Happy Birthday. ******pencil polaroid (its only a sketch)****** Its June 2001. I'm on my own. Its slightly overcast, and theres a chance of rain. Some bloke called Ally Cook sent me to the wrong underground train station. It took me ages to get the nerve to text message him in the first place. I got off a stop too late, and was surrounded by pavements in disrepair, and strangers were wandering past staring at me (well, i guess I was the stranger), I was almost ready to go home and forget the whole situation, that only I could be embarrassed by, but felt the whole world knew it anyway. Eventually I phoned him, and Ally sent me to the right train station. and now here I am, with 60 odd people. I'm sitting on a slope of grass, in a park somewhere in Glasgow. I'm feeling pretty nervous, and not entirely sure how to make face-to-face conversation with people who might only know me for my online ego, and they all seem quiet. I feel like I've walked in on a massive conversation and now nobody knows what to say. 60 odd people? yes they are a bit I guess. A young Inverness boy in a blue BSPD tshirt and red corduroy flares, and has his little paws wrapped around me, telling me something to boost my ego, and is putting a pink featherboa around my neck. Theres a bloke from West Calder and a journalist from Perth sitting slightly down slop to my left. Up slope to the left, I can see someone with blonde plaited bunches, and a pink feather stolen from the featherboa sticking out the bottom and specs, smiling. further along, theres an architect in a dapper looking suit. Close by is a man so well known, he has a cult to call his own. I like his specs. Behind me, at the top of the slope, theres Keith. The only one I actually know. Theres a young woman with an excitable spaniel pup thats overcoming any inhibitions of picnic shyness and getting straight to business with anyone in sight. Nearby, is Honey and Linda, watching over the proceedings. Its 4pm on a Saturday afternoon. Some boys get together to play football. I'm waiting for my man. Theres a gig on tonight. I don't know it yet, but by the end of the night, I'm going to have a bruise that feels like the size of Kelvingrove Park on my forehead that will hurt when i frown for a week. It will be the result of some boy singer throwing sticks of rock into the audience. And I don't even catch the bloody thing. Ouch. ********************** love, Kristin (joined December 1999) ===== http://groups.yahoo.com/group/corduroysmoke/ starting playground gossip and passing notes __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Yahoo! Finance - Get real-time stock quotes http://finance.yahoo.com +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 +-+ +-+ "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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+