so here i am, roused from the nursery, a little dazed. blink. i had a bad habit, and it involved leaving my new-ish guitar in the corner for weeks at a time. but i snapped it (the habit, thankfully), and have since acquainted myself enough with the open chords to squawk out TIJAMRS. all this leaves the tips of my fingers feeling like i laid them out in front of a freight train. but rehabilitation was not far off, in the form of the enormous thrift store known as The Bins. here the clothes are not on racks, but in deep bins, and fingers are free to roam in search of dirty treasures. shopping's better when you have to wash your hands afterwards. The Bins work like this: employees wheel clothes out, people sift through them for a few hours, then the clothes are whisked to the back where they are compacted into cubes--six feet by six feet by six feet. rumor is that the clothes are shipped off to Africa, but it's a bit of a ways from Portland to there. most of the garments merit immediate incineration. but from amongst those i dug: a spiffy child's tamborine that has feet on it a pair of New Balances a brown and orange beanie a hat that might make me upstanding: labeled "Country Gentleman - Imported British Fabrics" a leather paper-case (this the man at the cash register checked to make sure i was not concealing anything within) the cover to the Human League's "Human" 7-inch. 7 mismatched Argyle socks ("you don't see those much these days" --employee) 1 striped sock 1 cowboy shirt 1 pair, black wrangler jeans all this i had quite a time stuffing into my bag. outside it was rainy, but i got the full fender setup on my bike a few weeks ago, so i put on my red blinkie light and headed home. along the way, i passed over a bridge, and a hulking freight train was passing underneath, so i rode down and watched it trail off. i like to watch the graffiti. Back on the road, some thug in a sedan nearly hit me, and i tried my damnedest to chase him down, to pound on the trunk, but the louse ran the stop sign and sped off. sighs and soap, rob +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo@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 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+