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Sinister: It's no wonder Ken Chu is dribbling spit tonight
by Rachel fruitloop 19 Nov '01

19 Nov '01

HELOOOOOOO SINISTERINES!!! This is my fourteenth post to the list...It has been well over a week since I last posted. Did you miss me? I got really busy. Then I got really depressed. Then I got really busy again. Just when I got the e-mails in my inbox waiting for comment down below 50, the sun rose again and again and now it's numbered 85. So I figured, hell, I might as well post what I already put together (I got nearly to the end of last Monday) because if I comment on all of the stuff still in the inbox, this email is going to be 50k!!! As it is this one is going to be a long post! It's all good stuff, but nothing deserving an email of legendary proportions! (sorry Ken!) WELCOME!!!******************************************** Welcome to Alan from Scotland!!! and Claudia from Brazil!!!! AND Paisley! Owen returns with less cinnamon, and just had a birthday! Welcome back, and happy belated birthday!!! Also welcome back to the List Dom Lisa!!! Welcome back to Stine who was out of commission for 8 days!! Jim PURPLE TROUSERS... just checking to see if you are randomly-skim-lurking right now! I *do* remember you from my lurking days a few years back, too! the links to the pics were grate in this latest post of yours! Guess who else came out of the woodwork--John Jennings wrote: "i'm fit and healthy again i shall be back touring the sinister picnics faster than you can say 'who the hell is john jennings anyway?'. how exciting." THE LONGEST SENTENCE HE'S EVER WRITTEN**************** Rich. Gil. Wrote: "then I discovered the criticising had begun at nine a.m. and was scheduled to end at one p.m.. " I get all excited just thinking, OOH, what if he had actually written out a.m and p.m. instead of abbreviating them!!? But then I was sad because he missed his crit. KEN'S KORNER****************************************** Ken Chu wrote: "I woke up the next morning and someone was using my bum as a pillow, it was quite funny." Damn KEN! I knew you were giving your bum to others!!! Here's Ken: "but fruity, I was DRUNK!" And here's me: "Butt fruity is right, sucka!" Once your legions of fawning sinister women read that, all of your viable list crush votes will be tossed by the wayside! And also Ken said: "unfortunately this post had been a bit behind. I do love you tho. Okay, I better stop this right now, apparently... (***DIDN'T CHU KNOW***) Girls seldom make passes, at boys who talk about asses..." Later on he wrote: "my language gets foul when I don't receive loads of e-mails from girls. That wasn't a hint, by the way, in case you were wondering. It was an order. ;-)" I WROTE CHU and where did it get me? Pillowless in Los Angeles! And then Ken wrote of his own demise: "His only salvation now to exit from Hell, he'd been told, is if he goes to the picnic in London this Saturday and gets snogged by girls. You won't bear to see a pretty boy get trapped in hell forever would you?" I hope SOMEONE is snogging Ken right now as I type this. And lord help me if I get what I wish for, and it's my darling list crush bunny Benny Apps! (I mean, guys, wait for me! I'll bring my video camera!) LOVEY-DOVEY******************************************* Desmond Torpey wrote: "*thwack*..you see the person again and your stomach does a triple backflip and your knees have taken leave of your legs and your lungs have moved to honalulu leaving you a jibbering breathless wreck..." I *love* this description!!!! I want to feel like this right now. But I mostly just feel tired and my feet are cold. Rachel O.J. wrote: "so, my ex is refusing to leave me alone. damn him. i believe it's thru with monica, and now he wants me back. i love him, i really do, i cant help it! I believe that no matter how much you love the ex, you have to try not to throw all of your hate and anger onto the other woman because the ex is the one who made the decision that hurt you. I would rather see you movin on than to accept him back after those shenanigans! It could start a pattern that will effect your relationships for the rest of your life. Have pride in yourself. You're worth so much more than that! Claudia wrote in her first post: "I guess life is all about being in and out of love. Sometimes it may be disappointing and hurtful, but it still worth a try..." Yes, indeed. No matter how bad it feels when it's bad, it's still worth it to fall in love again. Believe me, I can be cynical but I still love being in love. I've never been in love with someone who loved me back, so I'm still hoping to find that sometime. I have a close friend who is trying to tell me that I have to love myself first and I think he's really smart about these things. Seamus wrote: "all I could think of,looking round and thinking, was "why here?" Ugly looking college canteen, and they'll never let me film this crap here anyway! Five minutes later, and we were in a idyllic wooded area, sitting on a stone bridge, laughing our asses off. I ended up sleeping on her couch for 6 weeks after that. Surreal maybe." I want to live life like a movie, always. I think that is a cute story because you two were able to make light of a bad situation by sharing an inside thing. That in itself is very cinematic! Are you the same Seamus that I sold my New York Belle & Sebastian tickets to back in '98? Rich. Gil. wrote of being too old to chase girls: "and here's me just considering starting...tell me it's never too late." It's never too late Rich. I know of several girls who are running whilst looking over their shoulder at you winking! Grainne wrote: "It's the time of the year when the main reason you want a man in your life, in your bed is to steal his body heat." Hmmmm. Yes. It would be nice to cuddle up with something less furry and without waking up to claws. Dirty Vicar wrote: "it took me several cold winters to realise that there was nothing stopping me from buying an extra duvet. I recommend doing just that, they're far less hassle than lovers." Thanks for that advice. I love duvets an awful lot. I guess keeping warm isn't a good reason to take a lover after all! Amy Longcore aka Rachel Apple Jacks wrote: "she kisses me. not a nifty lil' peck on the cheek or lips. she open mouth kisses me. and i am lost in it." I liked this story Amy. It was very personal. I try to imagine what I would do in that situation, but I think the guilt of kissing someone else's wife would really eat away at me. I hope that you are feeling ok about it. Assman Walton wrote: "The message for this post is: Asm is not a Stud Muffin. He might be, but generally he's not." generally not, but it depends on what your definition of Stud Muffin is! I'd wager you're a bit of a stud muffin! Caleb Ben aka RAW wrote: "so tonight i will go dancing with my friends and feel lonely and disconnected from my surroundings as i think of a girl sleeping far off, alone in her bed, dreaming of me....." That is so sweet darling Caleb!!! That is the best thing about list crushes, I think. Picturing that person being far off and thinking of you...the cutie Mr. B knows that I am thinking of him quite often. He is amazing me more and more as I get to know him better... *sigh* a story for another post. Will Salt wrote: "I sent a crush vote to someone the other week. I think they guessed straight away that I had sent it. I hope they're happy right now." Geez, Will, whoever you voted a crush on sure is lucky!! Even though you're "THE ENEMY" I still think you're a very crushable character, indeed! But don't tell Ben! ;) Cut-up Kate wrote: "List crushes- good enough, yet do you really trust them? Its all in good fun unless they live closs enough to meet..." Well, as Ben and I, and many others out there can tell you, it's hard to know what is reality and what is an embellished fantasy. I think it definitely depends on the way you approach it. The transition from being sweethearts in other countries to being friends in real life can be easy as long as you don't have complicated expectations. Lis Dawson wrote: "Hopefully it's a passing craze... then again if I do it for long enough maybe moping and grumbling will be seen as cool and everyone will want to be like me..." Grumble, grumble... pretty boys make graves :( I like being like Liz, this feels pretty cool! VIOLENCE********************************************** Nafees wrote: "i broke somebody's nose today." I can't imagine that many of us reading this post could say that in their lifetime! Nafees seems like such a tough guy! Even though it was an accident! Rener wrote: "guy fawkes night is probably great fun, until someone aims a firework the wrong way and burns a hole in your forehead/arse/jumper. and i should know." i am scared of fireworks on the 4th of July here in the States. it makes me nervous, it upsets the cats, I'm always afraid someone's going to set my roof on fire, and my neighbor must go to mexico and get a stockpile of fireworks because he will set them off for months after!! I think he's making up for lost time, you can't set off fireworks in prison. eek! Vodkabird wrote of roommate horror stories: "Life was fine for 6 months aside from a nightly repertoire of arias from the Italian across the road, until I had a run-in with a flatmate's fist." Oh man, I am hoping to avoid a run in with a housemate's fist right now. How long is too long to wait before I kick out my irresponsible brother and his new wife and 2 dogs? Rachie's patience is wearing thin, I tell you! Nafees wrote: "why are you late nafees?"...."oh you know...fell out of the door...the usual". You are lucky you didn't accidentally break your OWN nose! Astrid wrote: "Because the anti-mobbing organisation friends are having an all-day training for us! YAY!" What? Anti-mobbing organization? Is the Godfather running rampant in Swedish high schools, or what? I could just picture it. You pink cheeked darlings with your italian leather shoes, black overcoats and machine guns. It's a good thing you're getting trained to fight these thugs, Astrid! Idleberry is quitting the cigarette smoking (at least I think you meant cigarettes!) How is that going? Martin Conneely narrowly avoided getting shot at when describing this musician who sat on a stool that said "Fat Arse" : "She seemed to fit what was written on the stool. Between the strobe lighting and my increasing blindness, I couldn't be sure, but could it have been our own Isobel?" But like he said. Strobe light. Blindness. Dry your eyes and put your fists down Caleb Ben! And isn't that vomiting ballerina Nina Haagen that Honey used to speak of? MUSIC************************************************* Piddlemonkey the Rachel Griddlemonkey wrote: cdnow.com are taking advance orders on 'Storytelling' and have it slated for a 2001 release. how cool is that?" That's really very cool! I was poking around for more info on this, and it looks like the UK release of the movie is set for November 30th, 2001, and the US release is January 25th, 2002! Grainne wrote: "dec 21st belfast, i think it was the mandela hall, supporting belle and sebastian at an nspcc toys for christmas gig." Oh how I wish I were in Belfast for this!!! Whoever attends should tell us all full details, most definitely! Arik wrote: "i've fallen in love with XTRMNTR by primal scream" This album is grate in my opinion, my sister is crazy about Primal Scream and she has influenced me to like them, too! Psi wrote: "Well, now that I've heard Griff Rhys and co., I have to say that I was entertained the whole time." Super Furry Animals RAQUE live!!! That's what really won me over about them, was seeing them perform live. Jimmy Gilmer wrote about The Strokes: "Put a bit of Velvet Underground, Television, and the Stooges in a blender, and viola!" I also thought that the Strokes sound like Elvis Costello meets The Clash. Peter Miller speculated about what cover songs b&s might have played in Japan and said "sod Elfast" which I found amusing! He also wrote: "I think it's good that the new PINK FLOYD compilation finishes with BIKE,too." I like early Pink Floyd stuff a lot. Also Syd Barrett's solo stuff is amusing, like "Baby Lemonade" and "Rats"... Octopus is a grate album. CFBobcat wrote: "I never post, but I just had a question for you guys. Is the new ep supposed to be out.......cuz I got it on 12"." That is very lucky, I think!!! If I were you, I would ALWAYS shop there! Stine wrote: "oh my gooses. i never realised it was possible to morph the voices of axl rose and billy squire till i heard white stripes." OK, first, you had me at "oh my gooses" and then you really cracked me up with your description! Sheesh! I haven't heard the White Stripes yet, and now I really want to! Piddlemonkey the Rachel Griddlemonkey wrote of going to an unoffical IWUTU release party at strangeways in leeds and he described himself as: "i was the boy with the pale blue flares on and a bit of a 'fro." It must have been a good time if you were letting your hair down, eh, Pid? ;) fabio snoozer wrote of the B&S Rio gig and its television debut, with only 4 sogs being aired. He suggested that we vote that they replay the B&S performance on a voting site and said this: "I'm pretty sure they're going to show them, because THEY KNOW WHAT THEY DID. A lot of people have complained about it." For shame! I hope that they play the gig in its entirety, and I hope that somehow mysetriously a copy of this gig ends up in my hot little hands! hmmm... DANCE FEVER******************************************* Cunning Andre wrote: "Well, what makes that so startling is that her and Ben did not just _sing_ MWDAO...They also did _actions_ to it." I CRIED when I read this, because it was so clever and funny! And then he posted the first chapter of the book that he's writing and it was very good. If you haven't read it, you should. It's charming, indeed! he didn't use cheese buns or cheese scones, he used his cunning mind, yeah! Paisley wrote:"It would be pretty cool to be written up for dancing on the job. Anyway, the customers who did see me seemed to enjoy my kinetic interpretations." Heck yeah! We have impromptu dance parties in my office at work all the time. Everyone in other departments know that if they need to work off their aggressions, they can come down to the art department any time and RAQUE out! it makes work more fun, I think. ARTISTIC OBSERVATIONS********************************* Kirsten Kenyon wrote: "tonight it seemed that the sun, instead of sinking slowly in the west, was rudely snuffed out by a damp towel. the fog was heavy and smelled like a cold car on a winter morning." KIRSTEN MARIE KENYON!!! You're amazing. Your words are as beautiful as you are! How grate is that description!? Nafees wrote that he saw Jarvis Cocker and that he wasn't very tall! I do remember the first time meeting him in 1994 when he was particularly skinny and I thoght the same thing. Man, he's skinny, that must be what gives him the illusion of being so tall! Robster wrote: "I reckon we could be in for one of those pretty pink-skied, snow-dusted winters like you got when you were a kid. You know - the magical ones that make everything like Narnia. But more cold." I want a winter like Narnia... but we don't have real seasons here. :( I think I need to read 'The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe' again instead and just pretend. Stine wrote: "didnt pollyanna harvest wheat or something? i dunno." Pollyanna! She was always glad. Played the "glad game", she could find the silver lining in any situation. I think I should try doing that more often! Sean wrote about his dreamcoat: "I was quite pleased to find that such a garmet existed a couple of weeks ago at Nordstrom's, and I plan on pawning one of my old guitars that I don't really play anymore to get it." Oh man, Sean! Either Elise has brainwashed you or you have really found your match! you're pawning a guitar to by a dream coat?!! Damn! I want to be in the wedding, seriously! Rachel Sunnyside Up wrote about bringing home Belle the wee dog when she was not the grown up dog yet: "Miss Sunnyside-Up sighed, things would never be the same again. Miss Sunnyside-Up smiled, things would never be the same again." I could have cried, that story was so cute! I'm glad that you have such a cute pup, Rach! Pinefox wrote: "I was cheered to see Edna Welthorpe back in the mists of space, a while back, talking about the way that the pinefox's endless repetitions are a mirror image of Lloyd Cole's." Alright PF, unless Joe Orton is not dead, I want to know how Edna Welthorpe is commenting!!! Jimmy Gilmer wrote about Ken Kesey's death: "For all their flaws, the heroes of the 60's believed in a better world, and they believed in a greater freedom, and it's a shame the world just passed on by that dream." I think that you're right in a lot of respects about the "hippies" being seen as lowlifes by the majority these days. It's odd for me to see my parents, who are hippies, who are liberals, get very patriotic now that there is a war happening. I guess i always thought of them as the draft card and bra burners and not as political revolutionaries. I mean, I knew it, but I hadn't actually witnessed it before. Rebecka from Sweden wrote: "I'm kinda proud of our snowy winters and happy faces:)" I think that is adorable and very cool. It think it is good to be proud of what you are. I hope that Rach O.J. can assimilate once she moves there. I think maybe you just had a bad experience, Rach. Genevieve wrote: "Christmastime shows and Belle and Sebastian just seem so fitting." I have a dream that B&S would play for us Sinister kids for Christmas, and it would be such a lovely time!! In a post with one of my most favorite subject lines "Fold your hands child, you walk like Karl Marx" Timothy Meskers wrote: "Not sure if anyone's mentioned this, but I noticed an intriguing similarity between FYHCYWLAP and Marx & Engels. And that similarity is Saturday meals. "Saturday meals?" You say. "Yes," I reply. "Saturday meals." I like saturday meals. I had about 6 of them this saturday! I can't wait to hear the IWUTU ep. In fact, the anticipation is probably to blame for eating so much! (yeah...) I CAN'T IMAGINE THE WORLD WITHOUT ME!***************** I once wrote about how I associate the B&S song "Beautiful" to my experience taking the anti-depressant medication called Zoloft. I took it for 3 years. I just switched to a different drug called Celexa and it has made a BIG DIFFERENCE. I feel actual *feelings* again, and although I went through a very trying discussion with a certain someone I am very close to, I still felt happy to feel angry, to feel sad, to feel empathy, happiness and exhilaration. And I didn't lose it. I can feel and still behave myself. I'd have to say that this boy has become my best friend in the entire world (he knows who he is!) And I am grateful to Elise who reccommended the drug switch and for being there for me. Elise is a beautiful sweet girl, and actually, she first wrote to me after I posted about the anti-depressant problems I was having, so I guess I really did get *some* benefit from the Zoloft! I think it was Timothy Meskers who wrote: "We should pay that girl that does the big summaries. That's a lot of work." That is sweet! I guess I was a born editor or something. This sort of thing just comes naturally. An CareBear wrote: "That Rachel fruitloop keeps impressing me. Those poor fingers must be working themselves weary. I hope you don't feel you have to write summarys cause it's expected. You make good impression anyway. All your posts are good!..I've seen her write it all down cause of all the things she sees.." I will keep doing this until I don't feel like doing it anymore. It reminds me of making a fanzine. I suppose the summary posts are my little issues dedicated to Sinister! I am your biggest fan and I am jealous that the list has been going out with Ian, according to most recent posts! ;) Lindsey Lou wrote: "i'm taking a moment to round out this way less that fabulous post to send props to all the happy people in sinister and #sinister. to fruityloop rachel for always mentioning me." Lindsey, you're a doll, of course I'm gonna mention you when you always entertain me! THE SIMPSONS ROCKS THE WORLD!************************** Nafees wrote about a bus driver who looks like otto the bus driver from The Simpsons! And he also wrote about our President Bush using the phrase "Kodak Moment" which doesn't phase me now. In a recent speech shortly after the terrorist attacks on September 11th, he asked all the children to mail in a dollar like he was Homer Simpson's telemarketing machine as "Happy Dude" Chris Leonard wrote of a misheard lyric to *I love my car*: "She looked shocked, said "that's really rude" and started giggling. I bet he has leather gloves." It reminds me of an episode of The Simpsons when Millhouse's dad, Kirk Van Houten, records a demo. The track is called "Can I Borrow a Feeling", in which he sings "hurtin' hearts need some healing, take my hand with your glove of love" HA! (er, I'm probably the only one laughing!) LATER DUDES******************************************* Farewell to DV for the time being and i hope you have a lovely trip! Also farewell to Elena who is off to seek her fortune in France at her grate new job! Happy Birthday to Elena coming up next week! !VIVA RACHELS!**************************************** Amy Longcore AKA Rachel Applejacks wrote: "Tonight, once I'm home from work, I plan to peruse my vinyl For the perfect songs for my Rachel's mix. Awwww Yeah...Fuck Chu if you don't think I'll blow his mind. Tee hee." Don't mind if I do! So, where is our !VIVA RACHELS! mix these days, anyway? LINKED UP*********************************************** Big Stu wrote: "if anyone is interested, or just plain bored, you can find out about the other interest in my life by going to www.nottingham.freewebspace.com; which is the website of my korfball club. There's also lots of bad photos of me on there, but I'm not telling you where." You're one of the ones in the skimpy bikinis, aren't you! Yep, I see this Korfball phenominon, and I still think ALF would play it... Mark Hester (not to be confused with a monitor lizard) posted a link to an ALF website! hee! Thanks for indulging me! Astrid posted a link to a lovely picture of herself and of a sunset! David Moore and Genevieve posted a link to a french website with B&S pictures! Robster wrote: "First person to correctly identify the source of the subject line will win... um something... oh I don't know.. a signed photo of me. I'll expect the entries to flood in then." Did Lucy Brown win? I don't have a clue, but I'll guess that it was Sly & The Family Stone. Do I win an autographed picture for participating? PICK ME UP!******************************************* Lisa "Rachel Ranchero" wrote in response to Jim's query for the worst pick up lines you've ever heard: "She was imagining the woman who'd refuse the hamburger, yet slam on the brakes to accept the banana split offering." that would be me! I'd be saying "whoa, did you say ice cream? hey, you, get out of my dreams and into my car!" Stacey Dahling wrote about a boy meowing at her once and: "I GOT A TOAST MAKER today! finally! and it's shiny!" Two unrelated things but new toast makers have been known to make me meow. I saw a Hello Kitty toaster yesterday. It toasts all around the bread, except in the middle it leaves it light, in the design of a Hello Kitty face!!! Grrrrrate! I want that! COME TOGETHER***************************************** Jimmy Gilmer wrote: "I'd much rather meet you all over a Red Bull and Vodka and chat about useless crap and talk shit until the early morning hours in afterhours resturants, that's where I'm in my element." I have the feeling we will meet up in person someday Jim, amd that's a promise, not a threat! (your little dog, too, is safe!) Chris Pez wrote a challenge for a road trip: "Route Summary Origination: Belle, West Virginia [38.14N 81.32W] Destination: Sebastian, Florida [27.50N 80.29W] Route Distance: 839 miles Route Driving Time: 12:55" I would take this trip if I lived closer! That sounds like grate fun! Road trips are so much fun. endless fun, really, when you consider how vast the highways are in the US. Jimmy Gilmer wrote: "Come to Chicago December 1st and feel the power of PUNK ROCK!" I will be there in spirit, of course! I hope that you all have fun! Ben Apps wrote of the London picnic of this weekend: "I also have a cunning plot up my sleeve to kidnap Kenneth P Y Chu that evening (shhh! keepit quiet), and only release him if everyone returns to Primrose Hill the next day for FITBA!!!!" I heard from Ben this morning, where he apparently was the filling of a Dancin'Hatchback and Chu sandwich in the internet cafe! Sounds dreamy to me! Who won the football match then? What about the darts match!? Ola AKA Rachola Cinnamon wrote of a nice outing with fellow sort-of listee Kamil, and said: "now we only need maja to comeover, and the polish sinister club will be complete :)" The thought of that is really cute! You all should get together! I'm not just saying that it's cute because a quarter of my ancestors are from your fair country, either! ;) Elise Spry wrote of adventures with Kirsten Kenyon: "We have decided to become lesbian lovers (maybe hang out again sometime, provided Elise never talks about the purple vibrator again), but we'll always have love in our hearts (and beds) for Ken Chu." I think that Kirsten would be interested to know that I have thought of a name for your toy... the Purple Pie Man! and I second that emotion about Ken. He's like jello. There's always room for jello! LLEW'S CLLEWS***************************************** Laura Llew wrote: "[Mother produces two powder puffs which she wraps in handkerchiefs and stuffs in Laura's bosom.] Laura: Mother, what are you doing? Mother: They call them gay deceivers! Laura: I won't wear them! Mother: You will! Laura: Why should I? Mother: Because, to be painfully honest, your chest is flat." This was one of my favorite parts of the post, because I pictured Laura with ringlets with her mom helping her get ready for her gentleman caller, and how funny it is to call breasts "gay decievers!" Llew also dedicated a Yeats poem to *me* ohhh you lovely thing! You're like hot chocolate, heavy on the panache! I also just want to thank LL for uncovering Jimmy G's secret about making a swell record in the 1950's... Jack from Will & Grace, HA! Try Ricky Nelson! ;) Laura Llew wrote: "now it's time to meet all of Laura Llew's needs which have been severely lacking since 1977" and set a deadline for her mixtape competition for the end of this year. Miss Llew is also taking up the reins on the Christmas Present exchange and giving Joan of Dark a break this year. I will be contacting Miss Llew for both, you should, too! LOS ANGELES B&S DETENTION OF NOVEMBER 9TH************* Michael Vance wrote: "What Rachel fails to mention is that we were actually shooting a commercial for exciting new "Dicital" phone technology, each of us realizing in turn as the Legal Man ring tone was transfered that tomorrow would be a better place thanks to "Dicital"." DAMN STRAIGHT! DISITAL TECHNOLOGY IN DA HOUSE, BOOOYYEEE! See, my phone, well... it has a phony, (ha! get it! phony!) meaning imitation, Hello Kitty cover that I bought in China Town and the screen cover says "disital" I quite like it because it's ridiculous and pink. Hey, y'all, I have to say that our meetup in LA was so grate! Rachel CF and Benny, Katie, Ernie, Jose, Michael and my darling Ryan, thanks for being there! It really was a wonderful evening! You all made me very happy! FAVORITE QUOTES*************************************** "We are all worms, but I do believe I am a glow worm."--Stine "It was like watching a middle-aged pigeon strangling a piano."--Vodkabird "Why can't I live like I do in my day dreams?"--Idleberry "If I carry on like this people would think I'm actaully on drugs, so I won't."--Kenneth PY Chu ****************************************************** Well, here we are. It's the end of my post! I know I'm ridiculous sometimes, but I like it. I hope you enjoyed all of these things that sparked my interest, and I hope too much time hasn't passed for you all to care. Since we have that silly holiday coming up on Thursday, I hope to be posting again in the very near future, so look out for me! I'm comin' to your inbox to help you party down like Grand Funk Railroad! !VIVA RACHELS! Kisses and hugs to Ben, Ryan, Elise and miss Laura Llew, who I really bonded with in #sinister last week. Lots of love to you all! love, Rachel fruitloop __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Find the one for you at Yahoo! Personals http://personals.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 +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: from the lobby
by Stankin' Cooter 19 Nov '01

19 Nov '01

My lovelies: Normally Id post because I had something to say, or through a sudden rush of affection, but something else is making me write today. I hope it turns out to be more than the fear that Ill be forgotten about. Well see. To the untrained eye, it looks like Im doing alright. I have the dream job, a nice place to live, handsome friends, enough food and too much drink. The thought strikes me, however, that most of my time is spent working towards something that I may or may not have wanted at the time at which I set out, for reasons that may well have changed while Ive been busy paying attention to other things. The rest of my time, of course, is spent in costly and damaging escapes from my working life. There was meant to be something else. Im sure that Ill find time for the things that matter to me, that are important, that make all of this other stuff worth surviving. There will be a Sunday afternoon, a quiet evening in, a time when things ease back a bit. Where on earth do we pick up the notion that we can trust ourselves? I have thought a lot about happiness. It seems to me that happiness is the ability to look just far enough ahead. To strike a balance between doing what will make me feel good right now, and what will make me feel good tomorrow about the person I have been today. If anyone has any ideas on how to actually do this answers on the back of a postcard, please. I find myself happiest when at the point of beginning to tear open the wrapping paper knowing just the general size and heft of things. Anticipation excitingly narrows to an edge, then to a point. Idle wonder has been put aside: the thing has substance. Its nothing yet, though, so its still potentially everything. Theres not a thought spare for whats been left out; Im still unencumbered. I find less within me than I once did. I dont think that theres less there; I think I spend less time looking. Sometimes theres a message, a package, a phonecall, a song, a painting, a book. Sometimes a leaf falls from a tree and lands at your feet. Sometimes you think of someone, and they think of you. Sometimes you see between and through things. Sometimes this makes you feel warm, at others: cold. Im trying to make myself a better person. Ive given up the fags, cut back on the booze, lost some weight. Im working more, spending less. Im being more honest, feeling more. None of this is working, but Ill press on for a bit yet. I may not be principled, but at least Im stubborn. Some good things happened. I went to Melbourne last weekend and had some fun. I drank and danced too much (I drink well and dance badly) and talked to some people I dont know. I got some new records, which I really like. I played some cards, and won some money. A cocker spaniel decided that it really liked me, and wouldnt let me sleep for three nights, with licking my ear and jumping on my face. I didnt mind. Is this what its about? I guess I wasnt promised anything. Ive spent some time alone lately: I think perhaps its showing. Im normally far cheekier and less contemplative. I wont make a habit of posting when I find myself in this mood. Squeezing you lot into my lunch break, alongside an orange juice and a tuna sandwich in the middle of a long day at my desk isnt really an appropriate outlet. Still, youve given me a lot lately, so Ill give you something back, even if its not what you wanted. Take your time with the wrapping paper. Ive got a big trip coming up, for which Im not prepared. Its scary/exciting, and Im trying to look just far enough ahead. Well, I think that was worse than my usual post, but at least it was shorter. In any case, take nothing but the very best of care of yourselves, and stay lovingly rolled in flour and lightly pan-fried. Bulk love, -David. _________________________________________________________________ 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 +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: another slice of ugly and awkward prose through your computer
by Kieran Devaney 18 Nov '01

18 Nov '01

Simon was waiting for night time. He had been waiting most of the day, but now the sky was growing lazily streaked with orange and pink and soon the streetlights would be on. Hed been sitting in the park for most of the day because it was his day off work, and he had wanted to do something hed be able to remember. He had spent the last couple of days thinking up exactly what this would be, but a suggestion both affordable and desirable hadnt come to him and so hed decided to spend the day in the park by where he lived. In fact, he was pretty sure he could see the window to his own flat from the bench 14 floors up, the counting made him dizzy though. He played the whole day back in his mind; he had arrived early, not quite early enough to watch the elderly dog walkers mooching slowly through the damp grass, not even talking to their dogs anymore, but he had seen the kids wander through towards the bus stops on their way to school. His favourite bench was the one in front of the small pond, and he had resolved to sit there the whole day, doing what, he wasnt sure, but in the days leading to today he had thought that such a use of time would look good written in his diary. Recently, keeping a diary had become a more and more unsatisfying task, it had started off, as all diaries do, as a noble exercise in recording Simons thoughts and actions, but in recent weeks it had descended into diatribes about his work colleagues, how much he despised them, and how much they returned this sentiment. It wasnt a special hatred on either side, nor a particularly passionate one; the other people who worked in the office had been there for years, and they resented Simons scruffiness and his tendency to go off wandering at lunchtimes rather than stay and make small talk in the cafeteria. They hated the way Simon seemed to silently sneer at them, they way he silently seemed to have no respect for authority or for the work he was doing. Simon hated them because he knew that he could do very little to change their opinion of him, because it wasnt him particularly that they hated; they would have hated anyone young who came to work in that grey/yellow office, they were faded, just dull whispers of what Simon was, of themselves, and they hated him because he would never collude with them, never allow himself to go near that world in case it sucked him in an ugly black hole, void, grey. The last thing he ever wanted was to become like them. None of this, however, looked good in his diary, he wanted something he could grasp onto when he read it back, he wanted to be able to pick days out and hold them up to the light and watch tiny rainbows play over their facets. He couldnt achieve this with dull platitudes about office politics, and he always seemed to sound petty and childish whenever he criticised his colleagues. But today was a chance to change it. Last night he had mused upon the contrariness of contriving an exercise just for the purpose of putting it in his diary and he wondered who he was writing the whole thing for exactly. He was loath to say it was for himself, partly because it made him sound pathetic, but also because he liked to entertain the romantic notion that someone would find it one day, maybe long after Simons death, and spend hours poring over the tattered, yellowing pages, warped with love as much as the effects of time and they would slowly come to adore the writer of that diary. So he had walked to the park in the morning half sun and sat down on his favourite bench by the duck pond, sat with the shell of an idea in his mind and thought about making his life more like this, more like a collection of set-pieces where he was the lead actor, which he could wander through in a capricious haze; that was what life should truly be like, a whirlwind of choices without real consequence, and with plenty of time to sit and think about what had transpired at the end of it all. Simon wondered vaguely if his day sitting in the park had matched that. If it hadnt then he probably didnt deserve a life like that, he had had the choice of doing pretty much anything today, and hed chosen to sit here in a grubby park where the windswept grass clung to the sparse soil, on the bench that he could see from the window of his own flat even on the foggiest of days. He had sat on the bench for only an hour or so before boredom had crept up on him, he was thinking about feeding the ducks, because that too would look good in his diary, a springboard for some nostalgic childhood reflection about happier times. It didnt occur to him that he had never ever fed the ducks as a child, and it didnt matter really, Simon was used to such speculation and he reasoned that its better to borrow from the stereotype of a projection of a feeling, or an experience, rather than an actual one that youd had yourself, because his own experiences were littered with anomalies, which constantly plagued his reminiscences. He decided to go to the paper shop over the road and buy some bread for the ducks, he liked the idea of this sort of dealing in absolutes, he liked untainted sentences and untainted experiences, thats what he sought most of all from today. And so his diary wouldnt mention the uneven tarmacking in front of the paper shop, where the pavement had been dug up, and then replaced several times over, each time with a new shade of grey concrete or black tarmac. Nor would he mention the metal grill in front of the shop window, originally there to stop people throwing bricks through the window, now completely rusted and stuffed with empty crisp packets and sweet wrappers, even though there was a bin just up the road by the bus stop. His diary would never mention these details because he liked to deal in the absolutes of experience, in clean sentences and pure feelings. So he bought the bread and a newspaper and ambled back to his favourite bench by the pond. Feeding the ducks was unrewarding and messy, which was probably why he hardly ever saw anyone ever doing it nowadays. The ducks looked starved, Simon wondered what made them stay; and then thought better of it. He tried to do the crossword in the paper, but it was much too hard; he thought about the sort of people that crosswords appealed to, and remembered a boy called Ian who he had gone to school with, Ian had the crossword almost every day, and he nearly always completed it. This worried Simon, who had never completed a crossword in his life; and school was almost ten years ago. What skill had Ian possessed that Simon didnt have? He was about ready to give up when an old man that Simon sort of recognised came and sat down next to him, this wasnt really part of the plan either, but they chatted for a bit and the man told him about how the park used to be much bigger before they built those flats, pointing a disdainful finger at Simons own block. Simon told him how he lived in those flats, to which the man replied that he did too. Slightly disturbed, Simon made his excuses and left; deciding to go into town for some lunch, it was only a couple of stops on the bus anyway, so he wouldnt be long. Town was pretty full for a weekday, but Simon didnt mind; he enjoyed indulging in the loner in the crowd cliché, and adjusted his walk and facial expression accordingly. He bought an egg and cress sandwich from Marks and Spencers, and ate it moodily on a crowded bench, wondering if, rather than just playing the stereotype of the affected loner, he actually was one. This was a depressing thought indeed and it stayed with him all the way to the big HMV which he visited every time he went to town even though he hardly ever bought anything. He often worried that the staff in there were getting to know him as a loner who never bought anything. He was therefore relieved to see his friend Laura wandering aimlessly down the aisles of CDs in the manner often taken by people who dont know much about music. Simon knew Laura from university where theyd got on fairly well, though Laura had always been a more social animal. Simon remembered envying her for that, for a lot of things really; but few of them were worth dwelling on. Simon liked to think that people envied him too sometimes, as he genuinely believed that everyone possessed something desirable, and thus somebody must surely desire him. This view seemed flawed though somehow, but Simon couldnt question it now, he had to deal in absolutes, otherwise he would never get anywhere. It deflated him to think like that too, and when it came down to it, he reckoned he could deal with the big stuff, and probably manage ok if it wasnt for all the little niggles of life, the dust in the grooves that occasionally made the record stick. And he felt that these things, which individually werent really worth commenting on, were latching on to him like burrs, he could see it in the condensation of his warm breath in winter time, in the play of grey/orange light from passing cars through his thin curtains on his bedroom wall; he could see it in the rusted metal grate stuffed with crisp packets and old cans, there to stop people throwing bricks through the paper shop window. All these things registered, and yet didnt, he could pretend that he only had to deal in the tangible, in the stuff he could put down in his diary, the stuff that effortlessly came out in gobs of biro blue ink on his page. But all the time the little things, he knew, were working through his system, colouring his beliefs like wine through water. He knew too, that if he stayed still and shut them out he could separate himself from them, make them sit like oil on top of water inside himself, but only temporarily, not long before they would seep back in, chipping away at his principles, because maybe someone would desire him, or envy him, but they didnt, hed never experienced it, at least not in the sense that he envied Laura; and he despised the thought that his whole edifice of belief might be brought down by these tiny erosions. Despised the thought that he could be changed by these unnameable entities, by nuances. He had to deal in absolutes, in the tangible, had to push these tiny thoughts into the periphery. Concentrate. Back in HMV, Simon was recommending some CDs to Laura; she seemed genuinely impressed with his wide range of tastes and the scruffily debonair way in which he grabbed stuff from almost every shelf and briefly enthused about its contents. It scarcely mattered to Simon that he owned very few of these records, he knew the names so well that if he ever got round to actually buying some of them then he imagined that they would well up in his mind like an old memory being dusted off or an encounter with an old friend. Laura even agreed to buy one of the CDs Simon particularly liked, and actually owned. For Simon, this was experience in almost its purest sense, it bothered him slightly that Laura had that kind of money to spend on a whim, when there were tons of records he wanted but couldnt possibly afford; but this feeling was at best peripheral. There had been something good between the two of them for that fleeting moment, a real sense of one person trusting one another. There was something childlike about that gesture, Simon felt they had both gained a great deal from it. This was something he could put down and remember, and even though the way Laura said goodbye to him made him feel like just a friend of a friend again, the moment they had shared could be held onto, and he would hold it there in his mind until that evening, when he could write it down in cosy reminiscence. He caught the bus back, and as he meandered along towards the bench he thought again about the validity of contriving a whole days activities almost solely so that he could write them down and then reminisce about them sometime later. He wondered if the diary was an end unto itself, and if he read todays entry in ten or twenty years it would be nothing more than words on a page to him; or if it was a trigger to actual physical memories of his thoughts and actions on that day. If it was just a trigger then it would only really be useful to himself, and reducing his existence to just words on a page, to just cheap biro ink on thin diary paper made the whole task seem utterly pointless. He had thought about indulging in an expensive fountain pen and good cartridge paper for his diary, and though money had got in the way of such a venture, Simon truly thought that these items would have made his diary better. He acknowledged the validity in such ritual gestures and in occasional moments of clarity he admitted to himself that he preferred style over content, but who didnt? In his mind his diary was a weighty tome, almost too heavy to lift, with yellowing pages full of faded ink in sprawling, but elegant handwriting and his vision rarely included what the actual words said. How could he come close to this with his pound shop office diary, with its tacky fake leather cover and wafer thin pages, and his chewed biro which was missing the lid and nearly run out? Part of him knew that he shouldnt invest hope in such trivialities, that he should concentrate on recording his true thoughts, that everything else should be peripheral, but another part of him so wanted to submit to the clichés and the stereotypes, to embrace them fully. He felt that if he could get other peoples perception of him right then everything else would fall into place, and so he had to stick to what they knew. He wondered what theyd think of him here, alone in an ugly, grubby park with a dual carriageway running down the one side, and a couple of blocks of flats where there used to be more park. He shivered slightly and shrugged, it was getting quite dark by now and the others would probably already be back at the flat. Simon thought that today had probably fallen short of the mark, and although he hadnt really had any clearly defined goals he had expected to feel sort of different by the end. But he didnt. Too many things had gotten in the way, tainted the experience, uneven concreting, flats where there used to be park, being just a friend of a friend. None of that had been part of the script that Simon hadnt written for the day. He thought it was probably time to go back. As he was getting up he noticed a poem scratched into the wood of the bench and he recognised it as being one of his friend Jonathans. He read it quietly to himself and thought that even though the scratches made the bench look as illiterately vandalised as everywhere else; Jonathans beautiful words transformed it into something unexpected and brilliant. Simon wondered if anyone else had read the poem, or if they had just glanced over the hastily made indentations and turned away in disgust, dismissing it as just more mindless graffiti. He got up to go, thinking about how much different today would sound if he ever read the diary entry he was about to write in 10 or 20 years. The lift would still be broken, so he readied himself for the stairs again. peace and love kieran _________________________________________________________________ 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 +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: "vyvyan! vyvyaaan! i think you cut off one of your fingers!"
by Ola Szkudlapska 18 Nov '01

18 Nov '01

hello darlings! :) i know i know i'm much better at lurking than posting, but i'm so stressed about school/exams/everything at the moment that i need a de-stresser of some kind. please forgive. "my name's alexei yuriy gagarin siege of stalingrad glorious 5-year-plan sputnik tractor dynamo moscow balowski. my father was a bit of a communist, you see" (sorry if i missed something ;-) thanks to the lovely miss amy/rachel applejacks and 'the people's poet' caleb ben there's been some talk of 'the young ones' in sini (a few digests ago :)! yay! :) it was enough to make me start jumping round the flat quoting bits and pieces of the script in different voices (much to the bewilderment of my mum ;). i used to watch the young ones on bbc, but then the series ended and later my cable operator decided to substitute bbc with (watch it) *fashion tv*. gaaah. my mate even called them and started ranting that no, they couldn't stop broadcasting bbc, because HER (imaginary) ENGLISH HUSBAND couldn't live without eastenders :))) haha :) however, even that cunning try didn't work - perhaps cos they heard me laughing in the background ;) so anyway, i was reminded of the young ones, decided to watch the few taped episodes that i cherish dearly - and discovered that my silly video *ate* a *large*bit* of my *favourite* young ones film. rah. "do you really think that anyone has ever been the slightest bit interested in anything you say or do ever, neil?" (or in this case, ola?) last week, i found myself waking up at about 4 am on 3 consecutive nights, my nose in some boring book, the content of which i was invariably supposed to know... if only i could schedule my activities more reasonably, perhaps i wouldn't have those horrid bags under my eyes.. ;) and perhaps i wouldn't spend my days staggering about in a half-asleep manner which is mighty dangerous(!) example: wednesday.. dance classes.. me and my partner are supposed to dance a new figure in samba (yay!). however, instead of swirling gracefully i trip on my heels and partner has to rescue me from what would have become a rather amusing fall. hmm :) dance classes are still way better than normal PE lessons, though.. "...it is actually a cure. for not being a homicidal axe-wielding maniac." a building site right next to the place you live in can make your life much more eventful. not only do you have to put up with incessant noise (rrrrrramrrrrrrammm buh buh buh rrrramrrrrrram etc.) but there are also other, similarly pleasant aspects to deal with. now i don't think i'll ever resort to throwing axes at the builders who work there.. ..although i was really tempted to do so on friday. i was in the midst of washing up, when - where's the water gone? have the silly builders dug+drilled too deep and damaged the water installation, thus depraving my house of the precious liquid? IMPOSSIBLE. hmph. *doorbell* nope, not apologetic builders. not even jehova witnesses - they were chimney sweeps offering me a calendar and asking for money. (make of it what you want ;). i decided to go out. the lift broke down when i was inside it. now i don't mind the lift breaking down every now and then - walking to the 4th floor is good exercise (only i'm too lazy to do it often ;). nevertheless, i WOULD like the lift to give me a sign, a mere *hint* that she was not in the mood for travelling up and down. not just go in a huff and leave me stuck inside, in-between floors. i had to use all my persuasive skills to appease her and convince her to let me out. it turned out she was angry at the lady who lives upstairs from me and uses those *mega*strong perfume - poor lift had obviously had enough. but why take it out on me? when i got back, i found out there was water again. only it was brown. tea-brown. oh well... it's become fairly normal now. and 2 jehova witnesses came today. so things are back under control, me hides the axe ;-) "rick, rick look! i've got six pairs of hands!" hm, no i don't actually. ;-) which is probably why i posted my pic to the sinister page (and besides, i'm very vain and want to pull ;). it was taken a while ago; my hair's shorter and a bit less messy now. oh, and the photo is mega twee, i'm afraid - i'm sitting at a rainbow-coloured table in a cafe in the centre for contemporary art (one of my most favourite places in warsaw :). i'm even wearing the bus t-shirt(!) so, yeah, it'll probably be on the site soon /me climbs a chair and sings 'look at me' geri halliwell style ;-) ummh, no. will hide now. take care (and watch 'the young ones' ;) ollalalallaa ps. i've decided to catch up with sinister mails instead of writing silly essays for school (talk about getting your priorities right!) - so, errm, a (very) belated welcome back to owen the ex-narrow wizard :) and an (even more) belated happy birthday! (yes, i was THAT behind with the digests) psps. i really will hide now. -- Tego nie znajdziesz w zadnym sklepie! [ http://oferty.onet.pl ] +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: Connectivivivivivity (Slightly older than before--)
by MyMomSays＠aol.com 18 Nov '01

18 Nov '01

Sinister, Wouldn't it be great if we could all eat packed lunches together (not in paper sacks, but rather, those large metal monsters that have hinges on them?) while balanced on a construction site beam? Inbetween bites of our stringy meated sandwiches we could glance at stolen blueprints that were sketched together by Mr. R.J. Gillanders who would be standing about 300 feet below us, looking up at our backs through shaded glasses. But anyway, I didn't want to really get into this as much as I did: needless to say, it's a cute image, all 1,500 of collective us balanced on this construction site beam. About eight months ago I met my great aunt Noni for the first time ever--I'd seen her around before, at funerals and weddings and crap, but I'd never met her: only heard about her. Apparently she was the beautiful sister, my grandfather wanting to marry her first but having to settle for Bead, my grandmother. So it was February, and had just snowed, and my family was pulling into the driveway of my Great Aunt Noni's house in Lincoln, Nebraska--her driveway cleaved bare, morseled in the midst of blankets of snow. Her house smelled like moldy trash and cats, beanie babies poised on every flat surface, waving flags, their ears flopping over from the heavy burden of store tags--her little black dog and her little black cat cycloned around my feet and I heard Great Aunt Noni shout from the kitchen: "Stevie! Oprah!" Their ears pricked up at her voice and they corralled into the kitchen. Photographs of Dick Cheney dotted every blank space on the wall--my Great Aunt Noni sat us down at her dining room table which was decorated with Little Debble Oatmeal Pies, and told us stories of living next door to Vice-President Dick--"Such a nice man, really," she'd said. She offered us the said oatmeal pies. "Why are your pets names Oprah and Stevie?" I asked her. "Well--because they're black," she answered, as if it had been completely obvious. Here is the problem with my telling of anecdotes: I don't know how to end them properly. I can either bring them to a sudden jolt and leave it up to you, or tack on some little scrap of narration to explain the point. I am no teller like Kirsten Kenyon, who somehow can tell anecdotes and end them perfectly--see, here I am, and I don't know where I go next. Seeing as this is, indeed, a Belle and Sebastian mailing list, I should probably, at least, take at least a time out to make some sort of connection with my anecdote to B&S--this could be a few things. For one, the dogs name was Stevie. The other pet I have no consideration for. "Oprah" I cannot juxtapose with Belle and Sebastian. Sadly enough, this seems to be the only connection to Belle and Sebastian in the anecdote--or maybe the snow, blanketed like it was, if only a wee fox could have jaunted across the yard at those few crucial moments, but.. sadly, no such thing happened. So. help me. ******** mandee m a y "inconsolably okay" +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: love and marmalade - an e-mail in three parts
by ian 18 Nov '01

18 Nov '01

(as the title said, there are 3 parts. the first two are my spraffle. the third is where i reply to list murmurings. if you'd rather avoid self-indulgent waffle, skip to the end. although there's plenty of self-indulgent waffle there, too. anyways.......) so much talk of love... so much crap spoken about love... so much smegma spoken in the name of love... time for some more: someone i once thought i knew told me: "ABC easy as 1, 2, 3 .....that's how easy love can be" that turned out to be the most vicious of lies. later on, that man cut his nose off to spite his face. in his elder years he asked me "what about elephants?". i didn't answer. i know nothing of elephants. i typed in "love" on the internet. i got a link to a page full of women fucking each other with dildos. perhaps they loved each other, but i wonder at so many loves in such a short space of time. i also got a link to a site telling me how much that ol' devil called god loves me. strange, because the internet also tells me that god hates fags. clearly, my relationship with god is one of those tightrope things. and, after the initial adrenalin rush, it gets very dull to walk a tightrope. best not to think of god's love, or to ask the internet about anything. the internet can be trusted no more than the man (one of the many) who sang: "love is the sweetest thing what else on earth can ever bring such happiness to everything?" whilst working for the mafia. i don't know, frank. covering someone's feet in concrete and dropping them into a canal, perhaps? i looked in a book to find out what love was. a book that was recommended to me on the subject. it said:- (vb.) 1. to have great fondness and affection for a person or thing it also said 9. a score of zero in tennis, squash, etc. this merely confused me. i found another book. it said "in the beginning, there was darkness". i put it down. i know enough about darkness. someone told me to read shakespeare. so i did, and i found the following: "thou whoreson zed! thou unneccessary letter". that seemed illogical. unnecessary? not if your name is zelda. particularly not if your name is zelda and you are a zebra living in a zambian zoo. shakespeare clearly knows nothing of love. and, nothing, it seems of alphabetical necessity. i tried philip larkin. a pleasing title for a poem - "love songs in age". but, alas, this too brought disappointment. larkin describes love as a "bright insipience". clearly, larkin has not felt the love that so many lay claim to. for who would die for a bright insipience? i tried looking at my feet for a while. that got boring. then came the answer. odd, that after so long - so much soul-searching by so many searching souls, the solution should come from such an unexpected source. i'm sure the enlightened amongst you know i mean bernard summer. i am, of course, familiar with the ouevre of the artist. consider his early work, in which he asked: "how does it feel/ to treat me like you do/ when you put your hands upon me/ and you tell me who you are?" i don't know. but i considered it only fair to ponder laying my hands upon him for some time. i even, out of devotion, laid my hands upon myself whilst considering laying my hands upon him. to no avail. i had no idea how it felt, and decided not to think about it any more. jason priestley was far prettier, and didn't ask such awkward questions. now, i regret neglecting this great prophet. for, on consulting his most recent work, i found the following wisdom: "here comes love its like honey you can't buy it with money" and i am amazed that this didn't cause great hysteria upon release. for it is so obviously, abundantly, marvellously simple. yet so incredibly true. one cannot buy love with money. and, therefore, it is plainly a sweet substance produced by bees that one occasionally spreads on toast. as for the trauma of trying to obtain a pot of gales from such retail establishments as safeway, holland and bastard, and even, sad to report, the marvellous marks and spencer, i'm sure i need speak no more. how many of us have got to the till, hoping against hope, clutching a five, ten, twenty pound note? how many of us have pleaded, begged the assistant? how many of us have offered sexual favours, only to be told this would place us in debit rather than credit (oh, just me, then) and still been unable to obtain the fabled nectar? anyone who knows anything about life, and love, i'm sure. which does make me wonder how that little jar of yellow stuff got in my cupboard. perhaps i've been smearing chicken fat on my toast all this time without realising. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------- but, my dears, onto other matters. if love is honey, then what is marmalade? well, the answer is simple. for many of us, marmalade is the naughtiest girl in the world. now, this isn't a prompt for a discussion of children's television. that would only bring opprobrium upon my head and boring mails upon my in-tray. this is an epitaph. charlotte coleman, aged 33, died of an asthma attack yesterday. or perhaps friday. the news said she'd be most remembered for her role in "4 weddings and a funeral". the news, as so often, is not to be trusted. for this was the nadir of what was otherwise an inspiring screen life. you see, charlotte coleman WAS marmalade atkins. i can see half of the list scratching their heads, and perhaps pressing the "delete" key. the rest of you will know what this means, and why her parting is sad. marmalade was the kid we hated, but also wanted to be. as an intensely reactionary child, i watched her antics with horror. i watched as she put itching powder into the nuns' habits, as she caused a riot during her term in jail (why was she locked up with men? clearly there was something about marmalade we weren't told), as she... erm... i can't remember what else she did. it was what she symbolised. two fingers up at the world. inspiring to a child who wouldn't have dared raise a digit, even he'd know how. charlotte coleman also starred in "oranges are not the only fruit". and a frustrated teenager wondering about his own sexuality watched her and found some comfort in knowing somebody else had been there too. oh, and she appeared in some film with hugh grant. of whom the less said, the better. i don't believe in mourning celebrity deaths. the passing of a poet, a presenter, or an actress is no sadder than the passing of a plumber, a teacher or a shop-assistant. but still i feel a little depressed by this news. r.i.p. marmalade atkins. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------- now, if any of you have read this far, there follows some random spraffle: james gilmer quoted me: >Ian said: "somewhere in the black mining hills of dakota there lived a young >boy called..." > >And now I have that bloody song stuck in my head. Someone hand me the mental >floss, Beatles song or not, I need that out of my head. you want that out of your head? okay.... "desmond has a barrow in the market place molly is the singer in a band desmond says to molly 'girl i like your face' and molly says this as she takes him by the hand.... -" if you know the song, you're already singing it.. he also, controversially, dared to say the following: >Speaking of Talent-Free Zones; Tori Amos.....<snip> The same goes for Magnetic Fields. well, vive le difference, my friend. i feel the same about jimi hendrix, i borrowed a copy of "electric ladyland" the other day, to see if i could figure out what i'd missed, and, sad to say, its fucking boring. personally, i think tori appeals to those of us who would like to visit the moon in a big green snow-shoe. and that will inevitably be a limited audience. an audience that would die on reaching the moon because they'd packed lots of books and neil gaiman comics but no breathing apparatus. as for the magnetic fields, i reckon its like marzipan. you either get it or you don't. and, personally, i just love them almonds. ruvi simmons pulled down the moon and posted it to sinister, and suggested moving christmas: >When January >descends like a great bore and we wear two pairs of socks for the cold, >waiting for Spring. After all, it is in the dark hours when the kindness of >strangers, or virtual strangers, or real strangers, counts for the most. lovely. and if poetic prose could shift symbolic events, december would be staring at the gaping hole in its midrif as we speak. however, i like christmas where it is. we're near the death of the year, the death of everything that has to precede re-birth. and, after a death (the solstice) there has to be a wake. january holds a whole new year within it. its a time for hoping, and saying you'll never make the same mistakes again. a bit of darkness and sobriety is what is needed for such reflection. failing that, its a good time to purchase a large bottle of tequila and some sunbed sessions. with the money you'd otherwise spend on a pair of musical santa socks for some ungrateful bastard uncle who'd never wear them. and now, i think its time for my virtual mouth to rest. so, finally, i have an "ian award" to give out. the first of the year. sophie ellis bextor is the beneficiary, and her achievement is to release the song with the most appropriate title of the year: "murder on the dancefloor". in which she warns us "you'd better not kill the groove". thank you for the words of advice, sophie, however we both know they are a trifle redundant. the Groove is twitching its final death-throe on the plush-pile carpet, and the nail file in its heart bears your preposterous finger-prints. i don't have a hair on my keyboard, and would probably refrain from telling you if i did. thank you for reading. and, as the buddha once said "shut the fuck up, ian" ian ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tomorrow will bring happiness Or at least, another day Phil Ochs ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: winter is wrong.
by idleberry 18 Nov '01

18 Nov '01

I really don't like winter. I don't like the effect it has on me, where I feel all creatively restless. Its getting dark outside already. I get the spooks out of Winter. Its full of too many memories of stuff, you know, like being at school and having prelims in the winter. Being at uni and having loads of essays to do and sitting late in the library when it was dark and going home in the cold past the lights and sounds of the union bar. Loosing energy, loosing daylight. Feeling lonely, even though my address book ha plenty of names in it for me to browse through. I hate work cos I can't wear my new jeans to work. I hate work cos I can't dress the way I want to, and end up wearing work clothes and feeling frumpy and crap. I hate work cos the way it gets dark outside and the way the lights are.. its just too creepy. I'd appreciate having your e mails to read while I'm at work. Bring me a little e-sun. Love, Idles ===== http://clubs.yahoo.com/clubs/corduroysmoke and the world did get covered in a thick haze of corduroy smoke. And it felt good. __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Find the one for you at Yahoo! Personals http://personals.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 +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: He don't mind, he don't mind, he don't mind...
by Daniela Varanda 18 Nov '01

18 Nov '01

Hi. I was wondering yesterday night with my best friend why do we have to love people. Anyway, I dated a very special guy during 2 years, but we decided we'd better break up, like, 2 months ago, because we weren't making each other happy. Fine, now we are friends, I miss him (of course), but I'm ok. Now I am dating a friend of mine. It was one of the best things that had ever happened to me, cause dating him was helping me try to forget my ex. But things are awful now, he acts like a child sometimes, he says things it's obvious he shouldn't say. He's from the contry side and when I asked him when he was going to come back to his city he said: "Maybe tomorrow, cause I got nothing to do here." This can even sound funny, cause he told me that so naturally like if I was going to feel nothing. Talking about beautiful girls in front of you is not a very polite thing when you are living the first month of the relatonship. Guys: don't do that, it's awful! It seems to me that I'm one of his boy friends. And I can't help comparing him to Leandro (my ex). That used to respect me a lot, used to send me letters, used to TAKE CARE of the relationship, from the first to the last month. And then, Danilo (my best friend) and I decided to create some nick names for people from college. I created my boyfriend's one: "Cocaine". Because "he don't mind, he don't mind, he don't mind...", or even "Careless Whisper". It's nice to make fun of it, but this is not funny at all. By the way, heve you ever been called your boyfriend's latest affair name? Oh, yeah, I have! Sorry, this is not for you to cry with, but to laugh about. I'm looking forward to buying the new EP, which hasn't been realesed here yet. I hope you are fine, and let me tell you something I felt like telling my friend yesterday: We only have a big love once in our lives. So don't ever, by any chance, let this love slip away because of stupid reasons. I can see now that it's very difficult to find someone who could replace this person. And you may regret having broken up for the rest of your life. Take care! Love, Daniela _______________________________________________________________________________________________ Yahoo! GeoCities Tenha seu lugar na Web. Construa hoje mesmo sua home page no Yahoo! GeoCities. É fácil e grátis! http://br.geocities.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 +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: Ghost World
by idleberry 18 Nov '01

18 Nov '01

hello... Do you want to come and see Ghost World next weekend at the UCG cinema in Glasgow? (it is the UCG.. isn't it? I always get these initialized places mixed up... UCG CGU CUG GUC... WHATEVER.. THE big TALL one) Thought we could make it a Sinister event, now its too cold to sit in parks harrassing dog walkers and eating sandwiches. Perfect for the shy- you get to meet a whole load of people, and for two hours you're not expected to talk to them, nor see them, cos you're in the dark, and you get a topic to talk about afterwards. Anyone else up for it? e mail me if you are.. more details to follow later in the week... Love Idleberry ===== http://clubs.yahoo.com/clubs/corduroysmoke and the world did get covered in a thick haze of corduroy smoke. And it felt good. __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Find the one for you at Yahoo! Personals http://personals.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 +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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Sinister: glass of chocolate milk, head of lettuce, darkness of clouds at one a.m.
by stacey dahling 18 Nov '01

18 Nov '01

Ive been hungry a lot lately. And not just for food, although that is the most pressing hunger at the moment. Im beginning to enjoy the sensation. Its a constant reminder of sacrifice. What, exactly am I sacrificing, and why? Im not sure entirely. Yet. But Im getting there. I think. It started with cheese. I stopped buying it. I realized one day that one chunk of cheese costs the equivalent of 10 loaves of bread, or 7 bags of pasta, or an entire refrigerator full of fresh produce from the neighborhood open-air market, including eggs. I felt like a wasteful sloth. And one without money to spare. It was also partly because somehow I do all the grocery shopping and the flatmate does the produce shopping and I realized I was getting the bad end of that bargain. Oil and detergent and cheese and milk and cereal come out to a bit more than spinach and onions and oranges. So Im boycotting the market. Which leaves me with a loaf of bread, a bag of rice, lots of water, and random vegetables. And since I lack the culinary creativity to transform the random vegetables into something appetizing, its been toast and water for a few days. This is all quite silly, I realize. I could simply ask the flatmate to go to the market for a change. But I feel that this can also be a valuable lesson in survival and poverty and making the most of raw ingredients. Or something. Another thing contributing to this little bit of insanity is the insomnia that has crept into my bedroom and taken over my life. It makes me do strange things. Or, more like it, it makes me not do things. Like leave the house in the day time. Or work. Or get out of bed much. Or eat. Because who can rationalize making a meal at 3 a.m.? The other day I had a long bath. My insane bedhead since then is evidence of how close Ive gotten to the shower since. Not very. My flatmate has begun to look at me in disgust. My response has been to stay in my room as much as possible. Last night was a social evening. I did have to leave the room. I tried to tie my hair back and I entered the kitchen in my pajamas, having a beer and smiling as much as possible while the flatmate got drunk with her boyfriend and cooked an actual meal. Then I sat on the floor of the living room and ate the meal. Then I retreated to my room again. The other night I left the building. I had intended all week to see a horrid American film in hopes that it would be cheesy enough to make me smile and dream without making me think too much. Every night I thought to myself, tonight is the night I leave the house and go to the film. But something always came up. Id be in middle of composing a particularly important, long email. Or Id fall asleep while reading. Finally, on Thursday, I raced through the streets, late, to the theatre. It was a nice diversion, but an awful film. The walk home, however, was glorious. I felt acutely alone. I fancied myself a strange solitary character in a sad poem or serious novel, walking the dark, lonely streets at an odd hour, swept up in some sort of emotion or thought. I hugged my coat to me, passing young and old people, all dolled up for a night on the town. The air was chill yet just warm enough. I craved cheese. Or chocolate. Or any processed, horrid food. Yet I somehow resisted the temptation and reveled in the pangs of hunger in my belly as I rounded the corner down the brothel street, which was oddly quiet and empty. It felt good. I have no idea why. I go my myriad ways blundering, bombastic, dragged by a self that can never be still, pushed by my surging blood, my reasoning mind. Thank you Ted Berrigan. I do have the vague feeling that all this is not really healthy. And that the behavior actually worries people. It worries me sometimes. Enough to try to change it, in fact. But its also gotten comfortable. The other night I didnt sleep at all. And today I was only able to sleep in two-hour periods. Time has lost all significance. I drift in and out of consciousness, and waking has become pretty similar to sleeping. I spend a lot of time in a dream-like state. Ive started creating fiction in my head again. Today I wrote some of it down. It wasnt any good. But it got out of my head, a little. I started to listen carefully to lyrics of songs, as if they hold the meaning of life or something. Ive looked for it elsewhere, see, and I feel like Im starting to recognize it in everything. I read something in a book and realize someone just told me the same thing in a letter and then I hear it in a song and its all a somewhat new revelation, but everywhere. Was it there before? Did I fail to see it? Maybe I wasnt looking. In that case, how much else have I missed? Ive been almost as hungry for meaning as for food. I guess theres not much to do but lay in the darkness and think half the night away. It feels good to think again. I had stopped doing it because I would inevitably end up depressed. But Im not now, oddly, even though of all times in my life, it is now that I am most alone. Monday I might start talking to heroin addicts again. Interacting with criminals and those on the fringes of society always makes me feel the most alive. They seem to have more insights than normal people. They seem to have experienced the real stuff of life. And they are honest. More honest than I am, even to myself. I will at least walk. Walk until my limbs hurt and my side aches. Theres nothing like physical fatigue to revive you. I listened to the new B&S single and its disturbingly twee. Like, too happy. And old-fashioned. I sighed when I heard it. And it made me sad. Because I was upset at how happy it was, so I thought that must make me old and bitter, or something. The day that I lose appreciation for B&S will be a very sad day. And I worried that it had come. So I put on IYFS in a panic and relaxed. A little. Maybe when Im happier again it will all be ok. But for now. Eek! I want to take a walk. But Im in my pajamas. And its not safe. So instead, I will put on some Fred Astaire and challenge myself not to think of Christmas. No, that is torture. I will put on some Camera Obscura and think of sweet Gavin and Primrose Hill and a bunch of sweet boys and girls huddled together awkwardly dreaming of a warm pub. And I will lay in the dark and join Ruvi in thinking about the sea, which is not so far away from here, and clear and enticing to most people but full of sea urchins who scare me away. I hate beaches. ~dahling ps: after that, I feel obliged to make you laugh. So please go to: http://buscemi.diaryland.com/older.html its Steve Buscemis online diary and it is absolutely hysterical. pps: Bug Stu, you scare me. You exude coolness like cheap cologne. And although I like the scent, Im afraid to get too close because its a bit overpowering. I have a very sensitive nose. Ian, your dates with the list smell lovely. And Ruvi. Mmm. Ken, you know I love you. You make me smile. Always. http://www.geocities.com/dahling007 _________________________________________________________________ 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 +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

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