February 2002 - Sinister

Sinister: daydreams
by Jesse Chanin 11 Feb '02

11 Feb '02

Dear Sinister, I've been thinking a lot about daydreams lately and not (before you all get too interested) of the sexual nature. I create little stories in my head and follow them and elaborate on them and repeat them day after day, like my own miniature soap opera. But the thing is: they're neither witty nor intelligent and really have no discernable point whatsoever. They involve people I know and people I don't and me-- but none of us are real. We're all surface level replicas of ourselves, somehow glamorized even in our imaginary misery. And everyone's witty, of course, but it's dumbed down to the point that the *fact* that they're witty holds more relevance than what is actually said; the conversations are interchangable but are held together by a constant artificial happiness, a constant wistful respect. (Perhaps in rebellion against my own "rational" idea that the words should matter more than the sentiments attached to them, that writing "I am happy" on a piece of paper could mean infinitely more than the actual emotion-- with supporting details, of course.) It's not new, I suppose. When I was a kid I used to walk around with the characters of some book I had just finished in my head, creating whole plotlines for them that weren't hinted at in the actual literature. In these daydreams I was rarely present, just an interactive onlooker, smiling at their clichéd adventures. But I wasn't really that removed either-- I'd switch my perspective from character to character, heedless of gender or motive or background. At some point all that changed and everything became a bit more egocentric. Now it is rare that I will have a daydream in which I (or the surface level perfect self that has come to represent me) am not present. Lately I've gotten a bit obsessed with them. I look forward to the end of the day when I can be alone and devote my time to replaying senseless scenes in my head. I take long walks to free my mind absolutely for thinking. I smile when people in the daydream are happy and mouth their witty lines to the air. But the problem is, when it comes down to it, it's just a line. And the people are all two-dimensional and pretty. They're people the way I wish they were, except it's not even that, because I enjoy complexity and mystery and antagonism. They're silly air people. And I'm afraid I wish they were real. It's like reverse schizophrenia, really. I know that the characters are fake and yet I *want* them to be real. Why attempt to make valid connections in life with those annoyingly moody three-dimsensional folks when I have an unlimited vault of witty people in my head always ready to be turned to? It's safe and "perfect" in the most awful use of that word. It is rare that you find a situation when "perfect" doesn't mean "fake" on some level, and I suppose this is no exception. I'm addicted to alternatives to reality. I've got different levels and I just move up and down the ladder, slipping in and out of what's real, of what's truthful and meaningful and into something less. The levels seem to be: 1. real life 2. internet people 3. daydreams 4. sleep So I guess I'm beginning (or perhaps it's been occurring for awhile, it's difficult to tell sometimes) to substitute fakeness in for real life. Which brings up more questions about truth and reality, about what's real to me. If I spend all Saturday dreaming about a conversation on a boat with my long dead uncle, does that *become* my reality? Surely it has affected me more than the fact that it was raining all day, which I hardly noticed, or the television I was ignoring in deference to my mind. That's all really, I suppose. Do you all have similar silly fantasies? I hope so. Maybe we could start a self-help group (unless the group part of that defeats the purpose of such a venture) or at least keep each other one level up for the moment. Stay safe, Jesse _________________________________________________________________ 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: happy
by Katia913＠aol.com 10 Feb '02

10 Feb '02

Sinister, sinister: I am truly in love. No, not with a person, not with anything I can say or talk about with some sense of reality, but with everything. Last week I got home from a terrible retreat for my catholic youth group. Its called Action, and it is full of the kids I went to grade school with and the jocks and such from my highschool. And my old best friends. Not a single person out of the group of about two hundred do I know well. I went on the retreat to learn how to snowboard and because I love hills and Chicago is FLAT. I was a leader of a cabin of nine people, two of which I know/knew one was a boy I had a crush on for years in grade school. And the other seven were strangers from the area. The Adult, his name was Ben and he was 25, and I got on well; he was a really open guy who liked to talk, and he made me feel good about myself. The whole time I was there (six days) I was selfless, helpful and reserved. But when Ben and I began to talk, I gained this strength I didn't know I had and talked loud and without stumbles. I said things I only thought and I was happy. But the Last night a senior in my cabin got crushed, she was very upset about something big, and Ben and I were supposed to talk that night, he said he had something to tell me about. This girl, however, stole him upstairs with two others and I was with the freshman, who all fell asleep within two hours. At Eight the next morning we were leaving, so getting ready to go was a big part of the night. It was about five, and I cleaned the whole cabin by myself. For about ten minutes, Ben came back downstairs to talk to me, seeing that I was bored. He complimented me on my cleaning skills and thanked me for making the cabin dinner. He told me that I HAD MY LIFE TOGETHER AND I AM THE KIND OF PERSON WHO IS NOT PHASED BY WHAT OTHERS THINK OF ME, I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYONE. That was it, after being ignored by this rad guy for the night, he tells me that no one matters to me? Everyone matters, and everything. I ran outside crying. My retreat was horrible and I still dot believe in God. Also, Tuesday, my boyfriend told me he was also having sex with someone else. We didn't make up, so things are still on the rocks with him. And my best friend and I are not talking and my installation at school fell through and I cant take the classes I want to take and I cant go out and I cant do what I want.... BUT I AM HAPPY. The snow is melting and I am happy. I went for a run with my dog this morning and got my pay check and I am happy without anyone. And I AM not sorry that this is so long. I like it this way. Kate of Chicago ps Jeremy, i miss you, email me pps lucas, the same goes for you, i ahve your pics ppps Ken, you're hot +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: don't you ever feel you just survive some days?
by lindsey baker 10 Feb '02

10 Feb '02

hello sinister. this has been an odd weekend. i think i am destined now to have only odd weekends for a while. (warningwarningwarning: this might be a long post. apologies now.) friday, i participated in one of the most interesting events ever, i think. i took my very twee self (mind, i was dressed way too twee for the event, it turned out) to a punk rock show. a friend of mine invited me to check out the slew of blink 182 hatah wannabes on his new record label, so i went. purposely dressed in all my thrift store glory, tans and muted greens and my now siganture creamy white tights. i stood on the fringe of the largely 14-year-old crowd with my ex-boyfriend, and watched the middle school young'ns get down and funky in their button badge-covered stocking caps and hoodies. i adjusted my own button badge-covered handbag, making sure my new belle and sebastian buttons (and my prized high fidelity button) were prominently displayed, though i fear no one there new about our b&s. i think my fear was almost confirmed when, to my horror, the buck-toothed fuckhead of a fifteen-year-old fronting the first MEGASWEET band i endured looked at a girl in the audience, a relatively twee lass who looked in about the same amount of pain i was under. 'what's wrong?' the kid shouted around his teeth, eyebrow ring twitching. 'you into emo shit and all that? go listen to radiohead or something you bitch.' my little hand curled around my handbag strap. the b&s button dug a little circle into my palm. the ex kind of restrained me as i muttered something about thom yorke's lack of true emo-ness and the band kid's lack of something else. i saw the sweet singer a while later. he was standing, oh, about two feet away from me. i looked at the ex, and then at myself, and began screaming then and there about how much i LOVED radiohead and that i COULDN'T WAIT to have thom's children. GO EMO! i think i said, too, and then a few words like GO MARK HOPPUS I LOVE BASS PLAYERS!! on my way out of the god forsaken wasteland of pre-pubescent pop punk, i ran into an omaha indie kid i know and practically threw myself into his jean-jacketed arms. he said there was a party. a large boy named hector gave me a map on the back of a jinxpack flyer. i wrapped my scarf tighter around my throat and went. one drink and about a hundred cigarettes later, i realized that not only did everyone at the get together know me before i arrived (apparently, word gets out when people hook up) but something else happened in the process. i have written about not being one thing or the other, a label and a category and a brown and green sweater. but all the talk of images in this post has been for a reason, much like all that damn imagery in the old man and the sea. i am in. the crafty kids at saddle creek and all the rest. all the fringe kids. yeah, i guess i'm between them, now, and that was weird. but not uncool. so i lit another parliament and accepted the crown offered by the crowd. ***** we had an ice storm in nebraska last night. the winds kept wrapping around my apartment building, bringing with them tree branches and chunks of ice. i jumped every time something smacked against the windows, and hated that i was home alone with nothing to do. (i also figured out that even though you can have a 'crew,' so to speak, the thought of doing the same thing every night is almost as boring as doing the same thing every night. so i opted for alone time, you see, which was a mistake. wind is lonely. then again, so is the monotony of two sisters telling me over and over how cute he and i are.) i was still somehow bored out of my mind, and i ended up lying in the middle of my living room floor watching breakfast at tiffany's (again) with one eye and my mobile with the other. the phone never rang, and i went to bed while the sky was still weeping. ***** today i covered an abraham lincoln festival. in lincoln, nebraska. har har. i was to focus on the three men impersonating honest abe for a contest. i arrived at the theatre playing host to the festival a bit early, so i walked to the paper, then back to the theatre, then back to the paper. i have walked the windy distance three times, now, in low heels and velvet, and it was only on the third round i noticed the snow angel imprint in the drift beside the sidewalk, and the imprint of every ice-melting pebble beneath the soles of my shoes. i will have to walk the way once more to go back to my car, and i hope it will be after dark, when the wind picks up again and i won't have to have a cigarette to have clouds of white trailing from my mouth. the festival was rife with kids and people dressed in period costumes, twenty-first century grandmas and grandpas and their teenaged grandchildren wearing civil war uniforms and hoop skirts, do-se-doing in the same theatre that put on 'rent' a few months back. i watched the girls' skirts flare coyly as they demonstrated period dances, and for about ten minutes, i hated my modern-day culture of gap jeans and indie rock. but then i remembered telling my roommate that i could never be married to a boy in the army -- the absences would kill me. and civil war girls almost all had no choice but to wed the honor of a rifle and sit at home, useless. (does it all have to come back to that? with me, i guess it always does. scarlett, too, though, was always after the same thing i am these days. maybe women will never change, really.) at any rate, i interviewed the abes, and the winner was an aged farmer from kansas who i knew had breath that smelled like the sweet gherkin pickles i used to eat at my own grandmother's house every summer. on the walk back to the paper, every pebble felt like a memory. a place in the world -- be it a scene or a home or a rocking chair -- might forever elude me. though somehow i doubt that, as i suspect i am in my place, and it is either too small or too big for me to notice it and cleanly grab onto its clear, simple, american explanation. i had to write an identity poem for my poetry class (damn assignments like that. shitful, they are) and my professor didn't quite like what i handed in. his comment at the top expressed sentiments of confusion, and he said that nothing in the poem was fully developed -- the words only hinted at something, scratched an evasive surface. i wrote about being the road between omaha and lincoln. and i think at times the best anyone can do is define themselves in terms of something else, something abstract and concrete and inanimate and always moving. and it is vague and underdeveloped. but if a character and a life can fit into three or four or a hundred stanzas of shallow verse, it shall not be my character or my life. i was confused when i wrote it, and as i write this and i will be later when i walk back to my car and my home and my bed. ah, well. tomorrow is another day. xxx, your lou _________________________________________________________________ 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: Reporting kcaB
by Robert Brennan 10 Feb '02

10 Feb '02

Saturday morning, I woke up and found out that someone famous had died. The person was famous by an accident of birth but decided to be famous by not following a set of rules that were also imposed at birth. Rock And Roll I say - which reminds me... B!R!I!G!H!T!O!N! I went there. I did. I had a GRATE time as well. Archel accounted for most of the goings on in her post but failed to mention my visible road-rage during the dodgems. It should also be pointed out that people who are prepared to sit on a beach during a freezing cold February, drinking fluids that thin our already low-pressure indie blood, are most certainly NOT twee. The other quality moment involved running like fuck to catch my train after all the goodbye hugs - and then running like fuck straight back to the pub cos I'd forgotten my camera (and therefore one of the few permanent records of Ken's spilled-salt art). Boozy you're-my-besht-mate type hugs to everyone who was there (ArchelKenLizMarkCLucyMarkHBenJamesPeterCayPaulBecky) and especially big robster-hugs to the people I met that day like STACEY DAHLING and MADDIE who are both every bit as lovely as y'all thought as well as being properly appreciative of the high quality of seaside chip shops. That's it then. See you at Brixton if you're going. Southsea picnic in the summer anyone? There's a beach and a DDR machine... My washing machine just flooded the kitchen. Bloody reality. "Handsome" Robster (cheers Mark!) http://robster75.tripod.com __________________________________________________ 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: Belle and Sebastian at Coachella!? NEIL!?
by CrnflkgrlO＠aol.com 10 Feb '02

10 Feb '02

I can't handle such an announcement, until Neil tells me its true. Be still, my heart??? According to today's LA Times, the Coachella line-up will include the following bands: Bjork will anchor the first night, April 27, in just her second appearance at a U.S. festival. Oasis is set to close the weekend April 28 in its only U.S. concert before the release of a new album in the summer. Building on the tone set by the first two Coachella festivals, the lineup will be a mix of rock, electronica and hip-hop. Others confirmed for the outdoor marathon are the Foo Fighters, Mos Def, the Chemical Brothers, the Prodigy, Ozomotli, B.R.M.C., Belle & Sebastian (!!), Jurassic 5, Dilated Peoples, Queens of the Stone Age, Basement Jaxx, Sasha & Digweed, Paul Oakenfold, Groove Armada, KRS-One, St. Germaine and Dutch DJ Tiesto. Tickets, at $65 per day, will be on sale March 2. A weekend pass covering both days will also be available at a discount price to be determined. -Rachel Cornflake +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: I KNOW you like me.
by Richard Gillanders 10 Feb '02

10 Feb '02

TYPICAL ME, TYPICAL ME, TYPICAL ME I went to the big issue building on the south side of glasgow last night. the big issue=a magazine written and sold by homeless or almost homeless people on the streets around town. basically. there was an exhibition of work by my year that was entered in a homeless shelter design competition run by the magazine. and work from the third year from the mackintosh school. my whole year+tutors+year convener walked down in the pouring rain. there was free wine and beer. the top prize went to one of the guys in my year that I like a lot. and one of the two runner-up prizes went to another kid I like from my school. two of my friends arrived late and a sooper-thug who was at the reception wouldn't let them in. I went down stairs to go outside for a fag. as will happen on occasion. I was outside with a glass of wine. smoking. and the two kids that were refused entry came over and told me so. I was a little drunk and told them to come in with me. I attempted to re-enter. the sooper-thug wasn't having it; I had gone out; I don't get back in. I tried to explain to him that he was stupid. but not so he knew it. just that we were there for a competition run by his employers, that we shouldn't be refused. he said he didn't care. and I believe he genuinely didn't. the guy that won the competition appeared at the door inside. he didn't come out. I asked him to get my bag [I wasn't even allowed inside to retrieve that]. I should have asked him to get our convener to come and talk some sense to the guy. but I didn't think of it. I was drunk, rite. so. I was a little cheeky to the bloke. but no more than he deserved. we decided to go to a pub and wait for the others to finish. as we walked past the reception I jumped up at the window. the guy had his back to me. but. I suspect by way of some close-circuit televisual technology. he were able to see me. he ran out and wanted to be having some sort of fite with me. I tried again to explain that he wasn't a very nice person. he gave up and left. we went to a pub and I drank some more. people started leaving. we walked back by the building. I peeked in the door. I was quite drunk by this time and thought that I=clever. or something. so I SNAPPED the gonk wif my new camera. he gave chase! I ran! I tripped! I fell... I got scraped and dislocated my knee. the bloke showed none compassion. relieved me of my camera. and left me. he wanted the film from it or something. but it's one of these digital ones. innit. I think he stole one of the batteries instead. my convener got the camera back from him. I was drunk, yeah. I hobbled to another pub. mistook gallacher and lyle for foster and allen; big mistake. hobbled back to my flat. woke up this morning with rather different looking knees. one considerably more SWELLED than the other. I got to go to a hospital and be x-rayed. I have crutches & shit. I have dislocated or almost a few times before. but. y'know. it's inconvenient. AND IF YOU THINK PEACE IS A COMMON GOAL THAT GOES TO SHOW HOW LITTLE YOU KNOW gilmer=gone shockah. I doubt Jimmy could ever be Just Jimmy. he's so much more. or something. more like Just William. in my eyes. he thinks he isn't famous. I don't blame him for having to just get out of this town. now. he always has some sort of advice or insight to share. or something. I always find myself disbelieving it was actually all typed. as there usually is an awful lot. not just a lot. he has a vast number of opinions too. and isn't afraid to use them. how I love opinions. how I love opinions? rather a lot. HAIL AND FAREWELL MONSIEUR GILMER. elise j. spry seemed lovely. I'm sure I will hear how she is doing from time to time. somehow. as for my czech republic trip that I mentioned last time. and once before that. I still don't know what goes on. perhaps a week tomorrow I'll be going. if I'm in any state to. I met two kids from brno last night. if I don't get to go: belle and sebastian concerts [sold out already?], ATP [sold out now?], a new jim o'rourke album, a few others. I wish I knew. do we have any czechs on the list? if not. maybe we should implement some. mandee wright's last post got her two crush votes? perhaps this will cost me two. rachel playforth said "see you then!". I don't think she was talking to me. I saw isobel campbell on buchanan street during the week. I think she saw me first though. I told myself I could follow her. wherever she was going. she was probably telling herself the same thing. about herself. I saw william salt leaving the grassmarket during the week. he was deep in thot. didn't see me 'til I shouted 'there is william salt!'. he was polite. 'paisley' told me she won't post again until alasdair cook does. I'd like to resolve to do the same. all my plans! ruined! or, at least, some of them! messed up a bit! love, richard. really. __________________________________________________ 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: takin' muh time
by MyMomSays＠aol.com 09 Feb '02

09 Feb '02

Sinister, Allright, so this film Storytelling is out: I've heard some seriously mixed reviews about the film. Two of my friends said it was one of the best movies ever made. Another friend said it was truly terrible. I also heard a rumor that there is a wanking scene to "The State That I Am In": confirm rumors, folks. I can't sleep at night over here, tossing and turning over this bizness. Also, another question: How is it that my last post, which was truly crap, generated *two* crush votes? My mind boggles. I just finished reading a post by Baker, baker and found it truly engaging. Good show, ma'am/mister. She/he asked us to describe our homes; it's odd, because as much as I pretend to despise Colorado, sometimes I really love it here. It's home, I guess. It's hard for me to prescribe the word "Home" because I seem to behave and see everything with a Tourist's eye. A few years ago I was out for the afternoon with some friends and I realized that I act like a tourist wherever I go. Nearly everything seems fun and charming and distanced from myself. Even at the mall, the store displays at the Limited Too, even though completely ridiculous, I find myself ordering around people to take pictures of me in front of such window displays. Even at my local grocery store, I buy souvenirs from vending machines. This morning I drove home from Denver, and I remarked at the dust flying around like a tourist would: "My, it's windy here," as if I come from some place where it isn't windy--does this mean I'm from nowhere? Hm, who knows--either that, or it merely accentuates the fact that I'm a "schizotypal" freakazoid (Editor's note: the author recently took a "personality disorder's" test and was deemed "highly" schizotypal). I think, really, though, that this phenomenon merely boils down to the fact that I am pretty much amused by making fun of nearly everything. I recently revisited the film "Ghost World"; I kept finding myself irked at the nihilistic nature of Enid Coleslaw's commentary--but then--I realized that I am oh-so-guilty of this same thing! Now I find that I am ultra-sensitive to my own commentary and speech. The other night I ran into a kid I sort of knew last year. I was sitting at a coffee house, trying to read Greek Mythology and he decided to sit down with me and CHIT CHAT for a little while. I innocently talked with him, and sooner or later my bullshitter persona took over and I found myself sort of behaving like a hybrid of a valley girl and Phil Hartman; I told him a story about the fact that my computer monitor at work is blue and how people walk by my desk and say, "How's ole' BLUE doin?" and then, after I was done telling the story, I started cackling. He looked at me, confused, and said: "How is that funny? I don't understand how that's funny." And... I couldn't explain how it was funny. As for what Gina and Baker, Baker were talking about--I feel incredibly jealous I cannot attend picnics and drink-a-thons and gigs. I really don't prefer anonymity; I'd rather meet the lot of you in person than hide in front of my computer, basking in pastifying monitor light. Have a nice Saturday, kids, Mandee xxxx +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: i've seen them all and, man, they're all the same
by gina titchener 09 Feb '02

09 Feb '02

fingerprints, that is. fact of the day: in order to make asm's body look the same size as his foot you have to hold his foot three inches from your face. hello peeps i haven't posted since the fab tweequeen of smut herself, archel, temporarily joined the ysm, so i should say at this point that she is extremely groovy, and funny, and, yes, smutty. i'm just sorry i couldn't stay up till 4 discussing the meaning of life and strap-ons with her and sam. the brighton meetup will be ace if she's in charge. but to bellezc zoe and the other hundreds of similarly isolated and skint sinisterettes, who think they're ostracized cos they can never get to meet up's - i think sinister's different when you regularly see the people who read this. i do miss the anonymity to some extent, it's changed from somewhere to say anything and be anyone to a diary that your mum's gonna read and ask you about. obvs, i adore all the ysm and wouldn't want to lose them, ever, but it has changed. revel in your facelessness - you never have to explain your post to anyone so...yeah. i fell asleep listening to judy and the dream of horses and ended up having a dream where struan was dressed as a pirate, eyepatch and everything, due to the parrot reference (i guess). i think that's my most bizarre b+s dream to date. in fact i think it's the most bizarre b+s dream i've ever heard of. there has been much gossip around these parts about some notice pinned on the parish noticeboard entitled perks of being a wall flower, which i insist stops now as it is not available in the village library. i remember the days when the talk was all about some young chap's essay called infinite jest - it's a shame that died out as it is a curiously compelling and, yes, funny book of which i enjoyed all 1000 pages {plus appendix} (i suspect some conspiracy on the part of those who hate double barreled surnames, as it was by david foster wallace). i was waiting to cross st denys' road (you know, near dave dee's banana warehouse) when an irate man pulled up next to the car infront of me, wound down his window and yelled at the driver of the car next to him (an old man) for beeping his horn - when he hadn't! things like that make me so sad, and hateful of man, and sorry for us that that is how we live. it was so childish, and not in the good way that stankin and co have been discussing, just in an 'i can't contemplate anyone else's point of view, they must be wrong' way. so i told him to grow up*. anyhoo. the rainy season is upon us. i hate the rainy season. i have no clean flares left in the world. as a result i have been paying close attention to how others keep their trouser bottoms clean. here are the top 5(and a half) in descending order 1)bicycle clips 1+1/2) flourescent bicycle clips 2)rolling trousers up 3)poppers sewn onto flares so one can reduce their diameter at will 4)carrying a spare pair of trousers to change into (props to migmk) 5)taping up your trousers with black gaffer tape. plus my favourite shoes of all time, purple cord docs, have a hole in! and so can't be worn. "too many of these paragraphs start with 'i'" you're thinking. but bollocks to you. here's another one. i knitted myself a scarf and it's marvellous and all (obvs!) but i need a tip from any other knitters - how do you stop the thing curling in on itself? i've done the good ole knit one perl one and it's turned into a tube.... any ideas? there's something about your 40 year old, japanese maths lecturer saying that a question is a 'no-brainer' that is inexplicably funny. will those who 'believe' please pray that there isn't a strike by arriva on april the 2nd. the rest of you, get ready to put me and my mates up after the manchester gig. (who else is going? will there be pre gig meet up? am i saying all this *far* too early? sorry, i'll calm down. even children don't get that excited that far in advance) a final, sinister-is-grate comment and then we can all go home - wednesday was spent in a blissful izzard-induced state of chuckling in the delightful company trar/f-b (depending on how old you are) and hairy stu, under the auspicious title of eliza grae night (see the archives), due to her inspiration for the event - big thanks to all of them for a fab** night. but with out honey it would never have happened - remember that kids well... i have to go and meet my new housemate (yes! the bitch moved out. ahem, scuse me) and you have real lives to get to so... i guess i'll see you around. take care gina x ps johan? JOHAN? are you there? PLEASE warn me if you're coming over! pps craig chin, are you alive? did you get your sinister xmas present? please mail me if you have/haven't.. well, just mail me. i'll be gutted if that got lost.... the pressies i received were grate (but then one of them was from gneissy - what do you expect? that human being is amazing.) ppps i have been told that upside down badges have been declared 'passe'. well bollocks to you too. as well as being useful, it makes me feel like i know something special. tho probably in a very childish way. *very very quietly. he probably wouldn't have taken such criticism in a mature way. **it would have been perfect if young sam had remembered where he was supposed to be. grrh. careful, sammy, we know one of your middle names _________________________________________________________________ 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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Sinister: hieperdepiep, please help
by marc bots 09 Feb '02

09 Feb '02

dear all, finally b&s are coming to holland! and to belgium, france and italy. hieperdepiep! the only drawback is that planned to fly to cardiff on the day they are playing in rotterdam. i have to attend a conference in wales, and i would leave one day before it started to have a look around in cardiff together with robin. robin, i am not coming to cardiff. i'll mail you soon. i'm getting a new plain ticket, for the sunday, and i will go to see b&s. i wanted them to come to holland for so long, i cannot leave holland now that they are coming here. this is where i need some help. i guess the easiest and cheapest way to get to swansea on sunday 7 arptil is to fly to london with easyjet, and then take either the train or coach to get to swansea. i've been looking around on internet, and i can fly to either london luton or gatwick. however, i cannot find much about trains or coaches, so i don't know where to fly, and how to go from there. could anybody with some experience with brittish public transport give me a hand/email? the sooner i book, the cheaper the ticket will be, so a swift response is appreciated greatly. many thanks in advance. other news: two sinistrians are now living in nijmegen. JohaN from south-africa is here to study for six months, and yesterday the first nijmegen sinister get together took place. JohaN brought two friends and a few beers, which were all welcomed enthousiasticly. we had a good time, but unfortunately had to catch a bus much to early. will be continued though. that's all for now. hope someone can help me with the airport thing. love, especially to you, marc +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: call this a song without words, though the words are 'present and correct'
by figure2＠fsmail.net 09 Feb '02

09 Feb '02

Olive green fabric. Your typical army-issue tent; world over: Sleeps between twelve and twenty or a hundred or a sultan-general. It's very hot and 1992 years after... whatever. A girl lays her sleeping bag down and arranges her temporary domestic mini-space, with her ruck-sack marking the place of a bedside table. Luckily for me, I'm the only other person in the tent at the time and so it is to me she addresses her request. Shorter than I am (unusual in a boy: passably normal in a girl) she has a beautifully formed face in that I mean everything falls together happily, normally, basically, with a chocolate bob of hair on top and large, dark, Turkish eyes. She is saying: 'Do you have... [oh! for the imploring gaze, my lovely!] cream for the [she furrows her brow whilst examining her English words in her head]... She points at her fore-arm. '... do you have cream for... the animals?' I smile back, in love, and shrug in despair. She never talks to me again. Very little English, see, and she's embarassed, her friend explains, a few days later. She huddles against tall Turkish blokes for comfort and I cuddle against my inner imagination. After all the slight glances and the heart-lock she was, after all, only looking for insect repellant. Mosquitos bite their loves in abundance. Maybe the same mozzy bit us both... It's rather daft because I fall in love an awful lot, so it's a bit cheap. I rarely act upon my desires and, when I do, it has an 100% disaster rate. I'm either deluded or unlucky in the fundamental sense combined with laziness and arrogance in the practical sense. And fear: the trauma: 'be scared of the world, boy, for it ain't going your way!' So, 2002 in the hinterlands of a city railway station; innards painted black in, say, sympathy with locomotive soot and the night: standard rock venue: you know what I mean: it's called 'The Venue'. A chanteuse announces 'This is a song... about trains and animals' and proceeds to sing, a la Francoise'ardeee a song of which I didn't get sufficient vocabularic parts to formulate a linguistic jist. However, I fancy I understood its emotional tenor. As verse built up to an 'OK Coral' denoument of first chorus, the Daniel Lanois-style guitarist (from Belgium rather than from Canada) atmospheric'd-up via delays, samples etc. a thundering rhythm in order to support Francoize Breut perform her shift of breath from ennunciation to modulation of air in a piano harmonica. Startling stuff. Is that feminine bulge in her skin-tight-lycra-black sheer voluptuousness or is there a child inside? 'Where are you, my wedding man, why did you disappear?' she sings for an encore. At some point, one almost expected an up-beat number: something dancy; a burst of pogo-punk. Perhaps even a grin. She wasn't miserable either, though... she was one of those French perfections.. a woman: solid; pensive; stylish; vocal... the kind of person who makes a mockery of 'empowerment' why? She BREATHES substance and, in my chaste imagination (for I shall be chaste in this regard) I am her troubador tonight. I had limited cash and hell: If I'd had more I'd have bought the T-shirt, but I did buy her first album to which, at 01:52am, I am currently listening. Since the concert I overheard dot com conversations and cosmopolitain conversations at a whisky cocktail bar in the bowels of a posh hotel and then, on the train home, without a player, I fingered through the sleeve notes, which have the most beautiful illustrations and I could almost begin to translate some of the lyrics... [by the way, Ken, 'colere' means means 'anger' not 'colour' as you suggested or 'collar' as I did...so 'Ou, ou est-elle passe, ou est ma colere, ma colere?' I suppose* means 'Where, where does my anger go, my ANGER?' On, on, the grounds I'm going to sow, when my distractions are done am I to loose, loose? Suddenly I have nothing and, nothing comes from nothing? Anyways, I'm not angry tonight and if she was, she didn't show it, but she sung the song. We're all normal at times. The album I bought was her debut. The new one is Vingt a Trent Mille Jours. If you're interested, try http://www.francoizebreut.com I've said my bit for tonight. By the time I copy it to the web I'll be done enough. And sometimes things crash. The spirit of Icarus resides. Gordon *my last posting to this list I'm sure was inaccurate about I.Allende being the Argentinian ex-premiere's daughter, as she is from Chile... Katje or Arturo will no doubt know, though at least the former wouldn't deign to read this anyway :) _______________________________________________________________________ Never pay another Internet phone bill! Freeserve AnyTime, for all the Internet access you want, day and night, only £12.99 per month. Sign-up at http://www.freeserve.com/time/anytime +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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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