hello sinister. this past week, i got snowed in and discovered why my college radio station is such, and why it isn't so bad after all. i wanted to know if classes were cancelled, and turning on old krnu, i happened upon the middle of 'i love my car.' i don't think i was ever more proud of my university. the song was apparently preceeded by radiohead and followed by superchunk, and has earned itself the heady position of alarm clock radio setting. so this morning i woke up to now it's overhead, and fell out of bed, again with happiness. i have spent part of the afternoon looking at various internet homes of various bands i like (hmmm...i feel geeky about that) and spent [art of that time perusing through various band diary entries. tour diaries, to be specific, because of late i have become increasingly obsessed with what, exactly, a band does on tour. i think i am both grateful for my stationary life and jealous of a mobile one. maybe i just miss him. the fortune in my fortune cookie tonight said my love of life would carry me through any circumstance, and for once, i think it might be true. i have wondered what it would be like to keep a real, i suppose, non-tour diary many times in my life, and have often tried to do the deed but to no avail. i remember in elementary school i had a pick diary with ballet shoes on the cover. and i filled the pastel pages with my dreams, mostly of boys (hmmm..still doing that) and whatnot. in fifth grade, i taped the valentine i got from my first boyfriend to the inside of the back cover, so i wouldn't lose it. and i kept the book underneath my mattress, as i knew girls were supposed to hide diaries in such appropriate places. but i never finished a diary, and i think maybe it is because i grow bored with the process of writing down what i do every day. odd, because i can read other people's daily activities and thoughts on those activites and compare and contrast them with my own life, thus living vicariously to some extent. and in a way, sinister is a bit like a diary for me, each post an entry to a hidden book. but then it gets discovered by mummy, and everybody reads it. maybe i have an anne frank complex. does that exist? you go through the motions of every day, and hope they're interesting to someone. because they probably are only minimally interesting to yourself. sunday, february 3, 2002. got home this morning at 3 a.m. after a newspaper party. had an illegal bottle of vodka in my possession, and discovered that i had actually drunk all of the missing amount and that the remaining amount was in a bottle too large to fit in any of my kitchen cabinets. not thinking my roomie would be too happy to discover illegal booze in our abode, i stashed the bottle on the top shelf of my closet and decided i would break it out again on one or both of the following occasions: mandee and kirsten hit nebraska and the homecoming of the boy. brushed my teeth and went to bed. woke up at 9:45 a.m. to now it's overhead. turned off the radio and got up at 1 p.m. showered and completed the arduous, hour-long process of Getting Ready. went to the bank. paid credit card bill one day late. got dropped off at the newspaper as my own car was in an accident yesterday and is now not so drivable. have been here ever since, reading tour diaries and saying goodbye to my now it's overhead addiction and hello to my superchunk addiction. not so cool. or interesting. it's the added bits of diaries that are interesting (or maybe just the almost sleazy bits). it's the stuff in between, i think, that makes the writing down of events worth the while. the saying that today wasn't boring because in between the mundane stuff i realized again that i am not alone anymore. and that i never really was. i am connected to more people than i can count on both hands, and one in particular resides everywhere even when he isn't here. everything this week has reminded me of something else, someone else, and i like it that way. i like it that when i wake up to a certain song i think of a day or an event or a smell or a sound, and the moments of each day become weighted with meaning. the bottle of vodka will always be a party or a person or two and the first bottle of booze ever to reside in my apartment. the boy will always be the superchunk will always be the radio will always be the snow day will always be the unexpected b&s will always be sinister. i like that. maybe i don't need to roam around after all. love and tour vans, your lindseylou _________________________________________________________________ MSN Photos is the easiest way to share and print your photos: http://photos.msn.com/support/worldwide.aspx +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. 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