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
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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! +-+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------+
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
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To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe
send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to
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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! +-+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------+
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
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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! +-+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------+
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
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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! +-+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------+
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.
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To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe
send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to
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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! +-+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------+
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
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To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe
send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to
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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! +-+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------+
hello peeps,
Mmm what a strange few days i've had. I started with the discovery that the
drummer of Ikara Colt is on my printmaking course, i found this out because
there was a picture of him in a music mag, i consulted him about it and it's
true, very odd.
Then on thursday i went to town in search of some Strawberry Alarm Clock, a
cool 60's band. Whilst searching (and failing) to find them, i decided to
buy some more Yo le Tengo. I picked one up that looked interesting and
bought it. On the bus home i had a look at it. All the writing was in purple
and it had a picture of a bloke on the front with the words "small little
f@@ker with a high voice", i looked for the bands name but it wasn't there.
Then i looked at the track listing and saw a song called 1999. "Hang on" i
thought, and made a little equasion in my head:
purple+little+high voice+1999= christ i've bought a Prince record!
I'm not greatly keen on Prince and thought i must have been really stupid to
accidently buy it. So i thought i'd try and take it back the next week.
Well, i got home and put it and and christ almighty it's only Yo Le Tengo
doing Prince covers and it's absolutely chuffing Brilliant, it may even
convert me into liking Prince more. I also bought that Interpol album and
was surprised at it's fruity goodness. My flatmate recons that buying
records is like taking vitamins, i think i would agree with him but i don't
think it would cure cifallis (if that's how you spell it).
I saw a dead fox on the road last night, it's guts were spewed out across
the road and it was rather depressing. It wasn't there this morning so i
reckon it got up and put its guts back in it's stomach, cursed a bit and
waddled off. hmmmm, i need a holiday
great yeh! love hannah b
_________________________________________________________________
Surf together with new Shared Browsing
http://join.msn.com/?page=features/browse&pgmarket=en-gb&XAPID=74&DI=1059
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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! +-+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------+
Awww, hi everyone! it is st. patrick's day! my very
favourite holiday!
the weekend was nice. saturday katie and i milled
about, as we do. yesterday i loafed round the house.,
i was going to go to the south side irish
parade....st. patrick's day is a HUGE deal in
chicago..particularly in the area which i now reside
in. i heard on the news that they anticipated
200,000 people would be there. i said that that was
impossible, that parade gets that many people when it
is 20 degrees and snowing...yesterday was BEAUTIFUL.
sunny, 67 degrees....woo hoo! anyway, i avoided the
parade. i don't like people, they scare me.
instead katie and greg and i went to this lil pub in
elmhurst. it was called McNally's and was just so
lovely. there were real live irish people there when
we arrived. we sat outside in the sun and chatted.
it was my first SPD without attempting to drink a pint
of guinness. i have never been one to imbibe, now i
can't due to illnesses/medications. oh well.
this establishment played only irish artists, u2 (rare
u2 at that), thin lizzy, van morrisson....the usual
suspects. then i said "i would be so impressed if
they played rory gallagher" and guess what.....they
did! aww, i was so happy.
today is yet another glorious day in chicagoish. the
downside being the eldest of my charges has the
stomach flu. she has proceeded to throw up every 30
minutes or so since last night.... i think i have
about a 15 minute window right now. yick! how
absoluetly vile...or bile, as it were. :o)
so the lovely mr kevin clair is heading back to these
parts today. hopefully he and i can get together this
week.
also, i checked my inbox this morning to find an email
from eoin and a post from dirty vicar. could this day
be any better? well, i suppose if i were no longer
getting vomited on it would improve greatly. :o)
ah well. i have nothing to say really, i just
couldn't let my favourite holiday pass without a post.
love to you all~
L� 'le P�draig!!!!
~stine
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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! +-+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------+
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
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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! +-+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------+
When you end up alone inside an empty house on a Sunday afternoon, the empty
house in which you grew up, which more than ever, more than anything,
reminds you of how empty your life feels nowadays... How void of emotions
and affection your inside feels...
Father on a trip, coming back forever, wishing he never had to...
Mother with an invitation in her hands, for somewhere else. One. For her
only. One way ticket, stating no return on this journey sheÂ’s set her heart
and feelings on... Away. So far...
Brother being elsewhere as well... substituting whatever has been lost from
in here with strange people. Friends that you know theyÂ’re going to fail him
just as you have been forsaken by your once dearest ones. But heÂ’s just 17
and you cannot explain to him that everything changes. Everything goes away.
Everything and everyone goes away, never to return, leaving you there hoping
like a fool. To describe it as tragically as you have experienced it, words
fail you...
And you have never managed to approach him. And he hates you and you donÂ’t
know why. Maybe it is because you only tried to protect him. Maybe it is
because you used to quarrel when you were young. But that was because you
were jealous of him. He was the youngest and you used to wet your bed in the
nights because you were so insecure. Because you were afraid you were not
loved. And you couldnÂ’t help it but wet your bed. And you were dead jealous,
but you didnÂ’t know what jealousy meant back then. And you kept waking up in
the middle of the night in a pool of tumbled, wet and cold bed sheets. And
you were so ashamed of yourself. 6 years old and trying to change your
bedclothes in the, unimaginable for your mind then, small hours with the
lights out so that they wouldnÂ’t wake up and tell you off. Or you would just
crouch and try to avoid the wet spot. But your nighties would be wet and
cold and they would stick on your limbs, keeping you freezing until the
morning...
Maybe youÂ’ve tried more than you should to keep all this ragged tapestry of
people, events and emotions together. And you will be blamed for that in the
future. People tell you not to care. But how can you not care when itÂ’s your
family?
Makes me wonder... which is the greater distance?
Everything changes. Everything goes away...
And the only thing thatÂ’s left to us to connect us with other people is a
sequence of numbers per person. Maybe two. Digits hastily saved in the
memory of our cell phone. Or on our homeÂ’s speed dial. Numbers which maybe
you have never used more than once, some others never. Of people you once
met and you didnÂ’t want to lose. But whom you lost and you deceive yourself
that by holding this little piece of information that is -admit it- useless
to you, you actually keep that person at an armÂ’s length. And you dare not
erase them, as they make you feel safer. How many times youÂ’ve browsed
through them to soothe your insecurity. I. Know. People. The more, the
better. And if, somehow, one day these numbers are erased then you feel how
unbearable loneliness and despair can be...
No real connection. No feel. No touch. No warmth. No voice even. Bits and
bytes on glowing screens. Our speech and thought fragmented and confined
into 160-letter crumbs. We will eventually end up unable to operate
otherwise...
And when you end up alone inside an empty house like this one, that was
built to be the shelter of a family and their ever-growing feelings, but
now, having started to disintegrate from within, it has remained a vacant
ruin, you feel so utterly alone. And you deeply regret the times that you
tried to escape from in here. Only that you never really managed to. The
further you went, the closer you were drawn to your homestead. Maybe because
leaving was not what you really wanted. Because you knew that home was where
youÂ’ve always wanted to be. But you didnÂ’t know that then... All you knew
was that you wanted to live, to feel, you wanted forget, you wished to be
forgotten and start all over again. But now that your devotion to false
promise lands was withered away , in terror, you find out that not only you
havenÂ’t escaped from what haunted you, not only you havenÂ’t forgotten but ,
instead, there is noone any more, noone that remembers you.
All you should have wished for should be some p e a c e ...
And you stay in on a cloudy Sunday afternoon. With noone whom you could
call. And all those 233 numbers you have, prove insufficient to soothe your
pain. Because its early afternoon and it is not polite to call other
peopleÂ’s houses at this time.
And the only thing youÂ’d want would be to hide into the closet just like
when you were young. When trembling from anticipation and excitement, maybe
a little scared of the dark as well, peeking through the slight crack
between the flaps youÂ’d wait for the others to come and find you. YouÂ’d
watch them look for you under the bed and your desk and impatiently call out
your name because it was dinner time! bath time! joanna!...
But now, being 21, IÂ’m more afraid to do that. More than when I was 6. I
dare not hide in the closet. Because then, IÂ’d snuggle between piles of
clothes and greedily inhale the lingering smell of the detergent my mother
used, and watch little specks of dust dance in streams through the
waterfalls of sunlight that would sneak through the cracks. And after a
while IÂ’d see a sweet, dear face with a twinkle in their eyes looking
towards the closet and approach and, while opening it, I would throw myself
into their arms...
Now IÂ’m afraid that if I hide myself, very few will realize it. And even
fewer will search for me. And noone will stick to it to the end...
IÂ’m afraid to even try and see if IÂ’m right. As, if I do so, I am bound to
spend the rest of my few days abandoned in the comfort of my darkness. Noone
will come to my rescue.
Now, carving deep red trails on my forearms with a pocketknife I used for
carving wooden boats of pine wood when I was little and embark little ants
onto strange lands after the rain, IÂ’m trying to carve little boats and set
them assail to drift me away on the ocean of tears that floods my eyes...
This is more autobiographical than it should be. More than I can withstand.
More than you would want it to be. Having less content than all the
previously mentioned...
Do let me get away with that...
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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! +-+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------+
