How to describe the anticipation I have for the upcoming shows? There is constantly at least an inch of air between my steel-toed shoes and the ground. When I’m sitting at my desk and staring at drawings and design documents there is only one thing going around and around in my head and it is: “central location for you is a must/as you stagger about making free/with your lewd and lascivious boasts” and just about the whole time I’m swiveling around in my chair and clicking my fingers. And as I’m staggering about, er, I mean striding purposefully about the grounds of the Great Benevolent Pharmaceutical Company (sometimes with hard hat and sometimes without) I quietly hum to myself and the whole time I’m thinking “all these people are probably thinking thoughts that could best be described in mathematical or chemical symbols and I wonder what they would think if they knew that I was thinking about girls who dream of horses.” What I like the best about Belle and Sebastian is that for the first time this band-that-I’m-totally-into doesn’t make me feel cooler, or better informed, or ahead of my time, or endowed with better taste than the droves of schlubs who are taking off early from work as we speak to buy the new Alanis Morrissette album. Belle and Sebastian make me: - glad to be alive - happy that there are other people who revel in the wonderful mysteries and minutiae that make life interesting. - want to keep a journal and do creative things. - want to treat people with respect and affection. And I think it’s great that the primary agenda of sinisterites, as far as I can tell, is not record collection fetishism. In fact, there is no main agenda. Well, ok, this week it’s witty smuttiness . . . In a little more than twenty-four hours I will be one of the first to stand in line outside the Trocadero, jumping up and down to keep from freezing and generally working myself into a joyful frenzy. I’m determined to stand up front because that way I will actually block the fewest people’s view. And I will tell the band that everything is cool and that we all think they’re great and would they please come back real soon. But of course we don’t want to put too much pressure on them or seem creepy or make the tour more stressful than it already is. And I may offer them some PEZ. I too have converted my sister to celebrate the gospel of Belle and Sebastian. It was not a hard sell. We’re very different, but when it comes to the really important things we’re on the same wavelength. Where am I going to find some daisies? How did this PEZ thing get started? Can somebody who was at the Boston gig tell me about the commercial activities conducted there? Is the full line of B&S merchandising available at the U.S. gigs? How much are the shirts? Is the blue Stow College shirt available. Is it true that the shirts are available only in S, M and L? Why is that? Everybody else only makes XL so this must be a conscious decision. I can understand that the band would want to enforce certain aesthetic standards and not encourage ghastly sartorial habits such as the lazy wearing of oversized shirts by the waif-like. But then there are those of us who genuinely cannot fit into a large. I’m six-three with wide shoulders. Does this mean I’m damned to trudge through my dreary existence without the consolation of a Belle and Sebastian raiment? And I really shouldn’t bring this up, but the dimensions of Americans have already been discussed at great length and with much bloodshed on this list . . . (it’s a joke; don’t flame me; nobody’s fat but even if they were there wouldn’t be anything wrong with it) What's this I hear now, the t-shirts are sold out? All of them? Oh, sad tomato is absolutely right. I was at Disney World too recently and it was chock full of families invariably gathered around a short, belligerent-looking fellow wearing a brightly colored polyester top with either “Carlsberg,” “JVC” or “Sharp” across his chest. Most Americans aren’t really familiar with this phenomenon and don’t get close enough to read the fine print on the little patch, but I have a red “Carlsberg” kit of my own that I wear on the pitch sometimes, so I can decipher some of these symbols. I think the kits are worn in the Florida heat for the very same reason that Sir Edmund Hillary dragged a little Union Jack all the way up Everest. I mean, wearing your colors at Anfield, Highbury or Old Trafford is a little redundant, but when you go abroad you’d like people to know that you have values and stand for something and can’t be counted on to do anything useful on Saturdays. And also to express your contempt for everybody else. Sorry about the length, but you know I am excited about those gigs . . . -g. k.- will not be wearing a blue "McEwan's" kit in the first row at the Troc. ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list please mail "sinister@majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo@majordomo.net". For list archives and searching, list rules, FAQ, poor jokes etc, see http://www.majordomo.net/sinister +---+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" +---+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+