March 2002 - Sinister - missprint.org

Sinister: you are not you are not who you are not who you used to be
by lindsey baker 14 Mar '02

14 Mar '02

hello sinister. ***i am not, nor will i ever, apologize for the post that is to follow. and on that same note, i heretofore take back any apologies i may have made for any posts i have written, am writing, or will write. i love each and every one of my posts, even if you lot don't. so deal with it. thank you.*** whew. secondly, i would like to dedicate the post to follow to my favorite avid reader of all things lou. you know who you are, and i love you. :) your parcel is coming along. (an additional side note to send a shout-out to all the friendly, amazing peeps who have crush-voted me of late. you give a girl hope in a bleak, desolate wasteland of sodden and sorry boys, and that makes me happy. also: caitlin, you rock.) now. to get to business. i went to a laundromat in lincoln for the first time tonight as the washing machine in the basement of my apartment complex has mysteriously been broken. for some time. i rounded up someone to go with me, and settled in for a nice bit of television watching and chain-smoking amidst the inherent humidity of anywhere with a wall of drying machines, hoping (secretly) that josh hartnett would walk through the doors and bring me forty days and forty nights of sweet, sweet lovin'. josh never came. but a phone call did. i hadn't been expecting to get it any more. i stopped waiting for it a week ago, and now that it's been almost two weeks since the event and promises of calls and face-to-face visits to sort the horrifying matter out, i find i am still just as, if not more, completely and utterly pissed off with the person on the other end of the line. i sat there, taking a few moments to realize who it was, looking, i'm sure, like some kind of weird vision, mopping up my little spill of detergent with a cigarette jammed between my teeth, ear pressed to the phone to make out the voice over the hum of the washers and dryers. "i'm at the laundromat....yeah, well, it's about as fun as one might expect....why are you calling? and when should i tell you to fuck off?" the conversation lasted longer than i expected it to when i started, and i said more than i ever intended to say. i told him about the idealistic girl fairy-tale scenarios i had created while he was away, and how i watched the demise of it all come crashing, slowly and steadily, around my precious feet for a month. and the culmination was a stain on my rug from where he spilled his drink and two weeks of panic attacks after the fact. my bed now always houses two, especially when i am alone. and he is sorry, blah blah blah same old bullshit. and i gave him a second chance to prove to me that i should not be scared of him, that he might, in fact, be able to be my friend after all. and i shouldn't have done it, but today, i happen to feel generous. i bought my friend veronica a stuffed cat, after weeks of her lamenting that her fiancee nixed the pet kitty idea. she opened the floral wrapper and took the calico bit of stuffing and fur out of the box, and kept it on her lap for the rest of the night at the paper. i love doing things like that. maybe that's why i did what i did. maybe that's why, when i came back to the paper at midnight to type a poem i stopped for a moment and watched the small congregation of homeless men sround the union, listened to their scattered and half-insane conversations. you see them walking through the union and around campus daily, always separated and manic, some good-humored and willing to talk about anything any time, especially their individual mistakes. it was the first time i had really seen them all together, and it made me oddly, if not happy, at least a little comforted. tonight, every lyric has a weighted meaning. we trade liquor for blood in an attempt to tip the scales, i think you lost what you loved in that mess of details. yes, yes, i did. for a little while, i lost myself, and i think i am on my way back to finding her, through the chewing out of a half-assed boy, a bit of self-assertion, a poem, a big, black nebraska sky, a bright eyes album, a laundromat and a few homeless men. we spend far too much time worrying about the how and why of things, the what and when and where, when we should be worrying about the who. i told him that my friends would kill me if they knew i spent time with him at this point in the game, and he said 'they say your friends know you better than yourself.' and i told him no one knew me, not even me. i told him i was different then, at that moment, than i had been ten minutes before, and that is the beauty and bitch of life. (even of sinister.) the poem is here, in front of me, and i am proud of it. i am proud of myself for writing it, and for what it says and doesn't say, for what i say and don't say still, and for who i am and who i am not. this poem. is a 'monologue.' at least that's what the assignment calls it, and this is the second one i have written. and it is not about me specifically, but it is based on me, and what might have happened, what could have been and what could have resulted. maybe it gives me perspective, or maybe it helps with my insane neuroticism of what-iffing. but it is mine, and it is me, and i am i am i am *daisy, daisy* of what is it have i been robbed, exactly, for love was never part of the game, only an alcoholic promise of meaningful ecstasy. the boy is expendable, and, after the fall of coquettish eyes and second-date hand-holding, apparently so am i. if i stare long enough at the tiles today, the grout lines dissolve, and the expanse of floor becomes gridless, moving, almost oblique and unforgiving. i do not fit any more, am only vomiting upthrowing prose, staggering counterclockwise through various stages of false completion. i am not a drawing, a pencil sketch with moveable parts to erase and redraw, smudge out and finalize as the actualization of a fantasy, two breasts and a garden-of-eden triangle, exposed and gaping, breathing a gaudy yes from every shadowed pore. addiction is not the same as passion, and blacking out is an easy excuse for elementary attempt. the repetition of a cardigan and round, twelve-dollar salvations, i know, does not equate to until death (do us part). so am i to be a quasi-heroine, then, a stamp across my lucky forehead that reads "saved from him." good girl at the bottom of the top said no and rallied weak hands to resist, sank a circle of self-defense teeth into the flesh of his neck and waited for sleep. i have stalled, fumbling now through every day faking poised deviance and disillusionment. every man is a rate of capability, and i measure only the span of their hands, estimating the breadth and shape of the bruises they will brand on my quivering expanse of vulnerable temptation. they say they are not violent, but i and my tangle of bed sheets know otherwise. now, through an horrific stretching of my intelligence, i wrap myself in a scarf and sheath of clean line breaks, taut protection from march and the ides of a boy and his absence. question irrational wonderings and try a blank, therapeutic composition of simple lips and sunshine, the doctors say. "remember you are one of the guiltless many subjected to the cowardly more." but i am weary of sympathetic audiences, dewy-eyed nods and recognition of pain. they do not know what i have not told, and the wasted weeks are crushed and compacted into one night made publice by outcry. i am the stupid one. i am of the chargeable few who pitched willingly into the arms, the drawing, a composite of blonde hair and bidden lust. we have both lost, and i force my voice into the form of thirty-eight days and their heady peak: the rape victim. and it is unoriginal, dull, a tongue without taste, a taste without direction, a direction without progression. of a million easy beggars, i am the chosen, the token, an experience told to preserve the pasty-faced feminine prevention. chastity ends with but an adopted surname, and i am still still still i am not that girl any more. i am not that girl. thank you. (i am not a victim.) thank you. (i am not guilty.) thank you. (i am both.) thank you. xxxx 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: B&S Storytelling links ALL CONTENT NO FILLER
by Shawn and Emily 14 Mar '02

14 Mar '02

Hey all, Just wanted to pass these along. Apologies if you already know and I'm boring you. Love, Shawn http://music.yahoo.com/launch/news/rolling_stone/story.html?a=n/music/launch /news/rolling_stone/rock/20020312/3/p1&b=n/music/launch/news/rolling_stone/r ock/20020312/3/p2 http://www.nadamucho.com/features/b&sinterviewb.htm http://www.nme.com/news/22502.htm http://www.tabletnewspaper.com/vol2iss_25/features/belle25.htm http://www.magiclanternpr.com/films/storytelling.htm#music +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: March 21st is the first official day of Spring
by Kieran Devaney 13 Mar '02

13 Mar '02

I was excited to berate you all for boring me with you pretentious tales of everyday drivel, like your insights were actually witty and amusing...they weren't. Dear Sinister, Ive often wanted to take photos whilst riding on buses, specifically whilst riding the number 97 bus from Birmingham City Centre back to where I live. In fact during the summer holidays last year, I contrived a whole art project of photographs taken along that bus route of the various interesting sights, but sadly, since I dont own a camera, the project never came to fruition and I have had to content myself with another nice but fairly dull project of invented landscape drawings. Ive been told, too, that if you take photos from inside a bus, the camera will focus on the pane of plexiglass in the window, rather than the intended target, which will appear in fuzzy soft focus at the back of the photo. How sad. Places of special interest along the route are many and varied; though I urge you to specifically look out for the interesting gates that litter the roadside as you travel past. Thats right, gates. My favourite gate that you pass is a wrought-iron gate that was painted blue many years ago probably only once, since much of the paint is now peeling off and rust has set in where the bare metal is exposed. The gate has also been bent and contorted slightly out of shape, it leers at you at slightly drunken angles. Being right on a main road its often stuffed with cans and crisp packets, coarse grass grows underneath it, but most interestingly of all, directly behind the gate is a wall. The wall is quite recent, you can tell that by the less worn conditions of the bricks and their cleaner colouring and this wall blocks wherever the gate originally led to rendering the gate itself quite useless. Whoever owns the factory there must have put up the wall, perhaps to stop people seeing in from the roadside, but they neglected to dispose of the gate. Perhaps this was for purely practical reasons, the gate is probable rusted onto its hinges and would be difficult and expensive to remove you might have to bring in heavy machinery to do that, and on a main road such as this that just isnt feasible. Or perhaps whoever decided the wall was to be built had a soft spot for this slightly wretched gate, saw some beauty in it and left it where it is, and decided to, perhaps, make a coy artistic statement by having this old gate lead straight into a wall. Because if you put that into a gallery, then it could be art, or art if you prefer, recontextualise gate with wall and there are a myriad of interpretations that suggest themselves the old, defunct nature of the gate contrasting with the crisp newness of the wall, there is conflict there, in a metaphorical sense the gate could represent many things, and the wall is an obvious barrier. Other things along the 97 route do not reach such heady artistic heights, but there is sadness in the bit of sculpted architecture next to the snooker hall, now cracked and weathered, uncared for, and more sadness with the imposing and successful McDonalds, mocking the row of poor, failing shops that surround it. There used to be a patch of fenced-off litter strewn wasteground at the end of a bland alleyway which was oddly set off by a sign claiming: This Site Sponsored by The European Union or words to that effect, with the circle of stars logo on it, but the sign has since been taken down, though the two metal poles which supported it are still standing. I always thought that was a poignant image, and Im sorry I didnt get a photo of that before it went. Even having travelled the route for years now hasnt made it lose its appeal, though since I know the whole thing so well, travelling it is like listening to a song you know all the words and music to. But I think it takes familiarity with something like that, something that wouldnt appear striking at all if only given a cursory glance, to find interest and even beauty in it. Which is more valuable, something beautiful that strikes you straight away, something that takes time to unveil itself, which might seem plain or even ugly at first, but little by little, becomes fascinating? What gives me the right to turn such everyday drivel into a pretentious tale? A few days ago I was on the 97 travelling back from town with my brother, and not far from the gate I was just talking about and he turned to me and said: I hate this fucking bus ride. Someone enthused about seeing Ikara Colt on tour, and having also seen them just over a week ago I can happily endorse his or her sentiments and recommend that you go and see them. Six pounds well spent I think. Theyre the first band Ive ever seen more than once too, and they were much better the second time around. Quite a good album as well. The show Teachers is back on your televisions as I type this. To be honest, I only ever saw the first episode of the last series, but that was enough for me to think that its a cunning government funded plot to encourage more people to become teachers themselves because hey, look how hip Simon is, he never does any work, hes scruffy and cool, he has a nifty rapport with the kids, they respect him but they dont fear him, look how attractive he and his colleagues are I could be the same! Callous use of primetime TV to plug the gaps in failing employment figures. And our own Belle and Sebastian were oddly tacked onto the soundtrack, the noodly instrumental bit from The Boy With The Arab Strap playing out the credits, which I felt, didnt really sit well with the supposedly gritty and edgy content of the show. Or maybe it did, maybe the BBC reasoned that since the gritty looking exterior of Teachers isnt necessarily true, the show being facile and unrealistic they would counteract this with some Belles on the credits, since their music often appears chirpy and fun on the outside, but closer listening reveals a lyrical touch which often belies the niceties of the tune. Or, more realistically, Belle and Sebastian are a band alternative enough to be cool, but safely tuneful enough to please the easily impressionable types who will be entertained and taken in by the show. - Kieran _________________________________________________________________ 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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None
by Daniel Okorn 13 Mar '02

13 Mar '02

I was released from the nursery about a week ago, but found myself a little intimidated to actually post. so this is my first offical post. I hope I get it right. I am a massive fan of belle and sebastian, discovered them when They Boy With... was released here in Canada. Other than them I quite enjoy the smiths, radiohead, mogwai, the velvet underground, sparklehorse amongst others. I was wondering if there was a meet-up planned for the Toronto show? BlurryBoy13 wrote about High Fidelity...my friends refer to all the music i listen to as "sad bastard music", the clever name jack black gave to the music belle and sebastian craft. its sad that people wont give them a chance because of a film. I think thats it, off to walk along the rocky beach with the puppies and a friend. the weather suddenly got beautiful in ontario. danieljoesph. _________________________________________________________________ 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: gap years and tibetan monks.
by will haigh 13 Mar '02

13 Mar '02

hi there everyone, i was sat in college today, and somebody said there was going to be a disscussion about gap years, i thought, what the hell, its either that or play poker. so i found out that one of the geography teachers went to india to teach young monks english, WOW! i had been thinking of going abroad at some point, and i really want to go to china. -but- having said that i am really interested in buddism, snd i might get to meet the dalai lama (as my teacher did!) i also think that it would be very benefial to help people...all part of 'finding myself'. we had a slide show and it looked so beautiful, at the foothills of the himalayas. im confused, part of me wants to go and part of me says stay here and dont miss any work opportunities. im stumped, and this is a once in a life time opportunity..... what shall i do? WILLz. _________________________________________________________________ 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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Sinister: feeling a little horse
by Stephen Hewitt 13 Mar '02

13 Mar '02

As rener said: don't go gambling, my friends, it is a mug's game. i do hope no one followed my advice on the horsies as they were all rubbish, the best result was a non-runner, gah! today's don't have very interesting names apart from RHINESTONE COWBOY in the 5.40. I'm sure a saw one called Mr Markham earlier in the week, but it seems to have disappeared, then again Bring Sweets (best horse name EVER) has disappeared too :( Hold on, MR MARKHAM is in the 5.05. maybe it's not such a bad day after all. when does mike become Mr Markham anyway jules ;) there isn't a single horse with the letters K E N in sequence running today, never mind... i can't go to tigerw*nking cos i'm in normandy eating fromage et jambon and drinking vin... Has anyone mentioned the alleged sinister vs IL* fitba match? oh, and what linda said, obv. xoxo CarsmileSteve +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: tentative arrangements for manchester pre-gig meetup
by fiona 13 Mar '02

13 Mar '02

ok, here goes... on april 2nd (i hope that's right) i will endeavour to loiter around picadilly train station at about 1 o'clock (this time is variable according the information people give me regarding their trains) assuming i find everyone i'm supposed to find, we will aim to get to chorlton green (the picnic site) for about 2 o'clock. for those that miss us at the train staion i will provide bus info and emergency phone numbers nearer the time. weather permitting we will have a picnic / weather not permitting we will go to the pub / if we get bored we will go to my house and play mike read's pop quiz board game, wilfully ignoring the fact that i have been ordered "not to bring those internet freaks back here." at about 6 o'clock we will go back to the city centre to meet with those people who are coming in the evening and will go to a pub that i haven't decided on yet (any ideas?) by this time i will either be too drunk to actually make it to the gig or we will hail taxis and demand to be taken "to the apollo my good man." i hope this will do, if anyone has any objections or needs to tell me that their train is coming at a completely different time email me and i'll re-jig (how grate is that word!!) things. nearer the time it might also be useful to know who i'm supposed to meet when, but we'll sort that later. love and lard, fiona. p.s. last night i danced until i was out of breath to dog on wheels and the inspiral carpets. it was good. +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: Confectionary analogies.
by Rebecca Wright 13 Mar '02

13 Mar '02

Maybe this is my fifth lemon sherbet in an hour talking but "Curlrat!" as Holly would mutter regarding Tom, Dick & Cid, this is not what a girl wants to see during her post b-day hangover. Here we were sugary yet occasionally sour- even if we are completely artificial, then one guy can't stand the gentle tongue rolling and has to bite down hard with a sudden explosion of bicarbonate that makes everyone wince and ultimately feel a bit queasy. This is the same person who was horrid to me within my first week out of the nursery and, when finally met in the flesh talked of nothing but his 28 reasons why 'Kid A' is better than 'Pablo Honey' but not as good as 'The Bends'! I was going to talk about the triumphant return of my B&S collection, Summer and the possible psychological reasons why all my dresses are orange but instead I'm gonna stare at Chagall's 'Blue Violinist'* and wait for the new Sinister bandwaggon to drive by. Bye for now, Becky xx *possibly 'Blue Accordian player', either way he's only got one arm. +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: If you're leaving sinister...
by Kenneth P Y Chu 13 Mar '02

13 Mar '02

Dear sinister, I was playing with Caitlin's Sinister adventure book game, and like with most of those books I was absolutely crap at it. Crap because I'm such a natural voyeur and so whenever I play those books I always end up peeking into pages by accident and find an ending that sounds REALLY NICE (e.g. you now live in an island with lots of trains full of girls who fancy you), and then I'd endeavour myself to reaching that ending, and as always, ending up with a finale that I don't want (e.g. you now live in an island with lots of trains full of girls who fancy every other boy but you). Well in Caitlin's post I saw that "chapter sex" (did you mean six?) had KEN CHU written in it, so I tried to find a trail to get to that chapter but I ended up with some sentimental crap that I didn't want, so I QUIT Caitlin's game, and then I of course WHINGED about it before I left. Haha, I didn't post for one weekend and everyone started complaining and leaving already. Better post something to keep you interested then, man this is like a day-time job. So here's another post now for you full of B&S contents, and witticisms and provides hours of entertainment, yet is short. Love and Red Bulls Ken If You're Leaving Sinister ====================== Anthony has left the list because he thought he'd never feel this way again If he goes back to the list then things would go from bad to worse, what could he do? He wants to remember things exactly as he posted on that sunny day And if there is something else beyond, he gets real mad because They're bound to be more boring than today They're bound to be more boring than tomorrow Hilary has left the list because she couldn't think of anything to say She thought everybody was quite boring, so she never listened anyway Nobody was really saying anything of interest, she fell asleep She was into NME and hateful debates Not everyone's cup of tea she would admit to me Her cup of tea, she would admit to no one Her cup of tea, she would admit to me Oh but her cup of tea, she would admit to no one Hilary went to the sini list because she wanted information Dirt vicar, or whoever, took her to one side and gave her fornication Zozefina's calling her, the contents on the list is looking lovely But those didn't interest, the only things she wants to know is How much's the gig and when and where to go How much's the gig and when and where to follow How much's the gig and when and where to go How much's the gig and when and where to follow But if you are leaving sinister Go off and see a minister He'll try in vain To stay awake to hear you whinge about the list forever blah blah blah blah blah blah blah When he rejoined, his spirituality was thrown into confusion So he got a special deal on ranting >From the man at Rediffusion "Look at me! I've left the list It makes up for the shortcomings of being a nob Now I'm better than you all", picked up for deliberation By the people reading this at home By the people reading in the office By the people reading this at home By the people reading in the office But if you are leaving sinister Just so you can start dissing us Then chances are you'll probably feel better If you stayed and played with yourself <The end> ------------------------------------------------ _________________________________________________________________ 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: Does music move the mind or does music move the body? (I dunno)
by snowy . 13 Mar '02

13 Mar '02

*Hopes this doesn't contribute to the exodus* ;-) I was thinking the other day about music and dancing. Most people I know really like dancing, but I don't. People tend to assume this is shyness (which it may be) or just fear (which it isn't). I occasionally get the urge to jump up and move around to a song, usually with a few drinks inside me or when something particularly nice has happened. But most of the time music fires my imagination. I've always been the same. When I was a boy I used to listen to songs and have very vivid daydreams, usually about being a hero and rescuing someone, or just doing something amazing and memorable. I still live a sort of Billy Liar existence. My daydreams have changed now, probably broadened a bit. But I'm still essentially the same. Really great music just makes me disappear into my own little world inside my head. Am I odd? Or are there others like me? snowy xxx _________________________________________________________________ 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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