January 2002 - Sinister - missprint.org

Sinister: information requested
by Jason Andreas 03 Jan '02

03 Jan '02

Hi. Favour for a friend. Have B&S, to anyone's knowledge, ever covered "Feeling Yourself Disintegrate" by the Flaming Lips? If so, does anyone know where I could get it? Please reply offlist: jasonandreas(a)btinternet.com Thanks - Jason xx +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: "Life is a spectator sport"
by Sunset . 03 Jan '02

03 Jan '02

I think that is what you said? At least I think you said something like it. Listening to other peoples songs, imagining them to belong to them, placing meaning where the writer neglected to place meaning, giving the words of the life of their own. Until eventually the song is truly owned by the spectator. Or maybe you just meant my life? When you are quiet, when you are shy, life becomes a play put on by other people. Something you could imagine being part of but never quite knowing how. I am certainly the viewer rather than the participant the majority of the time. Or maybe you were just talking about how being a spectator could make you feel happy. Like the time, quite recently, I found myself sitting in a B&B getting excited because I can see a man knocking on the door outside a house and a man inside the house walking to answer it. At that moment neither of them could see each other. I was privelleged. I could see both sides of the door. In the fading light of the room I was in I sat and watched the silent view in front of me. I proceeded to give a commentary, explaining the biscuits, the cups of tea, the man who refuses the sit still for more than 2 minutes, to the girl sitting with me. I suspect she would rather have been sleeping. But I liked being a casual onlooker and I wanted to share that with her. Being a spectator, I think standing at the front of a gig is better than standing further away. It does make you feel a little bit silly and self conscious sometimes, but being able to hear a band speak to each other when they aren't using microphones and being able to watch is going on a the side of the stage, and to be able to look back and see almost the same view as the band, makes it better. Accidentally sitting on the same ferry as a band is good too. Watching people, who write the songs that have sort of become my own, do normal things, made me happy. At the same time it could have made me a little sad. Feeling guilty that was too much of an intrusion, knowing that songs don't really belong to me. A reality check. But if you are a skilful in the art of spectating you can drift swiftly from harsh realities, settle back and begin to watch life once more. Happy and content within a world where everybody else is also interpreting other people's lives through their own eyes. No reason to feel guilty. Well, Take Care, Rachel _________________________________________________________________ MSN Photos is the easiest way to share and print your photos: http://photos.msn.com/support/worldwide.aspx +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: God Bless Mother Nature
by ian 03 Jan '02

03 Jan '02

i found the first one outside big john's kebab pizza parlour. i'd only popped in to buy a can of vimto and some hard drugs, but, stepping out of the neon glow into the Selly Oak gloom, i could see his twitching form, bathed in pink light, prostate on the pavement. for a moment, i thought he was drunk. i was preparing to climb over him without getting vomit on my totes toasties when he opened his eyes, looked directly at me and said "ARAGWGAGRGAGRGARWARRRRRR!!!!" this is not unusual in selly oak. many of the people you meet use this as a conversation-opener. i muttered "yes, i can never get what i want when i go shopping, either" and was preparing to heft a solid right hook with my Big Hard Object For Hitting Strange And Quite Possibly Dangerous People when i noticed the Smell. that smell. worse than kebabs. it was, so i gathered later, the smell of internal organs hitting the ground at approximately 600m/s/s acceleration. the university clock chimed 10.15. an old woman walked by. she dropped her shopping bags, knelt down beside me, and touched the brow of the man on the pavement. shaking her head, she removed two coins from her bag and did what tradition demanded. without looking at me - "the day is here. run home, little boy. hide wherever you can". -------------------------------- i did as she said. as much to get away from her as anything else. i ran home, put the kettle on, and made myself a nice cup of peppermint tea. now i sit, and ponder what she could have meant... the day is here? but its 10.25, early january, and tomorrow remains the other side of several hours of darkness. clearly she has no idea of temporal progression. either that or she's just escaped from Rubery. best to ignore such - -and the first screams begin. i've heard the thunder and lightning, but chosen to ignore them. storms never look pretty when you're praying for calm. so, my first clue that something is amiss occurs when i witness a woman across the road pointing into the bushes and screaming hysterically - and it doesn't look like its the neighbourhood watch complaining about litter again. another thud, a squealing of car brakes and the woman finds herself implanted in the windscreen of a ford escort. i shut the curtains and turn off the thermostat. it should not BE this hot in january... i can hear a voice in my head whispering "go out into the street...go out into the street" but i've learned to take tablets to silence such voices and so i find a couple more Silence Pills and wait for the sources of sound to go away. --------------------------- and i wake at 5a.m. to a choir of car alarms. for once, i'm glad to hear them. it deafens my ears to cracking glass; tumbling masonry; howling animals, and a horrible squelching noise i don't WANT to recognise... a peep outside the fabric that shelters the world from my sight reveals nothing. the lights appear to have gone out. i can hear something tapping against the glass but i don't want to think about what it might be. no electricity. bugger it, if i'm going to face Monsters outside my window, i'll need a cup of tea. Fortunately, there's a Special Ian Spurious Plot Device Generator under the floorboards of my kitchen, and i manage to fix up both the kettle and the television using only a hairgrip, some primula spread and a framed photograph of wincey willis. desperate for some idea of what has happened, i turn on the television. far safer, and generally more informative, than witnessing events first-hand. nothing. bbc, channel 4, sky... all out.... itv is showing re-runs of Celebrity Ready Steady Cook with michael ball and tamara beckwith but, for once, i am disinterested by such delights. outside the front window, i can hear someone shouting "amen" and "hallelujah", and from across the road the christian life centre strikes up its organ. has jesus returned? is this armageddon? i resolve to put on some nice clothes and squirt myself with a little chanel just incase. what was it james dean once said - "you can never have enough hats, gloves and shoes...?" no, that wasn't it... oh yeah... " a kiss on the cheek can be quite continental, but i'd rather have a nice fat cock up my bum" pondering the long-dead legend's words, and how they might relate to jesus's return, i open the front door. there's a head on my porch step. this isn't a good sign. feeling i should probably do something with it, i pick it up and put it in my bag. i am thankful for the no-hands-sweatband-torch set i got from the bettaware catalogue for precisely such emergencies as i move to examine a substance on my forsythia bush that looks a little like instant whip - i can hear a voice from across the street : the mechanical mouth of a newsreader - a car stereo in the void beyond me, throwing out sporadic words amid static ".... feared dead, and in london...... underground stations.......... all across europe.... from the sky...... prime minister...... no cause for alarm...... "people's downpour"...." and now another, less controlled: "falling, in my HOUSE, and there..... my friends, my friends...... ... pray that you live on the ground floor, they're falling, dropping out of the sky!..." as if to confirm this, my aural investigation is interrputed as an arm hits my shoulder. just an arm. it hangs there for a second, and then drops to the floor. squinting upwards, i can see its owner, a well-dressed city type, impaled on the lamppost above me. i resolve to make for the safest place i can think of. a little-known cafe in the backstreets of birmingham that is housed in a bomb shelter. i feel confident that it will be open, and that there will be a table for me, since it exists only in my mind. i try not to look around me as i run headlong through the swerving traffic and crowds of people. everybody wants to escape somewhere. nobody knows where. people are looting the shops, a woman runs in front of me with a trolley full of muller fruit corner and a television under her arm, illuminated only by the pencil-light of my torch. and i reach the steps, panting for breath, and throw myself down them. the waiter in the Cafe of the Mind picks me up. he looks pleasingly like jason priestley, and he guides me to my table where there's a cup of napalm-strength coffee waiting. "body parts?" "yes, thank you" "i mean, did you bring any body parts with you" "oh" reaching into my bag "just this" the waiter flutters his eyelashes and takes the severed head. he adds it to a collection in the corner of the room which, for some reason, all face the television . i allow my eyes to float in the same direction as theirs, as an old man shuffles into the restaurant, sits by me and offers me a woodbine. "no, thank you, i've stopped smoking" - the flickering screen reveals an american television channel - an alarmed-looking interviewer sheltering from a tirade of words that fly from the mouth of....surely not?....martha washington?? "i TOLD people this would happen. i tried to send a MESSAGE out to the world, but the media twisted what i had to say. they turned it into a SONG... people DANCED TO IT...!" abruptly, the picture is gone, to be replaced by a sunburnt ginger-haired woman dancing around a gymnasium interspliced with what appear to be images of hugh grant. and then, the news... it seems birmingham has got off lightly. london is devastated, a trio of plummeting opera singers destroyed the entire houses of parliament, and a flurry of transvestites in stilletto heels took out the dome of saint paul's. in all the world's major cities, tokyo, berlin, uttoxeter, the carnage is similar. many people are calling it an act of god. scientists are already working on proving that what everybody saw could not, statistically or meteorologically speaking, have occurred. from his nuclear bunker, the prime minister has said that the tragedy offers "excellent prospects for redevelopment, and a promising influx of work for the british construction industry". the leader of the opposition, from the nuclear bunker nextdoor, has said that the events are the result of lax parenting patterns during the 1960s. the final shot of the broadcast is of the row of flagpoles outside the united nations building. impaled upon each one, in turn, is a man of a different nationality. and the screen goes black. the man next to me offers me a woodbine again - "come on, its not as if you're going to DIE or anything". its a fair point, so i take the proffered item as the waiter turns on the radio, an old sylvester song, and comes to sit with us "over and over on and on again over and over find yourself a friend find yourself a friend find yourself a friend find yourself a friend find yourself a friend" me and my new acquaintances share our cigarettes, sip our coffees and hum along, interrupted from time to time by the sound of a body, hitting the asphalt above. ian +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: An answer to a question never asked.
by Christina McDermott 03 Jan '02

03 Jan '02

First things first; I need a cigarette. Well, there goes one New Years Resolution. But do New Year's Resolutions count when they're not made by you, but for you? My parents kept hinting that giving up my blessed vice may be a good idea to make me a better person for 2002. It's alright for them though, they no longer have to live with me. I decided that for the good of University College London and all the people I live with within my Halls, I had better keep smoking. After all, people expect it of a Rock and Roll vixen like me. So, Happy New Year Sinister! And a Happy New Year to all the people on the list I haven't already wished it to. (Which will be a fair few of you considering my phone decided it wasn't going to have me in my drunken state wishing anyone a New Year until I had sobered up considerably, goddamit.) If the way you spent your New Year's is the way you want to die, then I have to say I will die remarkably happy and remarkably drunk, in the company of those who I love best after an immensely amusing game of alcoholic chess (all the pieces are comprised of shot glasses before you ask. I got hammered because I hadn't played Chess since I was 12 and forgot most of the rules leading to the Popvixen taking most of my pieces and making me drink the rest of hers as penance.) The back step of my best friend's house in Manchester has always been the focal point for many of our adventures. It's a place where we go out to smoke, drink, laugh, have picnics in the Summer to recover from Hangovers and lie in the grass giggling and staring at the stars. On the stroke of midnight, we all stood on the back step and looked at the clear night sky, said our New Year's Resolutions out loud and hugged and kissed before going inside to watch appalling Werewolf movies (It was called Ginger Snaps and it sucked). Call me a boring old fool, but I wouldn't have changed it for the world. And now I'm back in London, and there's a girl playing the same part of the same Clarinet piece over and over and it's not me. I play the Clarinet, but I would like to think that I'm not as annoying as this person who always decides to play when I go to check my email. One of my New Year's Resolutions is to continue being happy in London and attempt to make all of those people I love happy in their own little way. Am I asking for too much? I hope not. 2001 was such a horrible time for so many people, I would like to think that they could be happy in my company and we could laugh and smile and hold hands when the occasion warranted it. I'm happy to hear that there's going to be a B&S DVD (or something akin to it anyway) coming out soon. It's times like this I wish I had a DVD player...even a TV would be nice. Anyone in the Camden area wish to help out a poor wee soul and allow some nice girlie (i.e. me)to watch Belle and Sebastian when they're on the TV? The best thing about the Christmas Holidays has been that it's helped me to remember how wonderful some things are. Sometimes, when you don't see them or listen to them for a while or if you've just had overkill of them and decided to leave them for a bit, when you come back to them you realise how great this thing is and why you loved it so much in the first place. I've just remembered how much I love Calvin and Hobbes after seeing some comic strips on a friend's web diary. That and Tia Maria after going home to discover that some nice person had given my mum a huge bottle of it for Christmas (Bet you're sooo jealous, huh Hatchback? Thank you for the Christmas Card too, even if I did only get it yesterday!) Being back in Manchester allowed me to rediscover some old mix tapes that I made when I was 15, hence me lying back and going on a huge nostalgia trip with eyes closed and mind dreaming and wallowing in memories of past summers and old boyfriends...until my little sister came in and kicked me with her new Rockports because she wanted to test them out on some poor soul who was both weaker and smarter than her. So, I hit reality again in 2002. I've gained many things over the past year...and also lost some things I never realised I wanted until they showed themselves to me. And there my dears lies the crux of my New Year's Resolution. To be a happier Miss Cola-Cube. I may fall down at times, but I'll keep dancing. Love and Resolute Resolutions, Cay Cola-Cube xXx P.S. Ben Apps-How's it going with the lovely Miss Fruitloop? Remember my Tootsie Rolls and HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! (with much huggles to the both of you to boot) "If I can't dance, I don't want to be part of your Revolution..." -Emma Goldman +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: jog on heel
by Kenneth P Y Chu 03 Jan '02

03 Jan '02

Hello sinistees, I haven't written much lately, mainly due to being in the Scootish Heelans taking phootoos of heelan coos and horses. It is hard to write e-mails whilst a horse is giving you the "come any closer and I'll jump over the fence and trample all over you alright? Punk." look, especially without a computer. I think I've forgotten how to write those nice e-mails that make people think "ooh what a lovely fella", but then I don't remember ever knowing how, you need to be a bit of a poet to do that, rather than a bit of an idiet. I just remembered that I've forgotten to talk about the wonderful New Years Eve I've had, but then Richard Gillanders said it all for me - even the bits that I wasn't gonna talk about, like those things that happened when I wasn't there. He has also made my working day less of a drag by giving me a 12k e-mail to read. John Jennings said (wait, why are John Jennings' initials JP?): >>I have a horrible feeling we're disappointing past generations though. Lets see, influencial inventions of the last decade... erm... dual cyclone vacuum cleaner... dvd players....and i saw a body dryer thing on tomorrows world which was quite impressive... sigh. how depressing.<< it's only depressing because you've missed so many things on your list. Who wants to go on a stupid spaceship and be killed by aliens like in films, when you have... ...go-peds, DDR, The people's elbow, Grand Theft Auto 3, Red Bull... ..and the Harry Potter's Levitation Challenge game! I haven't read the books, nor watched the film, but I have seen the world's best ever game ever.. a game that lets you levitate a ball through a 3D maze of obstacles and dangers! If there's ever one game that can only be described by a palindrome, it'd be Hopscotch: "huh?". If there are ever two games, then they'd be Hopscotch: "huh?", and Harry Potter's Levitation Challenge game: "wow!" All these talks of games made me reminise about the day my mum bought me a Super Nintendo, with a copy of Street Fighter II Turbo - "I am so happy!", I remember I said as I executed my first ever "Adore ken" with "Ken" with the SNES's ergonomical joypad, it was a truly happy day. There hadn't been many such happy times ever since, although when I found out I got 2As for A-levels it was good, because the girl I had the world's biggest crush on said "well done", that was nice. When I found out about my degree result that was nice too, but only because it was just before I got to see Belle & Sebastian for the first time later that night. Goodness, three moments of happiness, my life is rather dull isn't it? Last night I dreamt about going to church - yes, life is even dull in my dreams. So, whenever you feel life is letting you down, just think, cheer up, you could have been ken! Ken P.S.: How did you tell I'm back at work? _________________________________________________________________ Chat with friends online, try MSN Messenger: http://messenger.msn.com +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: B&S VCD
by Neil Robertson 03 Jan '02

03 Jan '02

As it happens, we're in the middle of putting it together, Should be ready in a few weeks/ months. There are other TV things you haven't mentioned, but I'm not going to mention them because if we don't use them I'll end up getting chinned about it. Cheers, Neil +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: like the incredible hulk in tears.
by Richard Gillanders 03 Jan '02

03 Jan '02

first: a warming. oh, if only. EVERYBODY'S COMIN' HOME FOR LUNCH THESE DAYS take the sinisters bowling, take them bowling? I didn't. calumn shearer did. did well. left early. what a host! self sacrificial. leaving one to add a further two to his score. and attempting a similar feat to the one that greg pallis succeeded in. but getting rumbled. I'm not sure of the details. pronunciation perfected [possibly], pool played. everyone enjoyed themselves. as far as I know. tell me if I'm wrong. and you were there. despite not having wonderfully high scores. ken said some guy got a hundred and fifty or so at the london one. modesty? pathological non-truth telling? as I say. our scorings not rivalling southern ones. I WON BOTH GAMES. thanks. I thought I might write something about else camper vans later. but I realise I won't. and nothing about go-karts neither. why did I wait 'til now? yes. kirsten marie kenyon. with a visit. here. having fun. I'm told. as for THREATS that have been made here previously. AT ME. without mentioning me by name. well, well. I could say 'I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY, MATE'. but I won't. I'm not like that. last night we went to the WEST END HOTEL in west calder. the west end being not so far from the east end. someone saying they'd arrive didn't. we had much fun anyhow. BOBBY and SENGA challenged us to a game of pool. we had been playing when they arrived. it might have been bobbie. I'm not sure; didn't dare ask. we played. got beaten. bobby [I choose 'bobby'] taking minutes per shot. senga standing in or near a corner looking petrified. bobby scared me too. but not kirsten. bobby asked if I'd like to put a little wager on the next game. I told him, in no uncertain terms, that I was shit at pool and had nothing worth betting on. he accepted this. all he could. looking a little insulted that I didn't want to lose money to him. he had a few pierced parts. visible. I won't use speculation. he had one of them ones through his left eyebrow. making him less unattractive? no. but. I suppose. what do I know? the pierced's goal is to become attractive? perhaps not. perhaps someone could tell me. I mean. the overpierced [only in one of my opinions, of course] has always baffled me. G.E.A. being the exception. because there has to be one. and she's it. not complete lack of bafflement. there. brevity is the soul of...whit? I gave up on wit at an early age. I'm sure I don't have to tell YOU that. looking, earlier, I was glad to see that DeAtHofGliTteR16 is our latest new list member. hello! LATCH ON TO THE AFFIRMATIVE yes. it was johnny mercer who wrote lyrics to henry mancini's 'moon river' tune. if only I'd offered a prize. AND YOU THINK THEY'RE SAD BECAUSE YOU'RE LEAVING I've reverted to some other style. here. I see it. of course: we went to london. I only thought about it on the twenty-sixth and I think about a lot of things I know will never. happen. we only booked tickets on the twenty-eighth. we only packed just before we left. we only got there on the morning of the thirty-first. should I leave out those hyphens? and run 'em together? I saw someone do that. we only got there on the morning of the thirtyfirst. I don't think I can do that with conviction. we only got there on the morning of the thirty-first. I almost proposed that I'd see people later. we went to blackheath. which I did like. I was sort of told I shouldn't. I was never a fan of london. really. but I think I have a better way to think about it these days. germany and marianna. post office. red cafe. bumped table. started, smoking seniors [female]. startlation soon turning to gigglation when I smiled and apologised. eggs. phones. chat. change. covent gardens. via. who knows? I don't. I pay attention sometimes. marianna departing and, gosh, carrying luggage that wasn't hers. it was ours! bless her little heart! [more later]. heading for fish and chip shop. looking back. I kinda think ken would have liked it. we never got to the fish and chip shop. walked past. THE ROCK AND SOLE PLAICE. wow. I think that's right. but. yes. meeting a cook outside the station after some disturbing elevation. and then trousers down at drury lane. wasn't too much exposure. it was still early. looking for an open pub. found a couple. found more that were very closed. imagined being inside. our first drinks of the day. and some nice chat. action figures. momus. mancini. ustinov. and so much more. more drinks. some quizzing. we won ten pounds! and lost it by not knowing how to be claiming it. 'banking', I think, is the favoured quiz machine nomenclature. doesn't matter: we couldn't. hangman two. the staple at the tap. lacking an ailsa watson [nee ross] we got not very far. I like crosswords too. but there were none here. yet someone suggested that I wear vermouth. leaving and more public transport. I'm a fan. a telephone call from my architecture friend/neighbour/flatmate's boyfriend in glasgow asking what I was planning on doing for that evening. I said 'erm'. he asked where I was. I said 'LONDON'. he said 'OKAY!'. and wished me a pleasant evening. I wished him one two. I mean. too. got to another pub. 'the famous cock'. germany said he thought we ought to get a photograph of alasdair outside of it. I thought that kind of a remark a little on the harsh side. the next day, of course, it emerged that he thought it was called 'the famous cook'. all the same. tsk. TSK. more joined. including kenneth with vodka and red bull concealed. marianna back again [bless her little heart!]. the pinefox! these were at my end of the table. or the table at which I had got seated. there were others. I spoke to martin about warmings. briefly. I was sort of introduced to another richard. oh! we drew each other on the back of american receipts! I remember. I drew stevie. he ended up looking quite evil and having, originally, a thumb on the wrong side of his hand and, then, having two thumbs on the same hand. one of which was sort of. favoured. by added ink. one cookie managed to make me look quite fat. I know I don't have the best diet. it wasn't so much fat. really. but my jaw went quite far behind my ear. and there was a distinct lack of hair to the rear of my. bonce. look at me! words like 'bonce'. I'm all buoyed here. can't you tell? I'm becoming a little. forgive me. yes. stevie drew germany. very good. germany drew ally. rather cheap. ally drew kirsten. made me fat. made her ugly. what a guy. I miss him already. people signed dollars. hamilton mistaken for jefferson. a halo changed to horns. some talk of tapes received. I forgot about? 'estuary english', 'anita o'day'? others too. which I forget about now. not completely. goodness. the night hadn't even begun! we left the cock. but he followed us. no, no. sorry. money from a machine. upstairs to a garage. or at. the. now. here my memory serves me less well. or more unwell. around. mark casarotto, yes, and, I believe, vicky parkinson despite none formal introduction. and. I don't know when from. or whence. lucy alder, carey lander, christopher brown, sally moore, matt powell?, paul field, passant nicholas whose-surname-I-don't-know, greg pallis. I staggered from bar to toilet and back again. a few times. I don't remember so much more. alasdair trying to make me dance. kirsten trying to make me dance. ken trying to make me dance. me not dancing. at twelve o'clock. I KISSED THEM ALL. I don't think I missed anyone out. if I did, I apologise. or. you were too quick. later on. I was handed a bottle labelled STAROPRAMEN. I recognised this brand of LAGER. I swigged as with LAGER. the bottle was filled with VODKA. results? well. y'know. and if you don't: whew! I aren't half dragging this out, hey? we left reasonable early. I think. to ealing. to a bed. to wake up. to have breakfast cooked for. served to. to be grateful. to try to communicate such. to fail. I should imagine. but to be grateful all the same. all the more. leaving on a jet plane. I'm not sure it was. but. at nine fifty-five. in the evening. of the first. in london that day. victoria. ken chu. ripped jumper. fat bernard's. shitebox? I forget. I could have made more of that. easyeverything. never not a geek. a bus. a plane. an empty plane. back to the dear green place. then to west calder. a trip. bookended by boxers. bookended by 'the boxer's [not misusing.]. that isn't bookends. 'bookends'. neither is this: here I am. I look like I'm in belle and sebastian? I look like stevie jackson? I blame my jumper. but now. ripped. I said. PF. I look like a young chris leonard? ST. I look like a kid you used to swop girlfriends with at high school? MC. I enjoyed these. thanks. I enjoyed lots. thanks. thanks to ken chu for ticket reserving. and thanks, especially, to marianna longmire for her outstanding, overwhelming, greatly appreciated hospitality and general niceness. I'm glad I was introduced to her and that she was introduced to me. even if it was in installments. thanks. QUELLE EST VOTRE PLUS GRANDE AMBITION DANS LA VIE? I saw that murdoch-in-scotsman thing. I thought he was taking from pasolini at first. then. no. godard. of course. I've lost control of this. so I send now. I couldn't even think of a decent subject line. I hope that you all had happy new years [eves and days]. I hope that ian nicolson had a happy new year [eve and day]. I'll find out. happy new year. richard. __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Everything you'll ever need on one web page from News and Sport to Email and Music Charts http://uk.my.yahoo.com +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: Only 356 days until Christmas...
by Gardiner, Stuart 03 Jan '02

03 Jan '02

So, Christmas has come and gone. The good thing about it: seeing the family again. The bad thing about it: talking with the family again. I decided the best way to cope was to not sober up for the whole week. Other popular activities indluded watching Banzai videos as much as possible, and eating far too much chocolate (is there such a thing?). One of the advantages of having a mother working part-time in Thorntons... I like Dahling's idea that how you spent New Years Eve was how you want to die. In my case, outdoors somewhere, ridiculously drunk. That figures. At about midnight, I tried looking back at the last year, but I fell over. The best thing I saw in 2001 also, like Struan, involved football. And the numbers five and one. I made two New Year's Resolutions. The first was to do 50 sit-ups every day to get rid of the effects of the Christmas alcohol, which has a tendency to turn your six-pack into a keg. This resolution lasted, erm, about 0 minutes, since I haven't done a single sit-up yet. The second resolution was to travel to Guatemala, Belize and Honduras in May / June. Which should be a bit easier to stick to. Further festive joy came with the announcement that Steps have split up. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Mr Waterman. Apparently, two of the five band members wanted to break the band up; and so obviously, by Mr Waterman's counting methods, that meant that they won the vote. "Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut!" (see below). Anyone? Big Stu +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: Snow Bunnies
by Willitron300 03 Jan '02

03 Jan '02

1. IT'S SNOWING! IT'S SNOWING! IT'S SNOWING! IT'S SNOWING! IT'S SNOWING! IT'S SNOWING! IT'S SNOWING! IT'S SNOWING! IT'S SNOWING! IT'S SNOWING! IT'S SNOWING! IT'S SNOWING! IT'S SNOWING! IT'S SNOWING! 2. Ok. Have I mentioned? IT'S SNOWING!! IT'S SNOWING!! IT'S SNOWING!! IT'S SNOWING!! IT'S SNOWING!! IT'S SNOWING!! IT'S SNOWING!! This is the best thing in the world. It's up to a few inches already and I can't sleep cos I'm so excited. I've already got a sledding day planned tomorrow with my friend Sybil. (Sadly the snow this evening the snow wasn't accumulated enough to sled plus I ought to be asleep already.) We were on the phone plotting where the best hills are. Libbie Hill Park has a great extra steep hill; but sadly at the bottom of the hill is Main Street. You have to pull some Wu-Tang-Hi-Karate-Kung-Fu stylee sledding shit to not glide into the street. Ah, but there are more parks: Chimborazo, Forest Hill, the sides of the Water Resevoir... Plus friends who live out in the country with hills and trees and shit. Snow's so gorgeous; it's nature's glitter. The air is all crisp; none of this 97% humidity with no rain business. And all the pollen, mold, and dust is frozen away. Everything is all glistening, glowing and smooth. It's as if sunlight fell to earth. The usually orange-grey chemical-tone city sky is a nice creamsicle colour. I can't explain the degree to which snow makes me happy. It's not hot. I spend at least 8 months of the year cursing the climate. Autumn and Spring are nice unless the weather is being a beotch and perpetrating a fraud as a different season. I mean 80 degrees farenheit in November on the Mid-Atlantic seaboard of the US? That's just wrong. Do you understand how tempted I am, now at 3am, to go make a snow angel in my front yard? A snow angel on cement? Oh yes. I just wanna go find a field of undisturbed snow (ahem...that's virgin snow) and lay down in the middle and watch the flakes fall. But that would get really cold after about a a minute and a half. And the local inbred-hooligan-spawn-of-satan-children would probably fuck with me. 3.5 Yes, even in the middle of the night. The kids've probably got sensors in their brains for anyone whose sister isn't also their mother. Really, this extra swanky reputable university did this study of inbreeding in Virginia. Turns out Oregon Hill, my neighbourhood, has the highest rate of inbreeding in the state. There are the locals ad then there other residents of the area are artists and hippees. Like me. See, I'm proud of my backwoods childhood. Y'know, no indoor plumbing except cold water until 1987, fireplace heating for the house, walking a mile uphill both ways to the school bus. But these kids are not even back woods. They give being a redneck a bad name. There are loads of rebel flags hung proudly and teenagers who listen to gangsta rap but hate anyone who isn't white. But I digress. 3. Snow Bunnies is the tentative name of my tentative exhibition. Crossing my fingers that the flaky gallery owners are not gonna flake out. 4. Katy Dutton, are you here? I have apologies and tapes to send your way and I've lost all your details. 5. Ok. Here's something. I want to know what you listen to. Or rather what you're listening to now. Cos if you're like me or if I'm like you, you listen to a broad range of stuff but go through phases of listening to narrower categories of music by the day or by the week. You've gotta be into music if you're here right? Hell, maybe you only listen to nice in the best way pop music. That's not such a bad thing to listen to. E-mail me your playlist. Meaning what you've listened to this week, not whats on your shelf and not your fave albums ever. Here's mine. My CD player died a slow painful death so most of these are on tape. The few that are on CD I've listened to on either my studio stereo or my computer. The computer makes a crap CD player cos the stereo speakers also died a slow painful death a while ago. Right, what's a sound card worth with a tinny mono speaker? Well, lots; but that's a whole 'nother story. And the only requirement for the studio stereo is that it can get fucked up. These are in alphabetical order: Alice Deejay: Who Needs Guitars Anyway? Beatles: Abbey Road Belle and Smellycat: The Red One Bis: Social Dancing The Commitments Soundtrack Part 1 Danielle Dax: Blast The Human Flower the delgados: the Sucrose Single DJ Shadow: Brainfreeze Garbage: Beautiful Garbage Janis Joplin: Greatest Hits Compilation Mazzy Star: The First Two Albums Morrissey: Bona Drag* The Orb: Orbus Terrarum Pizzicato 5: Happy End of Me The Remix Album The Primitives: Pure My Own Superb Mix Tape The Siamese Cat Song 7" from Lady and the Tramp Slam vs. Unkle: Narco Tourists Slurped: A CD compilation of loads of 7"s used in Brainfreeze A Soul & Funk DJ's }}Superb{{ Mix Tapes The Symphonic Rock Series: Classic Rock and The British Invasion A Tribe Called Quest: Midnight Marauders Various Random Live Shit from Different Folks Lurve, Vilkas who owes all her friends letters * This album never fails. It never fails to bring back memories of high school. Hanging out at whomever's house that the parents were gone. Turning the Interesting Drug 12" up to eleven and me and my mates making our own club in the living room, dancing around like idiots, in the middle of the boonies, at least 30 miles away from even the nearest movie theatre. Drinking whatever beer the older kids would score and smokin' whatever was passed around, bein' dumb, and bein' dumb some more. Also, !that! noise Morrissey make in Hairdresser On Fire never fails to crack me up. Sounds like a Siamese cat passing a kidney stone. Everyday is Like Sunday never fails to remind me of Arbroath#. #Q: Where does a pirate go for his vacation? A: Arrrrrr-broath Sorry. +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: A film.
by Sam Walton 03 Jan '02

03 Jan '02

Hello once again. I'm back, after a two-week repost to eat, drink and be faux-merry around various family members. Christmas and New Year? Both fine, thank you very much. New Year was slightly B&S tinted, culminating in me singing the entirity of Tigermilk at one Jo Perry (of this parish) at about 4am on 1st January, which was entertaining. I write, however, to recommend a film. I don't often see a movie which inspires me to tell 1503 other people about it, but I implore you to go and see The Pledge. It's gorgeous, it really is. It's basically about obsession and what it does to a man, but at the same time, it asks subtle questions surrounding God, what He can do, and divine intervention and all that stuff. It's also wonderfully shot, with some wonderful imagery and references. Just go and see it. It's very slow moving, but it doesn't drag. If it were an album, it would be a Low album - slow and beautiful. And that's all I really wrote to say. Damn it's cold round these parts. Stay warm everybody. love Asm.x ================= "He's strictly a pain in the ass, but he certainly has a good vocabulary" - Holden Caulfield _________________________________________________________________ Get your FREE download of MSN Explorer at http://explorer.msn.com/intl.asp. +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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