October 2002 - Sinister - missprint.org

Sinister: Leeds anyone?
by zoe charaktinou 07 Oct '02

07 Oct '02

Ahoy there... erm...I know I have asked this before but thought I'd try again: Any Sinister people (...) in Leeds? Just moved here and feel a bit...lonely (awwwww)... OK. Bye! Zoe ----------------------------------------------- " Passivity in life, in politics, is problematic: it means acquiescing to a status quo that damages people along class,gender, racial, sexual and other lines." R. Dyer _________________________________________________________________ Join the worlds largest e-mail service with MSN Hotmail. http://www.hotmail.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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

1 0

Sinister: idleberry has left the building..
by Retro^Sec 06 Oct '02

06 Oct '02

mornin' kids, just to let you kow that idleberry got fed up of y'all. Seh told me to tell you this. Yu hadn't been adoring her as much as you had previously. Remember when she'd write something, and like, a whole bunhc of you would post, and go "is't idleberry the best?" and sugges her for presidentship (it REALLY happened. Seriously.). Well, you hadn't been adoring her enough of late, so she quit. She left you before you could leave her any more than you already had. You fickle cruel heartless people. She relied upon you for the maintance of her ego, and the adoration of her character. It saved her the hard work of loving herself, to have people to do it for her. Although, it sort of helped. It made it easier when other people seemed to think the same as her. Anyway. Shes gone, off in a diva stylesulk. I'm sure if she had a feather boa instead of a keyboard, she'd flick it over her should,er turn her perfect little nose in the air, close her eyes in quiet indigance, and turn on the spot, and storm off. But its not easy without a feather boa to get the look quite right., I hear she's been shopping for one, for her next diva moment. If you're good, she might slip back though. She might slip back through the door, looking sheepish and hping you won't notice, but that you'll have missed her presence at any rate. Meanwhile, I am here. Thank you for your attention. Love, retro^sec (secretary to idleberry, keeper of the ego) ===== <a href="http://retrosec.blogspot.com/">http://retrosec.blogspot.com/</a> thoughts __________________________________________________ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

1 0

Sinister: all the girlfriends I haven't had pt.II: an A-Z
by Gordon 06 Oct '02

06 Oct '02

*** off topic alert (as per my last post: apologies) *** *** self-indulgent alert -this man should keep quiet*** end of disclaimers A is for Abigail, the girl at the top of the class in primary school. We had the sort of mutual admiration of competitors, except I think she won. A is also for Anna who I went to the pictures with. She had perhaps this passing resemblance to Glenn Close and I remarked at the beginning of *Dangerous Liaisons* that I found this Close woman rather ugly. This didn't go down well. There is another more recent Anna. 'Whatever you do, *don't* flush the loo in the middle of the night because the woman who owns this place really hates noise at night!'. I flushed the loo. Angie, who opens the door to her cabin dressed only in a towel. 'Hi there!' She says with a grin and a wink. She had a higher degree from the Irish Catholic Girls College of Flirting. B is for Bonnie. However, I don't think Bonnie was her real name. She wanted me to take the day off work so that we could go walking in the Hackney Marshes. I went to work. C is for Charlotte. I enjoyed the slight pleasure of wiping some chocolate off her lips in a Turkish ravine, but she was going out with another. She also fancied this mad Estonian bloke, who I suppose had a sort of dangerous charm, especially in caves. I remember this guy enthusiastically explaining to me how he was designing a dairy back home to look like two big tits. C is also for Catriona, who was from the year below but we shared a higher art class. It was reasonably well known that I fancied her but was too shy to ask her out. Still, she indulged my flirting with a sweetness that was fanciable in its own right. Another C is Ceren, who I insisted upon snogging in Belgium. I'd been on a bit of a spree that week and thought I was invincible. We later traded long letters. Long, not as in the number of words but as in extreme length to width ratio. Claudia, who took my arm on the way into Ronnie Scott's, assumed I owned a castle back home and generally made me feel like a movie star. C is also for Catherine. We were at a meeting. I made some comment. She added something vaguely opposite in meaning and we glowered across at one another. For some reason, later that evening, in a bar in the bowels of a converted coal barge, something clicked. The walk home involved a doorway, the middle of the street and some shocked old men as we sat in a late night cafe doing things that didn't have much to do with the croque monsieur and two coffees we'd ordered. D is for Debbie. Two, actually. One was the kind of girl who hung around in different circles in High School but then you meet again, years later, and it's a surprise for each other to discover that, well, she doesn't even mind fiddling with my smelly socks. I always had a bit of a crush on her from a distance, I suppose, and it's not that anything happened on the latter occasion either, apart from the socks bit, and we were both rather pished at the time. Still, it was enough to make one wonder. The other Debbie I've got written down in red biro capitals in a diary entry marked 7th January 1998. I'd obviously written this as I'd suddenly remembered a name from earlier. In another diary I've got a leaf from a willow tree pasted to the page. The leaf is still green and here's her name written down again, with no explanation. Just the name, in the middle of the previous and otherwise blank page. The tree was her favourite one. It's in Islington, just at Duncan Street by the entrance to the canal. I made sure to pick a recently fallen leaf, as it would have seemed to be vaguely violent to pick a leaf off the living stalk. She used to go out with a drummer in a well known rock band. She had a younger sister who was called Hannah, I think, who was equally cute. We all went down to see Shane McGowan at the Water Rats once. Debbie walked me home and we kissed on her doorstep. E is for Elita and Esther. Elita was terribly cool, and Esther was the 10 out of 10 looking violinist in the orchestra. I never got close to either, except for when the former yawned at my camera as I took a group shot in Canada. Last I heard she was going out with a chef . E is also Eli from Bergen, who I whiled away some time with in Brussels Airport which is, otherwise, an extraordinarily boring place to be. And for Eva, but I'm still in touch with her. She is now married to a German. F is for Fiona. There are three Fionas. One of them called me a sex object after I went skinny dipping in the Atlantic one night, but then it was rather embarrassing because I decided to visit her at her flat one day and she offered me a mug of tea. It was valentine's day and her boyfriend was coming round. I hung around long enough to say hello to him then made my excuses. I went shopping for hotpants in Istanbul with another of the Fionas, 'Oh, what do you think?' she says, ripping the changing room curtains back and swivelling her hips. 'Erm... nice.' G is for Georgina. One of my best friends from school knew her family, so the three of us went to the cinema once. She was a boy's sort of a girl; wore pass-me down rugby shirts trophy-style, and was extremely popular all round. G is also for Gillian, who asked me out once. I declined. I was still getting over... Helen. I was the new kid in town, circa primary seven and one day an emissary was dispatched to ask me if I'd go out with her. I didn't really know what 'going out' with someone actually meant, but said ok anyway, because she was one of the prettiest girls in the class. At this time I turned down all the invitations to discos I used to get, until my mum found some of them and suggested it was rude of me to simply ignore them. So after that I accepted the invitations, but Helen rarely came along, so I snogged whoever else was around instead. Finding out the facts of life in first year of High School ('Oh *please* let us be the externally fertilised sort!' went my prayer to God, in biology class) put a traumatic end to innocent French kissing because, after all, it was all leading *there*. It also spelled the demise of my relationship with Helen, who found an Older Boy. After this, we both went on a weekend to the seaside with a Sunday School youth group and I spent my time pining over what I'd lost. I is for Ilaria, from Genoa. To be honest I'm struggling with the I's but she appears in two separate occasions in an old address book. J is for Jenny, from Sweden. We sat up all night at the edge of the woods, discussing life, the universe and everything, keeping each other warm 'till the sun rose. We wrote to each other for years after that. I got a garbled message once about her being in London and wanting to meet up, but I got the message too late or something, so I've never seen her again. I've kept all her letters though. J is also for Jane. We were standing outside her digs. She shared a room and it was about 1am. She says 'Shall I walk you back to your room?' 'Oh, but you're just home now, it would put you too much out of your way...' Idiot-moi, it never even occurred to me what she meant. J is also for Jennifer, with whom I was supposed to be organising a softball match amongst some Clerkenwell architecture firms. She was a girl with an attitude and a decidedly weird edge. Perhaps she cultivated it to make her appear more interesting than she actually was, but I still found her rather fascinating, not that I pursued the matter. However, she did seem to go along with me some way, you know when everyone in a group has noticed that two of their party have been in deep conversation with each other for a whole evening, oblivious to everyone else; nod nod, wink wink they go as we get up to leave. K is for Kate, who I was secretly in lust with while I was going out with Helen. We used to walk home from school with each other, along with Helen and Claire and Jill. K is also for Katy. We'd lie on the floor of her apartment, listening to Rachmaninov's Vespers whilst leafing through the pages of a large book of Durer etchings she'd stolen from the Royal College of Art. 'Now Gordon, L*** is coming over. She's an artist and is having some trouble leaving her boyfriend. I'd like you to set her straight, ok?' 'Ok.' Or walking down Dean St. at 11.30am 'Now if you were a normal boy we'd be thinking about going for lunch somewhere like that place over there. But as it is, there's someone in this bar here I want to catch up with anyway, so come this way.' I was flunking work again, but the woman understood. Katy was a goddess. Karen is, I think, the name of the girl I lost my virginity to. She offered me sex lessons in the afternoons after our initial encounter, but I was scared of getting beaten up by her boyfriend who, I suspected, was a bit of a bruiser. L is for Leigh. Back in primary school, she introduced me to the word 'boob tube', which I though was vaguely naughty. She was also cute. L is also for Lauras. High School Laura left for Australia. She returned to the UK for a week and arranged via Jill that I meet her in a certain coffee shop on Monday. I made some excuses and said maybe Tuesday. She waited in the coffee shop on Wednesday, Thursday and on Friday morning Jill passed on the message that Laura was now returning to Australia, hated my guts and never wanted to see me again. I was simply too shy to turn up to what I regarded as a date. It was a pity, being shy like that. Because If I hadn't been, I'd have met her at the coffee shop and I might have turned out a normal adult. The other Laura I never really fancied, but I made more passes at her than practically any other girl, mainly because I was desperate for some holiday sex. We were standing in a group getting our photo taken and she squeezed my hand tightly, which was subtly sexy in a secret sign kind of a way, but by then it was too late and I was no longer interested. L is also for Laetitia from Portland, Oregon. You don't quickly forget girls when you remember them riding beside you on a camel. 'What?' I say, looking at her rather quizzically. 'Nothing' she mutters, shaking her head and grinning. M is for Michelle, who had a gay boyfriend who propositioned me one afternoon as I sat drinking cocktails at the end of an empty Atlantic Bar and Grill in Piccadilly. He invited me over to their sofa. 'Sorry I'm not that way inclined but I wouldn't mind [I turn my gaze to her] ...having sex with you.' 'Ok.' Ah, nice and simple. She worked in the box office of a theatre in the West End. N is for Natalie. The first day she arrived at my primary school she sat at the opposite end of the table. She was gorgeous, with long blonde hair and the biggest, most cheerful smile I've ever seen, flashing her blue eyes all the while; the only girl who's eye colour I've ever actually noticed, apart from Catriona's (her's were hazelish). I was out for a walk with my mum one Sunday afternoon and there was Natalie, riding around on her bike. She smiled over, put both her legs up on top of the handle bars, and carried on her way free-wheeling acrobatically down the cul-de-sac. Whoar. There is also Nathalie the French au-pair, which would have been nice in theory. N is also for Nameless. I wouldn't say that just because I can't remember their names at the moment that they are somehow less important. It's maybe even the opposite, in a certain way, like in the passage from the *Prime of Miss Jean Brodie* which I'll paraphrase into 'The only reason you keep referring to her by name is because it's the only way you can remember who she is'. Still, for these purposes I'll carry on with the named, 'though I'm banging my head against the wall trying to retrieve certain persons from this nameless category. O is for Orlaith, pronounced Orla. She was a bit of a team with Angie, and had this way of breathing out cigarette smoke (Menthols) so that it would drift slowly past her large, dark eyes, at which point she reminded me of Sean Young in Blade Runner. A bunch of us had gone for a sauna, armed with a litre-sized bottle of vodka. Most of us didn't have any clothes on but she, coyly, kept a towel wrapped around under her arms. Until she got into the shower, however. Then she just had to smile. Somehow then she lost her glacially cool facade and looked nothing so much like a girl that you wanted to hug. However under the circumstances, such a move might have seemed like something of a liberty, so I just smiled sheepishly back. P is for Patricia. Tricia played second violin. Along with Catriona, she was my big crush in the latter High School years. She had the kind of face that I literally couldn't drag my eyes away from. She looked just, so, right somehow. I was completely in love and in lust in that overwhelming way only adolescents seem to be, when everything like that is happening for the first time. I only ever mustered the courage to talk to her once, even though practically everyone in the orchestra considered my supposedly private yearnings as fair gossip after a 'will he? won't he?' fashion, either helped or not by friends trying to 'arrange' things on my behalf. I asked her for a dance. It was one of these slow, cheek-to-cheek dances... I am blustering hopelessly into a conversation about what we've eaten for dinner (she's a vegetarian). 'Argh! My gaucherie oh Lord save me from my ineptitude, I love this girl, make, oh please make my conversation skills improve!' But it was not to be and I never got over my embarrassment. Traumatising, traumatising. Q is for... I draw a blank at Q. Rachael was the daughter of an Australian professor who decided to make money for herself in a daringly controversial way for a girl of her station. Great conversation and wow, she was good at her job. S is for Susann, from Berlin. I leaned over to kiss her goodbye and her lips slipped from my cheek to my mouth but although I liked her a lot, I couldn't say that I fancied her, so I quickly twisted my head up and round to end up smiling at her, then we hugged and I was off. I'm staring at a photograph taken in a restaurant which had a resident storyteller much in the same way that some restaurants have house bands. It is in downtown Teheran, and three girls are posed around a 'hubbabubba' tobacco smoking device. I'm sure one or two of them have names beginning with 'S', but once one starts trying to wrack one's brains it seems as if the mists blow over with ever more soaking density, obscuring the view and blurring the ink. Smiling straight at the camera, very beautiful, with the kind of beauty everyone acknowledges with a mixture of awe and sheer pleasure since it is so clearly beyond that of the common lot... I think her name is Sabadeh, or something sounding like that. Next to her is a girl I actually worked with and knew better, who has the kind of beauty a painter would see, because the bone structure and the eyes and intelligent mouth are all there once one starts to look. She may have been called Shirin, and yet it doesn't seem quite right. Damnit, I've been trying to remember this name for the past half hour. I thought it would come back to me once I'd found the photograph here, but no. T is for Tamara, who later styled herself as Vesna. She sent me a new year's card featuring lots of cigarettes once. Nothing in it beyond that, but she did have style. No, I've never met anyone called Ulla or Ulrika, even if there's a fine Sillustrator going by the former name. V is for Victoria, the first girl I ever kissed. It was in primary two, on Monday morning. I'd seen a film the previous afternoon starring Errol Flynn and had used it as a learning exercise in how to handle women. So Victoria gets up from her desk to hand in her homework. I quickly get up to do like-wise and catch her up about two-thirds of the way to the teacher's desk. I grab her around the waist and shoulders and plant my lips on hers for a lingering embrace. Then I detach myself and continue towards the teacher, who is too shocked to say anything much. At playtime my Action Man arranges to marry her Cindy Doll. Xenia, Warrior Princess,Yvonne and Zoe don't feature in my personal list, yet. Gordon A tree has sheltered one from the storm, but one had better depart swiftly after, lest it start to drip. +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

1 0

Sinister: Adolescent Song Of Mindless Devotion
by Francesca Andreatta 04 Oct '02

04 Oct '02

Hi sinister, it's been a while since my last post, more than an year i think... in this period i've changed my email address and began uni (i'm in my second year, now) i have nothing b&s related except that i always love them and i've seen them live in april. i have a friend that is called like me and it's the first time for me having a friend with my same name, i still feel strange about it. i'm knitting my winter bag, but i'm not that good, though i find it really relaxing... it's a weird period for me, my head is still on holiday and i waste my time checking my email, but i never receive what i want. it's a bit pointless checking emails every two or three minutes and really disappointing, so i'm waiting and hoping that i will stop. fortunately university started this week, i have new apt mates, we're in five and i'm praying that they won't be sort of dr jekyll and mr hyde people like last year :) i have a new mary lou lord obsession and a lucksmiths one too. last weekend i was in my sister's boyfriend home and oblige him to give me some of his cds=> great thing they're wonderful. hm... it's since june i'm trying to write to sinister and at the end i write this meaningless post... i'm sorry, next will be better i hope love francesca ______________________________________________________________________ Mio Yahoo!: personalizza Yahoo! come piace a te http://it.yahoo.com/mail_it/foot/?http://it.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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

1 0

Sinister: Stuart's Dairy
by Stuart \"Gold Top\" Murdoch 04 Oct '02

04 Oct '02

Today I woke up at half past two in the morning. There's no chance for a lie in when you have your own dairy. I put on my wellies and walked out into the farmyard. There was a strange atmosphere in the cowshed. The cows looked at me funnily, with anguished expressions. I stood at the gate for a while before I went in, trying to work out what was wrong. Then I realised the strange atmosphere smelled a bit like yesterday's Chicken Korma and noticed Barbara, the youngest, most rebellious cow, standing looking guilty, with a takeaway box hanging off her ear. That one's trouble alright! Usually she's happy sneaking into the the lounge when I'm out in the fields and watching Bargain Hunt, but stealing food is pushing it too far. And I wanted that curry for my tea. I gave her a good telling off. Having such a big bottom means you have a certain amount of responsibilty, as I used to say to an old girlfriend of mine. She was always trumping too. "It was Mick", she'd say. "Mick's not even here" I'd say. "He's hiding" she'd say. Grr... Anyway, with all those fumes in such a small shed, it would only take one cow to get a bit excited and the whole thing could explode. She was a bad cow. I gave her some of the soggiest hay I could find, and she went into a corner and sulked. She won't make me feel guilty, though. Not this time. I'd spent Sunday morning with a spanner and a tuning fork, tightening up Daisy's udders. Now each teat plays a different pitch and if I pull them in the right order I can play the them tune to Terry and June. I sang along this afternoon while I was milking and had a go at playing "Judy and the Dream of Horses." The cows didn't seem to like it, and Daisy shuffled about, causing me to miss a B flat. They seem to have a thing about horses. I think it's an inferiority complex, what with horses having all the fame and fast shoes and funny little men sitting on their backs. Still, I love my cows more than any horse. I love them more than anything, more than my car, my dog, my cat, my rat, my Carl, Brian, Dennis, Trevor, and Al. More than smelly old Isobel. Oh Barbara! I'm so sorry! Please forgive me! I didn't mean to do bad! Stuart __________________________________________________ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

1 0

Sinister: Robin's Wall of Sound
by robin stout 04 Oct '02

04 Oct '02

Hello Caitlin said: <<Music is wonderful>> I quite agree. Last night my sideburn sporting Kung Fu kicking housemate was sat watching Sex and the City ("It's not just for girls" he protested) so I went upstairs and listened to the radio. As the final string wobbled and faded on a guitar as a song finished I realised a faint sound of music was coming, one note at a time, through the wall we share with next door. I switched off the radio, lay on my bed, and listened. Slowly, carefully, someone was playing "Ticket to Ride" on a keyboard. Sometimes they'd hit the wrong note, and wander back to the bar before to play it again. Sometimes they'd be confident and play the whole song through. They sounded to be working their way through the whole Beatles songbook. I listened for a while, but it sent me to sleep. Next time I hear them playing, though, I'm going to get out my Casio and join in. Jonathan said: <<there isn't really much going on in the b+s world>> S'true, but at least they're doing nothing IN STYLE: http://www.banchory.net/belleandsebastian/240902.html Sam said: >Please everyone who loves the Shigs and Nintendo go >and buy Mario Sunshine. > >I'm too excited to say anything else. I wish he had said something else because I couldn't understand that at all. It did, however, remind me that I need to go to Mario's, the barber down the street, to get myself a haircut. Last time I was there he gave up half way through, waving his comb and scissors in the air and shouting "I am sorry! There is a nothing I can a do with your hair! It is a too curly wurly!!", then sent me home with a smile and a tiny tissue. I hope things go better this time. Maybe I'll get it all cut off. I never know what to say when I'm in the barber's chair. He stands behind with scissors in one hand and a razor in the other and I panic. Usually I just ask for something "not too long and not too short" and, suitably baffled, they just give me the same cut they did last time. I've got the afternoon off and I'm still here at work. Oh, the power of the internet... Robin xxx _________________________________________________________________ Join the worlds largest e-mail service with MSN Hotmail. http://www.hotmail.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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

1 0

Sinister: An important day!
by Sam Steddy 03 Oct '02

03 Oct '02

Please everyone who loves the Shigs and Nintendo go and buy Mario Sunshine. I'm too excited to say anything else. __________________________________________________ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

1 0

Sinister: a poem. . .
by Brian McNeill 03 Oct '02

03 Oct '02

Untitled In the morning, shall you still see so clearly remembering where and how my breath carved your body tased each liberating pore as a bee a sweet flower. Can you know how intoxicating your lips become and how deep down they rage withinn me till burning I cry, The Soul whispers softly another kiss, another kiss. When the heavens shake and shudder the angels longing but one moment Of all these lips have drawn from you Of all your lips have taken from me. Aah, give the Devil his dues without hesitation for Desire arises fast and seeks its mate Upon soft petals I'll lay you where Lavender fills and oevrwhelms beneath the heavens canopy, twinkling I'll take your dream to lay with mine. _________________________________________________________________ Join the worlds largest e-mail service with MSN Hotmail. http://www.hotmail.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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

1 0

Sinister: Guess Who?
by terry underwear 03 Oct '02

03 Oct '02

hello, Guess What? i was just having a look at the results of amy and caitlin's sinister questionnaire, and was aghast by the fact that no-one has nominated Guess Who? as their favourite board game. I'm sure you too are in a state of shock and denial, so click here to see it with your own eyes: http://www.joannou.net/topofthestairs/txt/siniq.html now don't get me wrong, i like scrabble as much as the next person. and monopoly, trivial pursuit and cluedo are all great too. but Guess Who? is better. Guess Why? i was once like you, preferring to play scrabble and monopoly and leaving Guess Who? to gather dust in the cupboard. but then my little brother and I discovered a whole new way of playing Guess Who? Guess When? the year was 1998. i was visiting my family in the south west of WA. it was summer and it was hot. my little brother and i were bored. we decided to play a board game. but what to play?? monopoly and scrabble were both ruled out cause i could beat the pants off him (he was 12, i was 20). battleship? i hate that game (except the noises you get to make when someone hits your ships!). Guess Who? why not! so we played. it was okay. not all that exciting though. the questions become boring after a while - "Are you female?", "do you have brown hair?". but then it dawned on us - this could be a whole lot more fun. Guess How? every time you asked a question that was answered with a no, you had to take a piece of clothing off! (hang on, that wasn't with my brother! sorry). we decided to rule out objective questions. none of this "are you wearing a hat?" bollocks. we began to ask questions like: "do you prefer chocolate ice cream to vanilla ice cream?" "do you prefer cats to dogs?" "have you been married more than once?" "are you gay?" "have you ever been convicted of wilful exposure?" "would you kill in the name of love?" "did you vote for john howard in the last election?" "would Matt (our older brother) sleep with you?" "would you sleep with Maria (the sexy Guess Who? lady who has the green beret type thing on - she is so pretty and intelligent. is it wrong to have a crush on a Guess Who? character?)?" "could you drink 15 beers, spin around 10 times, stand on one leg and sing the national anthem?" (i wouldn't recommend asking this question as you always get a no. unless the other person has picked maria - <insert dreamy voice here> she can do anything.) "could you make a space rocket out of two aluminium cans, a match and an old washing machine?" (**see above parenthesis**) other questions could be: "do you support america attacking iraq?" "could you name the members of belle and sebastian?" "do you like isobel?" "do you agree with Australia's stance on illegal refugees?" "should belle and sebastian tour Australia very soon?" "are you happy in life?" "are you a lawyer?" you get the picture. it is great fun and very humourous. of course, because of the subjectiveness it is not very often that either of us actually win. but we don't seem to mind. so, to sum up, someone is a big fan of Guess Who? Guess Who? terry ____________________________________________________________ Tired of all the SPAM in your inbox? Switch to LYCOS MAIL PLUS http://www.mail.lycos.com/brandPage.shtml?pageId=plus +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

1 0

Sinister: bootlegs
by C.C.S.Crone 02 Oct '02

02 Oct '02

Hi, First I copied B&S cd's. Then I thought that I earned enough so I could afford to buy them and provide the band members with some royalty. But what about the bootlegs? I can decline from copying them, or copy them without paying any royalty, but I can't copy them without infringing the rights of the band. Why don't Belle and Sebastian mention a bank account number and a figure to pay as copyright fee for a copy? It would ease my conscience.... With humility, Scardanelli. PS: it is not that I am against the possibility to copy for free. When I was a student that was my only possibility to broaden my musical horizon. But those days are long gone ("April und May und Junius sind ferne"), and SOME people have to pay in order to let others be able to copy. +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

1 0