*---* HAPPY BIRTHDAY SINISTER BABIES *---* aaaaah - if like me you were there last night you are probably still reeling and living off the buzz. floating beanie boy elliot smith rocked my world. why wasn't everyone a bit quieter? B&S wrapped me in an aural comforter and rocked me in a delightful dreamland. sigh. no *fabu* "sleep the clock around" but my daddy said to me once "you could fly to the moon and you still wouldn't be happy". happy whispering sinister sounds filled the room and the air carried the words and the chords to the corner where i was standing and most people fell silent. top moment? le finale (en francais)....isobel sang that gainsbourg ditty with the panache of one playing a reindeer game. *bravo!* the boy with the arab strap, especially the ending...i attempted to keep up with mark's hand-clapping but i had to stop because my hands were getting sore. i was too sleepy for the club. a sort of "don't park your chicken beside a fox" rationale. i hear reports of cheery goings-on and the like. but i couldn't have felt any better. i went home on the bus with jamie cola and ate mature cheese and childish baguette and continued to "la la la" to ourselves and thought "my, i really am falling for those sexy scottish accents"....mysterious poster clutching girl with black hair crossed my path again and again and again. mocha? when i slept i dreamt of a huge icy landscape of white and blue cracks underneath, all coming apart from one another. one huge iceberg pulls away from another, falling apart and crashing. bleak and cold and wet, as a day in brixton can be, i awoke. my bag, shapeless and empty in front of me, torn from abuse received on vacations paid for on credit. it was ready and so was filled and dragged downstairs to the waiting, honking car. cosmetic smelling hair from my head, dripping and freezing, freezing as the droplets fell on my face. going up. and away. and looking down at the ice. no obectives, nothing to do. just to go. i am different from you. seeing it makes me want to kick the powder miles below, to get an ice-cream headache when i fall face first into the snow, to cry from raw pain when a gritty snowball hits my face. "it's my eye" i'd cry. - sometimes it's awesome just to look at things in dreams, non? analysis, please if you can be arsed. i have this dream quite a lot. i love you all, *hugs* lady penelope (on a floating cloud...the pink roller is in the shop) _________________________________________________________ DO YOU YAHOO!? Get your free @yahoo.com address at http://mail.yahoo.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" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+