So I've got these wings. I've been feeling guilty about having sprouted wings and not having the courage to try them out. It's messing with the metaphors. So I stood on the lawn and gave a flap. And then another. I was surprised how easily it came to me. Like riding a bicycle, only far easier. My first attempt at cycling was marked by a tendency to go over the handlebars. I was also surprised that one can still be afraid of heights when one is in total control of one's distance from the ground. So given the power of flight I did what anyone ought to do. I had a look around in the hopes of seeing my friends and either a. impressing the living crap out of them or b. spying on them. The campus was lovely up there and I tried a few swoops. The loop de loop wasn't as graceful as I'd hoped but no one was around to notice. Then I saw him. The boy I sold my heart to for some music and clever jokes. As usual he doesn't take any notice of me. I didn't mind though, because seeing as he's here I can just go to his appartment and get my heart back. He left the window open. My heart was stuffed in a box under his bed next to some of his many cds. The origami dinosaur made especially for him suffered a similar fate. Heart returned to it's rightful place, beating feebly inside my ribs, I went to a concert. The fall were absolutely brilliant, but I hadn't got the hang of winching in my wings all the way and lots of punk rockers kept knocking into them as they danced. One of them turned out to know a little Czech. I gave him my number despite the whole of my instincts being against it. My instincts haven't done a single nice thing for me since birth so I see no reason to listen to their counsel. I was scared to fly this late at night so I took the subway home. I'm thinking I could put this newfound abilty to good use once I get good at it. I could start up a rescue service for birds who get tired halfway between trees. Or maybe I'll just help more people who crawled into their cocoons only to find out that what they had been secretly believing all along, deep inside they were a beautiful butterfly. I must say I'm glad I wasn't an ugly duckling. I don't think I could've handled turning into a swan. Laying eggs probably takes it right out of you for the rest of the day. Now I've got a question for the sinisterines. I'm trying to compile a mixed cd entirely devoted to songs about wanking. Culled from my own knowledge and that of my friends I've got *billy idol - dancing with myself, divinyls - I touch myself, Hefner - Hello kitten, the vapors - turning japanese, cindy lauper - she bop, Tweet - oops, oh my, Pixies - the holiday song, Semisonic - get a grip* so far. Any help would be much appreciated. If the idea appeals to you I'm sure I could send a copy along. The other day I got a bunny to eat bread out of my hand by sitting very still for an hour. My heart nearly burst with love. Soaring and fuzzy woodland creatures (and love) Kara www2.bc.edu/~brielman _________________________________________________________________ The new MSN 8: smart spam protection and 2 months FREE* 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+