Sinister: 13 flaming vicars

[Sarah Garrett Sonner]

Forgive me, Sinister.

This message contains some foul language. But mostly towards the end. I 
really should have posted earlier, when I had a working scanner, and 
could've joined the foxy ranks of D. Parker, D. Bowie, and J. Peel/D. Moore 
on the photo pages. I should have posted when Steve C. wrote about girls 
liking bad boys, because I don't go necessarily for the bad ones, but always 
the inappropriate ones. Which is worse? Then again I'm probably more 
inappropriate than anything. I should have posted when I was sad to read 
that Mark C. signed himself fat and sad rather than the more optimistic big 
and gay, and when I was happy that Laura Llew said that smutty thing she 
said about butter and muffins. I should have posted when I came across a 
defintion of Twee (c. 1850) as: to "be in a twee," to be overcome with fear 
or vexation. Only I was just that.

I also should have posted when people were talking about Tom Baker, because 
he wrote a book called "The Boy Who Kicked Pigs" and it rocks. As good as 
"Creepy Susie" by Angus Oblong, and in the same category, though not 
caliber, as Edward Gorey. Has anyone else read these? Pleasantly perverse. 
T.B. even calls himself "the ultimate Dr Who" in the author's notes. The 
illustrations have the best captions--as seen in my subject line.

Speaking of vicars, I realized today, while listening to a song that I don't 
even have to name, that I only encounter vicars in a musical context. Other 
than taking people to one side, giving them confirmation, and occasionally 
sporting tutus I'm in the dark about what they really do. And rhyming with 
vicar we have wicker, specifically wicker people, appearing in at least 2 
songs that I can think of, and I have an even foggier idea of what that 
means. Any enlightened person who can answer these queries may write to the 
address above.

And now I'm going to talk about "fucking." What made me write now was 
reading Whosit's rant at the enter.ie page. Gerunds can be tricky. Instead 
of the context of the writer's (presumably derogatory) use of it as Belle 
and (Fucking) Sebastian I read it instead as an enthusiastic word of 
emphasis. Belle and Fucking Sebastian! Hell Yeah! Turn it up! Shout it from 
rooftops and moving vehicles. Scrawl it on a bathroom wall. Now that would 
be inappropriate AND bad. I've since been amusing myself far too much with 
inserting "fucking" into song titles. The wrong fucking girl. There's too 
much fucking love. Is it wicked not to fucking care? It makes everything 
sound so badass. I also giggle too much when people say "effing."

I'd like to say something insightful about pop music, but maybe next time 
that will happen. The only things I can think of now are odd bits, about how 
David Gedge sort of looks like my landlord. And how there's a Gap ad with a 
Badly Drawn Boy soundtrack. And how the other day I caught a bit of a 
Britney Spears TV special, wherein her mic/backing tape kept cutting out 
mid-song and all I thought was "hmm that seems almost poignant somehow."

Since July when I last wrote I got struck by lightning and got meningitis 
and almost got chickenpox and have been exceedingly grumpy and profane. It's 
all true. And I still fucking love Belle and Sebastian.
Apologetically yours,

xo Sarah

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