March 2002 - Sinister - missprint.org

Sinister: Finding God at the Convent
by miss maple 05 Mar '02

05 Mar '02

ahhh sinister- TERM PAPERS! arent they great? uhh right. im writing one on the Kent State University protest on May 4, 1970 when the national guard killed those students etc etc. anyways it has to be 10-15 pages, but im at 9! im aiming for 12, but its due monday! a big dumb term paper! anyways, i work at a convent. nuns...lots of them. im a dishwasher. anyways, i just work after school and on the weekends, and i love getting a paycheck even though its just minimum wage (im saving up for a videocamera so i can become a filmmaker :) ) anyhoo, the nuns are trying to convince me to become a nun. they're so nice, and i totally would become one, except: i like boys too much (especially skinny indie-kid smokers that dont comb their hair) and i could never ever give up listening to music and going to shows and shoppingshoppingshopping thirdly, i am too vain/superficial/materialistic...i know that sounds awfully bad of me, but i wont deny it...but ask yourself this, would you wear nun clothes every single day? do you think theyre *hipster**? i didnt think so. well...if there are any nuns on this sinister list, email me...i think nuns are really nice and fun to talk to. (hehe im not even catholic!) but i am trying to find God. does that sound silly? i hope not! i really want to become more religious and spiritual, plus it is nice to have faith in something. i love Jesus, but i just want to be sure that he loves me too (does that sound corny or what?!!) well... on a less nunnish note, i saw gorkys zygotic mynci play last weekend. i got autographs and a picture with them! i love Euros Childs! and hes a vegetarian! what a catch! Euros is the reason i CAN NOT become a nun! do you think i have a chance with him? maybe, just a little? well have a lovely day..."there is misery in all i hear and see"...but ignore it...just listen to the birds' song in the morning, and look at the sun (or the cloudy sky) and dream up infinite beautiful dreams. good bye sinister, love always, maple _________________________________________________________________ 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: dirty vicar, dirty epic
by Dirty Vicar 04 Mar '02

04 Mar '02

hello everyone, it's me again, I went to a classical music concert in a cathedral yesterday evening. It was a bit dull really, but there was a real life vicar there, which was nice. He had a great "bless you my child" voice but sadly he didn't seem to be inviting young lady members of the audience back to the vicarage for tea and crumpet. Two weeks back I went to Helter Shelter, the exciting relatively new indie club in Dublin, the city I live in. It was a bag of fun, with many of my favourite tunes being played. Perhaps a highlight of the evening was when the distinctive opening sounds of 'Geno' came out over the PA and we got to elbow the young people off the floor to do our funky old people's dance. Incidentally, "we" refers to me and my friends, I haven't suddenly decided I'm a member of the Royal Family or anything. One bizarre thing about the club was how well turned out all the young ladies were in comparison to all the young lads - the latter looking distinctly lumpish by comparison. That's the kind of thing I like in a club. I've decided to start sulking about the fact that B&S don't seem to be playing here in Dublin. However, Acid Mothers Temple are. Acid Mothers Temple are this weirdo Japanese band who are going to be touring Ireland in a month or two. They play kosmische freak out music of the kind that the forward thinking like, and if they play anywhere near you I advise going to see them. big shout to mmm skyscraper for namechecking Underworld in his, well, name. He reminded me how brilliant they are and now I am bopping around the vicarage to their crazy band techno-esque sounds. this makes typing a little difficult. Now some replies to things people said: on 3/3/02 14:43, Max421(a)aol.com at Max421(a)aol.com wrote: > I think I'm in love with Stephen Merrit. I think I'm in love with Claudia Gonson. And yes, I know she bats for the other team, but love doesn't take account of these things. [I am however primarily in love with my special friend, and I'm not just saying this because she subs to Sinister] It's funny though, there was a time when the world of B&S fandom was full of people saying "a lot of people like Magnetic Fields but I think they're rubbish". I think this was because people were jealous of the fact that the Magnetic Fields could cut it live without throwing tantrums or taking half an hour to get ready between songs. But now that B&S are a live touring monster the Magnetic Fields are less challenging, and therefore it's OK to like them again. And I read Baker, Baker's post about that guy and the crematorium that didn't work. I have a certain sympathy for that guy too. Or empathy perhaps, as I can imagine being in a situation where you've fucked up really badly and there is no way out but to keep fucking up and hoping no one notices only you know you'll get caught sooner or later. Nyurgh, nasty. Jenowl's mail about her Catholic school was funny in an I'm glad I'm not going to that school kind of way. I dunno, I seem to be the only person in the world who went to a Popish school that wasn't awful. Youn Noh mentioned The Vaselines, who are always worth mentioning. He also mentioned silent films in general and Fritz Lang's "Metropolis" in particular, and how some bits of it are just stills with text. Sadly, I don't think this was some kind of pioneering technique of Lang's, more a reflection of there being no complete print of the film, so they have to show stills with text for some bits or the plot stops making sense. I've seen enough silent films to like some more than others. FW Murnau's "Nosferatu" is completely brilliant, and his "Tartüff" (featuring a dirty vicar) is also enjoyable. "The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari" (by some other German bloke) is also toptastic, visually one of the most striking films ever made. yeah, if you've made it down this far you're ready for some list abuse. I publish this music zine thing which works by people sending me zines which I photocopy up and stick together and send out to all the contributors. It's kind of like a print version of an internet mailing list on digest, only slower. There's a new collation out now, maybe you would like to see a free sample copy? Then you could become one of my zinewriting friends, which would be nice. I'm not selling this very well. Two more things before I go: i) In the trailer for "the Royal Tenenbaums" Gwynneth Paltrow looks a bit like wor Isobel. ii) actually, my second thing isn't that interesting. bless, DV +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: Brand new, with no measurable improvements
by Rachel Harvey 04 Mar '02

04 Mar '02

It feels strange to be so nervous about posting to a list that I have been reading for four months now. My palms are slick, my heart is beating faster and my tongue feels at least four times its normal size (what this has to do with anxiety I don't know). I was told about sinister by an attractive young gentleman at my new workplace (in my new town of residence) who was attempting to make a point to me about obsessive fans. Little did he know that I would become a compulsive reader and new member myself within a few short weeks. I can see him sitting across the office from me now, looking significantly less attractive since I have learned what wonders lay within the object of his disparaging comments. A little about me: My name is Rachel I am 5ft7inches tall I have brown hair, it is long. I am 27 yrs old I live in Boston I hope you are forming a lovely and completely unjustified picture in your heads. It is also very strange to be writing this when in the pathetic mood I find myself in today (but why not, this job is too boring to bear one more minute of uninterrupted). My recent jaunt across country was prompted by that most glorious of emotions, love. Many weeks ago now, I packed up my belongings and set out on what I was sure would be the most worthwhile journey of my young life and arrived in this new city breathless with anticipation of the fun and adventures to come. However, now that I find myself here, within spitting distance of that wonderful awe-inspiring object of my long distance affections for so many months I am suddenly unsure of what it was I was feeling in the first place. I feel completely bewildered by this sudden unexpected stagnation of my feelings towards the boy. We are having many good times still, and outwardly nothing has changed, but the little voice inside my head chanting 'this isn't enough' simply will not be silenced. How could this be, when we were apart I was head over heels and now I just don't know? Wow, that has been fermenting inside for far too long. Simply electronically recording these feelings has lifted the load - thank you, you wise and wonderful people for providing a place to let that out. On a brighter note - I am very excited to be seeing B&S for the first time very very soon!!!! First time love to everyone Rachel _________________________________________________________________ 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: the sneezing has arrived
by Caitlin Pigtails 04 Mar '02

04 Mar '02

Yes, it's that hayfeverish time of year again already. Time for all those mad sneezing fits. I used to get told off at school for sneezing too loudly; the teachers were just embarrassed because I'd made them jump. This B&S Treasure Hunt thing looks quite exciting, but I probably won't do very well because I'm not very good at anagrams. If I watch Countdown, I'm lucky to get a four-letter word. [insert Countdown clock music here] Last time I posted, I said I'd seen a fox. I saw it again this weekend. It looked to have a rabbit or something in its mouth. It didn't see I was there. It looked left and right, and went under a train. Speaking of daytime TV quiz shows, I got very excited watching Fifteen To One the other week. OK, people who don't watch British telly can pretty much skip this. I got excited watching Fifteen To One on Friday, because I recognised the winner, from a documentary that was shown about her on TV several years ago. When she was 14 (or 13 maybe, I can't remember) she ran away from home at 5 in the morning. She was very organised; she had booked herself a taxi to get to the railway station just in time for the first train to London. She was inspired by Levellers lyrics. No, silly, it wasn't a *moving* train. As far as I know, Mr Fox is still alive. The documentary was all about her parents' efforts tracking her down, interviewing homeless teenagers in London and York and lots of other places that I don't remember. They didn't find her. They said, we'll keep on looking, but it all seemed hopeless. Six months later, she came home of her own accord. I hope she's not on Sinister. For some reason, that documentary was inspirational to me when I was a slightly-disturbed teenager. I dreamed of tracking her down and saying "why?" Maybe there are foxes prowling round my house at night. There probably are; I live in the city after all. Hopefully, they won't try to attack the cat. I lie in bed at night and hear cats yowling and dogs barking, but I never hear foxes. I like to think that the world is still going on around me when I lie in bed. It's comforting. The world goes on. Never mind about TV quiz shows. The world goes on. xx caitlin +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: blind the skies and change the tomic role
by lindsey baker 04 Mar '02

04 Mar '02

hello sinister. ok, kids. even though a dark and sinister cloud has settled over the day (someone at the newspaper seems to have stolen -- yes, stolen -- my portis head cd. gaaaahhhhhh!!!!!) i am writing with details of my planned picnic. as of yet, i have heard from but one (1) sini member: the ever-lovely and amazing baker, baker. yes, that's right. you read that properly. this picnic shall be a kind of festival of everybody's favorite bakers, it seems, so if you want to get in on this action, hop on now! i am aware that a gathering of significant magnitude is to occur sometime around the hallowed independence day portion of the american year, and so my proposal for what looks to be a smaller, though no less stellar, event will be a bit sooner. to usher in springtime, let us now come together april 6. a saturday. in beautiful and booming lincoln, neb. after my spring break, during baker, baker's and scarily close to my birthday. but i think this shall not be a celebration of me (as every day really already is -- hehe) but rather a celebration of baker's new and improved eyesight, as he will have recently recovered from visual procedures. so then. come if you will. don't if you won't. but don't come crying to me for any sympathy when you miss out. ok. that is all. love and theft, lou xxx _________________________________________________________________ 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: I walked into a door
by Ben Apps 04 Mar '02

04 Mar '02

I walked into a door, and I left 'The Bends' behind me TO go reading in the NME, but it wasn't very good 'Til I heard a band, off another boy at school with me Like a dork he hung around with me and my mullet hanging down And I reminded myself of the words he sang when I was feeling down And he let me tape his Belle's at home for my stereo, to wear Round my neck, it wont be heard by passers-by or when I'm waiting for The night bus to arrive and I've been waiting quite a while I bought a chain saw........... Sheesh, I really should be working, or getting home. But Quickly Rob, nice photos. Lucy, bon voyage. Fitballers, good game! Archel, congratis. Rachel, C U soon yipee! SGS, where's the cookies? Will, you got your ticket yet? All, come to trackandfield on the 15th (pretty please!) Q Where do Belle and Sebastian kick off their tour? A Aarhus Q Where's Aarhus? A In the middle of Aar Street! ahahahahahaha! erm..... I'll cet me goat bapps _________________________________________________________________ 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: my alchemical processes need more context than refinement: you can have everythi
by figure2＠fsmail.net 04 Mar '02

04 Mar '02

I WOULD LIKE ALL OF THESE THINGS IN MY SOUP Waiting on the bus I eyed the steelwork. The space is a rip-off of some other architect's achievement at Stansted and the Round Hollow Sections here are Too Thick. Hold it up on wires and jets of calibrated silent air, not this over-girthy metal tubework coated in whitewash! And did you even *attempt* to avoid the standard second-best formula? Oh so oh too cynical. On the way here one got the impression that the pilot up front was young but confident. "It's a beautiful night for flying and with us here are three of ** Airline's finest: Monica, Brandie and Hot Toddie." The moon was out and the craft swooped over and down, making contact with the tarmac with a slight thump but the aerolons were quickly manouvered to the vertical, 'G'ing up the deceleration to give one almost as much of a buzz as the reverse process up north: hell when this thing is going like a Ferrari I don't even *care* if it doesn't take off. Feel the *speed*. Feel the *speed rising*. The plane followed suit and therefore I write this now, and not as a memorandum from hell. I'm writing this in bed and bah! Have to get up to get a train in a minute. With none other than a confessional intention I shall add that it's 07:27 and I'm slowly working my way through the glasses of brandy and iced water I brought up from the hotel lounge some six hours ago. I had a maroon shirt on in velvet with a grey polyester DKNY tie on with five rectangular cut-outs exposing a vermillion interior like the last lights left on in a skyscraper and finally, and rather *de trop*, a grey and gold striped waistcoat with a linen frontside. I had sought out the last table with it's own lamp because I wanted to read more of EXHIBITIONISM by Toby Litt: a book I'd picked up earlier in the evening on account of it's rather fetching cover featuring a flowery cotton shrink-wrapped posterior of a woman pretending to be a dog and a clutch of favourable reviews of his other efforts called 'corpsing' and 'deadkidsongs' and 'adventures in capitalism'. So I was between the chapters 'Map-Making among the Middle-Classes' and ' "Legends of Porn" (Polly Morphous) Final Shooting Script' when it's drawn to my intention that I'm sitting next to about seven Cider Barons, one of whom has a Somerset accent, another with an American one (let's say East Coast) and the others with generic lower middle class English. All wearing tuxedos, and three discussing vintage port after a sort of dull macho fashion: "She put the decanter in the dish-washer and it went all white." "Stuart Crystal doesn't work in the machines. I picked one up in the factory shop for £160" "That's not much cheaper than retail really. I think they make them in Japan too now. Maybe Korea". "The only thing'll do it is a dose of vinegar." "Ha! A pint of cider will get the white off." "Is three million OTT for an acre in town?" "Wouldn't have thought so. Just past the traffic lights. In fact, in the late seventies..." "I drank the last one this christmas and it was byooootifool" "You want to filter it through a cold mesh." " Get down on the floor of a competitor... Injection-moulded taps should be in our league" I couldn't concentrate and the middle class dinner party in the book went by in something of a blur. Back to the bed. Room. It has rather alot of carpet. Overall, it's not exactly stylish but it is...: in a recess next to the section boxed-out to house an en-suite facility is a rather uncomforteable- looking blue sofa under a shitty print in a pompous gilt frame befriended by a pair of brassy sconces either side and, well, the whole thing was so far away I never reached it: it was just a view on the horizon. AS THE ANXIETY BUILDS SO DOES THE RANDOMNESS In my formative years girls wore jeans on which was written on a patch on the back: their butt, I suppose, accurately as it turns out, "What shall I wear?" Such a cutely framed conundrum to which the only answer was (exploiting an intrinsic female indecisiveness) "Why not try *these* on, instead?" One will become aware at this point that the process is more rewarding than the result. Hell it's comfy here. I love beds. I have to get to a railway station, which involves re-tracing last night's extortionate taxi ride. The taxi was a geography rather than an energy problem, and it cost £2.50 before we even left the station forecourt and a further 20p waiting for the lights to turn at the bottom. Talking of money, breakfast here is £14. I *should* eat like *right now* but £14? Go hike, Mr. Manager Sir. The privations of being esconsed in a luxury establishment. I resolve without fizz and put the notepad down; TV on. It's Open University geometry and, as usual, yellow shirts, brown ties and sideburns are quietly explaining something shown on a graph. I want some POP MUSIC. Where's Cat Deely when you need her? I go to a conference which I will summarise as follows: 20th century architecture absorbed the techniques of mass production in order to align the ideology of democracy with its processes, which resulted in orthogonal geometry: horizontals, verticals, flat planes. Now computers allow the profession to indulge in what it really likes, which are sexy curvy forms like it was in the days of stonemasons and the baroque. So, gee-whizz, we can do curvy quite cheap now. Of course, the first thing that gets lost in a tecchie talk is what does it actually all mean? What letter comes after the letters wow? In any case, one cool fact is that one can use a soap bubble to calculate the perfect tension minimal surface form for given forces, and if you get a bunch of loose chains, hang them upside down then turn a photo of the aforesaid upside down you get a series of parabolas which calculate a pretty efficient compressive structure. It looks pretty too. Someone flashed up a slide of a sectional diagram of a snail. I had a bit of a giggle realising that one of the panellists had slept with the same girl I'd slept with. CAD CAM academia incest! wheee! We take a break for "coffee" which involves pinging open the second can of Stella I bought on the train and being as far away from the other delegates as possible, which happens to be a wooden bench in glorious sunlight overlooking a duck-pond. There is a bloke mallard getting horny with a female one and chasing it around with much wing flapping and splashing on the water and quacking. The girl duck is having none of the nonsense, but does insist on staying in front. I wanna see some hardcore pond action, but to no avail. Do ducks have dicks? There is a black-headed loner seagull in the vicinity. I'm not sure, neither is it, but if I stay still enough I might convince the bird I'm a tree or part of the bench. In any case, after much deliberation it starts to wander over then hangs a sharp left towards the lakelet. An altercation with the assembled avians on the shore ensues, leading to a tantrum by the loner, who stretches it's head as far-forwards as possible and opens it's beak and gullet to emit a squawk or craak of such vehemence it almost sounds like a seagull version of "fuck-off". I think we're beginning to get along. Topological transformation: implicit form via the filter of specific material properties, blah blah. I take a bus into Bath and write three postcards. Then I write more in the notebook getting rather too serious about pedants and pendants and spring mechanisms, as in clocks and rites. So I'll edit that out. I know I'm getting real pompous when I start writing VULGAR in capital letters. Get back to your mythical pile in the country, Gordon. Ah. It's nice to be in a large double bed again, eyeing-up the vacant square meterage of carpet around it. A good clear three square meters to the right before the expanse is brought to a halt by a tacky ash-veneer effort with a television on top, made by Phillips of Phillips Compact Cassette fame. A pity there isn't a woman to match the bed-spread but, then again, I do insist upon referring to you lot as generically strange and exotic concepts. Frank Lloyd Freud Swallowed His Mother goes the tabloid bold print. I ended up talking to an MBA student who had a 'University of ****' business card. In return I smoked most of his Malboro's (not lights either) and gave him a card with my mobile number on it which comes free with a pay-as-you-go- Vodaphone contract and the phone's never switched on anyway and my land-line is ex-directory. Yeah, I'm a bit of a recluse. If it comes to it, our people will talk to your people. I was too late for the last night train to the home of the slave trade so I got a cab. £30. My visa account becomes a sort of distant glow of infinite proportions. Just write the checks kid and carry on: money is a *verb* said the usurer to the idiot. Just another oscillation of texture said the painter/couturier. INSERT YOUR OWN HEADLINE: I HAVE SOME BUT THEY'RE LATER ON Francoize Breut rocks out but only a chic wee bit, after a sample of world music that sounds like a funeral march through the streets of Naples. Napoli. She seems to get along with these wee snippets 'My head is bursting, dear' and it's traditional in French pop to refer to their old African colonies; especially Algeria. Why hello Mr. Camus and Monsieur Derrida. But cheeky chic chick Francoiz goes ALL THE WAY TO JAPAN. WHAT a.. why, what a woman. I've said it before. In response to such a compliment I speculate that she'd respond with a gallic version of 'whatever'. *Tendresse-moi* ye daft bint.:) FIRST HEADLINE: I DEMAND ORCHIDS There are no fresh flowers in this room and about ten hours later I also find out that the local florist has sold my well-intentioned dad as a gift to my mum some near-dead daffodils! Isn't that SO APALLING? Flowers as gestures are such subtle mechanisms and nearly dead flowers well, work it out: it makes me almost physically sick. My mum loves daffs. Anyway, back to the room and out of the window there is only a bit of flat roof felt and some concrete framing all gauzed-off via a net curtain. The curtain doesn't do hotmail, nor does it flicker with bits of advertising like the A.O.L. girl. "Watch out kids: there is bad stuff on the net." Bad stuff beyond it too: that concrete detailling is horrendeous. I'll be out of here soon. 11:03 Su says the window on my radio-synched alarm clock. Maybe alarm clocks should have built in smoke detectors and function as all-over problem-alert devices. Maybe it could even be cajolled into beaming over to the outside of the door over there to the left; the one that the cornicing stops either side of and from whose handle hangs in place of a 'do not disturb' sign an 'I'm hard of hearing: if there's a fire going on please yell really loudly' sorta sign. KOI CARPS. IF THERE'S GOING TO BE A FLOOD I WANT KOI CARPS IN IT The whiskers on them look a bit stupid but they're touchy-feely kinda fish and some of them live almost as long as tortoises. MY JOB IS SECURE FOR AT LEAST ANOTHER MONTH SO I'M CHASING A MORTGAGE One has to get the best deal. Right like: right this moment I really don't give a flying **** at a rolling donut. Yesterday I did and tomorrow I might.carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero A GRAND WHITE PIANO Someone's either tuning it or doing a rhapsody in a-rhythmical octaves. Play a tune goddamnit! What about Scott Joplin's 'The Entertainer'? That would go down quite nicely on a Sunday morning. Andrea Dworkin can punch my face now cause it might be a woman at the instrument. A tune! Tuner-person has burst into a 30's style medlee. God is in heaven and evaporated milk and would any lassies care to foxtrot? At this point a Steps-sized pop ensemble sit down all morning glowy and I swear that this is fucking scary because they're all rather beautiful. I look the other way, through a softwood timber ballustrade and through the waxy leaves of a tree growing from below the mezzanine. Beyond that is water. The water is a thick sludgy green colour and light craft are, on occasion, plying up and down. Narrowboats; fibre-glass cruisers and some proper steel-hulled steamboats moored upstream of a lifting bridge. It's delightfully 'nothing else better to do' my sweet. The pianist chromatically trickles into a song popular during the Second World War. This provokes an emotional state someone born in 1970 has no right to. Very confusing. An open-backed narrow boat cruises by with people sitting under a festooned yellow vinyl canopy. There is a wake of seagull cries and parabolic ripplets: efficient distribution of force as has been learned. There's more navel-gazing in the notebook involving Frank Bob and Frankenfrutter and platform cross-overs, ending in 'the more stranger the path, Alice, the more I follow: *Ennui* is a word and here are some words, before which I should add that, although I didn't actually enjoy being chased around the souk by an over-excited tour guide I did see many pots, ceramic figurines and carpets in the process.' So here it goes: In the noon-day sun, I was chased by one and Crowded though it was, He caused me pause as Our eyes met at a corner: I was chasing a dream I didn't wish to catch And he was after my time and money. MUSTANG SALLY! You smell of musk. A degree of cynicism, I do not posess though A lack of consistency I do confess. Were it up to me, I would suggest, firstly that Yodelling is best and after that Optimism is a beautiful holy mess. Let's play. The pianist fingers his notes towards ' Nights in Calibria' and we're back in the jet-set of Frank's 'Around the World'. If you've ever been in the company of children you will recognize when I suggest that you become part of their world to a larger degree than you ever expected of yourself. They ask such obvious questions like 'why is the moon over there?' and 'what is a reflection for?'. They pretty much see right through you and can tell you're covering over large gaps in basic know-how so ask for a piggy-back instead. AIRPORT DEPARTURE LOUNGE "Is Manchester United Playing?" enquires a customer "Actually, it's Formula One" answers the barman "Footballers don't throttle" I suggest "Unless you're Beckham in his Ferrari" smiles the barman "That doesn't tend to get broadcast" I smile back. I shalln't bore you with more airport theory. Except for this poor nugget: An airport is basically a wall called customs/check-in/baggage re-claim either side of which are shops then metal containers in motion with people and clothes inside. Nowadays you're asked to stare for a moment at a camera on the wall so they have one disgruntled-looking citizen on permanent record.It must make for a rather depressing movie at the end of the day: the expressions of thousands of people whyo've just emptied their change into plastic trays and switched their mobiles off and are still trying to work out if a 'sharp object' must be made of metal when kicking even the hardest bastard on the planet up the groin is pretty effective if you have shoes on. FLYING The aeroplane is ascending. Over the roads and fields is a layer of cloud, like an antarctic surface all in white but micro-modulated into billions of puffs though macro-controlled into a smooth arc by the air whirling around earth. That is a sky landscape then there is a higher layer of cloud that can get got into, and does, but not beyond. It's diaphanous and vague and beautiful and virginally white and soft. Inhabited by molecules condensing into watery droplets splashing then streaking over the carapace of this metallic tube I'm in; the man sleeping in the seat in front is in; the lonely woman sitting five or four empty seats to the right of me is in; the stewardess is in. The cloud gets broken into the sunshine and this is really happening. Gordon. _______________________________________________________________________ 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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Sinister: If you're feeling nostalgia
by Kenneth P Y Chu 04 Mar '02

04 Mar '02

Visiting your old University town is kinda weird. You drive past the University park, it is stagnant, inert to time. You have moved on, aged, yet everything else are still - the staggering trees still stagger, the buildings are still built, the passing girls who used to make you swoon still pass, and never aged one bit - yet you have, you don't even swoon any longer, you just sigh in deep nostalgia, when "Yesterday once more" by the Carpenters is being played on your stereo. You still feel attached to it all but you have expired your time of stay, at least it says so on your plastic card. You can still remember every muscle every bone of your abode for 3 years, but now you're merely dead skin cells that have fallen away, new ones have regenerated and all you can do is cling onto its shoulder before you get brushed away. You still know your way around town, but every corner there is something or somewhere new that you haven't seen or been, that you think you must visit next weekend when you finish your lectures, only there aren't any lectures anymore. Your friends are one thing that still seem familar, and you feel comfortable around them, yet on the back of your mind you feel strange that you're no longer part of their lives, and that to them you're more a guest than a company. And then you feel strange that you should think so much. Ken _________________________________________________________________ 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: Review of 2001
by David White 03 Mar '02

03 Mar '02

This probably constitutes list abuse but there is content so I'll take my chances... The results have been counted in the http://www.belleandsebastian.freeserve.co.uk fan's survey for 2001. To view the results and see what Belle & Sebastian fans thought of the music of 2001, visit the site and go to the Votes page. David White david(a)belleandsebastian.freeserve.co.uk +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: My name is Lucy and I...
by Lucy Alder 03 Mar '02

03 Mar '02

...live in Glasgow. Be warned Apps, Carter and all you other long distance lovers, in the end one of you has to move and it is a right royal pain in the arse. You have to try to get everything you own packed up small enough to fit into a Nissan Sunny, but you procrastinate lots and then you run out of carrier bags and then you realise the car may be the same colour as a tardis, but that's where the similarity ends and you just ain't going to get it all in. So then you chug through the night in all kinds of weather apart from the clement sort and your sister whacks the heating right up and makes you feel right dozy but you have to try your hardest to stay awake because she's doing you a massive favour by driving you up. And then, when you finally get there, you remember that you live on the third floor and there's no lift and you have to get yourself and several hundred bags of stuff up there by hook or by crook (or by driving to Milngavie to collect the boyfriend, who is ). Blimey! But then you sit down and nurse your cup of tea and go all grinny because (a) you're finally there and (b) all your mates came to the pub to give you a jolly good send off. It was kind of like Eastenders, but nobody's car exploded killing an eighties pop star who has BLATANTLY been messing about with Grecian 2000 lately. Ken came all the way from Milton Keynes, though, and Carsmile Steve and Meg came from Oxford and loads and loads of people came from London and I got a dart board and cake and CD as going away pressies and it was luvverly, thank you all very much! So here I am, in a new flat with wooden floorboards, seagrass carpet and lots of Ikea furniture (ooh, get me!) living a mere hour from the boyfriend's doorstep. Blimey! And I am going to see Lloyd Cole at the Grand Ole Opry tomorry nighty. Blimey again. The Pinefox would be proud, I hope. The ticket says NO SUPPORT in big letters, which I presume means that he favours classic boxers over briefs, Calvins or Y-Fronts. Or maybe he is getting older and fatter, but his manbreasts do not yet merit a bra. A long time ago, I travelled to Brighton and went to a picnic, which was one of the bestest ever and I do feel qualified to say this, seeing as I have been going to picnics for nearly three years. Archel, you are a darling and I will make every effort to come to the one in the summer, especially if I get to be voyeuristic and watch Neptune take Mark Casarotto roughly from behind again. May I also apologise to the three skinny indie boys whose bed I hogged that night? Sorry lovelies. Your skinny indie hipbones must have dug painfully into the floor. I feel contrite and will repay you in lollies. Right, the orange notice has just popped up to say my credit is low, so I will be off. Mandee and Eric, I am putting together packages full of stuff and things for you, but what with the move it's been a bit difficult. I am not forgetting you. Juicy Lucy x ===== We're going out! http://www.groups.yahoo.com/group/london-indie __________________________________________________ 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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