Hello summer-fun kids and the list that still manages to bind us, Again, time has whipped past me like some drunken bastard riding his bike on the sidewalk. And again I have cursed it though it was far too gone in all ways to have mattered. But at least it's still summer. I've been riding my bike a lot, quite soberly, and too often at dusk when all the bugs come out, making me wish I had a windscreen for my face, or at least my mouth (blargh, bugs.) But dusk is still a good time for bike riding, though I know from elementary school visits from traffic police that it is also the worst time because the low light plays tricks on drivers' eyes, kids, and they can't see you as you chase a ball into the street or ride your bike wildly, hands off handlebars, all over your neighbourhood. Yes, I know it, but there's still a thrill in being a fast-moving shadow in the haze of a slow summer evening. Death and bugs aside for a moment at least. But right, I like the reporting back. It's all Good Ol' Days and strange. It got me thinking about the first time I saw B&S in 2001, how it was quite nice but something was off - partly that what had been private was suddenly being shared by a theatre full of people (yes, as you've said) and partly because the show happened two days after the world trade centre attack. I recall thinking, as more and more people joined their friends last-minute in front of me in line (where I had arrived much earlier. Much.), that we'd all be more aware of, er, humanity or at least other people as thinking feeling things. But no, people prefered to bristle rather than smile, pose rather than recognize a commonality. And maybe it was all too big a show - too much spectacle and hype, too big a theatre with all its velvet seats and gold trim and not enough audience to fill it either with bodies or pomp. I enjoyed myself, but despite so much. Then in the spring I saw B&S in Toronto, just before flying to England for the first time. And it was one of the greatest shows I'd ever seen - all fun and excitement, friends and dancing, and a cheerful, confident band (plus The Aisler's Set!) It was the starter's pistol to my holiday and freakin' hell did I run. I supposed I'm talking about the Alignment of the Universe or Right Place, Right Time things. Or I'm talking about getting older and trying not to look back too hard on the past, but to see it as an environment of which I was an active part. But then, maybe I've been setting up a bizarre environment for myself right now that affects my backwards view: tonight I've been writing articles about grad student "life" (how do I rope myself, hangman's knots and all, into these things?), reading "Watchmen" (how long has this taken me? I read the first quarter six months ago and have ripped through the rest in the past two days.), reading Foucault and Foucault criticism (ooh, ah, ooh, etc.), watching 10 grindingly dull minutes of "Pearl Harbour" on the CBCtv (and assuming that if a bomber plane scene can be dull then the rest of the movie must be unwatchable crud), and unsuccessfully defragging my aged computator. An environment for Nostaligia Disaster, I know, I know. I saw Camera Obscura a few days ago too, for the first time. I started listening to them just over two years ago, so you see how this ties together? It does (/me makes complicated tying motion with fingers). The show was really lovely though a lot of people (esp the French-speakers) had a tough time with the Scottish accents. Which just added to the overall greatness, of course. They played all the right songs and ended on "80s Fan", so what else can you ask for? (Except the strength to not bluddy cry during that last one - what the hell? These connections our brains make between songs and people and times and things can be crippling even to women of steel such as me.) I also rode my bike there. I did not ride my bike to England in the early spring though. But I did see several Sinister types again, and that was nice. This time the holiday did not ressemble a race, nor did any grand event begin it; it just seemed to happen, and a lot of it happened under cloudy skies. I would never complain about clouds or rain though, not coming from where I come from, and I would never complain about the weather when given the opportunity to go to England or anywhere else. No, I guess I mention it because the sky sets a mood that you can move in and out of but not really escape (it being the sky). This sky made me feel shadowlike, as dusk does, but slow and pensive. So there I was, a slow and pensive shadow moving through London on foot or by bus (no bikes, none), falling far too much in love with the A-Z (does it not seem when you have no answers that something that appears to have them all is most saviour-like? Though I now know that our salvation couldn't possibly be in the A-Z, at least not the A-Z mini version.), and generally letting things happen. Like going to Brighton on a stormy day, getting drunk on more than one occassion, getting only slightly lost on more than one occassion, looking at art, getting a hate on for the Collection of History in Old Musty Places Far Away from Where History Happened, doing some dancing, cooing at my friend's new and amazing baby, getting rained on, reading, eating haggis, making a conscious effort to Think Less, Feel More or something silly like that (which never works, not even when watching back to back episodes of Nick and Jessica: Newlyweds.) All necessary and good. A while ago Ken C. wrote about karaoke and I thought: How badly do I want to karaoke to "Stay Loose" with Ken Chu? Very, very badly. I'm a good back-up singer, Ken. Consider it. The last thing I karaoked was "Sweet Child O' Mine" (it is a standard), before that "Little Red Corvette" (which a friend told me afterwards was like an "indie-rock spoken word version". haha!) I wish my local karaoke nite had more indie pop. And by "more" I mean "any indie pop at all". (sorry to any I offended with the use of indie-pop and indie-rock. I remember when the debates raged for days over such terms. Those times have passed. What have we moved on to now?) No, really, what have we moved on to now? I'm going to listen to some music, ride my bike, read things and do as much frolicking-in-summer as I can while you compose your thoughts into email versions much more succinct and concrete than this beast I'm about to hit send on despite so much. Balloons with your name on them, Robyn ===== I was reading the dictionary. I thought it was a poem about everything. ~Steven Wright ~~~ Robyn Fadden rfadden@yahoo.com Montreal, QC __________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? Yahoo! Mail Address AutoComplete - You start. We finish. http://promotions.yahoo.com/new_mail +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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. 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