...It's a grey, cold, not very promising Sunday morning. Kinda windy, streets are empty.Soft, reluctant rays of early sun hover in the air, hesitant for a while, then land helpless on the sad moist pavements. Joan's treading's resounding although she's trying really hard not to shuffle her feet.She's wearing her faded flares-how many times she'd been frowned upon for them from passers by and friends- and a creased t-shirt with a funny little bus and a large tea stain ( for that reason it will therefore be referred to as: teashirt).It's quite cold today for someone to wander in the streets wearing only a teashirt but her only sweater was carelessly thrown on the floor of her room,a comfortable fluffy matress under her-even more fluffy-still asleep cat now.She didn't want to wake The Cat up (she wouldn't bother finding him a name, anyways he didn't seem to like any of the previous ones, he would just blatantly ignore her)...it would be such a pity.He spent the whole night curled on her cold feet.Joan has her headphones on.As always.She'll prolly be listening to that worn out tape she always carries with her.The one with the chipped corner and the little sticker "B&S" on. She's been really sad lately.For a reason she doesn't know.It's like, you know, someone has pulled the drain cap and everything inside her started spinning around and then dissapear in the vacuum outside her body.And now she's left with that feeling of tears pricking her eyes all the time and the constantly moist and out-of-this-world gaze as a result,-cos tears can really hurt you know-,her 18 years in vain and the strange melodies of flute and strings and haunting mellotron streaming from her headphones and flooding her soul . She's going to the park.She'll lie on her back on the grass, it makes her feel all itchy and stuff sometimes maybe she'll sneeze a couple of times but then she'll be ok,and watch the clouds change colours and shapes. Reaching her favourite place she sees some kids, 'round her age. "Well,they're still kids,I guess" she thinks. "Cos they're certainly not grown-ups,and only grown-ups can be referred to as "people"and "people" is something bad and meaningless and impersonal altogether.And I'm not that old after all!!" So they all were,quite logically, a bunch of kids, lying on blankets or on the grass,drinking,laughing their brains out, playing soccer further away,reciting poems and quotes to each other,dead excited about the festivals they've been to,their new jobs and just finishing their finals. Some of them were throwing things to each other,chasing around and saying bad bad words presumably arguing on some Pink Void or Joe Floyd or was it Boyd??Whatever....Pink Panther was the coolest of them all......Someone took something out of his bag and shouted to the others that there it was,original apple butter with all the traditional ingredients and stuff .After tasting it they all aggred that apple was prolly a product that derived from apple butter and they all went weeeeee!!!!!crazy and I guess a jar wasn't enough for everybody. Anyway she didn't want to cause them trouble and went and sat under a tree and watched them having a good time during their summer wasting.But then she saw that boy she knew from long ago and reluctantly raised her arm and waved and Jason saw her and went and sat by her and then a couple of kids from her eastern neighborhood she'd never spoken to before approached and ,in a while, everyone was curious about what were the others doing under that tree with that strange girl and came there too, bringing their happy noises and joy and apple butter with them , some even brought their sorrow that had already started fading away and everything was so nice that even the clouds went away and a big big yellow sun appeared and the kids took off their sweaters and, what a surprise!!!Under their sweaters was that funny little bus teeshirt and all the funny little buses started honking in delight and the day was beautiful. ...Ummmm.......I guess that's all from me.I'm Joanna ,this is my first post and I'd love to be your friend if you could stand me..... xxx ......to all of you..... "...till I open mah eyes again and feel them adjust back to grey, for everything is forever grey and the pressure unner mah ribs is hurting me, breathing is getting harder, lungs will cleave apart, only just one half swallered and the pressure...the pressure...the planets of pain..." "And The Ass Saw The Angel" +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the undead 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. 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