(please excuse me, I'm writing an essay on Pope's 'Rape of the Lock') *Canto I* I would like to apologise to one of the sinister gentleman with whom I was exchanging messages with earlier this fall...I seem to have lost his emails in the dense mists of time. But it was thinking about him, and how I should reply to his last email (although, despite my best efforts, I was unable to find it) that made me remember this. He said he found Glasgow cold and bleak. Didnt fancy it much. I wanted to tell him, yes it is cold, and the endless concrete and harsh Weegie accents can make it seem unfriendly. *(apologies to all Glaswegians: I know youre a lovely friendly people. But the weegie ned accent is in the top five most grating of all accents of the entire world, and you all know it)* But sometime in spring, when the days are starting to last well into the night and the mornings cant wait till morning, you may find yourself sitting up in your flat all on your own, trying to write an essay due the next afternoon for which youve not read the books when all of a sudden you notice that the sky is lightening and the trees planted inside your flat complexs yard are full of birds who think they have to cheer the sun along in order to make it rise. * ink polaroid * I am wearing the black stretch Adidas pants that I bought to wear to the gym (but who have only seen the inside of my bedroom as I relax with a book) and the big red Queens University (Canada) hoodie that I wear to invoke studious karma. I heard the birds calling to each other in the trees, shut off the standing lamp beside my coffee table/desk, and climbed up onto the wide windowsill. Opening the me-sized screenless window as wide as I can, I perch sideways on the edge of the sill, breathe in the smell of new leaves and listen to the birds screaming in the trees. (Incidentally, I might love that Arab Strap song just because it invokes this memory) Ive never told anyone about this memory, for no particular reason. But whenever I think back on my time in Glasgow, being a student at the uni there and living in a real live, genuine British flat, that morning always sticks out in my mind. Im the only one I ever caught sitting on the windowsill, enjoying the sound of the wind in the trees and loving the dear green place. It belongs just to me, and to a really good time in my life. I miss the days where everything was possible and nothing was urgent. I miss Glasgow. Here all the windows have screens, and the streets smell like gasoline. The birds dont scream when theyve all flown south. Dont worry, Jen, the geese do take turns being at the head of the triangle when they all fly south. The formation is designed to reduce wind resistance, helping them use as little energy as possible during their long flights sough. The further back you are in the formation, the less energy you have to use to stay aloft. When the head goose gets tired, s/he falls back to the end of the triangle, and another goose takes over. The lesson here? Geese are bloody Commies! (go with it) Thats the kind of thing you learn when you live in the Land of the Canada Goose. They also poop everywhere and are slightly menacing. So I dont mind that we only have them for six months of the year. *Canto II* I was thinking about Kierans post (and his post-post post) about the bus. I lived within walking distance to my school until I got to high school. There were two, then three, then four of us in my neighbourhood who went to the same school, so we got rides in the morning from parents. We usually made our own way home via public transportation, which gave us a taste for freedom and independence. We began having adventures on the bus, and took it lots of places (until we started to get our drivers licenses and wouldnt deign to go anywhere without a point-to-point chauffeur). I remember waiting at the bus stop, idly watching the traffic and looking for the noisy giant beetle to come trundling along the right lane of traffic. People in their cars would always gawk at us in the bus shelter, as if we were a particular species of bus-people not often seen outside of zoos or travelling freak shows. I think we overestimate our untouchability when were in cars: we think were safe and cozy and inside, but were separated from the outside world only by metal and tires and plush seats. True, there arent many beautiful people on buses, but as I watched the cars go by I didnt see many beautiful people in them, either. They must hide somewhere else altogether. Jets, maybe. Or galleons. Or maybe they were the exclusive recipients of those HoverCars we were all promised by the year 2000. Bastards. (If anyone ever gets a HoverCar, Ill give them my set of B&S playing cards for a ride in it. Wait...they were 30 Canadian dollars...let me think about that one...) *Canto III* I sent out my Sinister Christmas Presents yesterday! I feel a bit gauche cause I didn't have any glitter, but I made sure to use two gluesticks in cut-and-paste efforts to make up for it. Hope it will suffice, and I promise to invest in sparkly things for next year. (Was I the only one to get funny looks for making presents for strangers on a emailing list?) I like giving presents to people I don't know cause if they don't like them, they can pass them on without worrying if I'll be offended. If someone didn't like the present I gave them, I'd rather they gave it away to someone who'd appreciate it instead of letting junk clutter up their house. *do I sense an onslaught of donations to someboysjumpers?* I think I should stop now. Merry Christmas Shopping, everyone. marisa. _________________________________________________________________ Tired of spam? Get advanced junk mail protection with MSN 8. http://join.msn.com/?page=features/junkmail +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+