of the Stay Puft Marshmallow man in "Ghost Busters". I simply wasn't even trying. I guess what I'm getting at is this; you may not have been thinking of me last night, around 12:30 midnight, but I certainly was thinking of you, Sinister. Love and dog-eared paperback novels, Mandee May +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: How to survive a sore throat
by MyMomSays＠aol.com 09 Sep '01

09 Sep '01

Dear Sinister, I'm sorry I've been away so often, Sinister, I've been quite busy with school and work and all that jazz that seems to interupt my frenzied Internet addiction. I've been quite jealous of the West coast comrades for being able to enjoy all these wonderful B&S shows, and not only that, but Juicy Lucy and I discovered yet another reason to be jealous of the Seattle listees--according to Carson Daly, we should all be seething with jealousy because those lucky Seattle folk get to see <gasp> Alanis Morrisette and Pearl Jam ALL IN ONE NIGHT. Let me say, I was up all night daydreaming about the possibility of flying to Seattle in one hurried, frantic huff, glazed over by fandom for Mr. Edward Vedder. Just to say, my Jaw was a little bit on the ground when I read a certain listees post about how she didn't care for "the guy that opened for B&S". I was shocked, I will not lie. How could one regard The Legendary Jonathan Richman as just "a guy", and also, juxtaposed with a dislike for him and his music? It's appalling, let me say. I won't lie. But that's just a side note--on a regular note, the real note, I have been enjoying the company of a certain Ms. Lucy Alder throughout this weekend, my first proper Sinister mini-picnic, and it has been grand--on Friday night we drank gin and tonics and debated as to who was the worst dressed in the joint, as a balding man with a mullet serenaded us with "Joy to fishes in the deep blue sea.... "... he stumbled by us, staggering, and said, "I'm sorry, I'm drunk." I appreciated his honesty. The weather has been representin' in regular Colorado style, bipolar, confused, always carry an umbrella--it's rained heaps. Even started to snow. I love the feeling of the sunshine on my face along with a startlingly cool breeze filtering through the windows. Last night I took it upon myself to complete a difficult task--I was on the drive home from Denver, the lights approaching on the other side of the highway visible from miles and miles away, blurring together to look like one enormous light hurling itself through space--the radio was playing some vague, familiar hits, including an acoustic set of Better than Ezra (I had no interest. Can you blame me? I switched it off). My sister was in the seat next to me, snoring lightly--all of a sudden, I tried to imagine every person I have ever known and what they were doing in that particular slice of one moment--My friend Ian milling around his apartment looking for soap for which to wash his feet, Nicole asleep, clutching her teddy bear--Sebastian on his drive home from the mountains, Lisa and Sarah asleep, they too snoring lightly--my parents, two mounds of mashed potatoes under piles of blankets, SportsCenter blaring from a vacuum of silence--and even some of you Sinister folk that I can only be forced to imagine because I have never encountered your friendly faces--an early English morning and Ken Chu engaged in consuming glistening cans of Red Bull--Kirsten Kenyon being awoken by her dog jumping on her bed with wet paws--it becomes so difficult, so time consuming to try and imagine this, but at the same time, it just slithers by like a carousel of slides, one after the other, next, next, click, wait, go back... it's like my mind stopped even trying, these images just entered my mind--sort of like how Ray suddenly thinks of the Stay Puft Marshmallow man in "Ghost Busters". I simply wasn't even trying. I guess what I'm getting at is this; you may not have been thinking of me last night, around 12:30 midnight, but I certainly was thinking of you, Sinister. Love and dog-eared paperback novels, Mandee May +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: have the fish got chips?
by Dirty Vicar 09 Sep '01

09 Sep '01

do you know what I do? I save up Sinister mails that have things in them I intend replying to so I can send one big chunky mail with loads of little replies in them. Only then I end up with an in-box full of old Sinister mails and I forget what it was about them I wanted to reply about, which is annoying. That said, I've always had the slight suspicion that Jenowl's mails are written by a Wire writer in his mid-30s, and by not merely having heard of the delightfully named Anal Cunt but also knowing the title of one of their songs "she" confirms my suspicions. Do I win a prize? Special friend Irene and I went to Cork last weekend instead of going to Track & Field in London. Cork is great. Its people refer to it as the southern capital to make up for the fact that it isn't actually the capital of Ireland. we went to Fota Wildlife Park on a little island outside the city. The wildlife park is GRATE, it's like a refugee camp for cute little animals. Most of them are allowed wander around the park freely which means they spend their time being chased by little children. Our favourite animal was the capybara, a kind of giant hamster the size of a large dog which the catholic church classes as a fish so that people can eat it on fast days. It's interesting the way everyone's favourite B&S are doing the thing in America of getting people from the audience up to sing songs, like they reportedly did in England as well. I wonder why they didn't do that in Scotland? I'm very impressed with their having a motorbike onstage to do the vrooom vrooom bits of Leader of the Pack. I bought the Strokes album on Friday and from thinking it was pleasant enough I know think it's actually quite good and am beginning to think the Strokes might not end up being completely forgotten in six months time. time for tubby bye byes. DV +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: Dol 'na still ann an aodann na bairlinn*
by Gordon 09 Sep '01

09 Sep '01

In a dim but also fading room, they met: they were several and... vivacious. walls were there; to listen in: how many years, are precious? Brains and bodies; hands and glowing eyes: they met and they were several. Gradually the fading stopped for the words exchanged were Elemental. The siphon of time meets living: Living produces a giving of the light... consequently the room was dim no longer; 'though it was the middle of the night. I appreciate that as you read this these words have been transcribed to E-mail format but, as it is, paper and ink are located upon a rock by the northwestern highlands coast of Scotland. I'm taking advantage of the fact that the sun has broken through a squall, 'though the wind is still up. Ahead of me, the shallows are turquoise: lapping black ripplets over the golden seaweed like some undiscovered Hermes print on silk. The horizon is striated by this low-tide. Beyond is Skye. To the left is Eigg; closer than the rising and gloomy mass of Rhum. Last night I stayed in a lodge which was formerly a secret enclave of the Special Operations Executive in WWII. Its current owner knows more than I dared ask about people I've only read; or read of. There were two peacocks in the garden, and fairylights in the dining room. The scenario was entirely charming. I am smitten. Their collie dog curled up to my leg by the fireplace and, the following morning its young owner [the daughter of the daughter; about 7 or 8 years old] quizzed me: 'what is it's name?' 'I call it dog' 'I own it, and I call it 'seal' because it likes to swim.' 'Maybe it wants a swim then; not a walk' mother- "the sea is too cold" I shrug and sign the bill; the tip being a half bottle of vintage chablis left in their fridge. It's heart-wrenchingly beautiful up here: even the sheep don't run away at the sight of a person: they stop and stare. A single cloud of some ten miles radius is depositing its arc of rain upon the cliffs on the southern tip of Skye. The wind threatens to draw the airborne water in my direction. Waves gallop white over the rocky outshores and I'm shivering. Time to button up the jacket; turn the collar up but, with an approaching wind the ensemble and its adjustments are of scant use. I'm so at home here: it's the least lonely place I know... conversations with more than one person who knew what I was alluding to specifically. When people run out, there is a presence of nature. Sea reflects the mood of the air and those who behold it; the rocks: a defiant architecture of sanctuary for birds like as sea-birds are apt to be; the cold depths the baskings of a shark and the lamprey which is somewhat horrific in that it bites into the dumb shark-flesh: the shark is unaware of this intrusion and 'though our squeamishness may preclude not facts, but conceptions: say; not stabbing but liposuction? All in the descriptive frame, you see. An oystercatcher zooms headfirst towards a runway of wet sand and brakes with its wings before performing a staggering vertical landing from the altitude of approximately one inch; orange undercarriage aglow. Does a reccie of the foreshore. The sun is out. The sea-side plants I remember from my grannie's garden lilt in a breeze. Scotland makes sense from here: life makes sense from here: if it is but a temporary respite; if it should become a bore... it does not enter my head now and I would not request its prescence. A gull rises on a warm uplift then lands to waddle into the waves. A low arc of rainbow bridges the Sound of Sleat to the north: in the vapour is hope; in the ..... Gordon *the extract goes as follows, and apologies for the lack of accentuating marks: Sinibh, tairnib's lubaibh, Na gallain liagh-leobhar ghiuthais 'S deanaibh uidhe troimh shutraibh an usaile. Cliath ramb air gach taobh dhith Masgadh fairge le saothair, Dol 'na still ann an aodan na bairlinn i.e. Stretch, pull and bend The slim-bladed pine saplings And make a way through the oceans' currents. Bank of oars on each side of her Stirring ocean with toil, Dashing in the face of the tempest _ from Clanranald's Galley, written by Alaisdair, mac Mhaighstir Alasdair, who is anonymously buried in the kirkyard of Arisaig... d. 1707 'the greatest gaelic poet' +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: trading seattle for portland or vancouver
by COURTOLY＠aol.com 09 Sep '01

09 Sep '01

Hello listees, Is there anyone who could trade me a ticket to the Portland or Vancouver B&S show for a ticket to the Seattle show? It is a balcony seat from the Moore theater, and the show has been moved to the Paramount so I don't know if they're going to keep us in the balcony or not. Love Courtney +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: I'll be known as the boy who's never working, I'll be known as the boy who's never dancing.
by Joe Vester 09 Sep '01

09 Sep '01

I wanted this to be a nice new, shining post, full of confidence and optimism in order to impress my wonderful new list crush. So I thought about the last week, starting school and the weekend ahead and really, I didn't think I could write a confident, optimistic post full of enthusiasm for life as it's just not what I'm feeling like. I worked out what is wrong with my life, lying alone in bed last night. I don't really have any friends closer than arms length, if you see what I mean. No-one I can just feel confident and relaxed with. No-one I can just ring up on the spur of the moment and talk to or go out with. I'm going to spend the weekend talking to my little sister as I can't even talk to the polish builder any more. The polish builder was called Magic and was probably the most intelligent, interesting person I've ever met. We'd talk about books, and politics and national identity, although he was always so much more informed than me about books, he seemed to have read the entirety of English literature in Russian, Polish and English, while growing up as a peasant on a poverty-stricken communist farm. He now works for 2 pounds an hour as a labourer on a building site before he goes to University. In all, although I enjoyed talking to him, it used to make me feel uncomfortable, I being a lazy, middle class kid with a posh-ish accent who'll probably never get anything done, he being a really insightful, hard-working, well read sub-student out of the easern bloc who'll probably be president of Poland, or the first world leader, or at least something worthwhile. It all made me think that there really isn't any justice, and however hard you try, there'll be some other twat somewhere else who'll do twice as much to destroy all of what makes life worth living. In 10 days, I should have a new brother/sister. My sister's getting a cat on Thursday. I want it to be called either Sebastian if it's a boy or India if it's a girl, the cat this is. We are all prevented from thinking of names for the baby as last time my step-mother got name frenzy and it was all we ever talked about. Both Belle and Sebastian have been rejected, though, as there are already extended family members called those. Um, this actually took about 2 days to write which exceeds the 15-minute thingy by a bit but you'll just have to live with it. Life's a bit on the rubbish side but I've felt better since writing this post, Joe +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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