My Dear Sinisters and Sinistrines I have been travelling a lot recently. That was one of the things I really used to enjoy about the work I do, forget the awful number of pencil I chew, the chalk dust on dark jumpers and people who think they do understand what they do, but actually do not, as long as sometimes I am part of that, at least I can travel and see new places and meet new people, I though. To be honest, that was the only reason why I don’t entirely regret in having spent three years doing a Ph.D. is that I managed at the end to escape from my home country as settle at least for a few years in England, where my life has been, for some spell at least, better then it has ever been. And still managed to travel around Europe doing some obscure experiment of rather dubious utility to put on masquerade or an excuse for a holiday. It seemed a nice plan… until I didn’t really want to travel anymore and really had to go here and there to finish, or try to finish, what I had allegedly started. And when I could stop that spinning around, more than Kylie, or 10 downing street does, was quite to late to enjoy the staying: it is always a matter of timing. However, thing sometimes don’t come to end and have been rose to a higher excitonically delocalised state again, generally dominated by exchange interaction. Or lack of exchange interaction, mhmhmh…those transition aren’t in principle allowed, but mixture of wavefunctions can occur, then that’s allowed. Also to keep some sort of consistency, I couldn’t have choose any better country that those in which I couldn’t understand a world on the local language, i.e. French, in the last couple of months and German next one, if I’ll live again I will buy one of those whatever language in three weeks, and by then I hope they would be good enough to ensure one could buy the things he actually wants from the shop or ask things to people on the way, in a language they can understand. I was actually a bit surprised that in Quebec French is greatly dominating over English as the common language… being the ignorant that I am… however I have seen some whales there, and that was rewarding and met some people from this very list that have been fantastic taking me around in Quebec city and surroundings… the English speaking borderline… apparently there is only an English enclave, New Carlisle, through which I just went on the bus at something like 2 am or so, hence without no many chances to stop despite the wishes to exchange a few word with someone and some remote sentimental affection, but that’s another story. France was guys with gun machine, retina scans and similar stuff in the suburbs of Paris. However at the local bar, quite self-explanatorily called ‘the Christ’ had a quite fabulous dish, called Chicoute, or something like that, involving any sort of sausage you can think and some more, I didn’t had one (even if I would have been in principle allowed) but I’m sure it would cure the hangover from hell with ease: gnammy. Back in the town where I live for the week end, I had a phone call at something about seven o’clock on a Saturday, asking if I’d liked to join some sort of ‘friends’ birthday party. Actually I’ve never really seen this person that frequently, but I remember I helped move her couch into her new flat about one year ago, and should be the reward for the effort. In fact, I quite blessed the call as the idea of spending another week end sheltered in my room, listening to radio 5 and having not much more to do, wasn’t quite so appealing. Although I’m quite safe in my room, there are plenty of dangerous object in the house. And I have almost explored the place inside out. I suppose that is what lonely people do. However I do not know what people that are not lonely do, because I have essentially never been one, but, I can see is definitely more fun, otherwise everybody would opt for the loneliness options. Of course excluding monks, but they have seen some sort of light, and bless them, can take my place if they wish, but I won’t take their. So, generally I feel rather sinister at week ends. Actually I generally don’t hate things or person, but I do hate week ends… let’s say that I don’t like them… someone once tell me I should learn how to hate people and things, probably she was right, although I still haven’t learnt. Actually receiving a phone call was in itself an event, so I shouldn’t miss the chance and, because of rail replacement work between here and there, I take the bus, which we know if you do it for fun, is sad, but was because of the underground, and that’s alright, I’m allowed. The party wasn’t really a party, actually when I arrived at the place, it was substantially empty, not even the birthday lady there. After all, it looked more or less as being in my room again, just, I had a bit of entertainment from the public transport system. And in this place as in many other they have the bad habit to sell alcohol, they are allowed. So I sat in the corner on a couch, but not the one I helped to move, and have a couple of drinks in magnificent company of myself and my evil twin who start arguing about the fact that the boozes were expensive. In fact they were. Sometimes even the evil one is right. The less scary one was complaining about me smoking too many fags instead, I suppose he is right, but I’m allowed. So I decided not to listen to anyone and have sever drinks and several more fags, which meant, I was quite perfectly drunk when they finally arrived, almost three hours later, but they’re allowed and I’m allowed as well. Well, the music that was alright. Few hours later, after many more cigarettes and beers and without essentially haven’t said a single word but the courtesy of hello, how are you doing and fine thanks [if it were true], when leaving the place walking on my way home, somewhere in between Islington and Angel, or about there, I saw this lady, sitting on the pavement, all on her own, broken in tears, next to a bus stop. I just kept walking. Was feeling like going and ask if she were alright. Quite a silly question, she obviously wasn’t. was feeling like going there and give the person a big cuddle, but just walked by, as nothing was happening. Jus a few yard away I start thing, why have I done that, and couldn’t find an answer, but then it was just to close to my bus stop at 3 am to get all the way back and she might have taken her bus home, or to anywhere, already. Still I don’t know why I didn’t stop, but I fell like I have become what I despise. Am I allowed? Take care stefano +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+