Sinister: Slight Return (The unbearable funkiness of being)

[Funkyseb at xxx.com]

Hello Popkids,
Eating properly? Not too much cheese?
Good good.
My local cheese-mobile does big lumps of a funny beige cheese, about the
consistancy of cheddar,and about the size of a pub, but when you bite into
it...Wow!
It's made with milk and Marmite! Yay! Neatly combining two long running list
threads in one tasty sandwich. Yum yum.

I hope you've all been catching lots of buses and looking winsome in my
absence- I, correspondingly, have been entertaining jumper-wearing girls at
bus stops for the length of a regal cigarette, and then walking away in a
cool, unobtainable way. 
It's been an amusing few days.
erm...Julie Christie? 
Fantastic. I particularly like that film of Farenheit 451, where everyone goes
about in monorails, it's so cool+futuristic daddio. Julie plays two people in
that film as I recall, one character with long hair, the other with short
hair. I have a picture on my wall torn from an acting manual, it's a photostat
of Rodney (Bob Ferris) Bewes' Spotlight entry (The Spotlight's a photo
directory of thesps.) There's a picture of Rodney wearing a dog and a Captain
Birdseye beard, and an identical one of Rodney+doggy and no Captain Birdseye
beard.
'Versatility- the actor's greatest tool' reads the caption....

This mail's not very good I'm afraid- I've been away, so I don't know what the
cool set are talking about :-)
Full marks to the person who quoted the absolutely irresistable fannies in
their subject line- I didn't see who it was, sorry. And that line's from
'Radio', isn't it? Off the flop LP, 'Thirteen'...full cred points, I feel.
'Thirteen' is their best LP by far, IMHO.
The NME said that they've been trying desperately to get other 'Glasgow' bands
like the fannies and, er well known 'Glaswegians' Arab Strap to dish dirt on
our beloved B&S. Now they say they're so desperate for info that they'll pay,
or something like that...Mmm. I could do with some money....shame that there's
no juicy gossip to sell. Maybe I should make some up, 'cause ''Belle and
Sebastian seem like very nice people'' will not pay my rent, oh no.
FEY BAND REALLY JUST A COVER FOR CHURCH HALL BASED INTERNATIONAL DRUGS AND
SMUTTY BOOKS CARTEL SHOCKER!!!!!!!
Now that would sell papers! Someone slip a copy of Razzle into Isobel's violin
case, quick. I need to eat!

That isn't what I meant to say at all, you know. I only popped in to say
goodbye. It's been fun you know, and I thought it only fair and polite to say
byebye properly, rather than rushing off in a big huff. I won't be picking up
mail regularly after tomorrow, but feel free to write, I will get back to you
eventually. And I may come back later, if I find a computer to borrow, and if
I get homesick, so this isn't goodbye, it is merely bonjour, as Del Boy would
probably say. Anyway, some friends are coming to keep you all company, they
may be here already, I don't know. Some of you know Fred, and some of you know
Mel, from pubs and picnics. Be nice to them. (Fred, by the way, is on Page 4
of this week's NME, in a little photo, where he's dancing with a maniac at the
Xfm demo, looking very much like a happier Che Guevara.)
        I'd leave you with a Bus Polaroid, but I only paint buses these days,
smudging the paint as I go, so the picture looks like it's going
brrrrrrrrrrr!!!!, like buses do when they stop halfway up the hill, and you
press your nose against the window and your whole face goes brrrrrrrrrr!!! and
your teeth all rattle together.

Instead, here's a Ink Pubaroid, for the steaming alkies who requested it. It's
a real pub, in Berwick St Market and anyone who fancies taking their own snaps
of it will probably find me in there, looking at the world through the
viewfinder of a beer glass, most days of the week.
*************************************************************
I took this one on a Wednesday lunchtime, though it looks like a Sunday
afternoon. 
The dust is falling very very slowly through a beam of unexpected sunlight;
settling slowly like Guinness. In the centre of the shot you can clearly see
an old man, propped in the corner seat by the door, his taut, hairy brown arms
crossed gently over his chest, his cap tipped over his sleeping eyes. The
sunlight is writing WATNEYS in shadow across the table, and through the open
door, you can see a crate of grapefruit on a trolley, ripening in the sun
where he left them.

**************************************************************

byebye kids, and thank you, especially *you* honey child.
I'll miss you all a lot.
seb
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