Sinister: It's like its seventy-two degrees in the head... all the time...

[LookingDownward at xxx.com]

Hullo all you small, furry animals, and relatively large, hairless bipeds...

This all started 'cos I wanted a list-crush. A person over whom I could fawn 
from afar, gushing about how dreamy or foxy or marvy they are, to take a 
little bit of the monotony from out of my life. But I'm awfully new to the 
list (I still smell of the nursery, I'm sure), so I didn't want to make a 
fool of myself by committing myself to somebody who could turn out to be a 
rapist, an accountant, or both.

So I resolved to play Pygmalion; to go to the list body-part repository, and 
harvest enough pieces to create the perfect Sinisterine, and therefore my 
ideal list-crush. The preliminary trouble with that was that it seemed like 
it would be too narcissistic (although I always Galatea would have made a 
marvellous conversationalist), and then, when I assembled assorted body parts 
(unfortunately needing to use legs for arms as well as legs, etc..), it fell 
something short of my dream. I'm not much of a digital sculptor, I suppose. 
Not despairing entirely, I surrendered my neck to the group, and I may donate 
more of me later, if I can get the digital camera to work consistently. It 
seems doubtful, though...

When I was a child, I was picked quickly for kick-ball, and the team that I 
pitched (or bowled, or whatever you'd call it) was the best for our grade. At 
the time, I thought I did so well 'cos it seemed like a good idea for 
everybody to have a good chance at kicking the ball; I tried to roll it as 
straight as possible. Having since spent hours throwing baseballs, footballs 
(US ones too), and other round objects, I realise that nobody kicked the ball 
when I hurled it as it was rolled quite poorly. But I was a fairly good 
bowler and volleyballer. Go figure.

Erm... and as for Belle and Sebastian related content, I envy all of you who 
have B&S friends, family-members, and the like. I've tried showing most 
everybody I know the lurveliness of it all, but it's failed so miserably that 
the words "Belle & Sebastian" have become something of a keyword among my 
co-workers and immediate family for what's perceived as my awful music taste. 
My brother half-heartedly believes that I actually go into record-shoppes and 
ask for the most poorly-selling albums they have...

I suppose that's about it. Hullo list, you've found a friend in me. A 
hyper-active, dull, narcissistic, student, boy, friend, but a friend 
nonetheless. It could be worse, couldn't it? I could be a rapist. Or an 
accountant. Or both.

Paralis.

PS - I don't have any established prejudice against accountancy and it's 
practitioners. It's just that an acquaintance of mine is determined to become 
one, and I've not quite taken off my weeds yet. I hope I've not offended 
anybody.
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