Hewwo, How's tricks? Ribena is the ultimate. I love it so much. It's like alcohol only much much better cause it doesn't turn you into a psycho if you take too much too often. I think I'm learning what its like to be a posse girl. The good parts anyway. You know the parts where posse girls don't get beaten up and people are nice to them quite often. It's a good thing if you don't take it for granted. That's the problem. Posse girls take it for granted. I'm still reeling from the news that some second year boys apparantly have a crush on me cause they said so. It's surreal. Last year the second years spat on me and threw stones at me, and now they don't. They just walk about behind me and look at me. It's unnerving but it beats getting globs of plegm out your hair. School is odd. It's like somewhere, up in the sky, some fairy godmother or something flipped a switch and turned everything on its head. Everything is all sparkly and new and the world is not just a grate place, it's a grate place for me to live in. I even enjoy double maths on a friday. It's like a feeling I used to get, when I was small. I had this doll that was absolutely the most beautiful thing in the world, and her name was Julie. I'd got it for my birthday and she came with a pink frock, dolly shoes and a bunch of plastic flowers, and her hair was arranged in the most perfect ringlets which were all glossy and brown and she was perfect. And I hardly ever played with her, because I didn't need to, just looking over onto the chest of drawers where she sat, and knowing that such an amazing thing was mine, and I couldn't have been as crap as they all said at school because I was allowed to have this one thing that was sweller than anything, and I had this feeling that I had a place. I must have been pretty materialistic when I was 9 but I never did show any signs of becoming a communist, or a nun. But that's what everything is like now, and when I think of how it is, although its quite ordinary, I get that feeling I used to get when I saw Julie sitting over on my chest of drawers with her plastic bunch of purple flowers. Except for one day my friend asked if we could play with her, and I didn't want to, but I said yes anyway because she was a lot stronger than me. And she pulled off the little dolly shoes, because she said they were stupid, and got them lost. And she got smudges all over the frock and unpicked the embroidery. And she undid her hair and backcombed all the ringlets into a frizzy mess, because ringlets were uncool. And she pulled off one of her legs, in a way that it couldn't be fixed, because she said it was a stupid doll anyway and we should play with barbie and ken, except she'd ruined them as well, so we couldn't. So after she'd left I cried, and I had a little funeral for Julie, and put her in a shoebox in the back of my wardrobe, and wished that everyone else wasn't stronger than me. So now when I get that feeling, of being untouchable, I keep thinking of that doll, and then I wait for that girl to show up and mess up all the ringlets and pull the legs off everything that's going right. Except she can't. No one can, because this time round I don't have to let anyone play if I don't want to because I don't get scared when people twist my arm up around my back any more. And it's swell. Even though that was quite a long story, that never really had a point except for my friend used to be a moke and now she isn't. She isn't my friend, I mean which some people are saying is part of the reason for my happy lack of bruises. You know the song stars of track and field? I like it. It reminds me of cappuchino and cordoroy and other indie snob things. Indie snobbery's grate. Don't knock it. Hugs, Jen +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+