Hullo. Sewing. Or maybe darning's the word. Anyway, the pocket of this H&M linen jacket is now complete with a wonky repair job, ready for summer (via the washing machine at 40deg.C with similar colours says the label) and, more presently, a trip to Tesco's in search of olive oil and a turnip. Firstly, however, a wee note to the sinister list to keep my hand in, as it were. It's my first attempt to weave in quotations from other posts, as recommended by Kenjuggle (of #sinister fame and competing with Vodkabird for the *acro* championship), so bear with me (or not; it being a free and busy world with lots of finer temptations). Ruvi Simmons wrote of a Marks and Sparks checkout person: ...as I was leaving, having handed over a fistful of change in a feeble attempt at prolonging the entire experience, she said, instead of goodbye of the usual mutterings, "take care". I had a similar experience whilst shopping in Euralille a few years back, in which a girl said "doucement". This sound remained with me for hours, miles even, all the way to St.Raphael on the Cote d'Azur the following morning, where a couple of equally charming (but cunning) women took the trouble to relieve me of most of my luggage, from the rack at the far end of the railway carriage, including a rather fabulous (and brand new) artificial-fibre black polo-neck from... Marks & Spencer. Gneiss (one and the same person I assume?) Will said: I want to take more photographs. I suddenly had this urge, which i've not had for a few years, to go and take pictures of beautiful things. This reminds me of some lines spoken by John Malkovich in the Antonioni film *Beyond The Clouds* which was screened on the British Broadcasting Corporation's second channel last night. The monologue was along the lines of 'I'm no philosopher; I see the world in images; I make my reality by recording the surface of things'. In the background was a view of a vaulted colonnade and the ochre facade of another building across the street. More gorgeous and self-sufficient cinematography highlighting the architectural marvels of Ferrara ensued. Scrumptious. (with a nod and a wink to the jazz commentator on *The Fast Show*). Carrying on the theme, but in terms of sound, was a dialogue between lovers, under the said-same vaulting. The female character, Carmen, says to the dashing young water-pump engineer (I paraphrase) 'isn't the human voice strange: the sound of the sea one comes to ignore in time, like the wind or birdsong but, no matter how hushed or indistinct, one can never ignore the sound of a human voice.' I wonder if this explains my ambivalent relationship to song lyrics. Until my mid-twenties, I studiously avoided music with vocals, or if lyrics must, sung in a foreign language which I couldn't understand. I think it's because the sea, wind, birdsong etc. were the things I wanted to hear, conjoined with almost an embarassment that someone else should be co-opted to act as my emotional spokesperson over the top: that inescapable dominance of the word over the sound. I realise this seems rather ridiculous, and belies an isolationist position vis-a-vis other people. I'm getting over it. De-doo-ra-ra-de-de-doo-ron-ron. And It's making me blue Pantone 292 is a great lyric. Tim Malone wrote: Today I went out and bought a cd walkman...and walked around in the rain listening to Tigermilk. Everything takes on a new meaning when the sounds of life are mixed in with a good cd. I agree totally. I've got this RYKO tape of the Kaluli people of Papua New Guinea cutting a tree down in the Bosavi rainforest. There's sounds of frogs and rain too. It sounds terrific to the tune of 'Mind the Gap' and crackling newspapers on the London Underground. Last but not least for now, former lollypop man and lurker from Berkeley/Barclay whatever California James Warner " once spent a winter in Tullibody Clacks." My commiserations. It's not the prettiest of places. Still, there's tons of whisky to nick if you're a dab hand at breaking into the bonded warehouses that stretch along the horizon to the south. Right. Turnip time. Gordon Since Japan's modern theatre attempts to take European drama and wed it theatrically to lifestyles of contemporary Japan, there is no room for the movements of bare or naked feet. Actors, because they must wear shoes to perform, have, in a manner of speaking, lost their feet. -Tadashi Suzuki "The Grammar of Feet" +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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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