hello sinning sisters and maudlin misters. hold on to your hairnets as today's windisch shares a something pretty. The true story of a quasi-poetic image that relieved pain: funny how you never seem to fall doing anything difficult. it's always either some ordinary movement taken forgranted or a cheap little flair added on for ostentation that proceeds a prodigious spill. For the really hard tricks -- like pinballing though sketchy city traffic on narrow streets but still manageing to make the time to turn your head completely off track for a smiling split second of eternity to make eye contact with that fetching green-eyed girl on the corner -- it's as if some inner zen labotomist shuts out all the irrelvances of distracted underconfidence to accommodate a soul-firing stretch of wit, talent and acrobatic acquity. But those things done as a matter of course, like putting your pants on one leg at a time or negotiating a late-night staircase without falling up it, have a hidden yen to enact venegence for their mundanity by sending you sprawling on your keister with an audible sarcastic snicker shot out from the ether. Flash back to the sabbath afternoon skate session. Well rested and tuned in, I am doing things that are not only out of character for me but are not even comprehensible w/out an egghead in advanced physics or a carnival magician's blown-liver. braggadocio aside, i was surpising myself and amazing my friends by riding away from things that by all rights should have sent me to the doctor a whimpering blood-splattered wreck. (foreshadowing) Setting up for something with a backside smith shuffle (sounds naughty, n'est pas), I find myself flying. all is peaceful for a nano-second as gravity helps me negotiate the eight vertical feet between the lip and the flat. After feeling the joy of impact I'm laid out in a crumpled heap. The collective gasp lets me know that the spill looked at least as painful as it felt. I jump up and do that jesus-god-profanity-this-really-explicative-hurts jig that I've been perfecting of late but to no avail. I pull on my coat, exit the indoor park, and take a stroll into the cold. Amid a number of huge piles of dirt, gravel, assorted debris and the ice and mud remains of last week's snowfall, I found a quasi-poetic image that dispelled pain. There was sunlight and frozen wind as flying-V's of geese cut the space between my swelling elbow and the cool blue sky. At my feet, most of the snow had melted, turned the earth to mud, and froze again. But, here and there at regular intervals, strutted the packed snow footprints of the handfull of folks who ventured out between the piles while it was still a winter wonderland. And even though they resembled those step-schematic feet that accompany the printed directions to popular dances like the lindy hop, the boogaloo and the madison, these prints were the only remaining snow. They strode in silent truth like the lasting impressions one makes in life unaware that someone even noticed or will remember you and the things you've done. Of course, to inject the reality-check that is irony's birthright, these particular footprints lead absolutely nowhere. Somewhere in my reverie (which like some taxonomist-wanker-hack-arts-critic called the prints a positive manifestation of the negative space created when some walker puts down tracks in virgin snow)a sense of beauty and poignancy greater that words took over... blissful interlude of holy .... when I started thinking again, the pain was gone. windisch ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "tech-heads and students" +-+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+