Never, since the Reading festival of 1997 when I woke up with my face in the dirt, money stolen and my dreams shattered, have I felt like such a piece of shit. It is one thing to raise hell at uni but at home and at christmas, well that's just sacred isn't it? I dunno, but here I am this morning and I feel like I could be sick at any minute (but then that's probably cause I tried to induce it last night when I was on my hands and knees) and even this `soothing` cup `o` tea seems to be making my wooz like anything, which has to be a drag cause I've fallen over twice already and it ain't even 9:00am yet (well actually now I look it is and I probably won't send this mail till much later anyroad continuity fans). In short or many series of dad's shots in me (checking through this email and even I don't understand this pun really) that is how I am the way I am now, quivering beside myself, basicaly drunk still, but more shell shocked and I've only really just found myself when I woke (thankfully on my own bed) and Morrissey's I Am Hated For Loving Going round in an eternal loop in my brain which just maybe had something to do with the stereo which has clearly been looping it all night - oh damn do you think anybody heard? So me and my man/friend/idle plaything got wrecked on a combination of every conceivable substance and then seemed to make a meal (just a pasta experiment which seemed peppery but in it's own cute way on fire) which was clearly nice as I keep tasting it every 20 seconds even now - or perhaps that's the crisps and coleslaw and potato salad which I managed to steal from the 24 hour Tesco at 2am when we slyed in there to get away from my parents coming home... actually most of that shit seemed to end up on a park bench if I remember cause my mouth couldn't direct it. Get me wrong here, please do but I'm no thief, clearly an unarmed drunk but no kind of thief cause I got busted in Tescos taking the first tub of coleslaw so we had to sneak round again - oh the indignity just keeps coming back into my mind. And, as I sit in this room I really hope I hid the evidence of dad's cigar butts that we smoked to high heaven, otherwise he'll start thinking that we should be going to his gentlemen's club together. But no, cause men who play footsie with their `idle plaything` friends don't belong in the Satsuma lounges of this world. Shit Mum's on the move which worries me as it might well worry you when ever you see the word Mum it always starts with a capital `M` - well so long as she keeps away from my room then I might just get away with it all my life. You should see the state of me... no ammount of early morning lavender soap can take off the tramp, collapsed look of a night dressed in old clothes passed out. Now perhaps would be the time to check out that original message I wrote with THe MAn last night to see what I had to say to you all when I was still optomistic - give them shit and they shall lap it up seemed the order of the day but `you guys` are too damn cute for that so I'll see if there were any key points in last nights email bashing session that you NEED to know: Well here is how that mail that I just had to write opens - please keep track of the quotation marks or you'll be confusing me with when I was an alltogether different person: "Xmas result Clean your lungs [sleep] Don't be ashamed to have friends Cough discreatly on my eye-da-down I want to explore your face like a typical ADE Drink yes drink and be with me I left the dope behind coz the bastard kept saying suck my cocaine like it lipped your windowsill and my cartel wasn't ready for his shabby bitch attiude. Bitch. Bitch came so closely.. Or is this a nothing off-hand belong. Of coure it is so just dismiss my desire. If you make sense of any of my grudges then I challenge you to a sword fight with our proud irregualarities. Some men know the full extent of my distress." Ok that's the first part and really it doesn't say anything does it, but what I do remember is at this point I shout to the man (Lee) that he really needed to stick a bit of B&S content in the mail. What's B&S he choked so I played him Get Me Away From Here I'm Dying and I relayed this Lancastrian Black Metal fans reactions to our beloved group of minstels into that mail: "My friend lee comments on Get Me Away From Here I'm Dying: like any other song it's weak with nothing to say. Don't even quote me it's cheap FUCKER" You know that was just poor wasn't it but I sorta get his bad attitude cause I don't see the need we all seem to have to divide up our emails and say B&S content NOW - here, look 2 lines on your favourite band... I mean we're cut from the same chords so at least we should ooze (like a straw ozzes, straws ooze) Belle & Sebastian out of every orafice, shouldn't we? You can tell from the sound of my voice that I love Belle & friend as I tell you how we hid in the closet last night (how ineptly inapt our hiding place was for those so comfortable with their own sexuality that they can hide in closets with male friends and never question - it took years to get to this YOU KNOW) just to avoid dad looking for his cigars and Mum wondering who emptied the vodka down their throats. You know a believer when your spaken to, spak. Lovely cruddled spaks the lot of yous. When you clean up a mess it seems to just go but when you destroy a mess it's urban warfare - like a spot that needs wasting (on the face) the mess just seems to get bigger as you `deal` with the finer points of it. So my only saving grace last night was that me and the man managed to bag up the evidence eventually and at least get it to the bin outside - lest anyone should ever look in there - and that was like bagging a body piece by dirty piece I can say - so you just do it and to see the man's face as he realised the cloth I'd given him to scrape the raw meat of the kitchen floor was actually Mum's knickers was a joy that no ammount of headaches and hangover (oh you knew how gone I was and I never get gone do you hear) will erase. That was probaly the same time I ripped my hand apart, but like I said it was blitzkreig last night in that kitchen... please note all the while during our grand clean dad's Hits Of the Movies cd on the go with old classics like Huey Lewis and the News - Power of Love from Back To The Future and The Heat is On from Beverly Hills Cop --- oh yeh and Tublar Bells and then I think I stuck on Hunky Dory and the world just lit up as my bleeding hand dripped alover the man. Oh bliss which was good as we ran away from my house at that point before we could trash it, only coming back hours later to rip away his harddrive, still hanging off my emaciated machince like a horrible featus and also to stop The Sting from recording all night - oh I get to watch Paul Newman today! Now please think of all the Tesco's employees who I explained the finer points of decent animalistic fisting to last night - I'll think of them now as I realise that probably half of my old school works at that late night conveniance and the other half can't cause they have babies to fob off on relatives or drown. Why did the man want to go to his old house - it was sweet wasn't it. I always thought of him as a Chelsea hard bun, a rude dog to us dweebs but he's soft isn't he.... he, himself was responsible for this section of that email I was gonna send you last night - I probably shoulda... anyway: "I love. Indulge me. In layers of acrylic. Ok I am an 8 year old and this is the sentance of a 9 year old. Never exhume. Ignore everything" Now I think if Suede has a vacancy the man who scribed that should aply his talent that way. Well this seems to near the obvious conclusion and you just know your inbox will never be the same again so I'll conclude while the goings hot. Now I leave you with my original sign off from last nights mail: "love Tom Please don't worry Please don't grope a cheerleader in bushes" The love stands but don't grope - a stroke will do - take your victim to a park hut at least. love Tom +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the undead Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail "sinister@majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo@majordomo.net". WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "tech-heads and students" +-+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+