Friends, Gillanders = arsenic and old lace. When is a jibe not a jibe? Thank goodness he's off to Borneo, or some such place. Perhaps he will be accosted by monkeys. If Vanessa is correct, I should be stepping into a jumpsuit about now. Jumping into a Stepssuit? Of course not. One cannot bring back the dead. There's a tear in CB's starry eyes. Jumping out of an aeroplane, the rumours say. Thankfully, it's not true. That's not me. There are so many other namesakes. David Gorman will tell you, if you're kind enough to ask. I knew a David Gorman once. Like the man with no cigarettes says Gotta cadge 'em all. At the behest of The Sinister Girls, I have been reading 'The Sopranos', Alan Warner, 1997? Like Mr Data in that final, special episode, 'A CLEVER man'. In any time period. Understanding the point of being alone and together. It is happening right now. It all came together in the end. I was quietly pleased. I heard Mark Cassarotto fell in the sea. Compassion is so hard to come by these days. None from me. Just laughter, mainly. Like so many times before, wished I'd been there. My lesson for the day is Light fingers, heavy heart. There's no need to think about it. Clever? Non. In front of me lies 'Dubliners', James Joyce, 1914. Yet to begin. At all. And so... I go back, scan points 1-10 of THAT manifesto. 'Don't read him'. 'Read him'. Objects. Ebb and flow. The simple things. All we need. All we were. All we are. Banter. I'm excited in anticipation. I may be left cold, of course. These thing happen. Shrove Tuesday! Mardi Gras! Came and, well, went. I demanded a pancake party, but it wasn't really feasible, I'm afraid. Still, I should learn to make them. How hard can it be? Cooking would be easy, I think, if only I knew how. Like so many things. Not like other things. Maple. Banana. Cream. Lemon. Indulgence. 'And now I'm loading wool down at the wharf'. This line just popped into my head, I thought I should write it down. It's evocative, in some way. That whole song, infact. I haven't listened to it in a while. That guitar solo, like crackling, static, electric and then gone. What I have been listening to, more so at the moment, is Merritt. Terrific. Absolutely. Terrific. Mostly. Highway moon eyes stars railtracks. I felt I had to write something, if only to call in all those bluffs. Bob Holness would be proud. And I'm going to London tomorrow! I'm very excited by this, almost as excited as at the prospect of going to see Lloyd! in 2 weeks! Tomorrow will see some old stars of the eighties shine and some new stars of the nineties burn. Gasoline. Cracking. I should pack. Hit the road. Before it hits me. Night. You're my bunny Valentine. Alasdair xx _________________________________________________________________ Chat with friends online, try MSN Messenger: http://messenger.msn.com +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+