February 2002 - Sinister

Sinister: life is beautiful
by Scott Neiss 26 Feb '02

26 Feb '02

As if from a lucid dream, I�m emerging from a weekend of perfection with renewed hope and gratitude. When my brother lost his corporate job a few weeks ago, I offered to fly him out to Seattle from rural Wisconsin (of all places). Separated by geography, tastes, lifestyle, education�he and I have mostly neglected our relationship since we were young children. As a teenager, I suppose I was guilty of all the nasty things so typical of older brothers�ridicule, teasing, and competition. He lived his life and I mine. Sure, we�d exchange a few emails and see each other a few days a year�and everything was fine, but we were simply too caught up in our separate realities and the gap was too great. This has all changed. We should have been twins. From the moment he arrived, we could so effortlessly and freely speak about anything. His perception of the world is, at its core, the same as mine. He lives from the heart. He�s an idealist. A romantic. An artist. A bohemian who has been deeply scarred by a reality that does not align with his soul. His emotional, spiritual, and intellectual intelligence far exceeds his experience and position in life. Imagine, my bro, an evening-and-weekend techno artist (DJ Fuse) from small-town Wisconsin, opening himself up to all that Seattle has to offer. Like a sponge, he spent the entire past several days absorbing everything�listening, observing, but more importantly sharing. We so easily judge each other�we condemn friends, strangers, and family. Yet when we become mature and open enough, we understand that everything is okay. We are all connected and everyone is truly okay. How deeply saddening it is that ideas, values, morals, positions, whatever�should get in the way of human relationships. This is especially true with family. Nothing is so important that it should come between family. So after a night out with my wife and brother in Queen Anne�followed by a walk on a misty Saturday night by the Space Needle, we cranked Rufus Wainwright (I'd already listened to too much B&S during the weekend) while driving home to our apartment. When we had finally arrived at 1:30, none of us had intentions of going to bed. Several hours later, we found ourselves listening to The Beattles, burning incense, and savoring a 1968 Tokaj Konac that we picked up in Slovakia and had been saving for the perfect moment. 1968 was a significant year in Czechoslovak history. It was the year of Prague Spring�during which revolution was ended with tanks sent from Russia. How perfect, we thought, that farmers in Czechoslovakia in 1968 may have been listening to Strawberry Fields on a summer evening during harvest�and now, there we were, in Seattle 34 years later�still hoping and burning for a social and political revolution just as they had. Well, maybe we couldn�t change the world that night, but by 5:00 AM we had changed our lives. We laughed, we loved, we celebrated life�and we woke up at noon, watched a French movie, and felt absolutely no regrets, no awkwardness, and not even a headache. So, as I write this today, my wife is on a plane halfway to Detroit for a business trip, my brother will be returning to a rather miserable reality tomorrow, and I�m finding it impossible to transition into yet another boring, common day at a job that slowly kills me. We will all pay a price for this weekend, but for a few days we were truly alive. Sorry this message is kind of...heavy. I just felt like sharing... __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Yahoo! Sports - Coverage of the 2002 Olympic Games http://sports.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: such a stellar monument to loneliness
by lindsey baker 25 Feb '02

25 Feb '02

hello sinister. all right. i have been whining and whatnot about this for ages, and tried it once. to no avail. but sitting here in the newsroom yet again, i feel like giving it all another go, and expecting no replies. not to steal any thunder from miss amazing amy applejacks' amazing midwestern shindig, i propose (again) to double the heartland shenanigans and have another picnic. and again, i shall propose it to take place in the amazing nebraska area in an effort to drag everyone to me, really, but also to convince the many people of the world that nebraska is, in fact, not one big cornfield after all. (think about it; lincoln is halfway between mandee and kirsten! halfway between mandee and bron! and directly to me! comecomecome!) write back (off-list, of course) if you have any interest or non-interest, or any other non-picnic interesting things to say. also, thanks to whoever crush voted me. i love those; they make me happy, and ever-so-hopeful that romeo is only late, not dead. love and fatalistic picnic planning (and really amazing amounts of boredom), lindseyannelou _________________________________________________________________ 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: Starshine
by JENOWL22＠aol.com 25 Feb '02

25 Feb '02

Hewwo, My spyder. Is here in my room and being all spyder like. I got her, and my mum let me and didn't pull out or anything. Her name is Bessie, she's a girl ( not 100% sure, but her abdomen's pretty big so its pretty likely) she's a Curly Hair tarantula and she's only a quarter grown so she's just little. One day though she'll grow up all big and strong. She's so tiny, sometimes she'll be playing and she'll cling round my fingertip with her little legs, and even the crickets she eats are so tiny, and a bit mingy. They sometimes make noise during the night, and they make my skin crawl to look at. She's so fast too, I fed her a cricket and she just looked at it wandering along and then suddenly out of nowhere she jumped on it and played with it because she's a clever little sweetheart then she killed it and wrapped it up in silk for later. I wish she would eat skittles instead, but if I feed her those she might die and I don't really want that. She spends a lot of time hiding under a little log that I got for her to make a hideyhole from. I think it's cause she's too small for the tank still, cause the tank's for a fully grown tarantula and not a little babby like her. She's never bit me yet either, not that it wouldn't be swell to go into school with tarantula bites just like if I was an explorer in the jungle. But I'm glad she hasn't bit me, because I want for us to be friends. Me and Bessie and Bessie and me. And bubbles the fish too, so he won't get jealous. We can be Jen's family, and have adventures once bubbles gets round to building his robot fish suit. We had snow at the weekend. Oh, and I got into university to be a dentist. Well, it's a conditional, because I have to get four A's and a B first, but it's still pretty swell. Even though I'm not a big genius type so I'll have to work till I'm nearly dead, but it'll be very much worth it if I can manage it. We had the fertility awareness people come to our school, which happens to be catholic. They told us that if you have sex before you're about 20 then you'll get cancer, if you go on the pill you'll get cancer for definate, and if that doesn't get you then you'll get blood clots from nowhere, condoms are 40% effective, even if you use the pill and condoms you will still get pregnant, everyone who has sex before marriages has at least 1 STD and is on drugs, if you have sex before you're married then you are dirty and your friends and family and god will hate you, the rhythm method is foolproof, AIDS can eat through condoms. And she also told us there was no point because under 20's are too irresponsible to pop a pill every day or put on a condom, so of course you should use the rhythm method as it is much easier to chart out your mentrual cycle. And this priest gave us a mass about how you should never masturbate because its evil and god will get you and you shouldn't have sex with animals and that god made Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve so gays are evil. Pig. So I informed the lady who came to talk to us that she was mental, and she was just ever so slightly talking blah and she said what do you mean I've used the rhythm method all my life, and I said how many kids do you have and she said 5 and I said I rest my case the only reason the church approves the rhythm method is because it doesnt work and I said that no wonder there were so many teen pregnancies most of them were probably catholic girls who'd been to one of her talks, and that the whole thing especially what the priest said was mokeish and she defended the priest and I said that the priest was probably either bitter because he wasn't getting any, or feeling guilty because he'd just had a fly one and no wonder so many priest turned out to be child abusers and she said if I said one more word she'd throw me out and I said if she said one more word of her mental rubbish i'd leave and then she beed quiet so I won yay. No offense to any catholics on sinister, but my school is just a bit mental. One of the hard kids who never got expelled for nearly killing me when I had to get operations and all that internal bleeding got expelled later on for skipping mass or something. One time I got spat on for having on the catholic school uniform when I was 12 and it was scary, being as I'm not even one of them. I think my parents weren't very happy being as both are, and my mum used to be a nun and everything. I just hate my school, you walk in and this wave of despair hits you, and even though you can't see it you know there's at least ten kids getting beat up for their lunch money and some 11 year olds smoking in the loos and some girl sitting on the toilets crying because the RE was screaming about how gays were going to hell, and she fancies a girl in the year above her, or you can see all the crucifixes glaring at you, a dead jesus in every room nailed to a bit of wood, which isn't the world's most fluffy thing to look at. Which is why I have to escape, because the big rebellion I've got going on in my head is getting tired and I'm not going to change anything so I should run as fast and as far as I can before all the hate and fear and ganging up on people and hardness and coldness and mentalness grabs me and pulls me down and I spend the rest of my life feeling guilty and bitter and dirty the way I did after that sex talk thing. It's like this big prison, and all I have to do is get the grades I need and I can maybe dig a tunnel under the floor and go out and away and forget any of it ever happened and pretend that the hard kids never existed, and the teachers were actually really really nice and friendly, and no one got brainwashed or hurt or damaged and no one ever feared god. I woke up this morning and I felt like i'd been all over america ever though I hadn't. I hope B&S play new york, not because it's anywhere near me, but just because I think it would be nice for them. Ah, I'm being all depressing. Last week was long and many many things of badness happened. One of them NOT being my spider though. She's swell. Hugs, Jen (or Jenny which people have taken to making my name. Not Jaz though, she calls me captain.) +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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'm not going anywhere, but i don't care, i think that's FINE
by Kirsten Kenyon 25 Feb '02

25 Feb '02

i must not have been fully awake as i drove to school this morning. all i could make out were vague shapes, outlines of cars and trees and golden arches through the heavy snow and through my eyelashes, as my eyes refused to open completely until i was about a mile from the university, at which point i found that i was staring at the grimy rear end of a silver tank mounted on a truck. the tank's contents were made clear by the lettering on the back (assuming, of course, that the tank contained MILK and not "up yours"), and soon i was considering what a delightful piece of video footage it might make if i were to accidentally crash into the milk truck. snowflakes, grey exhaust and a surging, bubbling wave of cold white milk rushing over my windshield. it would have gone quite well with the music playing, and the mental image of smooth milk and broken glass was something shockingly exquisite until i realized that the tank was made of steel and my car is a piece of crap, and i would surely lose consciousness on impact and miss the whole thing. so i turned up the radio and passed the truck, sped up the hill and parked outside westview hall. a westview, a northview, and a southview, all bleak panoramas of drab rooftops and gravel pits. there's no eastview, because east is just a parking lot. i was carefully making my way up the icy steps when i heard something terrible. i noticed a tiny trickle of something running past my feet. i doubt it was milk. i looked up to see a scrawny, snowflake-studded boy seated at the top of the steps, hugging his knees, his narrow shoulders shaking at the pitiful noises he made as he vomited down the steps of westview at 7:58 on a monday morning. i felt last night's vodka stirring in my stomach and came dangerously close to joining him, but when my mouth opened, all that came out was "jesus." i handed in my research paper about illiteracy in america and spent about forty five minutes watching pierre's adam's apple slide up and down as he rattled off a monotone monologue about mla citation procedures, vital information i thought we had all learned in the eighth grade. i nodded from time to time. i drew beautiful ladies and tapdancing ice cream cones and milk trucks and adam's apples in my notebook. some guy inquired as to pierre's office hours, and he practically jumped out of his nine-weeks-from-retirement skin as he eagerly recited the hours. the girl next to me, peering at pierre over the heavy, black rims of her glasses, leaned over and whispered, "oh my god, look how excited he is." and i nodded, because he was obviously immensely pleased that someone was showing interest in an out of class consultation, but i felt just awful because someday i'll probably be nine weeks from retirement, wearily reciting pages of the mla handbook to snotty college students who vomit on monday mornings and wouldn't think twice about wasting milk. no matter how many times you repeat the rules, there's always one dope who neglects to alphabetize his works cited page. love kirsten Care2 make the world greener! http://www.care2.com - Get your Free e-mail account that helps save Wildlife! +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: back in the u.s.s.a
by stacey dahling 25 Feb '02

25 Feb '02

I woke up this morning with the biggest reality hangover. I am no longer in Greece. I am not even in London. I am in my tiny, constricting childhood bedroom in Johnston, Rhode Island. It is 6 a.m. and my dad can be heard quietly getting ready for work and his pre-work daily church visit. My mom is still snoring, but within minutes will be up fluttering around the house, cleaning things that are not dirty, making my waking hours miserable. I dont think living at home has ever been worse. Its a combination of things, really. First off, I havent lived at home in... years. Secondly, Ive just returned from the most free, independent living situation ever. And Im acutely aware at all times that I should still be in this situation, if it were not for overzealous customs officials and possibly Fate, who has a sick sense of humor. In addition to this, I believe my mother has gotten more anal, if this is in fact possible. This is a woman who rushes over to the kitchen sink after you have used it so she can wipe it dry; its stainless steel and must be preserved so it maintains its gleam, see. No sooner had I set foot off the bus and hopped into her car than she was matter-of-factly informing me that I am not allowed to leave the house unless my room is immaculately clean. And there has already been an inspection. An INSPECTION! I was home a total of two days before I had to escape to western Massachusetts to visit my old stomping grounds. Before I left, my mom came into my room and almost had a heart attack when she saw the disarray of my SHOES in the CLOSET. Apparently, each pair should be lined up perfectly and symmetrically. Youve got to be kidding. No. When I returned last night I discovered she hadnt stopped there. After I left, she came in my room and rearranged things. She even took the bath towel I had draped over the door handle for drying and quick access and hung it in the closet, on a hanger, like a nice pair of trousers. Ack! My reality hangover is especially horrid because I fell asleep last night after spending hours getting gloriously giddy looking at trip photos and giving them silly captions. (These photos are, incidentally, online and ready for your perusal at two locations: http://photos.yahoo.com/dahling007 under the album labelled sinister - also includes previous sini photos, so forgive me if youve seen em. Or www.geocities.com/dahling007/photos10.htm has silly captions, but may take awhile to load and sometimes is down I got a little tear in my eye seeing Kens graceful bowling release and Nicks hip-swaying Elvis karaoke number. Dont fret. I dont intend to make this an enormous trip wrap-up reporting back post like last time I was in the UK. Because now that I am back in the land of isolated listees with no picnic potentials, I can again sympathize with the jealousy and misery these posts can produce. Suffice it to say, I had a fantastic time and met loads of wonderful people who have truly become my friends. And I miss them terribly. It was especially nice because it was a UK visit I was not exactly planning. I had eight days to pack all my things and reassemble my life after learning I was being forced to leave Greece. So each activity was unexpected and none disappointed. Karaoke, bowling, ice skating, beach huddles, arcade games and lots and lots of drinking - all did wonders taking my mind off the not-so-pleasant realities of my situation. But of course, now I can no longer avoid them. I managed to, for the weekend. I talked my mom into letting me borrow my dads brand new car - even though I am not insured and havent been behind the wheel for 10 months; quite a feat, eh? - and sped away to Northampton. Seeing old work colleagues and sources was more gratifying than I thought possible. No one was expecting to see me. They were all shocked. And thrilled! People jumped out of their seats and ran up to hug me. I was pulled in every which way; everyone wanted to hear what had happened to me. I felt so loved. Really. It was touching. I went to the police station and courthouse, where I had spent so much time hobnobbing with cops and criminals alike, and was met with a similar reception. I almost cried. We like to think the relationships we make on the job are real ones, but are often disappointed to learn that they disintegrate almost as soon as we leave. But this was not the case at all. Even the waitress at the lunch place across the street remembered my order. Also awaiting me at the newspaper was a letter from a man who had been the subject of an article I had written shortly before leaving. He was a brain injury patient who had been struggling for five years to leave a rehabilitation center where he had been placed for a temporary visit. All he wanted was to come home. But the government wouldnt let him. It was a sad story, because the guy had so much hope, and I had to dash it all by contacting the government and finding out he had absolutely no chance of ever getting out. Well, turns out my article changed that. Apparently, some senator read the thing and got so upset he advocated on this guys behalf, and he has now been released. He wrote my editor, saying: It is recommended that Stacey Shackford receives a substantial raise in pay. She did a wonderful job writing a story about my struggles with the state. It worked and Ill be moving to Pittsfield. Im a happy man. Thank you, Stacey. Aww! There is no greater reward than that, really. The short trip did wonders cheering me up about being back home. I saw old friends, went to our old bar and laughed until my sides hurt as a sports boy with an overpowering Boston accent ranted about how hed rather have sex with chicken than a man. I went ice skating, shopping and gossiping with a girlfriend. I had breakfast at an authentic sugar shack, where my pancakes were smothered with maple syrup ladled directly out of the cauldron boiling with sap dripping in from the trees. I had coffee with my favorite professor and idol, who gushed over me and suggested we collaborate for an article on comparative media ethics for an academic journal. (I also had a mini Sinister meet-up, with the lovely Andreea, and spent nearly three hours talking non-stop about the bunch of you! Ha.) And then I returned here. And what awaits me but a week that promises to be full of stress and anxiety as I do laundry, run errands, begin the job and loan search and try not to kill my parents. Sigh. I guess I shouldnt complain too terribly because at least there is an end in sight. In August, I shall be returning to Glasgow, and there I will stay for at least a year. I will be reunited with all my wonderful new friends. I will once again be free. But until then.. oh, it will be torture. And motivation to get my ass in gear and make sure it all happens. Oh yes. Anyway.. thats about it on this front. Thanks to everyone who was so spectacularly supportive during my difficult time. And to those who entertained me/put up with me while I was in Sinisterland. Huge hugs and kisses and ghetto shout-outs to yall. MWAH! ~dahling ps: I seem to remember Ms. Kara Jean putting a call out for any Boston-area listees who might fancy a pre-show meet-up. Im not sure if theres been a response (I havent actually read the list in a month, admittedly) but there should be! Im game. And theres a UMass-Dartmouth boy who better be getting his ass there as well. And I bet there are more. Anyway.. if Kara Jean hasnt volunteered her services as picnic mummy, I will. pps: apologies to all those to whom I owe email. eventually. _________________________________________________________________ Send and receive Hotmail on your mobile device: http://mobile.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: Show us yer spuds!
by robin stout 25 Feb '02

25 Feb '02

Hello I bet you're all dying to know about my potatoes, aren't you? Well, they've now spent a whole week sitting in a egg tray with their bottoms in the air in the hope that they'll sprout tails. So far the biggest one, which I've called Boris, has a stumpy little tail about 3mm long and the runt of the litter, Horace, only has a tiny 1mm one. Oh well, Horace, size doesn't matter. Honest, loads of people have told me that. I squeeze my spuds every morning to make sure they're okay. Once all their tails are an inch long I'm going to plant them in the back garden, which I began to dig at the weekend. I haven't dug up the family pet that seems to be buried in the back garden, as I left an alsatian-sized space around the little wooden cross to be sure. Judging by the size of the cross though, I'd say that although it's definitely bigger than a hampster, and it can't be a goldfish (because, as we all know, goldfish heaven lies just around the U-bend) it's more likely to be a moggy or a terrier than an alsatian. But I thought I'd better be safe. On the way back from the cinema last weekend, still feeling a little bewildered after seeing a crazy Japanese film about racoons with giant shapeshifting bollocks, we met three Spanish girls pushing a shopping trolley full of tupperware. They told us they were flying back to Spain the next day and were giving away all their stuff. Their stuff seemed to consist largely of tupperware, but we were lucky enough to go away with a radio. It was blue and quite cute. I was listening to that radio on Friday and they were talking about how Nokia has produced a range of ringtones in conjunction with the RSPB which sound like birdsong. My favourite one was the Common Gull. They phoned up the man from Nokia who'd composed them. He was Finnish, but spoke English very well, and was talking about how he'd composed them when his own mobile* went off; "What tune have you got on yours?" asked Simon "Chips 'n'" Mayo. "Well," said the man, "I get so fed up of hearing all these stupid little tunes all day that I decided last year to choose one tune and stick with it. I decided to choose something that I really like. So I chose the theme tune to Bergerac**." "Bergerac!?" "Mmm, yes Bergerac. You know, John Nettles. Very exciting!" No content at all, to be honest. You might as well have gone and made a cup of tea. Robin x * American: a cellphone ** American: a tv show sort of like Magnum _________________________________________________________________ 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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Re: Sinister: a month and a half too early :(
by Richard Kim Jones 25 Feb '02

25 Feb '02

just to be sulky like yew.... i am not allowed to go see belles in manchester as its on a Tuesday and i have college the next day dammit but when i saw them in preston last year it was on a Tuesday, but nooooooooo...my dad is an arse grrr *hugz* im not living im just killing time +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: what do i do tomorrow
by Richard Kim Jones 25 Feb '02

25 Feb '02

well i havent posted for ages so i think i will hehehe hope y'all are doin mighty fine *sends out bubbly huggly hugz* its cold and im in college being bored..IT is sooo dull grrrrr i think i shoud post farmore hmph anyhows im off college tomorrow so any ideas of what i can do would gratefully accepted then looked at hard and finaly laughed at ..hereis what i have come up with anyhows.. 1..go and buy the new hefner ep ands some eyeliner 2..sleep 3..drink all day then say i am just happy 4..go to work and tell my friend kelly to have a nice holiday 5..sleep 6..listen to random records all day and stuff 7..internet [radiohead message board all day marathon!!] 8..do coursework 9..play black and white 10..create even more drivel for my website [*cheap plug* http://nothingatall2.tripod.com] any ideas then please let me know take care y'all *hugz* luv rich xxxxxxx p.s.go listen to sigur rós now im not living im just killing time +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 cut my finger and tried to kiss a boy.
by Hannah Brown 25 Feb '02

25 Feb '02

And now i REALLY wish i hadn't. He helped me find my bag when i was too drunk to see and cut my finger. He kissed it so i tried to kiss him but he was having non of it. He just looked at me as though i had crawled out of a drain. After walking off i heard his mate say "yeh, but shes got a nice arse though", and since then everything has gone downhill. In the last week i have gone gooey about a guy who i dont know, i havent felt like this for ages and i don't know if it is a good thing, you know, going red when you see him in the library and waiting in the bar, hoping he will turn up, it's all bit sad. He wears cute jumpers but i don't know his name. I watched "dancer in the dark" and it was really beautiful and strange. I couldn't get my head round it at first. Having a mixture of harrowing scenes and then going into musical style was bizzarre but i understood why in the end. I cant listen to that album in the same way now, "107 steps" makes a lot more sense. I advise anyone who has the album but hasnt seen the film to see it NOW, but beware it might depress you. Rachel P mentioned the Brixton gig and i know it is a long way off but what shall we all do before and after??? Brockwell park is a 5min bus ride away and it's great (also near my house) so if anyone wants to stay afterwards??? Does anyone know any good bars in Brixton, i don't like that place much, it's soooooo hostile. Rachel P also asked how i'm getting on with giving up procrastinating, well this in itself is evidence that i am not doing too well at it although i did spend all night trying to mix and ended up wanting to throw my decks out the window. Hello to John K, i breifly met him at the end of a gig on monday and i have never had such a big hug off of someone i have never met before, so thanks. i'm off to try and find that guy, for the moment i will call him "alex" and make up lots of ideas about what he is like. love hannahxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x (i'd send you all one but it would take forever, maybe we should share them out) +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: Idleberry fucked in a war
by Kenneth P Y Chu 25 Feb '02

25 Feb '02

Finding things to write about can be difficult Until you find inspiration Can I find any inspiration? KNOWS. Idleberry put a cryptic message on her last e-mail, apparently, if you follow the instructions inside the cryptic message you'd find that she's a good shag. Enough about fucks tho, I'm talking about ducks instead. I ate some last night, from my favourite Chinese restaurant on Queensway in London. The restaurant was nice, small but thriving, and they played cheesy Chinese pop tunes in the background, I was surprised to remember some of the old classics. The walls of the restaurant have a line of mirrors going right around, across the middle and you can watch yourself eating, or spy on the pretty Chinese girl sitting at the table behind you. I saw the little corner seat which I remembered was where I used to sit whenever I was going there on my own. But this time I went with friends. I also remembered how nice ducks tasted, it has been about a year since I've last had a duck. A wise old lady once told me that a good duck is worth 100 gold, when I told her I didn't have 100 gold she told me to duck off. Before getting my duck, we also went to play ice-hockey, but without the sticks, nor the puck, nor 5 big armoured men charging at my face, but that never stopped me being tackled onto the ground, by gravity. That did nothing to quench my Winter Olympics aspirations however, as I proceeded to try out figure skating and attempted that trick where you skate on one foot, and the other one where you maintain your grace whilst falling over, I needed further work on both. Stuck for ideas now I'm going to talk about transportation, like trucks, or possibly trains. Travelling on trains on Saturday nights is always fun, for they are always jammed with drunk people, there was one guy who started talking to another guy about how intriguing it was to find that the millenium bridge is slightly curved, rather than straight. Then, at the end of his train journey, he for some reason felt the need to convince me that he wasn't gay, despite carrying a pink flower with him, apparently that was for his mother. I think another person on the train decided that I looked like Grasshopper from the TV series "kung fu", and started doing a rather brilliant impression of the said martial arts master, a much better impression than I. There were also two girls who were very subtly inebriated, and started talking to everyone on the train, quite quietly, except when they gave a "big up" to the so solid crew massiv' who incidentally were on board, the "big up" was only verbal, though, rather than oral, or literal, for which I was disappointed. According to one of the girls, I had a nice scarf, and that my elegant newspaper reading posture appealed to her, I said thanks. I'm sorry this e-mail sucked. Ken _________________________________________________________________ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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