- Sinister - missprint.org

Sinister: fools and horses
by terry underwear 04 Nov '02

04 Nov '02

Hello, I went to the zoo yesterday. I hadn't been in years, and it is much nicer than it used to be. But I'm not really into animals in cages. Especially the birds who can't even have a decent fly. I kind of had fun, but kinda didn't. I did, however, see a sign which had "Animal Husbandry" written on it. This made me laugh, and reminded me of my older brother who went to an Agricultural School and did a unit called Animal Husbandry. I always get the image of a wedding cake with a cute little cow and a man on top. And this scene too: Minister: Do you, Daisy the cow, take Farmer Brown to be your lawfully wedded husband? Daisy the Cow: I moo I finish my degree in two weeks, and am torn between doing honours and travelling next year. I have changed my mind about 5 times today alone. I think it is possible to change your mind up to 40 times a second, or maybe it is 35 times, or 45, or 38, or perhaps 42. i've been in a sparklingly good mood today, and have been dancing around to the EP's all afternoon. I'm glad October is over, cause it is never a good month for me. Bad stuff always tends to happen, and I get hay fever too. But November is much nicer, and has a much better name too. The weather is starting to get nice and toasty, and the beach is beginning to look very inviting. Peaches and nectarines are in the shops, big juicy strawberries are nice and cheap, and mango's, oh the mango's. And it's the Melbourne Cup tomorrow which is something I always look forward to losing money on. My picks are Requiem and Distinctly Secret. Aren't the Belle and Sebastian playing cards exciting? I'm quite looking forward to having Sarah in one hand and Isobel in the other. I think it's time for me to go now. terry __________________________________________________________ Outgrown your current e-mail service? Get 25MB Storage, POP3 Access, Advanced Spam protection with LYCOS MAIL PLUS. http://login.mail.lycos.com/brandPage.shtml?pageId=plus&ref=lmtplus +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: What is a 'Fog Gun'?
by Kieran Devaney 03 Nov '02

03 Nov '02

Dear Sinister, Halloween. I was walking back through the little shopping bit on Fulwood Road, just behind (my rule regarding walking, incidentally, if Im on my own, is that unless there are exceptional circumstances Im not allowed to pass anyone people walk too fast, you miss things if you do) a young mother with a small child of indeterminate gender (the gender isnt important to the story). Outside one of the little bakeries there she stops the pram and, pointing to a specially decorated Halloween style cake, asks the child if it would like one of those cue ecstatic child. And, as I skip past the pram I feel the tiniest tinge of homesickness. When I get back to my room tiny bits of fallen leaves and twigs are stuck to the damp backs of my overlong jeans. Not the weather for them. In the lifts, through a tiny grate in the top left hand corner you can see yourself rising or falling, passing through physical space, sometimes the other lift will whiz past in the opposite direction, and as you step out, or in, if you look down at your feet theres a tiny slit through which you can see the whole lift shaft if youre starting from the top, as I frequently am, then you can see all the blank space youre about to fall into. I cant decide if it makes me feel more or less claustrophobic my eyes are drawn almost masochistically towards those gaps every time, especially if there are others in the lift with me. Imagine being stuck in a lift. Its been done. Then, later that day, which was yesterday as I write this now, dancing to Pulps Common People - happily the full album version, I look around to see if anyone knows the words to the Like a dog lying in a corner bit, but nobody seems to, so I sing it a bit louder, so that people might notice that I am au fait with the song. Loser. I think back to last year when during the manic encore rendition of said song I was slightly disturbed by the violent, almost celebratory way that the Birmingham Academy filled with what seemed like the whole crowd bellowing Cus everybody hates a tourist! Later I try to muse on the nature of being a fan of a band, or even just a song, but am distracted by drunken chatter. The weather seems to have taken a turn for the worse now. Still. Im wary of talking about weather now, though, since I read in quality free newspaper The Metro that following a pan-European survey, the British people were found to be the worst conversationalists in all Europe because all we talk about is the weather. Still. In Norwich they cut down horse chestnut trees because of the danger of people being hit by falling conkers, that is, horse chestuts falling and hitting people on the head. A church somewhere (I forget where) stops a weekly yoga group from using its hall because of yogas associations with the practises of Eastern religions. The Christian bookshop on the way into town here puts up anti-Halloween posters: Trick or Treat? Just a bit of fun? No it isnt. The culture minister, on seeing the new Turner Prize exhibition claims that British art is lost. In my notebook I write that this is surely a good thing. I have not, however, seen the exhibition myself I imagine the pictures Ive seen dont nearly do justice to the works themselves. Earlier that day, some students organise an anti-war protest. Someone stands on top of one of those round advertisement hoardings with a megaphone and the crowd chants along after him, HIM: WARFARE, THEM: WELFARE etc on the ground a couple, one wearing a GW Bush mask and various witch paraphernalia and another ditto, but with a Tony Blair mask dance around, HIM: GEORGE BUSH, THEM: TERRORIST!, HIM: TONY BLAIR, THEM: TERRORIST! I lament easy student anarcho-socialism, and in doing so realise that my rebuttal of the validity of the protest is as much of a cliché as the protesters themselves. Still. The warfare/welfare chant reminded me sufficiently of Crass Reality Asylum which I put on just loud enough for people in the corridor to hear, but theres no one about. At my old primary school, a Catholic school, incidentally, and we used to have Halloween discos. But. A few years ago, so a good while after I left, there was a teacher who hung himself, from a tree in his back garden. Hed been married just two months previously, and, for the wedding he and his then fiancé had instructed the guests not to buy them gifts, but instead to give however much they were planning on spending to charity. How do people manage those really short posts by the way? Tell me everything, doesnt matter how irrelevant it seems, were interested in what you have to say. I nearly always enjoy reading those big 3000 word monster posts one of those a week and youll have a book by next Christmas. Still. I cant rightly tell where I am in the day now, but during a lecture the lecturer mistakenly says that Tracey Emin won the Turner Prize for her unmade bed. Expecting similar, I go for the slow rushing intake of breath noise that customarily accompanies such faux-pas. But. Nothing. A few people turn and stare at me quizzically, the prof doesnt falter on stage; the girl in front of me notes Emins false victory. Oh has the World changed or have I changed etc. What the rest of the world calls a butterfly, the caterpillar calls the end. Lao Tzu said that, although scholars doubt his actual existence and so forth, but you can get that quote on a tshirt now, if I was as computer literate as I might like to be then I could even have that as my big end quote that I finish every post with, I could just write it on the end of each post I guess but thats sort of cheating isnt it? theres a whole range of tshirts encompassing choice phrases from such luminaries as James Joyce, Nietzsche, Foucault etc etc I think itd probably just look naff if I bought one though, and since its a bookshop that sells them chances are, as with so many of these things, the only size available will be adult XXL and obviously I wont be able to try it on. Dear. Back to later that day then. My indie cred hits a new low as I dance (halfheartedly!) to Nickleback. I was wearing, though, my b&s tshirt which glowed attractively in the UV light. Ok, change track. I wrote the above on Friday, which was yesterday, since today is Saturday. Since then a great deal has gone down, sort of, including me going to Offbeat last night which was excellent, despite them not playing anything I requested I even bought a tshirt which says indier than thou! on the back, which Im probably not, not after that whole Nickleback fiasco anyway, but happily the super-ironique exclamation mark shows that Im only jesting anyway and that I know that indie is not a contest of one-upmanship, and even, that by wearing the tshirt I am in fact critiquing the overly-serious ways of certain scenesters with their dogmatic self-righteousness etc. Speaking of exclamation marks, the following is an extract from the Sheffield University English Department Style Guide: Exclamation marks are generally to be discouraged. Enthusiasm can be shown in other ways. Brilliant. It also says Boy on the front, no disputing that - this is the tshirt now, not the style guide. Ahem. Oh yeah, things being as they are, there isnt another Offbeat until the 22nd of November. However, said date is the annual Belles special, which should be pretty top notch and and and on the 21st, which is the day before, zany American folksters The Moldy Peaches and zany American folkster Jeffrey Lewis are playing the typically pretty rubbish Sheffield SU indie night. It promises to be two whole days of fucking rock. You should all come. Oh actually, if anyone does actually want to come, in the interests of caring and sharing then I could put a couple of people up here. Yes, thats right, in this very room where I compose these very posts. You can even see the computer that I use, the grubby little keyboard it has a little burn mark on the spacebar after I dropped an incense stick on top of it which melted the poor plastic and spewed a load of smoke all over the place. Today then, Saturday, I went out for a walk in the rain. People dont tend to do that anymore I saw someone I vaguely know, Where are you off to? they asked, which is a perfectly fair question, Er, nowhere really, Im just sort of wandering I answer. This doesnt seem acceptable as indicated by the look they give which combines something approaching horror and something approaching confusion. Ok they say and leave sharpish. Fair enough, I suppose. I make it into town about an hour later (someone in the lift the other day said that it takes half an hour to walk into town this is evidence for my people walk to fast proposition i.e. this someone walks about twice as fast as I do) and, catching my pale reflection in a shop window I realise how wet I look not wet as in the opposite to hard as in good at fighting, though that too, but that always, no, more actually physically wet from the rain. I dont carry it well at all. Everyone seems to look less wet than I do, though perhaps Im just vain, (I have become much more vain actually, recently that is, since getting here something to do with trying to fertilise my cool outsider schtick image I am no longer too scared to try clothes on in shops and then not buy them). They do have umbrellas and hoods and things as well though I should invest in an umbrella I imagine, though I havent the foggiest regarding where Id get one from. This flat hair doesnt suit. Though. I wave away a woman selling (perhaps thats not quite the word, vending?) poppies who, ok, looks as bedraggled and wet as I do and then confused by my refusal, but I dont want to get into why I dont think wearing them is a good idea with her, not in this rain. I had all that at school last year. I am accosted by about twelve other people vending poppies whilst slouching round town. Jocularly, one of them offers to stick it on the lapel of my jacket for me No fanks. I suppose Im as much of a hypocrite with my CND badge and all, but there you go. I should now probably say something about seeing a discarded poppy, stricken and alone, trampled into a puddle etc but I shant. Paragraphs. Just outside the window someone has gone to great expense (I guess) to put on a fairly spectacular fireworks display, as fireworks displays go. Ive never been that impressed by fireworks to be honest, once youve seen one etc. Actually, the best bit of watching fireworks is seeing them going off far away and then waiting those few inert seconds to hear the bang. That silence is pure science. Its a bit like the space between seeing where a piece of puzzle goes and actually putting it into place. There are other examples. The ones here did enough to drown out the slightly disturbing sounds of this Dymaxion record. Dymaxion, as it goes (though this is admittedly just conjecture on my part) are probably so named after the ill-fated dymaxion car designed by the R. Buckminster-Fuller who also happened to discover that magic third isotope of carbon, buckminsterfullerene. Small world. Anyway this leads me neatly on to talking about music which disturbs you this probably, but not definitely, lies somewhat outside the realms of b&s, and bits of music that disturb me tend to be instrumental anyway, stuff with vocals doesnt work so well. Its usually pretty sparse stuff too, which is why this Dymaxion record fits well other examples? Theres a bit on the longest song from the most recent Shalabi Effect album where all the percussion falls away which is quite spooky, and despite having vocals, much of Daniel Johnstons stuff unsettles me, though maybe thats as much contextual as anything else. But, the more interesting question is: How is it that music can produce unsettling or disturbing emotions? Incidentally, when I started my tape for the tape tree the idea (which slowly became obscured as I found songs which I wanted on that didnt quite fit the criteria) was that side one would consist of songs which didnt seem that threatening on the surface, but were insidious and scary in their cores so side one has Dymaxion (if you havent heard Dymaxion by the way, then download something or buy something, Im sure youll like them) and Akira Ifukube and stuff and side two would have songs that sounded threatening on the surface but were really a lot of fun once you got to know them stuff like Merzbow and Naked City and The Locust. As I say, it didnt quite come off like that, but its an interesting idea anyway. Swish. Ok. Having all but avoided the wrath of the camera for the best part of the summer people have suddenly started taking pictures of me at a rate that can be best described as alarming. What was it that Brian Eno said about photographs and videos of himself? He really summed it up anyway, whatever it was Ill have to paraphrase since I cant recall the exact words, if youre interested theyll be on the net somewhere, I believe the interview where he said it was with Mark Sinker, but something about your thoughts turning to yourself in the future looking back at this picture as the camera turns on you - youre split into being in two places at once, which isnt a comfortable feeling. Or perhaps Eno and I are just not very photogenic. So somewhere, probably in the grubby, but thankfully gloved (they do have their standards) hands of some employee at Boots, there now exist photos of me wearing poorly applied eye makeup (actually, and thisll be a long parenthetic preamble so sit back, one of the scariest things Ive ever done is buy said makeup I never used to bother with the stuff really, and if I wanted to I borrowed it from someone, but after I returned here wearing some after a night out a couple of weeks ago I met with the horror and revulsion of others here, including one guy who quizzed me at some length regarding my reasons and justifications for being male and wearing makeup am I gay? Am I trying to look stupid? So, being the contrary cunt that I am after that I decided I had to buy some and wear it at every opportunity. Easier than it sounds. Ive stuffed this up actually, too much build up and the build up is much more fun than the actual story which involves me feeling awkward in Boots and embarrassedly buying a can of coke as well and avoiding the joint if you say its for your girlfriend or sister gazes of checkout attendant and security guard. Away I ran. Pretty fucking scary, huh?) and grinning sheepishly (notice there how the sentence ran on seamlessly despite the two hundred odd words in the brackets, brilliant) or idiotically (those are the only two I can manage). And, well, I dont know, Im not a fan of photos of myself. Again Im probably deprecating to try and pick up compliments here, though from who I have no idea since I dont think anyone on Sinister has ever seen a photograph of me if I can get hold of a copy and I work out how to magic it onto the computer then maybe Ill send the above mentioned photo for inclusion on the photos page on the Sinister site. Is that still going? Dangler there - the photo page I mean, of course, I havent looked in ages, actually. Im sort of running out of things to say, there were others which might come back to me in a minute but Im being tempted into stupid The Beggars Opera whats that all about? type comments. Not a good road to go down. Et bien. Im going to leave it there, then. More during the week, I imagine. I bet you can hardly wait. - Kieran. _________________________________________________________________ Protect your PC - get McAfee.com VirusScan Online http://clinic.mcafee.com/clinic/ibuy/campaign.asp?cid=3963 +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: backstage
by ian 03 Nov '02

03 Nov '02

'think of it as being behind the scenes. Like in a theatre or something. I just pulled us out of the audience, and now we're walking around backstage' (neil gaiman, american gods) this will make sense eventually, i promise. but maybe i lie as i promise. -------------------- trees in sillhouette the screen lights a darkened room i miss your poems i imagine her she sits in a bar, alone waiting for something i suspect, when asked she wouldn't tell you, when asked what she waited for words are sustenance she devours the sweet nothings and offers them back and, i do miss you. -------- there is a world where we are all backstage. the theatre is our own. some years ago, a fragrant princess flung her tiara in the air and we ran to where it landed. some of us came faster than others. and what wonders there were.... back in those magical days. people still talk about them with awe. those who live in the past, and don't realise that the present can be just as beautiful. i look around me. i remember a fragrant princess, and i know she still hears some of what we say. she is, i suppose, our narrator, and the rest of us follow her, nervously, onto the boards. we throw the characters onstage to appease the audience. there is a fumbling haiku writer. there is a talking pair of trousers. there is a fox, cut from a tree. there are those who step onto the stage and offer autobiographies, monologues. there are those who try and amuse with nonsense. this is our world. it belongs to us. and, guess what??? ... its real.. and we have the honour of shaping it, and helping it grow. i'm standing in a bar, always in a bar. i've come to meet the haiku writer. she's gone quiet lately, and i know life as a struggling artiste can be hard. all those hand jobs round the back of rackhams.. i don't think she's real. i think she's only as real as the ian that isn't afraid, the ian that says what he's thinking and does what he wants to. i think she's only as real as the girl that calls herself a sunset, or that famous pair of pig tails. but that'll do me. that's real enough. who are the audience? are we our own audience? no. you don't see the play from behind the scenes. where the power lies. where the play could be ended with one swift drop of a curtain. i think those creatures we have created are the audience. they have lives of their own. who knows who else those campbell-kidnapping squirrels have harmed? who knows what those smiling cars get up to in their spare time? i look up to the skies, and i can't SEE a shed there. but, then, i'm not looking at the right skies. these are mine. i can only imagine how sister janice slejj's skies look. from the inside. right now, she's bothering some poor innocent individual, and that individual rubs his hands in angst and wonders who sent this visitation. oops. sorry. we've created a universe. does that make us gods? maybe. a god can be whatever you want it to be. something, nothing, everything..all of the above. oh, its a small world to some. others would deny its existence. i'm sure we even have non-believers amongst our own ranks. there are many gods who create something, and then wash their hands of it. usually, they mutter something about 'free will'. the haiku reader won't turn up. not for me. and the fictional ian? he's got better things to do than wait around in the bar. he's away with that team of rugby players that the real ian would walk away from, sneaking glances over his shoulder. i'll come back to myself. back to the other gods. they all look suprisingly human. perhaps that is because they are. in the dark days, anything can seem possible. in the dark, anything is possible. back to my world. back to the sunday, and the monday, and the tuesday. brown carpets, moments that pay my way and corrode my soul. dreaming of the crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy nights. your poems lift me throwing us back at ourselves a broken mirror? i never could write haikus. and i think we're our own broken mirrors. those backstage parties make me smile. they make me feel sorry for the people who never thought of entering the theatre. those who never even knew it existed. the time in this theatre makes my own long days seem that little bit magical. no, remove the word 'seem' from that sentence. and, if its a small theatre, a wise woman once said: 'a storm in a teacup is exciting to the teabag' liz, if you're reading, meet me backstage for a cup of assam some time. xx ian +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: I bought you a present, a clipper ship with a tower of clouds like smoke
by Mark Hester 03 Nov '02

03 Nov '02

Hi everyone, Subject line was prompted by Stuart name-checking Gerard Langley in the Q & A. It's been so long since I've posted or done anything remotely sinister-y at all that the experience feels a bit like exploring the attic, finding an old box of photographs, blowing the dust off and opening it up to relive old memories and discover some things which you've forgotten about totally. What have I been doing whilst I've been away? Well, one thing is that I've set up a blog. I'm not quite sure why. I've no idea whether I'll find the whole thing so compelling that I'll be posting to it all the time, or whether it will become such a chore that I'll rapidly begin to resent its existence. Anyway, right now I've got so many ideas buzzing around in my head, just like the un-named character in the Bangles' "If She Knew What She Wants", that I feel that I'll be contributing quite regularly, just like the Kaiser. If the summer is for picnics, then surely autumn and winter are for travelling long distances for gigs. There's no reason why I shouldn't go to London or indeed even further to see bands I like at other times of the year (and I often do) but it is convenient - ok, then, *lazy*, to divide the year up in this way, especially as my two visits to RoTa have both been towards the close of 2000 and 2001 respectively. Tomorrow, however, its off to the very local Cellar to see Chris T-T whom I've only read about, not actually heard, but anyone who writes a song about a bus route must be good, surely? So James Thorniley has joined the York Sinister Massive. It's ages since I've been to York, but I have lots of good memories of it...the Burning of the Boats ceremony on the Ouse, the smell of chocolate wafting through the air from the Terry's factory, searching unsuccessfully for Dick Turpin's grave and almost missing the train home (I swaer someone had been moving the signs around). Has York produced anything of merit musically lately? It's somewhat unfortunate that the only band I can think of from York is Sh*d S*v*n. There is no such thing as the Oxford Sinister Massive. I wish there was. Maybe there are some sinister freshers who lurk, who knows? The Boy G is here apparently, though I have yet to bump into him. Ever had that experience of finally noticing something and going "duh, oh yeah" in a slightly embarrassed and quite-a-bit asinine sort of way? I owned Teenage Fanclub's "Grand Prix" album for years before I realised that each band member is standing under a sign with his own name on it. Been playing this album a lot lately for some reason (and looking up verisimilitude in the dictionary). And with Norman Blake playing Stevie's dad, that almost counts as 'content' ;). "if you're feeling like a minister, go off and write to sinister", wrote Juju, but which kind of "feeling like"? You can feel like you're dressed up in a cassock and are about to be offered more tea, or alternatively be reading Canon Roger Royle's column in Woman's Weekly and suddenly think, "Phwoar! I'll have me some of that!" Very confusing, this language of ours. Time flies like an arrow, etc. Mark. ______________________________________________________________ For up-to-the-minute music news, reviews and specials visit http://www.nme.com Get free e-mail (anyname(a)nme.com) now at http://www.nmemail.com The sender of this e-mail is NOT an employee or associate of NME, nme.com or any other IPC magazine. +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: James drinks a nice cup of tea!
by James Thorniley 03 Nov '02

03 Nov '02

Hi So, the first term of my first year at the University of York is now nearly 5 weeks in, and I'm doing just fine. I'm writing at the moment to take my mind off the fact that I have been given work which I really can't do, which is ever so depressing. I'm enjoying my stay in University accommodation. I have to say the rooms provided by the University of York are absolutely superb - the house isn't falling to pieces like you might expect. There are definitely no huge cracks in the walls and the fridge door closes perfectly. I'm living with an ok bunch of people. They're really into indie music but they never go out so they're really boring. Its a shame because the clubs in York are really good, there's absolutely no cheese so you can dance to classic choons from B&S, Hefner and Baxendale* et al, all night. Large. Nearby to me in house L is house O, who are all a really sad bunch of shites, who are constantly listening to S Club Juniors in their kitchen. I keep getting dragged over there, I think because one of the blokes fancies me. I went with them to the club night thing put on by the indie society (as mentioned by asm just a minute ago) the other day. There we bumped into the rest of the York Sinister Massive (ohmigod), including Sam/asm, feather boa, and TheBoyOnceKnownAsMummyI'veGrazedMyKnee, (all of whom I've bumped into in London on previous occasions), amongst others who I vaguely remember the names of but don't want to put myself on the spot by trying to name check them now. We sat and drank some fruit juices, and I gave up smoking. There was even some dancing, but nothing too crazy. TBOKAMIGMK appears to be in crutches so he wasn't really making a go of the dancing at all. After several fruit juices we were all feeling a little silly but kept ourselves under control. I certainly didn't hit any girls, not even for fun. Later on there was rampant shagging. 'Ave it! Love James * Baxendale are really good. P.S. So are the White Stripes. P.P.S. I'm 5'2'' and blonde, and there's a pig flying around inside the computer room. +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: Have you and her been taking pictures of your obsessions?
by Sunny set 03 Nov '02

03 Nov '02

It had been quite a while since my family have been together in one place and then suddenly we found ourselves seeing each other twice in three weeks. After a long time apart it takes a while to remember what it is like to be a family. Sitting around the dining room table talking... about 4 different things. It is so easy to forget the basic rules of being a family. Each member of the family has his or her own obsession. The objective of the game is to try to convince every other member of the family that their obsession is the only one worth caring about. Its a comprise between engaging others in conversations about your own obsessions whilst blocking attacks from other people. Once this has been achieved the game is over and the original owner of the obsession is crowned victorious and respected by all. Of course this has never happened. My dad is in the lead at the moment, having convinced my sister to support Carlisle United. They go to games together and make a very dangerous pair. Luckily it will take a while for them to convince either me or my mum that standing out in the cold drinking Bovril and watching a ball kicked around is a good idea, so the game is by no mean won. My mum on the other hand is playing a tactical game. She obsesses over multiple things (runrig, Donnie Munroe, Gaelic, stone circles, making food using brown flour) one minute you are feeling smug having successfully blocked a conversation about Gaelic and just as you are congratulating yourself you realise she is talking about Donnie Munroe and you are encountering angry glares from the other members of the family. My fight is going fairly well. My mum admits she likes Belle and Sebastian and even knows simple facts like: Isobel is the one who left the band recently, and that there used to be two people called Stuart but now one of them is called Stevie (ok she gets a bit confused sometimes). My dad has been known to play The Boy With The Arab Strap without prompting, but my sister still puts her hands of her ears and says Im not listening whenever I bring the subject up (crude but effective weapon in the game) My first meeting with my family had gone abysmally. I was coming down with the flu and in no fit state to compete. My sister and dad on the other hand found many things to say about Carlisle, and even my mum had managed to slip runrig into a conversation. However the next meeting was on home territory. I had the upper hand! I stood my ground waiting for the perfect moment to attack... It came just at the end of the meal. I could see I was not the only one who had heard enough about the days match. My mum was looking decidedly bored. I launched my attack: shall I put some music on I asked her sweetly thats a good idea she replied. A fatal move on her part. I knew that is was unlikely that any member of my family had heard storytelling. And decided the instrumentals could be just what I need to secure a fan base within my family. I put the CD and then sat down, trying not to smirk. I let my dad and sister continue there discussion about the football and played with my remaining food. One and a half songs later my dad stopped talking and looked at me. I looked back innocently. Then he spoke: this is a bit sophisticated for you isnt it? Music without lyrics, Im proud of you, its almost classical I smiled and turned to my sister: Do you like it? It ok She was wary, she knew this could be a trick and didnt want to commit herself one way or another. She moved uncomfortably in her seats trying to work out whether I had gone over to the other side and perhaps this was runrig, or whether the CD was something in the charts that she should probably know about. My dad cracked first: So who is it? I wondered whether to lie but I was excited by the almost acceptance of my obsession that I could wait any longer to reveal their true identity. And as soon as I did the game was over they put downs began, this is a mavericks song, this is just like the beach boys, this is just like that other one they did But I didnt care. I had managed to get my family to listen to half a B&S CD without tying them down. I know they wont be able to hold out much longer one day we will sit down as a family and listen to a whole B&S CD without someone turning it off. Take Care Rachel ************* With the current crop of disposable jaw lines and manufactured inanity, it seems that we need our heroes now more than ever before. http://www.friendsoftheheroes.co.uk ***************** _________________________________________________________________ Broadband? Dial-up? Get reliable MSN Internet Access. http://resourcecenter.msn.com/access/plans/default.asp +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: a new girl
by . alex . 03 Nov '02

03 Nov '02

Hello :) I guess I've been lurking here long enough..well about a month or so, but that's long enough. I'll introduce myself. My name is Alex, an eighteen year old girl in Brisbane, Australia. I saw someone asked if anyone was from Brisbane, and well I am. Brisbane is a good place to live - it's small and lots of people know each other. It's nice just to walk around and listen to pop songs on my discman and feel like dancing. I used to do that lots on the way to uni and at uni and on the way home from uni. I'm on holidays now so I suppose I'll be doing that in my spare time instead. 'Tigermilk' is my favourite album to do that to. It's my favourite Belle and Sebastian album, and sometimes I think my life is progressively becoming more and more like a Belle and Sebastian song. I'm reading 'The Catcher In The Rye' at the moment for the second time. I've liked reading Sinister so far. I hope winter isn't too cold for everyone up north! It's summertime weather here - not overly hot right now but the temptation to go swimming is always there. xox Alex ===================================== I took your advice and fixed my radio But I can't find anything that sounds good anymore http://www.geocities.com/veruca_salt_97/ http://darlingalex.diaryland.com/ _________________________________________________________________ Internet access plans that fit your lifestyle -- join MSN. http://resourcecenter.msn.com/access/plans/default.asp +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: There's a portrait.
by Sam Walton 03 Nov '02

03 Nov '02

Hello Sinister. Ive been quiet of late. I would say Ive had writers block, but that would involve me being classified as a writer. Ive just had *block*. A few weeks ago, Mark Casarotto asked for some of the list veterans to start posting again. Im sure he wasnt thinking of me, but I thought Id try and write a little something anyway. After all, I did recently celebrate my own personal 3rd Sinibirthday, so what the heck. ///AUTUMN\\\ I tend to find that B&S are far more of an end of winter/beginning of spring kinda band. Its more or less the same kind of weather, but when the ground is crunchy beneath your feet in late February, theres the anticipation of summer just around the corner, and that seems to suit. The Delgados (The Great Eastern and Hate) do autumn quite well, as do Lambchop (particularly Is A Woman); its all the warm melancholic orchestration and wistful lyrics that do it for me. Sorry. ///FEELINGS\\\ If theres one thing that autumn does do to me, it makes me feel strange. I cant put my finger on it, but I always feel a little stressed and highly strung, as if Im being watched and assessed and prodded and poked and checked for authenticity. I think it could be some sort of emotional hang-up related to autumn always marking the beginning of the school year, and anxiety about that. But I dont really know. Its just a seasonal thing though. ///THE YORK SINISTER MASSIVE RETURNS\\\ After more than a substantial absence from general list conversation, the start of term has prompted me to mention the burgeoning YSM. Last night, at the York University Indie Society (http://www.indiesociety.co.uk) club night, I had the pleasure to bump into James Thorniley, of this parish. He is now a York student, which takes the total number of people associated with York University and with Sinister nearly into double figures. Cmon kids York Uni is *obviously* the place to be. York sinipicnic details to be announced very soon. ///MÚM\\\ There was talk on the list a while back about the Múm LP, Finally We Are No One. Half of Múm are on the front cover to Fishyclap. The other half arent. I bought it the other day, and for what its worth, I think its a great record. In true lazy, wannabe journo style, think Bjork meets Boards of Canada in the rusty shack in Montreal where Godspeed! record their albums, and you might be there. Its a great record. Love, Asm.x ================================ "He's strictly a pain in the ass, but he certainly has a good vocabulary" - Holden Caulfield "He's not the Messiah, he's a very naughty boy" - Mary Cohen _________________________________________________________________ Surf the Web without missing calls! Get MSN Broadband. http://resourcecenter.msn.com/access/plans/freeactivation.asp +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: now i'm in a million pieces
by juju fox 02 Nov '02

02 Nov '02

halo sinister. some say, "if you're feeling like a minister, go off and write to sinister", so here i am. it's been so long. i don't really know you anymore. but there's a void in my life, and i need you by me now. there's something about driving at sunset in autumn in the last hour you have to yourself before you must clock in at work after you've just bought powder blue maryjanes and a skirt that resembles the boy's carpet that broke your heart, especially when you're listening to iyfs - the song, on repeat, as you're driving at sunset... that glorious peachy keen kind... something about the feeling of freedom when you set yourself loose in the womens shoe department, size 8 aisle, where you can try on a hundred kinds of shoes and feel like a hundred kinds of people just for a few seconds cos you've already checked the price and know you can never wear the matching shoe outside the shop, so you take off the one and find another to fantasize with for the remainder of the minute you hope will pass quickly... cos each moment you have to wait to take another breath is a moment you have to think about all the things that have happened to you lately... and wonder how many more breaths must go in and out before you're beyond it all. so you park when the prettiest part of the setting sun has passed. and you go into another shop to try on all sorts of clothes that look fantastic on you and match those blue maryjanes so perfectly that you could be a walking debate on why mums should never be allowed to purchase matching sets of tops and bottoms in department stores for anyone over the age of 4. and you leave the shop with more black skirts you don't really need, but you have a void now, and collecting maryjanes and black skirts sometimes is the only way you know how to neglect a hungry heart. and you race to work, change clothes in the car cos you hate clothes, and the ones you left the house in proved your curse of static cling, and only brand new ones can cure the ailment. and don't you feel better now that you look like you've taken up the boy's carpet and spread it all over your hips, wrapped it around your waist... cos he's never gonna wrap himself around you like that again. not cos he doesn't want to. cos his life is plagued, and he won't infect you. you play songs all night that don't really do anyone any bit of good. but you like to pretend your piano's a guitar like all the other girls, and pulling iyfs out of your hat in the middle of your set was the best idea you had all day. and you think about the boy some more. there's something about losing a best friend and housemate who also happens to be the other half of your band that you may or may not have broken up in the same week that the boy you love breaks up with you for nothing you did, and your label announced they can't afford to put out your next record anyway... something that makes you think you're grateful they only happen in three's... something that makes you suspect there's more than three this time. you start to obsess over the health of your cat and listen to every squeak of your car's brakes in wait for the next let down. you listen to the boy's sad songs and melt. and think about those miumiu maryjanes you couldn't afford. and hope the hug you last gave the boy was felt as it was meant. and curl up with your fat cat and think and think and think about who you could be and how you could change the world and make him listen if only you could afford different maryjanes. like the patent leather ones with the cut-outs and extra inch in front just to make you seem bigger than actual size, and more important to more people than just what you mean to that boy. but you still feel like such a regular, and the only hope you have left at the end of the day is that he believes what you say. something about november and my october withdrawals... something so dark in my thinking. but i haven't been able to help it lately. dumped three times in a row... clinging to my cat in case he gets any ideas, juju __________________________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? HotJobs - Search new jobs daily now http://hotjobs.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: the story is in the bag, keep your ear to the zip
by Ellebelle 02 Nov '02

02 Nov '02

So there I was, trying to be grown up and inflict some order into my life by the tried and tested and BBC2 recommended system of throwing things away (well actually, I think youre meant to do car boot sales and a crusher but theyre too wet and distressing) when I realised how much my accumulated stuff said about me. Well, I think it must give interesting and profound insights into my life, but I cant really work it out so I thought Id *share* with you because, well, just because. Anyway, what does owning four copies of Romeo and Juliet (the play, not the video or more advanced entertainment media) say? And what am I supposed to do with all the copies? I mean, the first one (Heinemann hb) was stolen from my Secondary school when I was a 3rd year and the best English teacher ever (Mrs Ellias) decided to *do* Shakespeare with us. Ok, so she started the whole thing by reading Across the Barricades and then playing Dire Straits (no prizes for guessing which song), but I loved it (the play, not Dire Straits) so much I stole the book. Each copy sort of relates to bits of my life, but why I ever felt the need to have more than one copy is beyond me. Unfortunately, the decision as to which to keep and which to crush is also beyond me. I also appear to have a need for tippex. Eight bottles/pens/micey things. How did they get into my flat? How come there is never one around when I need one? I think they sneak in when all my pens sneak out. Thats the only explanation. I should really try to bring this round to music at some point in a cool and subtle way, but as the amount of tippex indicates, subtlety isnt my forte. I now either have the choice of making some cleverish statement along the lines of putting the book(s) back on the shelf or just crashing into another topic. I choose crash, who wouldnt? Bright Eyes: Lifted (etc). As many superlatives as you like about the album BUT what is that first track about? Its enough to put you off the whole thing. In fact, the only reason I listened past it is because Im too lazy to get up and turn it off and Belle was asleep on my lap. But its perplexing (good word, that one), listen now, and listen past track one (or just press next). To anyone whos made it this far, well done. V. impressed. Now go and dance in the rain. Elle +Belle __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Everything you'll ever need on one web page from News and Sport to Email and Music Charts http://uk.my.yahoo.com +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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