G'day Sinister. It's been a while. Sorry about that. In less than a fortnight now, I'm going to marry a girl I met thanks to these wonderful pink pages. She used to live on almost exactly the opposite side of the world, but now, several round-the-world tickets, wracked nerves, terrifying phone bills and so on later, we now both live together in a third place. What's perhaps most strange about this turn of events is exactly how strange it isn't, round these parts. Frankly, I find it harder to understand how our parents' generation ever found people to be compatible with in their own little cities and towns, and immediate circles of friends. It's not that I'm difficult to please (though I probably am), but some of us have to travel far and wide in search of someone that can tolerate us for any amount of time. And having (mostly) compatible record collections counts for a bit more than having similar post codes, I reckon. Actually, I won't try to rationalise it any further. Frankly, I blame Honey. I only wanted to find out about this Scottish band I was warming to, honest. I didn't expect to find this remarkable little village that's somehow been smeared and spread out rather inconveniently across most of the planet. Among the many and varied things that go along with having a wedding comes an issue with which you can perhaps render some assistance. The music. Pretty much anything by Belle and Sebastian is out of the question for a wedding, in spite of its obvious significance. (Don't believe me? How about: The Wrong Girl? Seeing Other People? Get Me Away From Here I'm Dying? The Boy Done Wrong Again? I'm Waking Up To Us? Fuck This Shit? I Don't Love Anyone?) But going through my records, most of them consist of some bloke whining about some girl that's broken his heart, or some other girl that he can't have, or something similar. Dump me, and I'm knee deep in wonderful wallowing music. Marry me, though, and I'm completely flummoxed. Musically, at least. I don't know what it says about me as a person that I've given some thought to what I want played at my funeral (Ray Parker Jr's 'Ghostbusters', obviously), but none at all about what I'd like to play at my wedding. So please, suggest away. In other news, I managed to actually meet some Australian listees, in Australia, no less. I'd met some of the Australian ex-pats before, but it was great to actually meet people on home turf for once. It turns out that my good mate's new flatmate is ex-Sinister, and he's even on the people page. He's also a New Yorker (as is the missus), and the subject of a story not entirely lacking in similarities to our own. We've also had the pleasure of meeting up on a couple of occasions with the remarkable Miss Trixie Firecracker, initially completely by chance. Which was wonderful, obviously. Sometimes being on Sinister feels like being in the Mafia. If only we were a bit tougher, we could really start getting things done. Oh, and we also had the chance to raise a wrist with Jim, who's apparently the list's longest lurker. Which is a strange sort of celebrity, if you think about it. Being famous for being absent from something the longest. Still, if we mention him now and again, perhaps his legend will grow. G'day Jim! Sorry, that got rather long. Give me a break, I haven't posted for ages. Next time I'll be briefer, more interesting and less self-centred, okay? That'll do for now, though. Bulk love, -Vanilla Flavoured David (formerly St. Ankin of Cooter) +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+