My Dear Sinister Looking through the shelves at the bookshop I saw a paper copy of The Spoon River Anthology. I remembered I had loaned if from the library, years ago. The way one buys the things without paying too much attention, I bought a copy. I think I really missed that book, those characters and the stories of their lives condensed in few lines. Like that is all left of an existence, something to weighed on a chemist´s balance, and pound worth nothing. I´m sure I missed it when I got to Francis Turner I could not play / in boyhood. / In manhood I could only sip the cup, / not drink -/ For scarlet fever let my heart diseased. / Yet I lie here/ Soothed by secret none but Mary knows:/ There is a garden of acacia, / Catalpa trees, and arbors sweet with vines - / There on that afternoon of June / By Mary´s side - Kissing her with my soul upon my lips/ it suddenly took flight. It was way before I even ever dared to hold someone hands that had read the story of Francis, but it was only when my soul took flight, kissing her, with my soul upon my lips that I barely realised what he might have felt. Is there anything like the end of love? I don´t know. I don´t think so though. Not the way I see the things. Might be I am just stupid. And weak. And out of time. And fashion. And whatever I can be out of. I can´t believe all you´ll become, I´ve become, is a telephone number to be cancelled on an agenda, a date to be barred on the calendar, a photograph to burn, a bad memory from the past, a bank account, an unpleasant noise, a shadow, a stone, an unanimated thing. A thing. I might be dealing with things my own way. But I have waited any single day in my life to meet someone who said loved me. And If is that all I am now, it makes me wonder it was worth it. Waiting, with my soul upon my lips. I think it was worth the trouble and was worth the pain. Yeah, I´ll do it again. No there is nothing like the end of love. It can´t swapped away from any single cell of mine, but when I´ll be talking to the fall leaves of the trees and the flowers, in springs. Way to spend a Sunday. In July, Francis. Any Month can be cruel. Don´t need a particular one. I do believe there is love in everything and everyone. Until I´ll be proven wrong. Until I´ll be convinced I´ve been proved wrong. That would be the day I´ll be sure that an existence is not worth being lived anymore, then. Yours, stefano #~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~ Everybody has been burned before; everybody knows the pain Anyone in this place can tell you to your face Why you shouldn't try to love someone Everybody knows it never works Everybody knows and me We know that door shuts just before you get to the dream you see I know I know all too well, how to turn and how to run How to hide behind a bitter lie with blue But you die inside when you choose to hide So I guess instead I'll love you I love you I LOVE YOU #~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+