Hallo:
Ever since they re-paved the high street I've felt like tap dancing, and
yesterday, as the sun shone and the puddles dried up, I felt it more than
ever. Luckily for me, I've taken to wearing trainers just in case such a
feeling should grab me around the waist and try to spin me around, and they
helped me to keep my toes from moving too far. Instead, I jumped onto a
bench and tiptoed along, until enough people had begun to look that the
feeling went away. I hadn't been back on terra firma for more than a few
footsteps when a crazed pigeon came headlong towards me, aiming more-or-less
at my nose.
Urban pigeons belong to two schools. There are those who take care of their
appearance, shiny feathers, plump chests and a sailor's swagger as they trot
along the top of the war memorial. They spend their days looking out for
half-eaten vegetarian wraps from Boots, and at night hang around outside
Metro's to drink the pure tears of dumped teenage girlfriends. They have
this town all worked out, and look down on us from under the church gables
and give a disdainful "Coo". The other type of pigeon arrives in the city on
a Monday and lands on top of the multi-storey car park. By Tuesday it has
decided that petrol has a certain flavour other toxic liquids cannot beat.
By Thursday it has realised that not only is petrol blinkin delicious, it
also gives enough nutrition for breakfast, lunch *and* dinner, and that,
despite the fact that its left leg is currently spinning around on the wheel
of the number thirty bus to Newport, it has never felt better. By Saturday
it decides, with the type of gay abandon only a brain-damaged bird could
manage, to fling itself headfirst along the high street at the potato-faced
passers-by.
Fortunately, for other reasons, I have recently taken to wearing trainers,
and they enabled me to step lithely to the left and deflect the deranged
ball of feathers off my "Vote Nader" lapel-badge and towards a nearby
display of garden ornaments. Gwen and Hilary weren't so lucky, their
stratospheric heels and fullsome bosoms hardly helping their efforts to stay
upright. I overheard Gwen say to Hilary: "Oh, I hate pigeons. I hate
everything that flies, you know. Birds, aeroplanes". Hilary wobbled
sympathetically.
But all this is somewhat beside the point. What I should be saying is: Isn't
the Books EP just a great record? Your Cover's Blown standing up for the new
vibe with a determined chin and some splendid lyrics; and Your Secrets, a
great recording with some heavenly harmonies. I could write you a postcard
about the unusual strength of the recent singles' B-sides, but I'm sure
you've noticed this already yourselves.
A big hullo to all the sinipops I met at glasto, including
Ian-the-dirty-vicar, Rener, Mark, Ken, Carsmile, Starry, Lixi, and a
far-away but apparently real Sam Walton. It was good fun, wasn't it? I
enjoyed the mud most of all. When I woke up in the morning it was like a
muddy alsatian had visted during the night and had a good shake. My
strangest moment of the weekend was trying to meet someone "by the big
purple tent", only to realise that big purple tents were all the range in
Somerset this year and the campsite was full of them. It was truly a horror.
It reminded me of a story my mum told me once about a leprichaun and a
handkerchief. I have never trusted small Irish men since.
Like Mark H, I would also love a little snifter with sinister folks on the
weekend of the Somerset House gig, though the Friday would be best for me.
So if anyone has any plans, then let me know. My ticket says "7 o'clock" on
it, but last week I also received a rubbish postcard announcing that the
time has changed to 7 o'clock. Not much of a postcard - they could have
filled the space with something exciting like a small discussion on the
belle and sebastian b-sides, but oh well. Then, just the other day, I was
phoned up at work by a ROBOT WOMAN, who refused to have a chat and instead
told me, in the tone of voice she usually reserves for evaporating puny
humans, that the time has changed - to 7 o'clock. So that's 7 o'clock then,
kids. Oh yes.
Heavens above, I really should go!
Bye!
Robin x
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+-+ "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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I need some advice -- a few of us are going to hit European cities in
July/August, we'll be there for about two weeks. I would like to visit
cities rich in culture and history, my friends want to club (think ibiza
drones meets Abercrombie, don't ask) with other 20s people. We're trying to
find cities that can offer both or one or the other and we can go to a few
cities. We're thinking of going to Budapest, Prague (and I would love to go
Barcelona, but it's probably too far). Any other suggestions for cities?
Also, if there are Sinisterians with tips on where to go in those cities,
let me know. Also, since we're getting tix late and it's peak season,
airfare is very expensive to fly from NYC to Prague. Any suggestions on what
to do save airfare? Makin plans has already been a rigamarole of an effort,
so I would love any advice. Obrigado!! Sam
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+---+ 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! +-+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------+
