March 2003 - Sinister - missprint.org

Sinister: unplugged
by Kieran Devaney 19 Mar '03

19 Mar '03

I wrote a wee while ago about returning to Birmingham and how that felt and all, and I suppose while this is undoubtedly all exaggeration given the fact that Ive only been away from there for five or six weeks I got a chance to test out my theories last weekend when I actually went back. The train journey down there mightve been the best bit if I think about it. Trains are great. Its so nice to be able to see distant fields suffused with great globs of sunlight through gaps in the clouds while you remain in the shade. The skewiff spire of Chesterfield cathedral. All that. Home is luxuries though. A bag of pic n mix, roast beef flavour monster munch, which even vegetarians can eat and that new fanta which tastes a bit like sweetened sick, but is a really pleasant colour, stuff like that. I got the bus a couple of times and the thing that stood out most, more than ever, because it always did at least a bit was an old shop, long since closed down, that used to sell computer parts. The faded sign, still in the window, which used to be royal blue, but has gradually faded to a more appealing pastel shade bears the names in angular typefaces - what might nowadays be called retro-futurism Amstrad, Atari, Spectrum, Commodore 64 all emblazoned in white across the window, and beneath them torn and yellowed net curtains half-hiding the bare interior. If you look closely inside you can see the dusty remains of shelves, and what mightve been a counter in the corner, and who knows what visions of the future changed hands there all those years ago. I remember once, on the way home from town, a boy wearing one of those fashionable Atari tee shirts got on the bus and sat down in the seat right in front of me. The shirt was much too big for him, perhaps two or three sizes, the Atari logo in bright yellow on a forest green background. He was tall himself though, and awkward with it, the picture of gawkiness with cropped and thickly gelled black hair and thin-framed glasses, his movements were indecisive and he stumbled along the stationary bus before sitting down. His face was covered in acne, little peaks of white and yellow surrounded by vast drifts of red all spilling into each other and feeding off each other. Like a toadstool, or a forest. All this detail about him isnt so important really, but it has stuck with me. I can picture him almost exactly, or at least I think I can, and I watched him as we trundled along, the little rhythmic glint of the sun on his frames through gaps in the buildings. The tee shirt looked like a concession, a treat, it was so pristine looking how proud he must have been. I waited for us to get to the old computer parts shop, to see what his reaction would be. But as we passed, and I was quite sure he was looking directly at the place, he didnt even blink, not one tiny hint of a nuance changed. How disappointing. Perhaps his mind was reeling at the sight of it, but he kept it hidden, I cant rightly tell of course, but there was a potential clash there perhaps it only existed in my own mind but I felt it deserved its own half-second of drama. And how irritating is it not to be able to know things? Does it ever bother you that there are things you will never know? Not just big important things either, but tiny trivial things too. When I was at school, and I tell you this by way of example, some teachers would make their classes put on house assemblies (if youre not au fait with the house system then basically the school is split into chunks, usually four, though there were only three at my school, and each one is a house, they then play sports against each other. Every week on Wednesday mornings each house would have an assembly), theyd have to choose a topic and then perform a short talk on it in front of about a third of the school. This wasnt a fun thing to do really I had to do it myself once, though it was an entirely unremarkable event, I cant even remember what our assembly was about. But this particular one does stick in my mind, if only for what happened after it. The assembly itself was given by a group of troublemakers from the year above me you could tell they resented having to do the thing; so unenthusiastic were their utterances. The topic was school dinners, the relative merits thereof and they half-heartedly presented the various well-worn clichés and jokes, anything else would have reeked of effort I suppose. But the rubbishness of the assembly is not really the point, they were all rubbish really, even if the speakers were actually interested in the topic they had chosen. I recall one on Pokémon cards a few years ago which was unintentionally hilarious its probably best not to devote a section to ad-libbing about your favourite cards, thats a tip for you all in case youre ever in a similar situation. But anyway, one the way out of the assembly hall you had to pass through quite a narrow doorway, which was a squeeze even if there were two of you, so getting a whole third of the school through meant that there was usually a bit of a wait before you could leave. This occasion was no different, and as I stood there waiting I lazily eavesdropped on the people in front of me it turned out that they both knew one of the people who had given the assembly, and so most of the discussion was devoted to how crap he had been and how much they were going to insult him when they next saw him. Fair enough. Then, as we approached the doorway one of them turned to the other and stepping forward a little way, so as to be the next people through once a gap emerged he said You know, the real problem with school dinners is and with that they both pushed through the throng and were gone, while I stood stranded just yards from where the end of the sentence was now being said. Now, thinking realistically, what he actually ended up saying was probably not that interesting or insightful after all, how interesting can the topic of school dinners conceivably get? But, stricken there amongst the people clamouring to get through the doors, and too frail and small to push my way past I thought the worst thing that you can think in such a situation: Im never going to know what the end of that sentence is, and its going to bother me forever. And, well, here I am some seven or eight years later writing about it. I went out last Wednesday night to see a friend of a friend DJ at this awful gothical rock night club and although the music was decent he even played a couple of B&S tunes for me (if I worried about such things this is where I would put a cheery note saying something like See?! Content!), there was virtually no one there, only fifteen or so people, which sort of put a dampers on things. Now, the night out isnt really the important thing. Because of high taxi fares and the fact that I live on the other side of Birmingham from all the people I was with that night I decided to go back with them, which I duly did and stayed the night at my friends house. Thats not the important bit either. Next morning in the kitchen of this rather plush house I was sitting with another friend, who had also stayed over Im not mentioning names not out of any desire to maintain anonymity or anything really, they both have the same name and things just tend to get confusing anyway. But there we were the fact that the house is rather plush is something you should hold onto, it will become more significant a bit later. So, we were sitting there, just having a chat and in walks my friends mother. Now, I dont really know her and I imagine she probably resents the fact that her children invite so many strangers to come and stay without consulting her first, but she was breezy and pleasant enough to us. I suppose you have to be. Anyway we chatted with her for a while and she mentioned that she had a new car, or well, she corrected herself, second hand, not new you know. We nodded. Taking up the thread I mentioned that my dad had a new car too he cant shut up about it - I added jovially. Perhaps I jumped in with that a little too quickly, or perhaps my tone was accidentally condescending, or perhaps she had inferred something from my mannerisms, perhaps my awkwardness or awkward over-politeness, I cant say, but in that instant as I was saying that innocent little sentence and a half she flashed me a contemptuous look that so took me aback that I stumbled over the last few words. She checked herself though and asked what sort of car it was, I told her and told her how old it is as well. Oh. She seemed unsure what to say next and swiftly changed the subject. But in that moment where she looked at me, as though I was in some way trying to somehow belittle her, I wanted to show her my house over the other side of Birmingham. Perhaps coming downstairs on a Sunday afternoon into the living room, my mum by the window doing the ironing, a bit pile of crumpled washing around her, the football results on the telly, my dad and my brothers draped variously across the settees, eyes fixed. Toys and stuff strewn across the floor, the lunch things still not cleared away, the stale, dry heat from the iron and the glutinous churn of the classified results, the lethargic looks on my siblings faces. I wanted to show her all that, just briefly, wanted her to know. In truth those grim Sunday afternoons spent in stasis, where escape outside, whatever the weather, or back upstairs were all I could opt for are the only times I can honestly say I dont like living at home. But my friends mother looking at me like that in the pristine kitchen of her spacious home, her new car parked in the driveway next to her husbands as though I were passing judgement on her, as though I were scorning all that I wanted her to see differently, to see the truth. And its not a case of whos most hard done by, because how pathetic would that be? Its pretty pathetic anyway I suppose. Perhaps I feel most sorry for my dad, almost turned gloating villain of the piece either goggle-eyed in front of the football in our stuffy living room or in the mind of my friends mum, lording it up over his new motor, or whatever it was she thought. A constant war, wrote David Hare, a war of attrition. We should keep that in mind. And then today I felt entirely disorientated by things. There was yet another anti-war protests organised by the student committee today, more chants of Warfare? Welfare! and the like rang aloud as I came out of my lecture today, and then they started marching up towards town. I was on the way there myself so I followed them at some distance; they were walking in the road, blocking the traffic. I couldnt sympathise with them they got in the way of a sticky bus full of people going to Halfway (I didnt get that joke until one such bus almost hit me the other day). And then halfway up the road they all sat down, but only for a few seconds, egged on by shopkeepers and passers by, drawn out by the sunlight and the noise. I sort of know one of the organisers of these protests his name is Jethro, Im sure he wont mind me mentioning it. I cant imagine he has much time for the interweb anyway, besides indymedia dot org. He stood for union president just last week actually, but was beaten by the captain of the rugby team. So it goes. And yes, there he was at the head of the line, megaphone in hand, leading the chant I say warfare etc, but I couldnt summon up the energy to get involved, not that I dont think protesting is a good thing quite the opposite really, but I felt as though the focus of that today was not my own. The focus has shifted. And I couldnt match Jethro in his boundless enthusiasm I kept losing my train of thought and wondering if his dippy parents (thats an assumption by the way, Im sure his parents are very nice people) had so named him after top prog rockers Jethro Tull. I sort of hope so. It cant have been after top Cornish comedian Jethro I wouldnt have thought so. He fascinates me anyway; hes like a cartoon character in that he always dresses in the same regulation clothes, grey fleece top and black drainpipe jeans. The top has the flag of Norway on the shoulder of one of the sleeves, perhaps both. He tops off the ensemble with a Eurohike bag decorated with a couple of Socialist Worker badges, bits and pieces like that. But on went the march with whistles and giggles and chants and banners being waved and I followed them along the road reading the banners and watching the people, but still something seemed faintly unsavoury about it. The focus, as I say. But I dont think I could put my finger on how it has shifted, or from what to what. Perhaps its just the sense that the ace card has now been dealt, perhaps its not that the protests or protesters have changed but that circumstances have changed, but the protests stay the same. How theyre supposed to resolve this is beyond me Im afraid. I followed the up into town anyway, this hazy sense of unease with me and they filed past the various shoppers and so forth, including a guy whos often knocking around Sheffield quite old he is, and he wears one of those luminous yellow jackets, the sort that cyclists wear to stop cars hitting them and he carries a placard saying Repent and Turn to God, or words to that effect. Past him and everyone they went and stopped, appropriately, at a place called the Peace Gardens. I wandered around for a bit, still unable to put my finger on quite what had irked me about the protesters. I got charged 65p for a can of Coke. It was such a lovely day too. It was one of those days where, if youre at school, you can take your jacket off and walk home with your shirt hanging out, and its probably still just a little bit chilly to be going around with just a shirt on, but the principle of the thing is more important so you dare not put your jacket back on, lest winter return. I saw a good few schoolkids doing that today, theres little more satisfying. There were a few still with their coats on though. But before that I sat in the sun outside Virgin Records and waited for my friend to turn up. Which he didnt actually, but it was ok because we rescheduled for a bit later. In other news I now have a ticket to see popular Scottish band Belle and Sebastian in concert. And Im going to the London thing in April. Words cannot express my excitement. Maybe Ill get to meet you there. - Kieran _________________________________________________________________ MSN Messenger - fast, easy and FREE! http://messenger.msn.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: Pick Up Your Feet, Fall In, Move Out
by P F 19 Mar '03

19 Mar '03

For weeks they have said: once we're in a war, public support will swing behind it. I have never doubted this. That's one reason I have never appealed to the fact that 'the British people don't support this war'. The British People, whoever they are, did not set my political agenda in the miners' strike. Soon enough the slaughter may be naturalized. The conflagration we know to be wrong may seem to be granted legitimacy, not by law or argument, but by happening. 'The rational is the real' and vice versa: the difficulty of denying the actual. I fear for my instincts. I hope yours will not be dulled. A page in history turning: a new start. The US government apparently promises that after this, things will be different: they're going to be in charge, and do as they like. That will make a change. A new moral era. A grey gauze cast over the light of spring days, as we pass to another world founded on colossal crime. No world in which to live. I walk an early evening Oxford Street to see Evan Dando play. I have never seen such a crowd here. He starts with 'Eve of Destruction', a song I barely know but recognize enough. Today it electrifies. He goes into 'Rudderless', half the rest of Shame About Ray, tons more, rarely stopping for applause. He pauses for one speech in which he tells the truth about Dubya. The new Evan Dando record is marvellous. An amazing proportion of the songs are tuneful, touching, thoughtful. He's a sufficiently good lyricist to make baffling the old assertions about his stupidity. Yet at some level, for the first time, I feel what 9/11 made some people (and not me) feel: doubt about what all this can be worth; about where value can live, from now on. I walk back down towards Centre Point, imagining nuclear conflagrations set off by this unprovoked action. Last night a majority of the democratically elected representatives of the UK voted for it - voted to unload the most advanced military equipment in the history of our solar system, and probably our galaxy (to speculate beyond that level seems rash), upon a poor and weak nation which has been forced for months to destroy its weapons. A poor argument for democracy, these mad, bad fools, weak-minded yet all too strong. Westerns: if someone asks you for a fist-fight, you throw away your gun-belt. It insults cowboys to compare the US administration to them: that's what they want you think, and what crass half-thinking media encourage. The US administration insists that you drop your guns, so they can shoot you. If you don't drop them, they'll shoot you for not dropping them. If you drop them, they'll shoot you because you're unarmed. I think of this coldly calculated insanity, and think of the shame that should burn in the heart of all those bad people who voted for this carnage, and the worse people who drafted it to suit their own calendar. What will survive of them is evil. __________________________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? Yahoo! Platinum - Watch CBS' NCAA March Madness, live on your desktop! http://platinum.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: Sister Rosetta Parp: Your Place Or Mine?
by Peter Miller 19 Mar '03

19 Mar '03

I would quite like the new B&S record to sound like a Trevor Horn production from the early eighties. I think it would be a step in the right direction. But I doubt it will happen. I have it on good authority that TATU are not really lesbians at all. But they are partial to a bit of 'up the bum' sex. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? Well, it makes me wonder. It makes me wonder about the sweetness of pain. Another thing that makes me wonder about the sweetness of pain is moving house. I am moving house to Cambridge. It never fails to amaze me how difficult moving house actually is. I remember thinking that walking along a couple of streets with a suticase full of Penguin Classics was difficult. I saw this film called 'Sweet Sixteen'. You Scots are so cute! And those accents are adorable! My favourite character was Pinball, I really liked him, the wee fella. Well, I liked something about him. I liked the idea of him. He reminded me a lot of YOU to be honest. I am now searching for the ideal Lloyd Cole hair product. The best one I've found so far is 'Fibre Putty' or something by VO5. Two for the price of one at Boots. Check it out. WORD magazine refers to YOU LOT as 'the unwashed' in an article about vote-rigging. Nice to see everybody in London. Apparently Korfball is a cross between netball and rounders. Sounds a bit girlish for my liking. I'm looking forward to that Big Stu DVD. I hope it's full of Big Stu extras. I don't think 'the band don't see much of Isobel these days' is really good enough though. Today I saw David Moore and his lovely wife in Barcelona. They are very well, and we had a nice time. I just mention this in case you are their daughter and were wondering how they are getting on. Peter +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: Just a thought....
by Javier Garcia 19 Mar '03

19 Mar '03

Hi, I just wanted to share with you my feelings at the moment. I was just listening to B&S's "We rule the school", and a few words from the lyric catched my attention: "Do something pretty while you can". I hate talking about politics (I'd rather talk about music ;-) but I I think that the leaders of the world should listen to this song more often. They're not doing something pretty at all with this war about to begin. I am ashamed, really. Everyone in the world should do at least two things every day: listen to one B&S song and fall in love. I hope this didn't bore you. Best wishes. //Javier _________________________________________________________________ MSN Compras: Veinte tiendas personales abiertas todo el día. http://www.msn.es/compras/ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: Great picnicing days are over?
by kenneth.chu＠uclh.org 19 Mar '03

19 Mar '03

This morning all the crappiness in the world disappeared. In my head it did anyway. Actually it was a little bit chaotic in my head this morning becuase it had a lot of lager in it, but after a long big wee, it was all fine, and I walk outside it was sunny, and warm, and I took my walkman with me, in it was a tape of old songs that was dad's car tape! Delilah by Tom Jones has never sounded so good. It is lovely. Lull before a big storm, maybe, but I don't care the sun is out today. Dirty Vicar said that the great sinister meetup days are behind us. But he obviously didn't know about the APRIL SINISTER FEST! which is happening in April, the 5th and the 6th, because it's going to be Excellent. Already have confirmed attendances from Brighton! Portsmouth! Sheffield! Red'ill! Nottingham! Norfolk! and London! Wow! It's gonna be great, and some kind sinisters have offered floor spaces for the night so we can fit more people in yet!! So sinisters from afar, come! And there might be extra FUN THINGS happening on Saturday night in the pipeline (e.g. DANCING!), so watch this space! | | V Okay, you can stop watching now (for now) Ken ********************************************************************** This email and any files transmitted in it are confidential and intended solely for the person or entity to whom they are addressed. If you have received this email in error please notify the UCLH Mail Administrator at mail.administrator(a)uclh.org. This footnote confirms that the email and attachments contained no viruses when they left UCLH. +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: Rudi says we've got to get wise
by Dirty Vicar 18 Mar '03

18 Mar '03

hello again, I've been listening to the Baader Meinhoff album lately. do you know that one? Sadly, it's not a krautrock album turned out by Andreas Baader and Gudrun Ensslin in between planting bombs and shooting cops, but rather a record by Luke Haines. That's Luke Haines, once of The Auteurs, now of Black Box Recorder. He did this record a few years ago, and it's a concept album about those bonkers urban guerrillas who plagued West Germany in the 1970s. My suspicion is that Haines has read the one book about the Baader Meinhoff gang (or the Rote Arme Fraktion, as they liked to be called) I have, and in this record he regurgitates it in musical form. Musically it's all surprisingly funky, but it's kind of strung out white boy faux funk, with vague Middle Eastern influences thrown in. that's somewhat appropriate, given the RAF's trip to Jordan for training from the PLO. The record comes tastefully illustrated with original RAF wanted posters, pics of Carlos the Jackal (I think - it's not the famous one), Leila Khaled, and various RAF members being arrested. It's all a very evocative portrait of a strange time I can dimly remember. I like this album a lot. It matches the tenor of our times, all that wacky revolutionary rhetoric starts seeming a bit less mental when soldiers drive bulldozers over unarmed activists. maybe the man really is out to get us? uh, yeah. maybe. which reminds me, the tone of my last post (or the first paragraph thereof) was somewhat tactless and extreme, and I apologise for that. I will never again post to Sinister after I come in from a gig with drink taken. This evening I am posting after my yoga class, is my calmness not striking? I still hate the war, though. ~stine mentioned St. Patrick's Day. It's a festival I don't care for much myself, as it tends to bring out the worst elements of my compatriots. I recommend against ever coming to Dublin for St. Patrick's Day. Not unless you want to witness a warzone without going to Gaza or Iraq. It's fine the rest of the time. Well, usually. one more thing - if you live in Ireland will you join me in trying to take over the ie-indie mailing list? There aren't enough indie fans subbed to it, and too many musos from Dublin's chin-stroking scene. You can sign up here: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ie-indie mmm, this post is a bit disjointed. but such is life. 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: If you're fearing sinister
by Christopher in a Tutu 18 Mar '03

18 Mar '03

You talkin' to me, Sinister? Ah, well, good- Hiya everybody! It's me again, back by unpopular demand. Me, being Christopher James, sometimes called Chris F, le Christophe, sometimes called 'you can turn that off for starters.' And the reason he is not cjf111 today is parce que i am on holyday, for close to six weeks, they call it a revision break, i call it a waste of taxpayer's money, hehehe. Today for example, my 'revision' included sweeping the carport and then going to the library and renting three cds for two weeks for two pounds in total. Rental purchases included the Von Bondies, Beck and Ben & Jason. These purchases [and the sweeping....and the posting] make me feel like i've had a productive day full of toil and trouble. The trouble involved counting the scallies in town [Stourbridge, by the by, that's where i live, if not in York. in the archives there is but one mention of Stourbridge. I say more Stourbridging is needed people] However, i soon realised that this hobby (counting scallies) should best not be undertaken whilst driving, i posed a veritable liability, what with the throbbing number-crunching in my poor head and the traffic queues of revvin' Kevins, pushing down on their gas pedals menacingly... .....Today in the library i surfed my way to the realisation that there is a meeting! in London! in April! Now, i would dearly like to go to this two day extravaganza of nicety, yet in the pits of my loins i have a nagging doubt. It's hard to pinpoint why this doubt exists- shyness? Oh, not so hard to pinpoint, after all. So yes, i have some naggin' goin' down in the 'hood. This nagging consists of being frankly scared out of my wits over the fame and celebrity that encircles certain Sinistereens...i mean, Ken Chu? Archel? who are these people? They are in my sea-coloured eyes celebrities, untouchables. And me, just a small dot on the horizon of twee. Aforementioned folk are to me the monopolisers of twee, the corporate giants, and so on and so on. And the nagging persists- it says unto me 'But monsignor Chris, these people won't care or even notice your existence if you take your little self along to London in April weekend. Cos they are *famous* and already too fawned over and curled up into their quarter circle niche markets of quarantined dominance to accept any newbies.' Yes, my nagging was never too cogent. So, what, am i wong? I sincerely hope to be proved so. Surely something as simple and natural as going along to a meet-up of people with a passion and introducing oneself and sitting down and bowling [hmm, both at once?] and conversing casually with like-minded folkies is too improbable a task. But then why should it be improbable? 'It isn't, it isn't!' i can hear most of you tut under your collective breath. Is it my negative outlook that i always expect there to be rain when it is sunny, that i always expect my toast to land butter side down, that i expect there to be some exposed label on the reverse of my jacket if i haven't first checked, that if i think im going to trip over, i invariably do..... Is this outlook catalysing the nagging? the shyness? Am i alone in having these 'fears'? i mean, why, they aren't even proper FEARS, not like a fear of death or destruction, or the fear of biting into an apple and finding a razorblade. They are proper FeArS. Hell, apparantely there's a war on! But to me it IS a fear, and i was wondering if other relative newbie Sinistereens did have a comparable 'fear'. If so, we could maybe start a group, 'FearSoc' or something: 'not for the faint-hearted'. Tho i think id be too scared to go. So, must stop starting paragraphs with 'so', makes you sound unsure. So, what now, i guess i am hoping for someone to take me by the clammy hand and say 'It's alright to be slightly nervous, it's a big thing, one's first meet-up, but relax, everyone's scared to some extent, they just don't show it....' and i think this would cheer me up no end. In such an event i may conduct tests to prove that my toast lands butter side up....'revision' is an abstract thing, you see. Thanks for getting so far Le Christophe James F xx ................................................... "Without you, today's emotions would be the scurf of yesterday's" __________________________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? Yahoo! Platinum - Watch CBS' NCAA March Madness, live on your desktop! http://platinum.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: this thursday!
by ianwatsonuk＠btinternet.com 18 Mar '03

18 Mar '03

Hello everyone! Just a quick reminder that this Thursday is How Does It Feel To Be Loved at the Buffalo Bar, underneath Ye Olde Cock Tavern (now run by the grumpiest man in the world who won´t let me give out flyers because "we´ll only have to clear them up afterwards" - he has a point, yes, but still...you know), next to Highbury And Islington tube (the gate is often open and unmanned, not that we´re suggesting anything, but...well), London. 9-2am, three quid to get in, all the usual stuff really. Guest DJ this month is the very Dickon Edwards, but Dave Callahan of The Wolfhounds will be around too to give me a hand because I´m typing this in Iceland and will probably miss the first half hour or so. It´s not very sunny here, but the landscape is nicer. Fair deal really. The guest list competition is still open, so if you want to get in for free, simply complete this phrase: I deserve to get in for free because... I´m going for a lie down now. It´s been one of those days. http://www.howdoesitfeel.co.uk x +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 owlizthe5＠cs.com 18 Mar '03

18 Mar '03

this is a short fictional piece. i wrote in an hour after i woke from a nightmare. distant shadows of long ago memories crawl out to leave welts on my already bruised heart. she takes up the knife once more, just to plunge it deeper into my chest. hands covered in dried blood. hours pass and the gaping wound is still spurting blood out onto the floor. like a fountain of fire. "this is where is ends." she whispers softly into my ear like honey dripping off a stick. i begin to shiver on the concrete floor. "wake up. joseph is a killer." a killer of hearts. blood starts to flood around me. soon even that will be cold. i start to think back to where it all started... it was four years ago. on the night before saint patricks day. we meet at a movie theater. her hair was black like a starless night. and shimmered under every light on the street that night. "hi. one ticket....." i stared at her until paul nudged me and said" two for stigmata." through the whole movie, i thought about the girl with the black hair. the hands that seemed cold. eyes like glass, i could see right through her smile. her soft movements like a deer in a field. i watched her look at me like a wolf. the nervously still neck. her trembling hand hanging over the register. waiting. waiting for this retarted movie to end so i could get one last glimpse at her soft white skin. but she was gone. days later, i saw her again. i took my time. arranged my words like a script in my head. "hello. i am joseph." i said. she looked back and giggled. "hi." i looked at her name tag. "Welcome to Lowes JESSICA." i asked if she would come out for a cup of coffee at a dinner with me. she! lifts her face and eyes bright with glistening new hope shrugged her shoulders, "sure." we talked. i talked more. i tried to sell myself to her. using sarcastic remarks, asking questions that i could lead into a story. i offered her fries. and paid for her soda. she hated that. and i knew she did. i noticed her car, a bumper sticker from peta. i asked "are you a vegetarian?", "no. are you?" "yes. ive been one for aboutidontknow a year and a half." she started asking all these questions. about being a vegetarian why i became one. what to eat. where to eat. like i turned on a switch. it was bafaling. the whole night in the dinner she said two words to me, "oh..." and "ahhh..." and those arent even real words. the next night, i saw her car at the theater. i left a rose and a note under her windsheild whiper blade: "your soul is unique in the universe." and my phone number and email address. some time would pass before i heard anything from her. everyday, i would wait by the phone. hoping she would call. desprete to know why i was longing for this girl, i would disect her in my head. using logic and math to plot a line that made more sence then the fact that i had fallen for a ghost. little did i know that it was me that would turn out to be one. a year passed and i still thought about her every so often. i got a new job. i was a security guard on the night shift at prinston college. guarding exams. one night, while in my bouth checking my email in my laptop, i noticed a message from an address i had never seen before. in the subject line read, "your soul is unique in the universe". before i could read it, i heard a noise over by the shrubs near the second building. i radioed in to jeff, "i just heard a noise, im going to go check it out. it came from the north side of building two. meet me over there." jeff replied, "copy. ill come around the east side and you take the west." it was dark. hard to tell if the shadows where from the trees bending in the wind or some staking killer, dying to get his hands on the exams. i got to the north side before jeff got there. with flashlight in hand, i scanned the tiny circle of light for any movement. "there!" jeff came around and we both went into the bushes. instead of a kille! r, something that destroys life, we found a fox. "oh shit!" jeff jumped back. ready to kill it if it made a move at him. i whispered, "hold on, jeff. look." "i aint lookin at that thing. what if it fuckin jumps at me." "LOOK" i wanted him to look because the fox was giving birth. "look, jeff, its giving birth." it was so surreal. the fox just lay there, calm and silent. watching us the whole time. like she knew we where harmless security guards. we left her to finish. jeff went back to his post as did i. we acted like it was the most natural thing. to see a fox giving birth. i sat down in front of my laptop and opened the message. it was short. just her phone number. the next day, i called her. and left a message. "hey, its me joe. you sent me that email with your phone number. um.. i dont know if you remember me. the kid you met at the theater, we went to the dinner and talked about being a vegetarian? um.. oh..just ..call me back i guess. bye." i felt like such an idiot. like i was being set up for the kill. soon the floor would open up under my feet and i would drop down into a chamber of spikes. i was waiting for something bad to happen. then it did. i was laid off from my job at princeton after weeks of job hunting, my friend tim set me up with a night job waxing floors. and in those weeks, the girl called me back and we became close. i would say things like"you look beautiful in the moonlight." and "you smell so sweet like after it rains." this went on for a year. bliss. i thought it would be like this forever. perfect. i was happy for the! first and possibly the last time in my life. after the death of my grandparents, i became a shadow of what i was before. i had to watch them die over and over in my dreams. as if it wasnt enough that i was there when they both died. watching the cancer eat away at there bodies. trying to get to there minds. watching the awful faces they would make in there sleep. i wanted to cut the tubes that where holding there souls to such pain. doctors telling me, the cancer is in her spin now. the cancer is in his lungs. the cancer has spread to her breast. bones. brain. i became...numb. the forest that was in full bloom, now froze over into a wasteland. there was nothing. soon it was funeral after funeral dead uncles, aunts, cousins. she didnt stay around. i became intolerable we had a big fight i remember. and i told her i cant feel anything right now. i wanted to know that she still loved me. she couldnt give me an answer. she couldnt say yes. she just stood there and cried. i got up and left. it took another year for it to hi! t me. by then it was too late. she was gone again moved to florida or something with some guy she met on an internet chat. later that year, i spoke to her. i asked what it was that made her so unsure that i didnt love her. she said it was because i never wanted to have sex with her. she thought i didnt love her becuase i never had sex with her. but she was glad we didnt.i thought"how rediculus." i made a promise to myself, before i met her, to never have sex again. i never thought of sex as being a personal thing. more of an act of lust. and more times then i can count, a misguided passion. ...finally, the nightmare ends and i awake to my mother saying, "wake up. wake up joseph." only to have to go to the funeral i have to see her family. her friends. kieth, the guy she ran off with to florida with. i woke up only to fall into another nightmare. loneliness sleeps with me tonight. and everynight here after. if only this wasnt a dream. i know this is a dream. because it is all so black and white. because i woke up. joseph. +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: OT: UK listees make your voice heard
by Geoff Sheridan 17 Mar '03

17 Mar '03

This is political - if that is likely to offend you please disregard this message. Flames welcome, but off-list please. Bear in mind it qualifies for list-space by containing satire and at least one reference to Belle and Sebastian. <= That was it. I am also convinced that our fey Scottish popsters of choice would have mentioned Chomsky (see end) in a song by now were it not so damnably difficult to rhyme with. Just like 'Orange'. It looks like there may shortly be a vote in the UK parliament on the war in Iraq. If you are interested, you can make your voice heard. Here's how to find out who your MP* is: http://www.locata.co.uk/commons/ You will find a link to contact them by email. Then if you are *in favour* of the war in Iraq, simply copy and paste this: I am writing to express my support for the government's position on Iraq. I admire your resolve to go the UN route - it's not your fault that you failed to convince anyone but Spain to agree with you. On the contrary, this just proves that the UN doesn't work. What good is an organisation which cannot be bullied or paid-off to rubber-stamp American foreign policy? So in future I don't think you should bother with that 'talking shop'. No, I think our military killing machine will do the talking just fine from now on. OR if you are *against *: You clearly have a brain - write your own. You might want to include the latest Amnesty International estimates that 50,000 civilian Iraqis will be killed and 500,000 injured. http://public.amnesty.org.uk/iraq has an online petition and a suggestion for a form of words. If war breaks out then follow the advice at http://www.stopthewar.org.uk/ If anyone would like to join me on a Sinister March-nic in London this Saturday 22nd, please mail me off-list. Thanks for your time, Geoff (better dressed than you since 1998) * Find out how they voted last time here: http://www.greenpeace.org.uk/Templates/ Still bored? Read Noam Chomsky's major works online for FREE here: http://www.zmag.org/chomsky/books.cfm __________________________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? Yahoo! Web Hosting - establish your business online http://webhosting.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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