Just sitting back here in my old childhood room relaxing to John Peel (Visions Of Johanna is sounding very contemporary indeed) but really I can't say I have anything to relax from as I've been sitting here all day - give or take the odd 20 minutes of pacing around or chewing on bits of food - and all yesterday and the 2 days before that sat here too. Which is kind of depressing. So I could write my essay, but it was more amusing to write fantasy deaths for all my friends so I did that instead and besides they had it coming dumping me here alone whilst they all skipped back to university early. I should keep a diary or soemthing cause then you wouldn't have to indure all my gripes and woes. But I don't. And now playing, Nick Drake - very nice I bet alot of you enjoyed this choice... so obvious aren't you, good ol' wholesome Peel knows just how to press all your buttons. And now I'm the master in the art of allusion thanks to Steve Kado, which freaked me cause it made me realise that you can just write something throwaway and somebody else will keep that bit in their mind when it's long gone out of your mind. But I was REALLY freaked out cause I was wearing cords at the time and the chances of that in my wardrobe must be minimal if not less so , so from now on always write stuff like it flows out of your mouth, like reams of vomit and if you stop to think what you're gonna say next then you're probably not listening to what I'm saying. You can check back on your mails afterwards yeah sure and thank the Nesmith family for the gift of Tippex. This paragraph may be pondered in your own times. Bored. Bored. So bored. "Bored people are boring" says my Gran, the alive one naturally and maybe she's right, but she bores me and she should stick to the racist ad-libs like my grandad cause at least there's always the possiblity that if the wrong person hears the old man turning red over "goddam niggers and wops" they might just smack him in public and I get to laugh at the fact that someone has finally got him back for all these years of bigotry I've had to endure. Oh my pain. La-la. I know that grandparents sentance was all really horrible in so many ways but sometimes I get like this when I don't get enough oxygen from the pure source of the air I breath. Happy lovely thoughts. Back to being happy. Anybody got any cool ideas for things I could do with myself? Arson? Petty-theft? Wantant vandilism and destruction? Or perhaps I could just cruise the school gates? Tigermilk? Well maybe some other day. Mark your sealed down envelopes with: `Kix for Tom` and wing them this way. Frustration seathes thru my brittle bones but I wish you nothing but love dear listees Tom +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the undead Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail "sinister@majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo@majordomo.net". WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "tech-heads and students" +-+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+