hello sinister, (despite the introductory disclaimer, i put some thought and some heart into living the true stories contained herein) it's been some time since I posted. in fact its been some time since I read any list messages. There's been some changes, don't you know. First off, for some odd reason, I stopped listening to our feted group of minstrels for about ten days. the result: depression, a loss of feeling who i know myself to be, and the distinct feeling of not being beautiful anymore. It took a long drive from my new town to my home town, with ample amounts of judy and the dream of rollercoasters to bring me back around. don't let this happen to you. keep those records spinning. As we all know, that rascal stuart often includes some religious content, twisted as it may be, into those pesky lyrics that he uses to carry that divine touch of voice beyond the everyday all too familiar and into that realm of poetic rapture. I too have had some skewed religious occurrences of late that are amusing enough to share. (Musical gifts aside, the main difference between me and stu is that my voice warbles when it talks the sense that takes the heart to hear.) Round one: nothing illuminates the wrongs like guilt Night in a supermarket. Mix of art students and urban poor. Me with a power cord and some amber bulbs in the express lane. 5 percenter empowered black Moslem ahead of me. He clean headed with big ass goatee. The clerk, a greasy kid from the italian side of the spectrum. His friend, coolly lamping by the register is vaguely asian, but more definitively city. "You look familiar," says the brother. "Really?" queeries vaguely asian. "You go to church?" Moslem again. We all stand there silent. I can tangibly feel the collective conscience question when the last time was, and what interim wrong was done. In that pause is something serious. "Well, my moms goes and I think about it now again," vaguely asian answers. This next silence is wholly consumed by the shit eating grin of the righteous one as the clerk bags his purchase. Then the Moslem says: "Well, maybe its too late?" and he's gone. We all stand there silent, shocked, and thinking seriously about our everlasting ends. Emboldened by my own sense of utter damnation, I asked the grease and vaguely if they've ever heard the likes of that bullshit before. "I thought it was all about forgiveness," the grease repeats. (he had said it before to the bad ass righteous one, who simply laughed and left) He bagged and I grabbed my lightbulbs, content that I had bought some food for thought. ------------------ Round Two: An holy threat: - Excuse me sir, can you say how to spell your last name. "Sure thing," he says. "Father Anthony V-e-r-d-e-l-o-t-t-i." - Thanks "If you write anything bad about me in that newspaper, I will hunt you down and shoot you." -Really, I never expected a priest to say that to me. "It's only because I mean it." ------------------------------- Round Three: B&S hook with local shout out: True, it has been some time since I first heard state that I am in, and tacitly gave myself to sin; but it's only been in the past month and relocated to Providence. But, needless to say, never has my peculiar little life so coincided with the lyrical content of that song as the tour of this tiny town that tommy jolt provided for me just a week ago. Our agenda included new spots and harlots, indy film and late night responsible drinking. There was never the appearance of impropriety, but for the entire night i did my damnedest to entertain my crippled friend. for you see, tommy was limping. because he, injured his knee, falling from a barstool with glee. Well you all know now, here in the new sinister proper, why the likes of me posts so seldomly. because no one appreciates an indulgent fuck, with so little to say, as he himself, on each and every of his praise me days. your pal, mike windisch post scribble if any all made it to the end of this post, and enjoyed, give yourself an attaboy and drop me a line of feedback on these true to the last stories. pushing it post scribble If you'll have me i'll go to the nyc picnic and bring the b&s placemats, along with a gangload of cheer. _______________________________________________________________ Get Free Email and Do More On The Web. Visit http://www.msn.com +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+