Dear friends, I'm afraid I made the mistake of babbling drunkenly and even repeating dull tales to that nice Mr David Moore Chelmsford UK bloke at the joyous Tigermilking event. I have been deservedly punished with the presence of the list's very own Poetry Parrot. It's a fair cop I guess. So said parrot moved in and everything was basically fine and dandy, we shared a passion for stale cheesy wotsits (it makes them more chewy) and it even made friends very easily with next door's cockatoo. They would talk for hours about the joys of cuttlefish, the wonders of mirrors, and the joys of watching Animal Hospital especially that charismatic Rolf Harris. Unfortunately, their conversation evolved, as most do, to the role of postmodernism in twenty-first century art. A very heated debate ensued and the cockatoo's idea of a dialectical thesis of modernism and postmodernism invoking a parallel between traditional art and modern art forming postmodern art was ridiculed by the Poetry Parrot who stresses to theorise art was to belittle it as a form of individualistic expression. Which was all well and fine but then it turned to swear words, insulting each other's mothers and screechy squawking that made Cyndi Lauper sound tuneful. Then to make things worse I called the Philosophy Fish to come round and settle the matter. But he didn't get pass explaining that aliteration was not as important as phonetic similarity as language was not invented with the pen. I had enough so I went and sat in the conservatory with a cup of soothing Earl Grey to read the Beano. So I'm afraid our feathered friend has been evicted by the landlord, something to do with metaphorical pets not being allowed as part of the contract. So we bid a fond farewell and he should be bloody knackered someone over the Atlantic on his way to Michele Waggner now who certainly enlightened me on the difference between a Big Apple and an ample pear.... oh I almost forgot before he fluttered away he said I should provide something classical, something about THE two great scary things and I don't think he meant Cyndi Lauper and that bloke from Sparks... so here's "Love and Death" by Alfred Lord Tennyson ... LOVE AND DEATH What time the mighty moon was gathering light Love paced the thymny plots of Paradise, And all about him roll'd his lustrous eyes; When, turning round a cassia, full in view, Death, walking all alone beneath a yew, And talking to himself, first met his sight. 'You must begone,' said Death, 'these walks are mine.' Love wept and spread hes sheeny vans for flight; Yet ere he parted said,'This hour is thine; Thou art the shadow of life, and as the tree Stands in the sun and shadows all beneath, So in the light of great eternity Life eminent creates the shade of death. The shadow passeth when the tree shall fall, But I shall reign for ever over all.' Te ra, Martin ear confection recordings (http://www.send.demon.co.uk) +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the reborn Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail "sinister@majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo@majordomo.net". WWW: http://www.majordomo.net/sinister +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "tech-heads and students" +-+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +-+ "jelly-filled danishes" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+