when the darkness reaches back to you, it does so in a smile. have you ever turned all the lights off, covered the windows, and just sat in the dark...just listening? shut your eyes, reach out your hands, and wait, wait for the music to feel you. wait for it to find its way inside you. i'm sorry. perhaps i should introduce myself. my name is chippy eileen. i live in east langerston..its a tiny village in yorkshire. we have a chip shop, a newsagents and a woman who goes round from house to house, combing old ladies' hair. i don't know how long i've been here. no, really i don't. you see, margaret found me one day. margaret, that's my mother, or the closest i ever came. she's married to frank, and they've looked after me since whoever left me here left me here. when i was little margaret liked to tell me it was a gypsy. i liked the thought of that. a dark-skinned, mysterious headscarfed lady who was on the run from some magical curse and couldn't take her little girl with her. so she left me, wandering round outside the chippy, and margaret took me in one night. i left school last year, and now i work in the chippy. margaret and frank wanted me to go to university, make something of myself, but i decided not to make myself until i knew what i wanted to be. so i stand, day after day, frying fish, and playing belle and sebastian on my little radio. there's something about frying fish. most people wouldn't understand. most people who work in a chippy just want the money. i do it because its where i come from. its pretty quiet, so they leave me on my own in the shop a lot. sometimes i can stand and stare into the vat for ages, just watching the bubbles as they drift around, lost in some sort of long-forgotten pattern. that sounds strange, i know. i often say things that sound strange. i'm sure its margaret's story about the gypsy that did it. i've grown up believing in magic, believing in its power to change the world...or, if not, at least to change today. that's why i like to feel music. that's why i stand, in the dark, reaching out and hoping something will reach back. they say a geometrid is a type of moth. did i read that on the sleeve notes, or did i look it up on margaret's computer? i don't know. moths, funny creatures. always flapping around in the dark, when really, all they're looking for is a light. when they find one, they'll die for it. they dive straight in, and they find their wings burning. funny creatures, always flying around in the dark, looking for a light. not altogether unlike human beings. "geometrid". good title for an album. will i feel the moths in the dark? will they seek me out, their light? or will they fly around, looking for brighter sparks? i turn the lights out... the player always hesitates for a moment, and i use the pause to stand, in the middle of the room, feeling. one song, two songs, three songs....i can feel myself smiling, but untouched. fourth song...oh dear... and then suddenly... something tingles. my fingers touch a wing.. i can feel my brain breathing... i'm not alone here. the songs flow into one another...and i find one inside me...."bug rain".... i hear the words but i'm not really listening to them....."bug rain"...just feeling.. feeling it reach back to me, flap its wings around. i hope it doesn't die yet... and no, it doesn't. for what seems like a couple of moments it explores me... into my hair, round my fingers.. and then, i am aware that the music has stopped. and i'm on my own again...but i'm smiling. i'm typing this, looking out at the dusk. there's a duck pond next to the house. the ducks don't live there since someone poured petrol in it. out of the window, i can see what's left of frank's green house. that green house. he spent so much time and money building the green house, growing his tomatos, his cucumbers, his pride and joy. when you look at fish and chips all day, you don't want to eat fat. it took him nearly two years to get the green-house just like he wanted. for two weeks, it stood in our back yard. a monument to human achievement. and then...it collapsed. a high wind, and that was the end of frank's dream. i'm typing this, looking out at the dusk. downstairs, i can hear the shop door close and a car drive away. margaret's voice is shouting to frank to fetch some more cola. i'm typing this, on my own, with the dusk. soon to be the darkness. full of moths. and i'm typing it now, because i'm scared that when the morning comes i'll find that all i did last night was listen to an album. xxx eileen __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Send instant messages & get email alerts with Yahoo! Messenger. http://im.yahoo.com/ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the undead 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 +-+ "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 +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "peculiarly deranged fanbase" "frighteningly named +-+ +-+ Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+