Sinister: i've seen them all and, man, they're all the same
fingerprints, that is. fact of the day: in order to make asm's body look the same size as his foot you have to hold his foot three inches from your face. hello peeps i haven't posted since the fab tweequeen of smut herself, archel, temporarily joined the ysm, so i should say at this point that she is extremely groovy, and funny, and, yes, smutty. i'm just sorry i couldn't stay up till 4 discussing the meaning of life and strap-ons with her and sam. the brighton meetup will be ace if she's in charge. but to bellezc zoe and the other hundreds of similarly isolated and skint sinisterettes, who think they're ostracized cos they can never get to meet up's - i think sinister's different when you regularly see the people who read this. i do miss the anonymity to some extent, it's changed from somewhere to say anything and be anyone to a diary that your mum's gonna read and ask you about. obvs, i adore all the ysm and wouldn't want to lose them, ever, but it has changed. revel in your facelessness - you never have to explain your post to anyone so...yeah. i fell asleep listening to judy and the dream of horses and ended up having a dream where struan was dressed as a pirate, eyepatch and everything, due to the parrot reference (i guess). i think that's my most bizarre b+s dream to date. in fact i think it's the most bizarre b+s dream i've ever heard of. there has been much gossip around these parts about some notice pinned on the parish noticeboard entitled perks of being a wall flower, which i insist stops now as it is not available in the village library. i remember the days when the talk was all about some young chap's essay called infinite jest - it's a shame that died out as it is a curiously compelling and, yes, funny book of which i enjoyed all 1000 pages {plus appendix} (i suspect some conspiracy on the part of those who hate double barreled surnames, as it was by david foster wallace). i was waiting to cross st denys' road (you know, near dave dee's banana warehouse) when an irate man pulled up next to the car infront of me, wound down his window and yelled at the driver of the car next to him (an old man) for beeping his horn - when he hadn't! things like that make me so sad, and hateful of man, and sorry for us that that is how we live. it was so childish, and not in the good way that stankin and co have been discussing, just in an 'i can't contemplate anyone else's point of view, they must be wrong' way. so i told him to grow up*. anyhoo. the rainy season is upon us. i hate the rainy season. i have no clean flares left in the world. as a result i have been paying close attention to how others keep their trouser bottoms clean. here are the top 5(and a half) in descending order 1)bicycle clips 1+1/2) flourescent bicycle clips 2)rolling trousers up 3)poppers sewn onto flares so one can reduce their diameter at will 4)carrying a spare pair of trousers to change into (props to migmk) 5)taping up your trousers with black gaffer tape. plus my favourite shoes of all time, purple cord docs, have a hole in! and so can't be worn. "too many of these paragraphs start with 'i'" you're thinking. but bollocks to you. here's another one. i knitted myself a scarf and it's marvellous and all (obvs!) but i need a tip from any other knitters - how do you stop the thing curling in on itself? i've done the good ole knit one perl one and it's turned into a tube.... any ideas? there's something about your 40 year old, japanese maths lecturer saying that a question is a 'no-brainer' that is inexplicably funny. will those who 'believe' please pray that there isn't a strike by arriva on april the 2nd. the rest of you, get ready to put me and my mates up after the manchester gig. (who else is going? will there be pre gig meet up? am i saying all this *far* too early? sorry, i'll calm down. even children don't get that excited that far in advance) a final, sinister-is-grate comment and then we can all go home - wednesday was spent in a blissful izzard-induced state of chuckling in the delightful company trar/f-b (depending on how old you are) and hairy stu, under the auspicious title of eliza grae night (see the archives), due to her inspiration for the event - big thanks to all of them for a fab** night. but with out honey it would never have happened - remember that kids well... i have to go and meet my new housemate (yes! the bitch moved out. ahem, scuse me) and you have real lives to get to so... i guess i'll see you around. take care gina x ps johan? JOHAN? are you there? PLEASE warn me if you're coming over! pps craig chin, are you alive? did you get your sinister xmas present? please mail me if you have/haven't.. well, just mail me. i'll be gutted if that got lost.... the pressies i received were grate (but then one of them was from gneissy - what do you expect? that human being is amazing.) ppps i have been told that upside down badges have been declared 'passe'. well bollocks to you too. as well as being useful, it makes me feel like i know something special. tho probably in a very childish way. *very very quietly. he probably wouldn't have taken such criticism in a mature way. **it would have been perfect if young sam had remembered where he was supposed to be. grrh. careful, sammy, we know one of your middle names _________________________________________________________________ Get your FREE download of MSN Explorer at http://explorer.msn.com/intl.asp. +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+
gina said...
but to bellezc zoe and the other hundreds of similarly isolated and skint sinisterettes, who think they're ostracized cos they can never get to meet up's - i think sinister's different when you regularly see the people who read this. i do miss the anonymity to some extent, it's changed from somewhere to say anything and be anyone to a diary that your mum's gonna read and ask you about. obvs, i adore all the ysm and wouldn't want to lose them, ever, but it has changed. revel in your facelessness > - you never have to explain your post to anyone
when i first read this, i immediately wanted to answer her in kind -- tell gina that the grass on her side really is greener. that our geographical anonymity is a curse, that the isolation of america is a burden of loneliness and disillusion. i'm really torn on this issue, though. i've been to europe a few times, and i've been all over the states. everyone has their own attitudes and opinions about the differences and merits of everybody's social situations -- i'm not going to bore anyone with my own half-form criticisms on those matters -- but there have been a few places at least... cities and towns and countrysides i've seen... where something felt more peaceful and friendly and homey than the place i live. heidelberg. county kerry. ashville. wloclawek. it's really quite silly but gina has got me thinking about home. what really makes someplace my home? i heard someone say once that the first step towards realizing nirvana is realizing that everywhere is Home. i'm not sure if that's true. i remember: *standing on the beach in ireland, letting the waves creep up over my toes when i was standing barefoot on the rocks. salt in the air about my shoulders. tiny fish trapped in puddles, waiting for the tide. *a pub in heidelberg, drinking and laughing with the old german men, proud of their wristwatches. *teaching american football to little polish kids in a dirt parking lot, breaking the language barrier with giggling and wild gestures. rolling our eyes like we were drunk. all these moments make up a version of home i'd really like to believe in. a kind of home that includes memories of first kisses and old friends. a home that waits for me between the ancient pages of musty, beautiful dictionaries. a home that has limbs and lips, that i can wrestle and bite on the neck, like a lover, tangled up with me in the sheets and falling over herself, on a bed that is also my home, in a room that is my home, in a house and a city and a world of lucid, tangible softness that always welcomes me, always has breakfast waiting on the table, always embraces you like you've been gone for a year when it's only been ten minutes since you left for the grocery. it's easier to believe in a home like that, i'll bet, when you're in love. but i am not in love. i'm not in lust or quasi-lust. i don't have a single crush. and my home is really just a brick and wooden building in palos, a distant suburb of chicago -- a wealthy, pretentious, faraway dreamland where the only pride anyone feels comes not from their community but from their status therein. where corporate ladders and neighborhood totem poles exist everywhere, like streetlamps. the ground here is littered with atm receipts and half-drunk skim lattes in paper cups. (this is not a message of despair, however.) see, maybe both of my visions of home are valid. maybe i live in a snobby little town in illinois and maybe i live in a world of dreams and memories. my dreams are balanced out by nightmares, you see, and my memories include deep heartbreak and loss. and palos -- for all the strip malls and golf courses and retirement communities -- i still love palos. it is my home, as much as the atlantic ocean and the black forest and the grand tetons are the grandiose homes of my dreams. beautiful, absurd, touchably concrete... we all have real places that will always be our homes, no matter how far we travel or how far we fall in love of any exotic geographies. so tell me. what is YOUR home like? love, baker,baker p.s. at this point i wanted to include a beautiful essay about palos, written by a good friend and neighbor of mine. if anyone is interested, i'd be happy to share it , especially if you'd be willing to give me a little bit of insight concerning your own place of residence. geography -- personal geography -- delights and fascinates me. p.p.s. sorry if i this was boring. people on the list chide themselves often for not including b&s content in their posts. of this i am doubly guilty -- not only do i lack content, but i also lack the decency to acknowledge said lack of substance anywhere in the body of my posts. i really do swear that bee and ess are my absolute most favorite of favorites. i mean it. p.p.p.s. also i wish sometimes i had funnier things to say. __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Send FREE Valentine eCards with Yahoo! Greetings! http://greetings.yahoo.com +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+
participants (2)
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baker,baker -
gina titchener