If you're like me (and if you are, may God help you), you've always wanted to know what List-mum Honey looks like. I think we all have our own mental image. Mine, I think, was something like a cross between Mary Tyler Moore and the guy from the "William It Was Really Nothing" sleeve. But how wrong I was. How do I know? Because I've finally seen a picture of our Honey. She'll probably never forgive me for spilling the beans like this. But if she wanted her image to remain forever shrouded in mystery, then she shouldn't have agreed to appear on the cover of her autobiography, which I ran across at Borders yesterday and posessively clutched to my chest as I practically ran to the check-out counter. She's really much lovelier than I ever imagined. But if you'd like your mental image not erased by hard evidence, then don't look. For all curious others, the front cover of the book (which is an excellent read, too) is here: http://www.missprint.org/sinister/things/MissHoneysAutoBiog.html I read it for a second time tonight, as the pouring dashing rain continues to pound my Santa Barbara. I shouldn't really complain though, because it's dumping snow everywhere else. But at least snow is pretty. Water really isn't. And I wrote a column for our local free weekly, about what's happening music-wise here in SB. I actually managed to name-check Belle et Sebby, if only in comparison to The Microphones (who played here on Friday). But I believe it was the first mention of our favorite band to appear in any local media here. Ever. And I also managed to sneak in quotes by Bukowski and F.S. Fitzgerald, which I consider a personal triumph. And I'm watching a Discovery Channel show on cats. Housecats. Didja know that the width of their whiskers equals the width of their body at its widest point? So when they try to walk through a tight spot, if their whiskers touch the sides, they know they won't fit thru. And I sit listening to the rain outside. And my mind wanders to every girl I've ever loved. And I wonder where they all are now. My whiskers brushed against their sides, I guess. Somebody else is loving them. And I walk about in my floppy shorts, smoking too many cigarettes, trying to make drama out of no damned progress at all. But I hold fast to the tremble-wavering spirits that boost us in these strange strange times. B. +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+