- Sinister - missprint.org

Sinister: my sunday ritual: exhaust. cigarettes. public radio.
by Kirsten Kenyon 21 Jan '02

21 Jan '02

"so you're some kind of walking bar, then?" "no. well...i guess...today. anyway." i looked around self-consciously. elizabeth was sitting cross-legged on a bare mattress in the corner, her pretty face bearing an expression of stern concentration as she carefully bored two holes in the nostrils of a plastic doll head. my eyes scanned over the edge of the mattress, over the filthy concrete floor, over dried paint and pornography, discarded articles of clothing, bottles, butts, spoons and puddles of mysterious liquids, thick and oily under the harsh track lighting. moving up the wall...massive canvasses, partially-covered, crumbling bricks and blueprints, squares of greasy gold paper tacked to the wall with electrical tape. i stopped on a series of photographs. an emaciated boy. hollow cheeks, bony arms, dark-rimmed eyes and ashy lips. to look at the photos, you might think it was the lighting. but i've seen the boy around, and he looks that way in the sun. "what the fuck is this?" the shout came from the boy who'd spoken to me earlier. a pair of wide blue eyes snapped away from a heated poker game. the lips under the eyes moved slightly and muttered "enya." the shouter sputtered. smashed his derby with his palm, flipped his cigarette onto the floor...ignoring the four ashtrays within comfortable reaching distance. easy, mickey. take it easy. it's okay...a skinny boy with a glistening forehead hopped over the back of the sofa to change the music, then vaulted back onto the stained cushion and excitedly drummed along on the slab of plywood pretending to be a coffee table. lust for life. hah. nearly everything i could see was half- dead. at least half. "so, my dear, how about a beverage?" elizabeth squeezed the doll head and two narrow streams of smoke shot out of its nostrils and slowly dissipated over our heads. one side of the head was crushed. i stared, fascinated, at the grotesque, pink baby doll face until elizabeth tilted it back and its long eyelashes blinked at me. "here, i'll go with you." she pushed herself to her feet and lit a cigarette, which had been helplessly hanging from my lips for several minutes. we cautiously walked across the room, stepping over greyish whites and tubes of paint. batted our way through a tattered flag dangling vertically from a leaking pipe. over a pile of blankets...a slab of concrete...someone's bed...a sooty pillow. out into the cold. i ran/skidded/skated across the alley to my car. we returned bearing two small bottles of tonic water and the remnant of my bombay sapphire. a boy on the floor looked up from his book. "where have you been all my life?" "....um...around...." the strangers laughed. somebody wiped out a few glasses. a telephone rang. "doorbell!" someone screeched and rolled over the sofa, gangly limbs dancing over everyone's laps to embrace the model who was framed in the doorway, slouching under the weight of two jugs of wine and a wooden crate of beer. more introductions...it was pointless. i nodded. we thought we should get going. back into the cold, into a coffee house that was far too full. off to another, just in time to catch the reverend. "awww we-hell looky here, we got us some purty lil dancin girls, lettin it awlllll hang out. hey there, sweetiepies." i wasn't dancing, for once. well, i held onto elizabeth's hand and she twirled under my arm. but my feet didn't move. elizabeth had never met the reverend before. "he looks like a winker," she whispered. i whispered back that he was, and also a drinker. and fond of pall malls. the cigarettes. we couldn't find a table. elizabeth found enough floor space to sprawl out on her back. i sat on a two-by-four balanced on top of a radiator. we talked for a bit. i wondered....maybe. with the art thing. i realized been going about it all wrong. the clean white gesso, the dropcloths, the eco-friendly turpenoid, the easy- clean tile floors and that damn dog stepping in everything all the time. having a job...being thusly required, each afternoon, to scrub the paint out of my hair and my nails and my pores and look presentable enough to serve bread to the good people of whitefish bay, wisconsin. now i have this...overwhelming...you know, i'm long out of canvas. but there are wood floors. lots of empty wall space, too. and newspapers and old t-shirts and cardboard boxes, ceilings and a large concrete driveway. sidewalks. storefronts. bell towers. (i'm probably joking.) no worries. but...classes start on tuesday, and my art school days are over. i'm going to study english. god knows my grammar needs some serious work. ENOUGH. or more. love. love and sunny sunny sunny weather. kirsten Care2 make the world greener! http://www.care2.com - Get your Free e-mail account that helps save Wildlife! +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: who's your daddy?
by Dirty Vicar 20 Jan '02

20 Jan '02

Hello again Sinister, Sunday evenings have their own ritual here in the vicarage. Basically, I sit down, pour myself a nice glass of port, cut a slice or two of Slard, and set to writing my week's Sinister post. If the post is good enough I might even send it. Ah, Slard. Have I ever told you about Slard? It's the miracle food of the future. Slard (Sugared Lard) is a nutritious and tasty concoction guaranteed to please all the families at all kinds of meal occasions. It offers all the taste of sugar, all the goodness of lard. Slard - ask for it by name. I saw two films last week. One was called "Tartüff" and was directed by FW Murnau. It was one of them German silent films from the 1920s. I especially liked the fact that the title character was an archetypal dirty vicar, affecting an image of saintliness as a way of conning some sap out of his money, trying it on with the sap's wife the while. I must give that kind of thing a go sometime. There must be plenty of people with attractive wives, more money than sense, and a need for spiritual guidance. The other film was "Mulholland Drive", David Lynch's toptastic new film. I realised a while ago that David Lynch is so far removed from the mood of the filmgoing public that he is basically making films for me. He must have got wind of my feeling that his last film "The Straight Story" was a bit too nicey and mainstream, because this is a return to oldschool Lynch - you know, surreal menace, dreaminess, odd plot twists and so on. My quick summary is that "Mulholland Drive" is a film about Hollywood - the shiny, glittery Hollywood of exciting intrigue and adventure, and the sordid Hollywood of real lives, broken dreams, and broken hearts. It also features Billy Ray Cyrus getting punched in the face. I was surprised by Billy Ray Cyrus, he delivers an amusingly understated comic performance in his admittedly brief on-screen time. Maybe he'll give up the singing and become the man film directors call when they want a mulleted meathead with a heart of gold to deliver slightly odd platitudes. I think by now people saying that they are waking up to 'I'm Waiting Up To Us' is a bit of a cliché, but it's amazing how much of a grower that song is. I find myself humming it to myself an awful lot. I reckon soon I'll finally give in and decide that I like it. And that I like the song too. Grainne was right, my last subject line was a reference to the mighty Warlords of Pez. They are this strange Dublin band who play gigs wearing animal masks all dressed in, er can't remember, is it leather jackets and cycling shorts? And they have someone onstage with them with a flipchart which contains the lyrics to their songs (usually the same as the title of their songs). One song is called 'Derek Davis In A Pound Shop With A Basket Full Of Deodorant' (this might mean more to you if you were familiar with Irish TV personality Derek Davis), another 'Fuck Your Partner Like A Zombie Till Their Brains Come Out Their Head' (or something like that). I think they're destined for massive mainstream success. Is Chris Pez in Warlords of Pez? that would be cool. big shout to James for putting the pictures of the Belfast gig up on the web. now all will recognise the Dirty Vicar. Well, time to stop typing, I feel like I ran out of things to say before this message started. Big shout to everyone who agreed with things I said. bless you all, DV +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: "Standing on the mound, with the ball in my hand, staring at a guy...
by Matthew Henderson 20 Jan '02

20 Jan '02

...with a wooden stick, and knowing he can't touch me. It is the only time I feel powerful." I generally do not like tradition. Growing up and still living in the southern United States, I know how much traditions matter to people. To me, traditions seem to be sort of an antithesis to progress. If we don't change things, nothing can move forward. This is why I've done my best to not participate in as many traditions as possible (much to the annoyance of my parents, my ex-girlfriends, my ex-teachers, etc...). However, I must admit that for the past few months, I have begun what seems to be a tradition. Every Sunday morning I wake up, throw on some clothes, and drive to the local Blockbuster Video (the one on Cottage Hill Rd. to be exact). I then rent a crummy new release I have no interest in ever seeing. I go home, then I watch it. I'm not sure why I do this, but I do it. And I enjoy it. In fact, I even wake up on Sunday mornings very excited about it. Sometimes it turns out alright (15 Minutes was okay), but then, sometimes it turns out, well, pretty much how I expected it to (Scary Movie 2, Rush Hour 2, The Glass House). This week's however, might just take the cake for the worst. Summer Catch incorporates everything bad about romantic-sport-comedies, and takes it about three levels worse. It's got the wrong-side-of-the-tracks romance, the cruel and controlling father(s), the wacky friends that seem to feel left out when the 'hero' makes new friends, the rivalries with the teammates, that last game, that last inning, the girl is leaving town, etc... I have a whole new confidence in life today. This actually happens quite often, but I always lose that confidence in a matter of days. Sometimes, something very special comes along to lift my spirits back up, something that makes me feel the world is mine for the taking. Summer Catch has become the newest inspiration. If somebody (WB in this case) is willing to put up several MILLION dollars to make that rubbish, then surely, anything is possible. A movie this bad, this poorly written, this badly acted, this terribly unfunny, can be made, then anything is possible. Anyone can do anything. Just remember that. Kieran's story about the kid in primary school reminded me of one of the worst feelings I've ever had. When I was in third grade, a boy named Shane Hale was something of the bully of the class. He annoyed me and many others terribly. His mother died in a car wreck when we were in third grade. I felt bad for him, because I could never imagine my mother dying at the time. He was picking on a friend of mine, making fun of him for some reason. I can't remember what. This made me upset, so I turned to him, and said "well, at least his mother's alive." It took me a long time to get over saying that. I don't know what I was thinking. I never apologized either, although I wish I would have. Moving on to more belle and sebastian-y things, I had an idea to be totally disregarded. Now that there is a heavely body (turning the list into some sort of Wim Wenders film) pining for Ms. Cambell, I think that MISS (not Mrs.) House and the banchory crew should start selling dates with members of the band. I am sure there are plenty of people willing to pay ungodly amounts for an evening with Ms. Cambell, Mr. Murdoch, Ms. Martin, Mr. Jackson, Beans, and the rest of the lot. They are sitting on a gold mine. It's time to stop thinking about ethics and music, and start thinking profit. Anyhow, I had originally planned on writing a diatribe about how much I love baseball, but I'm not going to do that now. I've gone on for far too long. I must apologize, but I really felt like typing. My online diary is not working, so I had to do it somewhere. Okay. I'm not proofreading this. I like to live dangerously. Sometimes. -Matt P.S. The only reason Scary Movie 2 was not the worst is because I could not help but chuckle at Andy Richter playing Mystikal's "Shake it Fast" or "Shake your Ass" on the piano at a dinner party. _________________________________________________________________ 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: Life is a Rollercoaster Ride
by Ben Apps 20 Jan '02

20 Jan '02

Sinister, please help!! I just can't get cheezy pop lyrics outta my head. Some girls' loving is all I think about. I hear Ronan Boyzone in a shopping centre (say, "Baby, can I hold you tonight") and it makes me smile. Scary stuff. It leads me to ask, in an annoyingly Sarah Jessica Parkeresque way: "Does falling in love rob you of all musical taste?" Hopefully it's just a phase. Looking forward to Brighton in three weeks. I haven't been to the sea-side in ages. It's inadvisable, but I may be compelled to bathe. Hopefully some responsible London listee will co-ordinate arrangements for us city slickers making the jaunt. I have a big bag that I reckon Joe Vester could fit into. Now we just have to think of something to tell his mother. Oh and if anyone fancies making it into a five day sinister marathon, there's Track and Field on the Friday night and a gig in Oxford the following Tuesday that really shouldn't be missed featuring our own Cola Cube Cay. (plug please?) I have something in common with Baker Baker. I fainted once too. At the baseball ground in Derby, on a misty January day in 1992. Shit, was that really ten years ago? What does Mark Casarotto do at weekends? Two whole days in a row and no household cleaning updates. Which reminds me, his beloved Wimbledon FC have a goalkeeping coach called.....Stuart Murdoch! It's true. Explains those strong arms. Disjointed as always. Cheerio all you good good people and happy travels to Desmond Torpey. Y'come back soon now, y'hear? Benapps x x x x _________________________________________________________________ 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: The wee sing train's a'coming, a'coming 'round the bend. Just hear those wheels a'rumbling, a'rolling through the land!
by LilGrape25＠aol.com 20 Jan '02

20 Jan '02

Hello sinnie kids! I'm at the very crest of an emotional wave these says, everything has been going so unbelivably wonderful that I feel any moment I must crash..but yet wonderful things keep happening to me and the white foam is not so cushy and lusterous that I fear it must implode. It all started thursday, when my long awaited letter of acceptance into my summer camp and safe harbour's Counsellor In Training program, inviting me to be a a CIT in weaving, which was my first choice. Weaving is the only thing I can do better than anyone else I know, its the only activity I truely understand and love. It makes me so happy, and the thought of spending half of every day this summer teaching other people to do it is unbelievably exciting. A frenzy immediately started online to find out who got invited to work in what shop, and all of my close friends got their first or second choice. Everyone is happy. The same night, I found out that I wasn't going to have to visit my grandparents over presidents weekend, so I can go visit my friends instead. yippee! Then I sent my first list crush vote. <winks> I didn't think things could get any better, then I got Max Grapenut's (you need a sinister name max, and until you come up with a better one you can share mine...) post about me. Strangest thing about it, as I was thinking of what my next post would be about, I decided I'd write something about how wonderful he is, and how unbelievably synched we are and how lovely it is to be with someone you think is so wonderful, while constantly being reminded how like them you are in some ways. Makes one feel very good about themself, and about the entity that is Max and Rachel..whatever on earth that is. No name, but its certainly very lovely. The year before I met max was in some ways the most terrible, lonely year of my life..but also the one that shaped the basics of who I am. I spent the first half of the school year trying to come to terms with my first relationship, with a now straight girl named Laura- still the person for whom I have had the most intense desire- how much I loved her and needed her, and how terribly uncomfortable I had made her in my near obsession with her. Then I read Stranger In A Strange Land, and concocted a number of very idealistic and naive postulates about the nature of life and love. I convinced myself that all I needed was for one person to have an understanding of the way I saw things- which I then believed was the only way things could ever correctly be seen. I convinced myself that my then boyfriend ben was this person, which he obviously was not. Ben refuses to see or speak to me now. I left the year angry at everyone and everything. I was not looking forward to my new s! chool at all...there was not goi ng to be anyone who I would like at all, and I would have to re-establish my reputation as a complete looney. ugh. Well, though my views on life have changed in many ways since then, I was correct in that there can be one person who makes everything better. Funny actually, since after ben broke up with me I convinced myself that that was the only thing about which I had been wrong, that there was no one anywhere who understood everything, that no one person could make me happy. Max taught me by being himself that there are other correct ways of looking at the world besides mine, and at the same time showed me by being the friend I dreamed of having that the way I saw things was correct. The most love to all of you, Rachel Grapenut Wait! Just a few more things I have to say: I'm sorry about your little "teenage" sister, Miss Pancake. She would get along with the kids from the YMCA. A big welcome to all the lovely new people, especially Poet the Baker, who's future posts (maybe some poems, even?) I look forward to reading. This has to be the grandest round of the flattery game you and I have ever played, max. I say we both win. I much prefer it to the blame game, which I am so terrible at. +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: Love's oldest Dreamer
by Saint Peter 20 Jan '02

20 Jan '02

'Dear Isobel My love for you is like the rocks beneath - permanent and' no, too forward, and a little cliched... 'Dear Isobel Something in the way you move, attracts me like no other lover' no, she's bound to know where that came from.... Oh, hello, I mean Good afternoon mortals and fellow listees. My name is Peter. I am an Angel of the Lord, and I live in Heaven. Of which, the less said the better. I'm a very busy man, you know. Although, technically, I'm not actually a man, but I'm not explaining that here, it would take too long and there are things I'd get Thrown Out of the Up Above for divulging. And life on earth isn't fun for a disinherited angel. Generally, the Big Guy turns you into some freak before he sends you Down Here and you have to spend the rest of Eternity with people backing away from you with Miffy handbags over their noses. So don't ask me, because I won't tell you. And anyway, I don't have time to explain. I'm down here on a Mission. I need to seek out the woman you call Isobel Campbell, for she is the next Prophet of the Lord and must be informed of this Divine Providence. Okay, so that's a lie. Angels don't tell lies. I've been here on this Earth too long already. Before long, I'll start wanting to fuck, and that causes all sorts of problems. Especially when, technically, you aren't actually a man. Although some people go for that, but I don't have time to tell you about them. The reason I have to find Isobel Campbell is...... is.......... I don't know. I can't explain it. I just have to find her. I have to talk to her, to hear her voice, to tell her of these strange feelings she inspires, or regret it for the Rest of Eternity. You see, I saw a picture of her, on this lad's computer, in a dark town in the middle of England - "that's Isobel Campbell -- you should go to Scotland and fall in love with her" he said. yeah, that's what he said, and he didn't think about how much trouble it would cause me. He just said it, and went back to playing with himself. I'm in Cambridge. I know she's here. I found a library round the back of the SitNWiggle Club in a small town in Scotland, and I looked at a machine, and i found this: >Administration and Support in the Department of Applied Economics >Isobel Campbell-Stewart Librarian Bella.Campbell-Stewart(a)econ.cam.ac.uk What is a Stewart Librarian? Do they, like other librarians, always keep their word? How do I introduce myself to her? I've met a few great writers in my time, and I'm looking to them for inspiration. What would Billy Shakespeare have said? 'Dear Isobel Will these hands ne'er be clean?' No, utterly inappropriate. Fucking hell, what's the good of hanging out with lots of dead people if you don't LEARN anything from them? 'cept I don't really get to hang out with them, I'm too busy manning the entrance. Keeping the likes of Russell Grant away from people who don't want to be bothered by some camp old blerter. Then there's Michael Aspel, always after new material for that programme of his. Bloody persistent he is, too. I've threatened him with fire and brimstone many times but he just laughs and adjusts his never-changing hair. Once, I let him speak to Eamonn Andrews and -- enough. There's nothing, there's nothing I can think of to say to her..Aldous Huxley would have thought of something... but Aldous isn't here. Never there, friends, when you want them. Always bothering you at other times, asking you metaphysical questions, thinking you know the answer to everything just because you live in a super-enlightened realm.. I tell him, I say "Aldous, I didn't MAKE the fucking place, I just have to look after it. Ask the big J, if he's out of the whorehouse this early.." Oh, you didn't hear me say that. I'll settle for something simple.. 'Isobel. You are the amniotic fluid in the womb of my universe, the placenta which feeds me, and sustains my rebirth. I dream of my existence brushing against yours, and holding it in communion for a moment or two. Yours Peter, St. (Divine Emissary)' There...that comes straight to the point, doesn't it? So, I drop this off at the University, give her some time to receive it and read it, I don't want to look too Mark Chapman - I spoke to John Lennon once and he says fans turning up unannounced is a REAL turn-off... play it a bit cool, go explore Cambridge for a bit. Somebody..... that E.M. Forster, I think once told me it was quite nice, 'part from all the sodomy...Odd he should say such a thing, once you get to know him. So, I go exploring, look around, find some pretty scenery, find some pretty buildings, find some pretty little short-skirted- no, Peter, you are an ANGEL. Give her some time, play it cool, look around. I phone the boy who showed me her photo: "I'm going to meet Isobel Campbell, how should I shape my appearance?" "Look, I can't talk now, the postman has just delivered some letters and I'm OHHH that's good" "Don't fuck with me, boy" I tell him, I shout, and I put on my Voice Of The Heavens (similar to Voice Of The Beehive only a lot deeper and without the harmonies. Oh and scary as a fuck of a fuck being fucked) and I roar "Don't fuck with me, boy..." "I'm not, I'm fucking with----" "JUST TELL ME" "Oh, I don't know. She likes twee shite, from what I can tell. Try and look like a Hello Kitty pencil case" I hang up on the fucker. I'll remember this, I'll write it in my Holy Ten Centuries To A Page Diary when I get back Up Above. Make sure he's housed in the Barracks with Mary Whitehouse. Get him peeling carrots. See if he gets time to fuck THEN. If I can't do it, I don't see why every self-important little bastard should- A Hello Kitty Pencil Case, then? I cover myself in pink fluff and draw on a few blue whiskers. Give her time, play it cool. I wait thirty seconds and I go to meet her. +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 need love, not some sentimental prison!
by Max421＠aol.com 20 Jan '02

20 Jan '02

Hello. Its been a long time since I last posted on sinister. I've been so happy with rachel grapenut's posts, that I haven't felt like adding on to them, seeing as how we often seem to share one existence. We've been friends for a year now, and more and more it seems like we share the same brain, if not the same experiences. We have similar thoughts, and often say what the other person is thinking to the shock and disbelief of the other. Out of everyone, she has had the most effect on my development in the recent past. One of the more significant things I can think of, is the way that she introduced me to Belle and Sebastian. She did it slowly, each album becoming associated with another part of my life. The first CD she had my by, was Fold Your Hands Child You Walk Like A Peasant. It was on the first friday of the school year. We had made friends by being the two quirky kids at the high school retreat into the wilderness, and this was our first time together outside of school. I made her recommend something to me at Tower Records, because I was secretly embarassed of my Music collection, featuring destiny's child and ABBA. I knew I would love the album from the first chords of "I fought in a War" and I bought it. I went home and listened to it. I remmember alternately thinking about how wonderful the album was, how weird and great rachel was, and how stupid the arts and craft project I was doing was. A couple of weeks later I was still spending time with my parents, and so I bought The Boy With The Arab Strap. Winter was just setting in, and I would wake up every morning to the songs "A Brilliant Career" and "Sleep The Clock Around". Not the happiest of times. She was with me again when I bought "Tigermilk". This album was very essential to my introspection during november and December. I remmember Listening to "she's losing it" just around the time that rachel told me she was bi and when I started considering that maybe I wasn't quite straight myself. Sinister is so connected to the depths of that winter that I feel like I'm back in her apartement after being soaked by freezing rain while walking from the train station. She, Caxton, and I would sit on the floor, folding paper cranes, talking about sex, talking about communism, talking about monogamy, talking about everything and nothing and making me intrigued and crazy and angry and sad that I couldn't communicate how I felt. It was all so overpowering. School was so awful. Fox in the snow was about high school. Her room was always too hot, the carpet uncomfortable, and her knick knaks lying all over the floor painful. I bought Legal Man while I was in london. Its opening words "l-o-v-e love, its coming back its coming back" were something of a premonition. Next was the Lazy Line Painter Jane Box Set. We listened to Pastie de la bourgeoisie and danced around her room, in a house up in the country. I could smell the fresh grass of spring, and the sunlight was vast, beautiful and blinding. That was when we really started becoming the closest of friends. Later, I remmember listening to Lazy Line Painter Jane while she was ona date with her boyfriend, and thinking about how the vibe of the song and the relationship were similar. Now I'm sitting around and listening to Dog On Wheels, I have no idea what our future together will be like, but I know I'm ready for it. I know one more thing. I love her more than I can ever express with words. I love you rachel Max (ps. Do any of you catch the reference of the title?) +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 need love, not some sentimental prison!
by Max421＠aol.com 20 Jan '02

20 Jan '02

Hello. Its been a long time since I last posted on sinister. I've been so happy with rachel grapenut's posts, that I haven't felt like adding on to them, seeing as how we often seem to share one existence. We've been friends for a year now, and more and more it seems like we share the same brain, if not the same experiences. We have similar thoughts, and often say what the other person is thinking to the shock and disbelief of the other. Out of everyone, she has had the most effect on my development in the recent past. One of the more significant things I can think of, is the way that she introduced me to Belle and Sebastian. She did it slowly, each album becoming associated with another part of my life. The first CD she had my by, was Fold Your Hands Child You Walk Like A Peasant. It was on the first friday of the school year. We had made friends by being the two quirky kids at the high school retreat into the wilderness, and this was our first time together outside of school. I made her recommend something to me at Tower Records, because I was secretly embarassed of my Music collection, featuring destiny's child and ABBA. I knew I would love the album from the first chords of "I fought in a War" and I bought it. I went home and listened to it. I remmember alternately thinking about how wonderful the album was, how weird and great rachel was, and how stupid the arts and craft project I was doing was. A couple of weeks later I was still spending time with my parents, and so I bought The Boy With The Arab Strap. Winter was just setting in, and I would wake up every morning to the songs "A Brilliant Career" and "Sleep The Clock Around". Not the happiest of times. She was with me again when I bought "Tigermilk". This album was very essential to my introspection during november and December. I remmember Listening to "she's losing it" just around the time that rachel told me she was bi and when I started considering that maybe I wasn't quite straight myself. Sinister is so connected to the depths of that winter that I feel like I'm back in her apartement after being soaked by freezing rain while walking from the train station. She, Caxton, and I would sit on the floor, folding paper cranes, talking about sex, talking about communism, talking about monogamy, talking about everything and nothing and making me intrigued and crazy and angry and sad that I couldn't communicate how I felt. It was all so overpowering. School was so awful. Fox in the snow was about high school. Her room was always too hot, the carpet uncomfortable, and her knick knaks lying all over the floor painful. I bought Legal Man while I was in london. Its opening words "l-o-v-e love, its coming back its coming back" were something of a premonition. Next was the Lazy Line Painter Jane Box Set. We listened to Pastie de la bourgeoisie and danced around her room, in a house up in the country. I could smell the fresh grass of spring, and the sunlight was vast, beautiful and blinding. That was when we really started becoming the closest of friends. Later, I remmember listening to Lazy Line Painter Jane while she was ona date with her boyfriend, and thinking about how the vibe of the song and the relationship were similar. Now I'm sitting around and listening to Dog On Wheels, I have no idea what our future together will be like, but I know I'm ready for it. I know one more thing. I love her more than I can ever express with words. I love you rachel Max (ps. Do any of you catch the reference of the title?) +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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: how are you, marvin?
by baker,baker 20 Jan '02

20 Jan '02

"oh, just fine, if you happen to like being me which, personally i don't." great big hello to everyone out there. this is my first post, please be gentle. i did my nursery time and also a little extra, self-imposed nursery time because generally i agree with whoever else it was that said something about life being a spectator sport. i really enjoy watching people, and you're all 'specially pretty ones at that. i'm a poetry student in the windy city -- home of poetry magazine, the lincoln park conservatory, and more polish people than any other city in the world, with the minor exception of warsaw (which is unfair since warsaw has the head start of actualy being IN poland). i read and write poems, but prefer reading. this is an invitation, incidentally, for you all to try out your latest verse on me. (i'm honest, but i'm also very nice.) i'm not polish myself, though i spent three months in poland this last summer, right before i braved a ridiculous-long bus ride to london so that i could ride a train out to scarborough to see the belle and sebastian show at the futurist theatre. if anyone on this list was there, i was the american boy by himself up in the balcony who was trying not to speak after some girl from california embarassed herself and the people next to him began making nasty commments about americans, for fear of having his accent recognized. teehee. that was the only time i've ever seen b&s, and i was thousands of miles away from anyone i know -- i've never been so alone or so happy in all my life. i think charles simic is the greatest. i like kraft macaroni and cheese and the clearance rack at the gap. i dress so that i am invisible in crowds of people. i have only fainted once in my life. i used to live in new orleans -- and this brings me to something substantial: is anyone in the list going to be in new orleans for mardi gras? i have friends who are going and would love to see my old home again. however i don't know if they are the sort of friends i want to be in the middle of mardi gras with all by my lonesome; i am certainly a troublemaker, but i am not THAT kind of troublemaker. i shan't ramble on any farther. good nite for everyone. baker,baker __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Send FREE video emails in Yahoo! Mail! http://promo.yahoo.com/videomail/ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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're never gonna beat my highest score
by JENOWL22＠aol.com 19 Jan '02

19 Jan '02

Hewwo, Well I found out more about spiders as pets, and I decided I want to get a Chilean Rose Tarantula and I'm getting it in four weeks because by then I will have saved up money and also the lovely Ian Hatcher is coming up for Valentines Day and he's going to help me pick it. They're poisonous but they can't kill you, and they quite like to snuggle. But I can't take it in bed with me, in case I lie on it in my sleep. I wish I could though. I'm getting a girl one because they live for 15 to 20 years but the boys only live for two years and I mostly like things when they're not dead. I've got a friend that likes dead things. Or fancies dead things. Dead people. But it's ok because he just looks up Necrobabes.com and doesn't actually dig anything up but you have to excuse him because he likes the Strokes and they're a bit rubbish if we're being honest. I don't know what to call it though. Now I know it's a girl I can start looking up girls names. My mum says I should call it Rosie, and then she started laughing a lot because she said it could be Spider with Rosie which is like a book I used to like when I was a kid called Cider with Rosie. But I've got a doll called Rosie and she's special because I had her in my pocket as a really little kid and she's got a big squashy plastic head, and I was out playing once and I got pushed over and I fell badly and the people said at the hospital that if her squashy head hadn't cushioned the fall my hip could have got cracked or something because I landed on something jaggy. So she's special and she's my favourite doll of all my dolls, even my big collection of rainbow brite ones and I've only got four of those to get and i've completed the set which I'm glad about and i've even got the two rarest ones Moonglo and Stormy. So does anyone know any good names for a girl spider? I worked out the chords on the guitar for Waking Up to Us but they're a bit crap and I think its in the wrong key. But if you want them I'll send them to you and you can see if they work youself. Did that just be B&S content? The Lovely Ian Hatcher set a high score for snake on my phone in october and i've ben trying every day since then to beat it but i can't. It's 814 but I can't get higher than 700 and something. But I'm quite good at Meerca Chase on neopets (which is a virtual pets thing). And I got my pet Kau a pet of it's own and guess what it was...? A Spyder. I'm building it a house now because I've got loads of neopoints in the neopian bank. I think Baxendale are my favourite band. Possibly joint with B&S but at the moment they're still all shiny and new because I only got the album in september. Plus at the moment I think pop is really doing it for me. I've got an S Club Seven CD that used to belong to one of my friends Pre-Limp Biskit and I like it, and the B&S songs that I like just now are things like Le Pastie, and Belle and Sebastian and Get Me Away from Here and I Love My Car and all the good old fashioned clean living pop. I saw the White Stripes on telly vision and I went 'oh' then forgot about them. But Lolly was on and she was singing Oh Mickey you're so fine you're so fine you blow my mind hey mickey and it made me (again) wish I'd been a cheerleader instead of just obese when I was just a bit younger. I went to see Rat Race and it was funny. I must depart now to phone up random people and squeal that I'm getting a spider and it's the best thing in the whole world and my lifelong dream. Hugs, Jen +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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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