hello sinister. it snowed last night, big wet chunks of white. i left the paper, and looked up as soon as i got outside, as i often do anyway. (i tend to defy the city and scour the sky for stars, though i often mistake planes for burning spirals of gas billions of miles away. realizing i'm, in actuality, only gazing at the blinking light of a hovering aircraft tends to make me feel smaller than the stars would, and part of not a world, only a prarie.) the sky was a hazy pink, and it reminded me of the sinister page at christmas time. i brushed the snow piles off my car with the sleeve of my coat, admiring the sharp contrast of soft whiteness against the varied plaid, and finally got in my car to clouds of breath and the smell of wet wool. the wind blew the snow at a bustling diagonal, and the road was actually quite hard to make out. i crawled home, which was fitting, i suppose, because i think i have been moving laterally on all fours for weeks now. i dreamt all night, but can only remember the segments wherein i put my glasses on, and couldn't see a thing through the pink lenses, only a snowy sky. i kept taking them off and rubbing them, blowing hot bursts of breath of the plastic, clearing away the fog. only to shove them back on and take them off again, blinded. i don't particularly remember if i could see when i had them off. i wrote an email to a boy i used to be friends with today. i don't expect him to write me back, but i saw his name in the daily nebraskan and suddenly, sitting there looking at his name in 10 point body copy, i kind of missed him and who i was when i was with him. i came in to the paper today, rejoicing for the snow day and the removed responsibility of attending my photojournalism class, wondering if taking a picture of slushy snow would constitute as a photo of news. i intended to devote the afternoon to work, but instead i have been alternating good life albums and writing emails. and reading old emails. from the boy i first fell in love with. i organized them all into a folder a while ago, and i noticed today i must have dleted the bitter ones in a fit of fury. and so the favorite song of another starts on the good life cd, and i am shaking still. something has happened to me since this near-rape experience of a few weeks ago, as it were, and i have been trying to put my finger on what, exactly is wrong and why i feel stagnant, like i am waiting for something. waiting, mostly, to fail. classes and love and hope and life and, ultimately, myself. repeat repeat repeat ...she met this boy from omaha whose life was handed to him but still he wanted everything his dreams were his ruin she couldn't wake him up the bough broke, and he fell like the time he fell from his mother into the arms of a doctor so he cried like that first day of his life he knew he had broken this beautiful porcelain and how could their world be the same? and so it never was the same. she whispers his name... xxx lou _________________________________________________________________ Join the worlds largest e-mail service with MSN Hotmail. http://www.hotmail.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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+