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Sinister: It's a good day for flying
by KevShindig＠aol.com 26 Mar '02

26 Mar '02

I never knew going to a travel agency would be so heartbreaking. Once I decided I was going to fly to Atlanta to see Belle and Sebastian, I needed to set everything into place as quickly as possible, before logic set in. "At the first travel agency I see", I told myself, "I am buying plane tickets." Cambridge Travel resides in a little dais-like mall area in Porter Square, the same building that houses my favorite burrito stand. Actually, I'm kind of pissed at the burrito stand - they used to play jaunty Mexican renditions of popular light-rock tunes, but about two weeks ago they switched to playing the actual light-rock songs, in English. I don't know about you, but I'd rather hear a Mariachi version of "The Wind Beneath My Wings" over the Bette Midler version. The last time I was there they were playing the aforementioned Bette Midler version and it took everything in my power to not turn to the guy behind me in line and me and exclaim, "Hey, do you know what this song makes me think of? High school graduations!" with fake over-earnestness. In retrospect, I should have done it. Boston is the most unfriendly place I've ever been to, let alone lived in, and I have to keep myself amused somehow. Oh yeah, Cambridge Travel. I don't want to use the word "ramshackle", at least not in a sentence, but there was a general feeling of disarray to the place. I had read somewhere, I think, that the whole business of being a travel agent was on its way out due to the internet, and airlines cutting costs. I was the only customer, and I looked a bit ramshackle myself. Besides, they were playing jaunty Chinese-language versions of popular light-rock hits. A good omen. My new travel agent, a middle aged woman of Asian descent, and I sat across from each other at a desk, and proceeded to hash out the details of my trip. I wanted to leave on a Monday, I said, and return either the next day or possibly on Wednesday. She asked me if it was a business trip, while staring at my black t-shirt for the punk band DOOM which says, I shit you not, "Making Punk A Threat Again!" on it. (digression : many moons ago, I would work Sundays at a record store in Providence, Rhode Island called Fast Forward so the owners, Ron and Judy, could have a day off. Ron and Judy used to pay me in merchandise, which was fine because I would just spend the money on records anyway. I was picking out twenty dollars worth of stuff one day, and after grabbing the used copy of "Snowball" by the Field Mice I picked out the DOOM t-shirt, because if they were Making Punk a Threat Again I wanted to be on their side. This was seven years ago, and Fast Forward is no more, but I still sometimes wear the t-shirt while listening to "Snowball") "No", I told her, "I'm going to see a band." This amused her, I could tell, as she started to figure out prices for tickets, muttering, "You must really like band..." Her quotes were about a hundred dollars over what I was expecting to pay, from checking out prices on The Internet, so I asked her to check some other airlines, and it was all roughly the same amount of money. And the travel agent told me that the airlines have stopped giving them commission, and she seemed to be resigned to losing another customer because of this, and the whole thing was just impossibly sad. A Cantonese version of "Total Eclipse of the Heart", playing in the background, only heightened things. I suppose it was a combination of guilt and altruism (guilt mostly) that spurred me to buy the damn plane tickets anyway. Hell, it's a Belle and Sebastian tour, and I want to see them as many times as possible. And I already bought the show tickets, and I want to see my friend Noah in Atlanta and drink coffee until five in the morning with him and talk about old soul records like we used to do before he moved. The travel agent seemed really cheered by this, and said "Thank you so much!" a couple of times, and my head filled with images of her returning to her family that night, declaring, "Tonight we dine like kings!" while brandishing the credit card receipt from our transaction. She shook my hand and gave me my plane ticket. I left quickly, before one of us started crying. Kevin +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 love you, sinister
by Katia913＠aol.com 26 Mar '02

26 Mar '02

Sinister, sinister Do you all believe in childhood love? I dont mean 'puppy love', but rather, real old school love like your parents might have. I'm 16, I dont believe that I could fall in love now, but then why do so many other people think they can? MY old best friend is also 16 and has dated her love for three years; how can she know she is in love at 13? Is it real? We were reading the poem "Annabelle Lee" by Poe in literature before break and my teacher said about the line "our love was far stronger than people older than we, than people far wiser than we" that she did believe in puppy love. Do you? Sorry for the list abuse... Love, Kate +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: Getting my Belle and Sebastians out
by unstable mable 26 Mar '02

26 Mar '02

Hello sinisterians, This is my cherry popping moment - very exciting. I will try and be witty and interesting but i suspect that i will fail and this posting will make me look like a tosser. C'est la vie.. Does anyone know who is supporting B&S next week at Brixton? Just curious. I have a top tip for pulling strangers on public transport. I was on the tube the other day looking at a B&S cd cover when this foxy, hairy american guy started to talk to me about them. Unfortunatly i just went bright red and couldnt do much more than squeek a couple of replies to his questions. And so stictly speaking i didnt pull him, but had i been witty and intersting perhaps i would have. So i'm gonna be staring at album covers a lot more on my journey to uni and i'll be prepared for next time, if there is a next time. Yes, i am desperate and should get out more, i know... I'm planning a road trip in america in sept/oct - anyone got any cool suggestions of good places to visit? I'll be in the USA for about a month. Well that's enough of my crap, i wont subject you to anymore of it now. Ciao for now! UM _________________________________________________________________ Send and receive Hotmail on your mobile device: http://mobile.msn.com +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: A quick thought on nature
by The grass is always greener on the other side of the iron curtain 26 Mar '02

26 Mar '02

I was just about in the door, when I heard the most awful shrieking, like something was within inches of death. I ran up the path, and turned the corner to find myself face to face with the most beautiful hawk (or something like that), proudly examining a poor blackbird that had been unfortunate enough to become lunch. At least the hawk wont go hungry, and maybe hes got a family to feed, but who looks after the blackbirds' family now? Nature's beautiful. Nature's cruel and unfair. Peace, Love and Kings of Convenience, Andy X +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: growel
by Hannah Brown 26 Mar '02

26 Mar '02

hello people, Yey, it's all sunny and bright and i can't walk properly because the sun is blinding my eyes!!!!! You all seem to be having a jolly time of late, I SOOOOOOOOOOO wanted to join the weekend celebrations but my friend came round with her baby and i couldn't really sneak off. I even made a mini me which i was going to send to Mark C to take with him to tigermilking, it was very cool, it had boots and a bag with some vodka and £5 in it but when i put the head on it look VERY scary, then it started to fall apart revealing my plastercine/wire chest, so i aborted the whole idea. Next time hopefully i will be there in the flesh, i cannot wait until April 3rd and am going to start drinking again for the occasion, yey, this "keeping sober" thing is getting boring.what are the pre-post plans by the way?????????? I really want to natter on about lots of stupid things like how i got onto an MA course and how my life is being taken over by people called "ALEX or ALEC", for example, being asked out by the horrible death metal Alex and adoring the french Alec who doesn't know i exist. It's all very boring and non B&S related and i have realised that i have been abusing this site lately and must stop. I may become a lurker for a while, please think of me in an hour as i am having my first ever filling and im not scared about the dentist bit, i just won't be able to eat for hours AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, what if i starve hannah in a big bath of jizzz +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: Beans Does Divine
by Mick Cooke 26 Mar '02

26 Mar '02

Chris "Beans" Geddes makes a special guest DJ appearance at legendary Glasgow nitespot DIVINE this Saturday 30th March (Glasgow School of Art, 168 Renfrew Street 11pm til late, 5 pounds entry). Expect northern soul, deep funk, classic sixties and rocksteady reggae from the top drawer - in a word "unmissable"! +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: Eighth Wonder
by P F 26 Mar '02

26 Mar '02

The trains in to London on a Saturday night are no carnival machines. Dark platforms, loudly ticking clocks and orange numbers: sparse aisles of dirty, empty seats littered with tattered right-wing pages, sprinkled with people leaving youth behind, stretching down the arrow of redundant light. Perhaps the true kids and party people are in town hours earlier, shopping, drinking all through the breezy afternoon, spilling from football grounds and surfacing in the centre at six. I walk into the past, down Endell Street (I saw David A. Stewart on a roof on TV the other day: he lives in the toad hospital): to the bar where no-one has heard of us. Underground: the Kaiser with his lollies, Capybara with her panda eyes (that can�t be right), Starry with her head ticking through grate JOkeZoR about sweetZoR. My editor is the 5-minute DJ, playing TV themes. I give him a home-made record. Bronze harmonies bounce off a low ceiling. It�s all in the production, la. We drink beer from a dumb waiter. The radio plays cowboy songs so stupidly. We all watch the flowers fall, she wears them and we all dream. I tell my editor my fish-finger story. It lacks punch. I don�t think he wants to publish it. � They are just Bowie followers, he opines. The Cure without the success. We stand against another wall and tear the posters down, talking about the great Chauss�e. She is not fully realized, I protest: we�re given too scant reason to go with the narrator�s adoration. - Well, says my editor � there are a couple of pages. Campbell plays grinding rhythm & blues. Thank goodness! We try to sing along, but some of those verses have always been obscure. It is, though, their �Bigmouth Strikes Again� � that much is clear. Captain Marvel is asleep: it�s 10pm after all. But the Cabbage is here, down in the earth. This is the point: the nub. We gather round him and his contact machine: Professor Paulo, others and I, to hear about tomorrow�s match. It�s more than a rumour. Yes, I shall be there, I say, though we seem to be preparing with the Sheringham method. Jonnie #5 � he sounds, come to think of it, like a character from the Boss - for time #1, a Tim Sherwood of the disco floor. He escapes injury for one night only. He thinks of our peaks against Fulham and Chelsea, our troughs. He knows what he�s on about. I tell the Kaiser that if he wants to be Tarrico tomorrow, I want to flog him. My editor gets the Cabbage to slip �Like A Daydream� from its yellow sheath. It hisses into pure action while I�m still waiting for a drink to come from the waiter, the butler. This is as good as the disco gets. It takes a lolly to dance to it. �The Model�: it�s like �The Royal Tennenbaums�. Cazza plays a platter about Maggie Thatcher. I look at the lyrics on the sleeve: they�re not as poor as they could have been. I suppose the idea is to be topical. The rest is silence. Outside they turn the match into a picnic. Make a picnic of it. The purists are suspicious. But it sounds apt. I wait with my editor at the bus stop. We talk about the flowers and the radio. � They are just Bowie copyists, he explains. The Cure without the French. Who is more important, he asks � Bowie or McCartney? We disagree. We fail to see our buses going by. The day dawns blue and sweet. I read Heaney: bells and raindrops, loosed screens and straight walks. *Sunday*, he says. The trains are sunny. I read Graham Greene on the book-web. London Bridge: the descent, the empty spaces, the halls where the tubes and people come and go. Roy Hodgson, justifying his achievements. He reads literature both contemporary and classical, they say. They�ve always said this: when will someone make more of it, properly interview him on the pleasures of Italian fabulism? The tube security in bright cheery blue: the crowds of energy: an entrance closed: the streets, the flows, the individuals with their belligerence and desire. It�s always the same, coming in off this train, too: the place is as it was the first day I walked into that bookshop over the road and flicked through volumes on Paul Gascoigne and D.H. Lawrence. The spring light over Camden, and this only March. The highways and turnings: quiet impressive roads, high pastel houses, the lovely church, the symbolism of the English Folk school. At the top of the hill a gang of three, their heads turned away from London. Archel is a poet, I�ve heard, who used to top the List Crush List (Crush). The boy Walton joins us: I wonder whether he exemplifies sinister. In a good way. They don�t want my fish. They don�t even believe it�s fish. A stranger arrives atop the hill. He gazes with cautious eyes at the horizons, like Clint Eastwood � but with a football. He uses it as a seat. The Kaiser thinks he may be �ILE scum�, and he is half-right. It�s Dr C: an encounter to note. Notebooks out, eirenists. We share a packet of peperami, 80-20. I want to revive the peperami. There is no need: Chu, also arrived, is eating them too. The Doc has driven. He *is* driven. Hopkins shows in a red shirt. Cabbage shows in a shirt from Singapore. Perhaps they have all gathered in advance to plot their downfall, I mean, our downfall. I ask Hopkins about a building on the skyline. - That�s the Stephen Trouss� Institute for Contemporary Madness, he says. We discuss its possible occupants. Names are named. ILE head downhill. Cazza gathers his boys. The boy Apps has brought shirts for all sinister to wear. Cazza, like the pinefox, fears ILE. But he stresses the strengths that sinister FC have: - Youth and speed. I think he means it. Five to four. On the great plain where the sky changes slowly overhead, all warm up. Jonnie#5 gets so warm he burns. He can�t play. I am sorry, given his allegiances; the poor fellow. At the last, as though there had been all the time in the world � for in fact there was � my editor strolls down the hill and dons his black and white shirt. Jim is here too, and Dr Sean: the solidest of pros. Black and White United, indeed. Only Stuart Murdoch is lacking. (No - not only.) ILE: Cabbage, Dr C, Hopkins, g, jel, Trewartha, Nick the Dastoor Sinister: the Kaiser, the lad Walton, the Boy G, Dr Sean, Jim, Apps, Nick the dandy. Sinister have many substitutes. We hold our fire. Some of us could have crossed over and evened up the numbers. But we didn�t come to play for ILE. Why? I don�t know. Something keeps us on sinister�s side, even though we be ILE regulars. We are forever walking into the past. 20 minutes are played each way. The match is tough, serious, not easy for anyone. There are no walkovers, no shooting gallery, no gross gaps between the teams. Commitment is total, energy is expended everywhere. ILE have good players: Hopkins is good in goal, plays 38 minutes longer than he�d announced. The Doc is a veteran of competition: he can�t help himself urging his team together, telling them to talk more. (If ILE talked, what would they say? �Robot Sausages: Classic or Dud?�) g � lower-case g � seems a strong player, a tough guy, not easily beaten. But somehow, sinister do have their beating. Perhaps it�s the style of players: sinister possess enough playmakers, dribblers, flair boys to make the difference. Within about 5 minutes it�s 3-0 to sinister. Walton and the boy G are devastating, all skill and incision. By half-time, with Trouss� and the pinefox alternating as black and white TV referees, it has reached 4-0: and this pressure game has an unexpected vibe to it. ILE have a chance in the second half, because the pinefox joins the sinister team as a substitute. If they can�t score now, with me playing against them, they never will. They don�t. It is their best spell, as the Doc will say: but the scoreline keeps them at nil. Our lads even claim later that ILE never had a shot at goal. Can this be true? I�d like to remember more of the game itself here. I can�t pull much together. I know that Apps, Walton and G were terrific: and that when Cazza returned to the fray, looking for a needle match in a haywain, he scored at least one bruised peach of a goal, maybe two. The final score, at 4:48, is improbable: Sinister 8-0 ILE. Some say this is fair reflection. I can�t see that: the ILE kids worked hard. But the score is real, and anyone on sinister should raise their rum and Ribena a moment to toast our star players. The Doc shakes our hands and heads home to Fulham, or wherever. He may take revenge one day. David Moore has arrived, chronicler and photographer. He savours the red Cabbage. Moore brings news to cheer: Liverpool have beaten Chelsea 1-0 with a last-minute goal. The details Moore then deploys suggest a week�s football homework. Sinister hang about for another game against ourselves. This is a 4-1 or something. Stevie G plays Hollywood balls. At the Hollywood Bowl, as McCartney once said. The walk away from the sun, from the grass, the air, is as slow as Paul Gascoigne on the road to Burnley. Jeremy tells me of how he and Shearer spent �100 a night on parties. That�s how cheap Scotland is. Into the Eagle. Cazza wants to talk men of the match. I�ll give the boy Walton the award for the big game; Trouss�s passing wins it for the second. - Apps is our Roy Keane. Cazza says that the victory is significant: youth and hope against � what? I can�t remember � age and despair? ILE, he says, is unfriendly. Perhaps it depends. - I know tomorrow�s gonna taste like cake, says an old LoveSpitLove song. Today tastes like cake too: chocolate cake for Dmitra. We don�t know her so well. We don�t like Lionel Trilling so much, we decide, says Moore. We like *Don Allen.* No wonder he got to be editor. The kids list best-ever sinister posters. Were YOU on the list? I�m not telling. Cazza talks about Cults. Someone names his opposite. Someone names the pinefox�s opposite, too, but I don�t think I understand this one. People come and go, talking on the telephone, falling for the flowers. The sprightliness of �the� [Grateful] Dead, how everyone likes �Passionate Kisses�, the lack of sex in Ulysses, the contrasting abandon of Pynchon, the Clinamen. The drinks. Nicky D buys some. My editor talks about �The Royal Tennenbaums�, naturally. It�s like �The Model�, and the pinefox�s family. I should make some kind of effort to see this picture. Someone steals half the bar�s possessions. Fingers are pointed at the space where a vagrant was. They disperse into darkness, looking for cars, cigarettes, buses, telephone cards, dangerous spilled takeaways. Alone again in the middle of the street, amid the crowds and the thieves, under the night. And so we beat on, full-backs against the run of play, borne back ceaselessly into our own half. __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Yahoo! Movies - coverage of the 74th Academy Awards� http://movies.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: haikus revealed // week eleven // two thousand and two
by ee fumblings 26 Mar '02

26 Mar '02

I'm now going to be an Active Lurker, not that it matters much. THIS IS MY FINAL POST TO SINISTER under this email adress. I'm a fine one to talk, im just a scruff with an obsession for chords. Hewitt! You've always written from the heart, and that's what I come here for. I say, delete me, delete all of us. They just did. I feel better. People scatter and the band stops playing. Stuart edges up the crowd. I decided on my new favorite band. It had been Morrissey. Tue, Mar pm her name is michelle, but she likes to be called shelley. York Ticket trade Date: Wed, Mar Organization: Cat Industries, Inc. B&S yesterday in Stockholm? I can't remember everything they played. I realized last night, whilst trying to find sources, that it's just stupid. But I've never been on a proper date, so I don't know what to do. I saw HIM he was climbing down my drainpipe with feathers in his hair. Chaucer no doubt. Thanks to everyone who emailed about that letter. DO WHAT YOU TELL ME! ARRRGH MOTHERFUCKERS! MOTHER.. FUCKERS! Cor! And look.. Then Sarah came out, she was incredibly shy but still very sweet. I saw Richard, and we started talking. He´s *so* nice! But his accent.. I think I mumbled something about him being my God or something. He missed the tourbus later, so he had to take a cab. Hee hee hee. This e-mail is not and cannot, by its nature, be confidential. // ee fumblings // +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: Stars and Passionfruit Wine
by terry boyle 26 Mar '02

26 Mar '02

Hey everybody, I have just returned to Perth after a lovely weekend on my parent's farm in the south west of Western Australia. My Friday evening was spent alone in the middle of a paddock, staring at a blank bit of cloudless sky waiting for a star to appear. There was no noise (except for my occasional whistling of We Rule the School), no lights, no buildings, just me and the tree's and a bottle of my Dad's home-made passionfruit wine. Everytime a star popped up my heart would jump a little with excitement. Then I'd sip some wine and look at another bit of empty night sky until a star appeared to put a smile on my face. It was very tranquil and peaceful and my body and soul were happy. I felt a little bit like Jack Kerouac. Then on Saturday night I went to my cousins wedding and drank large amounts of cider and beer and danced and laughed and had a merry old time. A great weekend all round. Terry 2,000,000,000 Web Pages--you only need 1. Save time with My Lycos. http://my.lycos.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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None
by angela _ 26 Mar '02

26 Mar '02

hey kids... ok i normaly never post this much but i want to revise my last post anouncement conserning camping out for the atlanta show in may. it seems that this year atleast we are having very unpredictable weather in these parts. and honestly, soggy camping sucks & so does waking up sweating from the humidity. soooo.... it looks like i wont be camping unless god gives me an r.v. to go in. which dosnt count as camping really, but it would still be better than a hotel. i dont know why, i'm just really not fond of hotels.but i just might be having to get one. CURSES! so what i do want to do is have a picnic in peidmont park, i'm told this is prime location for being close to everything, & "its dosnt have a lot of cops so you can get your drink on" atleast thats what the former boyfriend of mine tells me. by the way....ever wonder what it would sound like if steven hawkings read your post to sinister? well i now know...i have a really neato program on my soundblaster software that reads your e-mails and such for you in a little computerized voice that reminds me the little looper computer voice who says "whos afraid of y2k?" its a real scream, and i wish you could hear it. so dose an atlanta sinister picnic sound better? please let me know what you guys think. and if any of you have yahoo messanger feel free to say hi to me there. my log in name is shes_loosing_it hollar at you later _angela _________________________________________________________________ MSN Photos is the easiest way to share and print your photos: http://photos.msn.com/support/worldwide.aspx +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister(a)missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo(a)missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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