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Sinister: a NYC plea
by Mark Casarotto 14 Mar '02

14 Mar '02

Dear sinister, I've already made one illegal post this week so here's another, in the hope that Linda will slap me: ********** Does anyone here have a spare ticket for either, or ideally both, New York B&S gigs on the 5th and 6th May? ********** If so, a very, very grateful Englishman who has just rather impulsively bought a return flight to JFK will buy you drinks and tell cute girls/boys (delete as appropriate, or, if I know you lot, don't delete at all) how fantastic in the sack you are. Please let me know! Thanks millions, Mark xxx __________________________________________________ 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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Sinister: On wearing beige mittens.
by Dairy Fairy 14 Mar '02

14 Mar '02

Hello, I haven't written for a while. Not because I haven't been bothered, or nervous or anything. I just haven't felt like I've had many sentences in me. Yesterday though, i got my Belle and Sebatian ticket through the post. It made me feel in one of those moods where you have to listen to everything of one band. I did it with Simon and garfunkel a week or so ago. Anyway, I started listening to them when i walked home from college. I usually go all lazy and get a taxi, and i would say i felt inspired by the way the air was worth tasting again and the hill was glowing. But really, i just had no money in my wallet. It takes me an hour to walk home, and part of it is across fields, so you can paint your own picture of the wooden hut I live in on a bleak Yorkshire hill. It would be false, but a dramatic pictue anyway. And I was walking this walk, feeling like Maria Von Trapp, and surprisingly wanting to spin aroung in circles overlooking the valley. Tigermilk was helping, and I was listening to We Rule the School and almost convincing myself that i was the type of person who could rule a school were it not for the rest of the people in it. I'm using the past continuous here, so you can tell I'm building up to something. Anyway, I climbed over a stile and wooooooops. There was four elderly ladies squatting behind the wall answering their individual calls of nature. I was fairly mortified, and had to clamber back to the other side of the wall whilst they made themselves respectable. However, I am also very infantile, and was secretly amused. In fact, i felt very much as if I was in a film ca! lled Carry on in the Country, or suchlike. Only that would probably be beastial porn, and not half as quaint as grannies peeing. That isn't all i'm writing for. As I said i got my manchester ticket, and it is standing so i can try and imitate struan's twee dancing. I don't know Manchester very well, although I have applied for uni there, so I can make myself think it is an educational trip. I may even bring a pad of paper and pen and make notes on the pros and cons of the cities. I may not though since I would look odd making a tally of number of boys wearing cardigans, cafes that look like they wouldn't mind you spending an aternoon in them and pubs that don't look at me oddly when i ask for a vodka and ginger beer. mm. famous five but a bit naughty. cheerio, Grace --- And she spent the rest of the day separating the bits from the marmalade, or, if you prefer, the marmalade from the bits. Is your boss reading your email? ....Probably Keep your messages private by using Lycos Mail. Sign up today at http://mail.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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Sinister: Dreaming of red bulging juicy tomatoes....
by Amy Skelton 14 Mar '02

14 Mar '02

Hello all, Kirsten mentioned dreaming of tomato trucks. I once saw (the end of) a clip on a travel show showing an annual festival somewhere in Spain where people have one great big tomato fight in the streets of the town - it looked like complete stupid carnage and every now and then I like a bit of craziness! I would love to go to this festival but strangely enough none of my friends seem keen when I mention it to them. Does anyone know the details - place, date etc. and more to the point do any sinisterites fancy going along? Speaking of impulse decisions, the event I was supposed to be going to yesterday evening got cancelled at the last minute and my head said - Go to Newcastle for the evening and watch Milky Wimpshake and dance stupidly at The Walk - so I did and it was lots and lots of fun. Didnt make it back for my lectures in Sheffield this morning though but never mind. In fact my hangover is making it too difficult to type so Ill bid you farewell... Take care... ...Amy _________________________________________________________________ Get your FREE download of MSN Explorer at http://explorer.msn.com/intl.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: unfocussed
by Liz Daplyn 14 Mar '02

14 Mar '02

Can't remember who wrote this haiku, but it's great. Cold frosty morning Sparrows sitting together Without any necks The magnolia trees are in bloom, but I fear for the flowers' future over a cold and windy Welsh weekend. It's only from this time on that one notices magnolias, as their bare trunks are a bit twiggy and nondescript, although individual branches are nicely sinuous. Presumably they grow much better in the west of *Great* Britain than in the east, as I don't remember seeing many when I was living in Kent. Sweeping generalisation from paltry personal experience! Still, it's more humid here (understatement), which might account for it. "Scent of magnolia, sweet and fresh; Then a sudden smell of burning flesh; Pastoral scenes of the gallant South, The bulging eyes and the twisted mouths." Not very nice, but "Strange Fruit" is a sad and beautiful song, and never more so when sung by Robert Wyatt, in my biased opinion. You may mutter of Billie Holiday, but I stick with the old man, if only in homage to his version of "Shipbuilding": more tales of social injustice. Must buy some Elvis Costello rather than just listening to covers of it, but I haven't got around to it yet. Kieran said: <<Ive been told, too, that if you take photos from inside a bus, the camera will focus on the pane of plexiglass in the window, rather than the intended target, which will appear in fuzzy soft focus at the back of the photo. How sad.>> Having made a practise over the past few years of taking photos from buses, kindly heed my *wisdom* O People. 1) Get a decent camera with manual focus! That is, if you can find one that isn't computerised to the nth these days. I got my lovely SLR some time ago second-hand, and it was fairly ancient then. Weighs a ton, too. Still, good cameras age well if you treat them nicely. 2) Unless you're careful with your angles, you'll pick up reflections from the insides of the windows, particularly if it's a dull day. But sometimes that can be good, as you get interesting ghosts of the people on the bus superimposed on the exterior view. 3) Oh, and you should use a fast film, as, well, buses are moving moderately speedily in general. Like. Of course, I'm too swanky to travel on buses these days :) Trains are the way to go. But I do like the National Express for its comfy squalor. The drawback is that on a journey of any duration one is pretty much bound to go through or change at Birmingham bus station, which mings like the biggest badger you ever did see. Was listening to the Catchers in the car this morning. Early 90s jangly pop, gotta love it. Nearly as fey as the Field Mice, but more, well, Irish. And the REM influence in the vocal lines is almost comically apparent, but it's still great. Ooh, nostalgia for something that I wasn't that aware of at the time. I was more interested in Green Day, tragically. But these things are sent to try us. Hmmm why am I so conscious of nasty green small hatchbacks these days? Brixton. Belle and Sebastian IN THA GHETTO, innit. Caitlin me duck, pink nail varnish goes with _simply everything_. I'm going nowhere fast. Love to you all, but especially *you* Liz :x *** 97. Things that give a clean feeling An earthen cup. A new metal bowl. A rush mat. The play of the light on water as one pours it into a vessel. A new wooden chest. The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon ** _________________________________________________________________ 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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Sinister: new merchie
by Katrina House 14 Mar '02

14 Mar '02

for those who still care there are now new tshirts, a mug and brand spanking new shopping bag online from http://www.banchoryshop.net we've even made a skinny-fit top - first time for everything. thank you and goodnight. cheers, katrina. banchory press - management - merchandising po box 25074 glasgow g2 6ld scotland email: shop(a)banchory.net http://www.banchory.net http://www.belleandsebastian.co.uk/home +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: you are not you are not who you are not who you used to be
by lindsey baker 14 Mar '02

14 Mar '02

hello sinister. ***i am not, nor will i ever, apologize for the post that is to follow. and on that same note, i heretofore take back any apologies i may have made for any posts i have written, am writing, or will write. i love each and every one of my posts, even if you lot don't. so deal with it. thank you.*** whew. secondly, i would like to dedicate the post to follow to my favorite avid reader of all things lou. you know who you are, and i love you. :) your parcel is coming along. (an additional side note to send a shout-out to all the friendly, amazing peeps who have crush-voted me of late. you give a girl hope in a bleak, desolate wasteland of sodden and sorry boys, and that makes me happy. also: caitlin, you rock.) now. to get to business. i went to a laundromat in lincoln for the first time tonight as the washing machine in the basement of my apartment complex has mysteriously been broken. for some time. i rounded up someone to go with me, and settled in for a nice bit of television watching and chain-smoking amidst the inherent humidity of anywhere with a wall of drying machines, hoping (secretly) that josh hartnett would walk through the doors and bring me forty days and forty nights of sweet, sweet lovin'. josh never came. but a phone call did. i hadn't been expecting to get it any more. i stopped waiting for it a week ago, and now that it's been almost two weeks since the event and promises of calls and face-to-face visits to sort the horrifying matter out, i find i am still just as, if not more, completely and utterly pissed off with the person on the other end of the line. i sat there, taking a few moments to realize who it was, looking, i'm sure, like some kind of weird vision, mopping up my little spill of detergent with a cigarette jammed between my teeth, ear pressed to the phone to make out the voice over the hum of the washers and dryers. "i'm at the laundromat....yeah, well, it's about as fun as one might expect....why are you calling? and when should i tell you to fuck off?" the conversation lasted longer than i expected it to when i started, and i said more than i ever intended to say. i told him about the idealistic girl fairy-tale scenarios i had created while he was away, and how i watched the demise of it all come crashing, slowly and steadily, around my precious feet for a month. and the culmination was a stain on my rug from where he spilled his drink and two weeks of panic attacks after the fact. my bed now always houses two, especially when i am alone. and he is sorry, blah blah blah same old bullshit. and i gave him a second chance to prove to me that i should not be scared of him, that he might, in fact, be able to be my friend after all. and i shouldn't have done it, but today, i happen to feel generous. i bought my friend veronica a stuffed cat, after weeks of her lamenting that her fiancee nixed the pet kitty idea. she opened the floral wrapper and took the calico bit of stuffing and fur out of the box, and kept it on her lap for the rest of the night at the paper. i love doing things like that. maybe that's why i did what i did. maybe that's why, when i came back to the paper at midnight to type a poem i stopped for a moment and watched the small congregation of homeless men sround the union, listened to their scattered and half-insane conversations. you see them walking through the union and around campus daily, always separated and manic, some good-humored and willing to talk about anything any time, especially their individual mistakes. it was the first time i had really seen them all together, and it made me oddly, if not happy, at least a little comforted. tonight, every lyric has a weighted meaning. we trade liquor for blood in an attempt to tip the scales, i think you lost what you loved in that mess of details. yes, yes, i did. for a little while, i lost myself, and i think i am on my way back to finding her, through the chewing out of a half-assed boy, a bit of self-assertion, a poem, a big, black nebraska sky, a bright eyes album, a laundromat and a few homeless men. we spend far too much time worrying about the how and why of things, the what and when and where, when we should be worrying about the who. i told him that my friends would kill me if they knew i spent time with him at this point in the game, and he said 'they say your friends know you better than yourself.' and i told him no one knew me, not even me. i told him i was different then, at that moment, than i had been ten minutes before, and that is the beauty and bitch of life. (even of sinister.) the poem is here, in front of me, and i am proud of it. i am proud of myself for writing it, and for what it says and doesn't say, for what i say and don't say still, and for who i am and who i am not. this poem. is a 'monologue.' at least that's what the assignment calls it, and this is the second one i have written. and it is not about me specifically, but it is based on me, and what might have happened, what could have been and what could have resulted. maybe it gives me perspective, or maybe it helps with my insane neuroticism of what-iffing. but it is mine, and it is me, and i am i am i am *daisy, daisy* of what is it have i been robbed, exactly, for love was never part of the game, only an alcoholic promise of meaningful ecstasy. the boy is expendable, and, after the fall of coquettish eyes and second-date hand-holding, apparently so am i. if i stare long enough at the tiles today, the grout lines dissolve, and the expanse of floor becomes gridless, moving, almost oblique and unforgiving. i do not fit any more, am only vomiting upthrowing prose, staggering counterclockwise through various stages of false completion. i am not a drawing, a pencil sketch with moveable parts to erase and redraw, smudge out and finalize as the actualization of a fantasy, two breasts and a garden-of-eden triangle, exposed and gaping, breathing a gaudy yes from every shadowed pore. addiction is not the same as passion, and blacking out is an easy excuse for elementary attempt. the repetition of a cardigan and round, twelve-dollar salvations, i know, does not equate to until death (do us part). so am i to be a quasi-heroine, then, a stamp across my lucky forehead that reads "saved from him." good girl at the bottom of the top said no and rallied weak hands to resist, sank a circle of self-defense teeth into the flesh of his neck and waited for sleep. i have stalled, fumbling now through every day faking poised deviance and disillusionment. every man is a rate of capability, and i measure only the span of their hands, estimating the breadth and shape of the bruises they will brand on my quivering expanse of vulnerable temptation. they say they are not violent, but i and my tangle of bed sheets know otherwise. now, through an horrific stretching of my intelligence, i wrap myself in a scarf and sheath of clean line breaks, taut protection from march and the ides of a boy and his absence. question irrational wonderings and try a blank, therapeutic composition of simple lips and sunshine, the doctors say. "remember you are one of the guiltless many subjected to the cowardly more." but i am weary of sympathetic audiences, dewy-eyed nods and recognition of pain. they do not know what i have not told, and the wasted weeks are crushed and compacted into one night made publice by outcry. i am the stupid one. i am of the chargeable few who pitched willingly into the arms, the drawing, a composite of blonde hair and bidden lust. we have both lost, and i force my voice into the form of thirty-eight days and their heady peak: the rape victim. and it is unoriginal, dull, a tongue without taste, a taste without direction, a direction without progression. of a million easy beggars, i am the chosen, the token, an experience told to preserve the pasty-faced feminine prevention. chastity ends with but an adopted surname, and i am still still still i am not that girl any more. i am not that girl. thank you. (i am not a victim.) thank you. (i am not guilty.) thank you. (i am both.) thank you. xxxx lou _________________________________________________________________ Chat with friends online, try MSN Messenger: http://messenger.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: B&S Storytelling links ALL CONTENT NO FILLER
by Shawn and Emily 14 Mar '02

14 Mar '02

Hey all, Just wanted to pass these along. Apologies if you already know and I'm boring you. Love, Shawn http://music.yahoo.com/launch/news/rolling_stone/story.html?a=n/music/launch /news/rolling_stone/rock/20020312/3/p1&b=n/music/launch/news/rolling_stone/r ock/20020312/3/p2 http://www.nadamucho.com/features/b&sinterviewb.htm http://www.nme.com/news/22502.htm http://www.tabletnewspaper.com/vol2iss_25/features/belle25.htm http://www.magiclanternpr.com/films/storytelling.htm#music +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: March 21st is the first official day of Spring
by Kieran Devaney 13 Mar '02

13 Mar '02

I was excited to berate you all for boring me with you pretentious tales of everyday drivel, like your insights were actually witty and amusing...they weren't. Dear Sinister, Ive often wanted to take photos whilst riding on buses, specifically whilst riding the number 97 bus from Birmingham City Centre back to where I live. In fact during the summer holidays last year, I contrived a whole art project of photographs taken along that bus route of the various interesting sights, but sadly, since I dont own a camera, the project never came to fruition and I have had to content myself with another nice but fairly dull project of invented landscape drawings. Ive been told, too, that if you take photos from inside a bus, the camera will focus on the pane of plexiglass in the window, rather than the intended target, which will appear in fuzzy soft focus at the back of the photo. How sad. Places of special interest along the route are many and varied; though I urge you to specifically look out for the interesting gates that litter the roadside as you travel past. Thats right, gates. My favourite gate that you pass is a wrought-iron gate that was painted blue many years ago probably only once, since much of the paint is now peeling off and rust has set in where the bare metal is exposed. The gate has also been bent and contorted slightly out of shape, it leers at you at slightly drunken angles. Being right on a main road its often stuffed with cans and crisp packets, coarse grass grows underneath it, but most interestingly of all, directly behind the gate is a wall. The wall is quite recent, you can tell that by the less worn conditions of the bricks and their cleaner colouring and this wall blocks wherever the gate originally led to rendering the gate itself quite useless. Whoever owns the factory there must have put up the wall, perhaps to stop people seeing in from the roadside, but they neglected to dispose of the gate. Perhaps this was for purely practical reasons, the gate is probable rusted onto its hinges and would be difficult and expensive to remove you might have to bring in heavy machinery to do that, and on a main road such as this that just isnt feasible. Or perhaps whoever decided the wall was to be built had a soft spot for this slightly wretched gate, saw some beauty in it and left it where it is, and decided to, perhaps, make a coy artistic statement by having this old gate lead straight into a wall. Because if you put that into a gallery, then it could be art, or art if you prefer, recontextualise gate with wall and there are a myriad of interpretations that suggest themselves the old, defunct nature of the gate contrasting with the crisp newness of the wall, there is conflict there, in a metaphorical sense the gate could represent many things, and the wall is an obvious barrier. Other things along the 97 route do not reach such heady artistic heights, but there is sadness in the bit of sculpted architecture next to the snooker hall, now cracked and weathered, uncared for, and more sadness with the imposing and successful McDonalds, mocking the row of poor, failing shops that surround it. There used to be a patch of fenced-off litter strewn wasteground at the end of a bland alleyway which was oddly set off by a sign claiming: This Site Sponsored by The European Union or words to that effect, with the circle of stars logo on it, but the sign has since been taken down, though the two metal poles which supported it are still standing. I always thought that was a poignant image, and Im sorry I didnt get a photo of that before it went. Even having travelled the route for years now hasnt made it lose its appeal, though since I know the whole thing so well, travelling it is like listening to a song you know all the words and music to. But I think it takes familiarity with something like that, something that wouldnt appear striking at all if only given a cursory glance, to find interest and even beauty in it. Which is more valuable, something beautiful that strikes you straight away, something that takes time to unveil itself, which might seem plain or even ugly at first, but little by little, becomes fascinating? What gives me the right to turn such everyday drivel into a pretentious tale? A few days ago I was on the 97 travelling back from town with my brother, and not far from the gate I was just talking about and he turned to me and said: I hate this fucking bus ride. Someone enthused about seeing Ikara Colt on tour, and having also seen them just over a week ago I can happily endorse his or her sentiments and recommend that you go and see them. Six pounds well spent I think. Theyre the first band Ive ever seen more than once too, and they were much better the second time around. Quite a good album as well. The show Teachers is back on your televisions as I type this. To be honest, I only ever saw the first episode of the last series, but that was enough for me to think that its a cunning government funded plot to encourage more people to become teachers themselves because hey, look how hip Simon is, he never does any work, hes scruffy and cool, he has a nifty rapport with the kids, they respect him but they dont fear him, look how attractive he and his colleagues are I could be the same! Callous use of primetime TV to plug the gaps in failing employment figures. And our own Belle and Sebastian were oddly tacked onto the soundtrack, the noodly instrumental bit from The Boy With The Arab Strap playing out the credits, which I felt, didnt really sit well with the supposedly gritty and edgy content of the show. Or maybe it did, maybe the BBC reasoned that since the gritty looking exterior of Teachers isnt necessarily true, the show being facile and unrealistic they would counteract this with some Belles on the credits, since their music often appears chirpy and fun on the outside, but closer listening reveals a lyrical touch which often belies the niceties of the tune. Or, more realistically, Belle and Sebastian are a band alternative enough to be cool, but safely tuneful enough to please the easily impressionable types who will be entertained and taken in by the show. - Kieran _________________________________________________________________ Join the worlds largest e-mail service with MSN Hotmail. http://www.hotmail.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 Daniel Okorn 13 Mar '02

13 Mar '02

I was released from the nursery about a week ago, but found myself a little intimidated to actually post. so this is my first offical post. I hope I get it right. I am a massive fan of belle and sebastian, discovered them when They Boy With... was released here in Canada. Other than them I quite enjoy the smiths, radiohead, mogwai, the velvet underground, sparklehorse amongst others. I was wondering if there was a meet-up planned for the Toronto show? BlurryBoy13 wrote about High Fidelity...my friends refer to all the music i listen to as "sad bastard music", the clever name jack black gave to the music belle and sebastian craft. its sad that people wont give them a chance because of a film. I think thats it, off to walk along the rocky beach with the puppies and a friend. the weather suddenly got beautiful in ontario. danieljoesph. _________________________________________________________________ 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: gap years and tibetan monks.
by will haigh 13 Mar '02

13 Mar '02

hi there everyone, i was sat in college today, and somebody said there was going to be a disscussion about gap years, i thought, what the hell, its either that or play poker. so i found out that one of the geography teachers went to india to teach young monks english, WOW! i had been thinking of going abroad at some point, and i really want to go to china. -but- having said that i am really interested in buddism, snd i might get to meet the dalai lama (as my teacher did!) i also think that it would be very benefial to help people...all part of 'finding myself'. we had a slide show and it looked so beautiful, at the foothills of the himalayas. im confused, part of me wants to go and part of me says stay here and dont miss any work opportunities. im stumped, and this is a once in a life time opportunity..... what shall i do? WILLz. _________________________________________________________________ Join the worlds largest e-mail service with MSN Hotmail. http://www.hotmail.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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