From now on, even though as I've gotten older I have this feeling less and less, I will constantly think of eating a pear whenever I feel it again. For those of you who are interested--I found out that in the latest issue of "Open City", Stuart David has an article/story (not sure what it was, I only got a chance to glance at it)--but, anyhow, it looks interesting. Go Stuart, good job on your success in getting published! So this conversation in the car seemed to be somewhat of a precursor of
Half of yesterday was wonderful. I went with close friends off to the big city to look at records and eat food. My sisters and my friend Nicole ended up dining at a gimmicky mexican restaurant called "Casa Bonita": it's quite an odd place--it looks like a historic building, but it's located in a strip mall. Odd juxtaposition. I think I've posted about it before, a long, long time ago, when I first joined the list. On the drive back we all had a very weird conversation--about dreams, about the disappointment of never being able to be anyone else--and mainly about this strange sinking feeling, a nostalgia of sorts, like a longing to be outside of your own body--I've had this feeling ever since I was a kid, it leaves as quickly as it comes, but it seems to be indescribable. My older sister told us all that as a child she referred to this feeling as "the pear." I thought that was interesting. things to come. When I came home I discovered that after a four-month struggle, my dog died. I keep seeing a phantom Reggie, keep expecting him to toddle into my room and settle down to sleep in a pile of dirty clothes. But he's not here. I had to keep myself occupied today so I wouldn't have to think of it. I know that I'm an adult and that I shouldn't get so emotional about a dog, but I can't help it. He was like a person to me; I mean, christ, I loved that dog. Sometimes he seemed to understand me. I feel so schmaltzy saying all of this, but it's true. I will miss calling him by his various nicknames--Reggums, buddy, baby, snowball, snowwy, ol' powderhorn, big fella--gosh, and I will miss the strange noises my dad makes whenever he sees him, my dad does something to the effect of a screaming baby talk, "OOOOOH! BIG FELLA! LOOK AT THE BIG PUPPY!" But mostly, I think I'll miss hanging out with Reggie at the top of the steps where he'd always sit. And as he'd see me walking up the stairs, he'd do his stretched-out-anticipating wiggle. So, rest in peace big fella. You certainly made my life better. Oh--special props go out to Youn, who may be the only person who reads my posts. Oh--and also--for those of you who are to receive Xmas gifts from me: I'm sorry I was so slow in sending them out. I promise you, they are on their way. They will have to be New Years gifts and not Xmas ones. thank you, mandee m a y +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+