dearest sinister well, what a weird week it's been, and since - as everyone seems to notice - it's been quiet around here lately, i guess you're just going to have to put up with hearing a little bit about it. first, though, on the topic of posts: yes, they've certainly been far fewer and well, further, between, but i for one haven't really detected a slackening in standard, which is as much to say, thanks again for the many really nice posts that have been brightening my days and helping to make a really nice spring even nicer. and how could anyone NOT have been utterly delighted with the weakest link? which i for one thought was one of the best things the list has ever seen. thanks ken. (and if you DO EVER find out the treasure-hunt thingies, you will please be so good as to let everyone know: of course after you've shamelessly abused them for purely personal gain and advancement. after all your shameless ploys - for the rest, cf. the q&a section on the band's page: how i smirked in a public place - you surely deserve it!) so yes, and while all of you up north are bracing yourselves for winter, unpacking all your favourite wet wednesday afternoons, dusting off wellingtons, raincoats and umbrella's (umbrella's! wow, what a secret world has been opened to my prying eyes!) - or so i imagine - here it's turning into a lovely breezy blissful spring. it's not too hot (yet) and balmy, and altogether unhelpful to anyone who's as far behind with their work as i am. but oh well. and just last week, after (i think it was wednesday, which also featured a quite remarkable bunch of feel-good posts :)) [<== note my infamous double-chinned smiley face :)] i was busy drafting an ode on just how wonderful everything was, when of course, the (potential of) disaster (looked like it would) strike. predictably, really. disaster, no larger than a man's hand, appeared on the horizon in the form of a rather special ex - as i suppose it rather often does. rather special as in someone who broke my heart at several times in several different configurations of tiny tiny pieces that became ever harder to put together again, and that, like gaspard winckler's revenge (if you know what i mean ;) , also seemed to always end up with the wrong shaped piece to put in the final little hole. after which she then became a rather unhealthy obsession. which i thought was over with, finally, this year, helped by the knowledge that she was going to germany (i.e. very far away) and i! would probably never see her again. except she wasn't. in germany. that is. well, she came back. (help! i'm turning into richard gillanders! i think. well. almost. i guess.) and there she was, and it just happened to be her birthday, so instead of getting off with the polite little wave that would have been sufficient, i had to run across and congatulate her. i ask you. (which doesn't really explain why the chicken crossed the road, since it took a lot of guts, i thought at the time, and also meant i wasn't thinking very clearly). conversation was brief, to the point and functional, but all i could think of was ways of keeping my heart from bursting through my ribs. it hasn't beat as fast in more than 2 years. (which, in a tenuous attempt at content, reminds me of the description stuart david gives of being in love in nalda said: the girl always makes the boy's heart "beat very fast, and then very slow." i liked that book a lot) of course, being a seasoned sufferer, i knew what was to follow - years and years more of misery, bloodshed and sheer boredom for my friends. but this time, i had a PLAN. and the PLAN was suggested by yes, you, in a way, and comes from that lovely piece of advice (though he probably didn't see it quite as "advice" at the time. i think) by matthew henderson which caitlin keeps reminding us of. to quote: When life gives us lemons, we just sit there and sulk about it, in the corner of the room, in a fetal position. so, the PLAN involved what i would call a pre-emptive sulk: take a half-jack of brandy, down really quickly, pausing only to put cf gf by the tindersticks on repeat (alternatively, intersperse with (you take) this heart of mine). then spend night crying about all kinds of things, including your friend who died earlier the year, which is good, because you haven't really done so properly before, and the stuff he said last time you spoke is the only thing keeping you from cutting yourself to ribbons now, again. smoke a LOT. fall asleep eventually and sleep forever. wake up. switch to trembling blue stars and stay there. stay in your room an entire day and read the heart is a lonely hunter in one sitting. fast: drinking only water and smoking. (feeling really really really sorry for yourself and resentfully cursing the entire female gender is, of course, de rigeur) fall asleep and sleep forever. wake up. find its a beautiful day, decide fuck it and go to have coffee with a good ! friend. then decide fuckit still further (or as they used to say around these parts: fuck it. fuck it with knives. OR as astrid used to say, famously: sod it. which is just a way of saying: WHAT'S HAPPENED TO ASTRID???) and spend the rest of the day at the beach playing frisbee and getting your pre-summer tan. in short: IT WORKED!!! something that would (and had) sent me off the rails for two horrible years was eventually (and finally!) handled in a sortof mature way. okay, not really, but i got over it. so that's great, and so is everything else again, and i'm so happy to be able to tell you all this. (okay, so i'm sorry i AM telling you all this. sorry. hopefully someone else will post a thingy full of wit and erudition, and errrmm... i suppose smut, soon, to make your mail account earn its keep). in short: THERE'S TOO MUCH LOVE TO GO AROUND THESE DAY-AY-AY-AY-AY-S. (or alternatively: get out of the office and into the springtime) also, my (admittedly very meager) salary GOT TRIPLED! so that helps too i suppose. now just to wait until our (terrible!) music retailers finally get wind of the polyphonic spree, and bob's my... favourite falling in the river kindof guy. when i say terrible, i mean, we only got the STROKES and the WHITE STRIPES released in this country 3 MONTHS AGO!!! i mean, fuck that. (so if i ever complain about musical isolation here, please bear that in mind). well, that's about it. have lots to do now, so until next time, sorry, and adios. and thank you all ever so very very much for making life always a littler brighter, a little more tender and altogether very wonderful. love JohaN +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+