you arrive too late and get stuck with the broken chair at the table next to the toilet, and the music makes you wonder why you've brought your scarf along. you take it all in for a moment...you smell the irish coffee and the pipe smoke, you glance quickly at a sad girl reading tarot cards, crowds of laughing drunks, and scanning further you accidentally catch the eye of someone you didn't want to see. he sits down and looks you in the eye and fumbles with your lighter, and you notice the lines on his arms and he tells you he's dying, and for once he's being honest and you don't know what to say...you're not sure what to do.... kathy was a pretty blonde sorority girl, the daughter of the mayor of a tiny town in ohio. a town so small that kathy's mom and sister once made a trip to valparaiso, indiana to "go shopping." valparaiso had two boutiques and a walmart superstore. kathy spoke often of her hometown, of pageants and barn dances and the fourth of july picnic....it sounded sort of fun. everyone liked the stories, or seemed to anyway. and then one day, kathy said something strange. 'well, it's such a tiny town, and everyone knows each other anyway. there's really nothing else to do.' everyone stared. nothing to do, apparently, but have sex. with anyone, anywhere...the barn dances....the fourth of july picnic...it was sort of shocking. she gossiped for a bit about people none of us knew. fascinating stories about the sheriff, the postman, the cheerleading squad, the minister.... the boy is still talking, and you can't keep your eyes off those lines on his arms. he's from london, and now he lives here. you talk about getting away, and he says "noplace is any better, really," and you dislike him for saying so. you think of kathy.... you rent a room in an old farmhouse and you learn to make a pretty mean potato salad. you spend eight hours a day at the switchboard in some musty office, painting your fingernails and paging through a magazine. you glance at your reflection on the side of the file cabinet and sweep your hair over your forehead, and you sit up quite straight and suck in your cheeks. people often say you should model, and you sometimes wonder. you walk home at dusk in your little brown coat, and you push the door open and toss your purse onto the chair. you scribble a little note and some hearts on the back of a grocery receipt, you draw some arrows pointing and you leave it on the table. you draw a bubble bath and turn on the radio, you dim the lights...and you don't know the year but you're feeling old. you just smile and change the subject, and the boy finally goes off to finish his beer, and you duck behind the counter for some water for your tea. you light another smoke and you think '2001. that's the year...isn't it?' Care2 make the world greener! http://www.care2.com - Get your Free e-mail account that helps save Wildlife! +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+