Sinister: Courtesy of the unspeakable visions of the individual

[Brier Random]

Hi Poppyseeds,

Enough of you on a bagel could throw a drug test.  But I'm fond of each of
you ennyway.

And: this post will be filled with trivia and contests (win prizes!) and
links to time-wasting diversions.  So read on!!

With the coming of glorious springtime to Santa Barbara, I'm slinking back
into my old horrible wonderful habits, and not feeling a bit of guilt for
the lives it ruins.  Guilt should be outlawed in this day & age.  Glorious,
this life, innit?

My first months spent with "Fold Your Hands Child" (last spring) made me
worry about our Struan and his gang.  But now, isn't the popular wisdom that
it's indispensable??  If you're still not among the converted, then listen
to it again.  And again.  Until you (like me) can even listen to Beyond The
Sunrise without hitting the ">>" button.  You'll thank me.  Really.  There's
no "Mayfly", but the charms & merits of "The Women's Realm" and "The Model"
will wow you.  Although if there's a meaning to The Model, with its cryptic
inside-joke lyric, I haven't found it yet.

Commercial break:  I've completely re-done my homepage:
www.brier.homestead.com

And I'm re-reading The Great Gatsby, only because my best friend constantly
refers to my new woman as "Jordan Baker", so I have to find out what the
hell he means.  I don't see any similarities so far; Jordan was cool and
detatched, almost asleep; my betrothed has open eyes.

But we've all been cheated.  Vallejo starved to death, Van Gogh's ear was
rejected by a prostitute, Rimbaud got an incurable case of syphilis,
Beethoven went deaf, Chatterton took rat poison, Hemingway took a shotgun to
his head over morning orange juice, Pascal cut his wrists in the bathtub,
Burroughs shot his wife, Crane jumped into a boat propeller.

What I'm trying to say, what I'M TRYING TO SAY, is that we need a postcard
contest.  So: the first person to identify the following lyric (title and
artist, please) wins a special postcard from some far-away land (far away,
that is, if you don't live anywhere near Santa Barbara).  The lyric is this:

"I am the ghost of this.  We are the barely slighted."

Please include name & mailing address.

AND Brier-sized props this week to:

~ Sophie*  for her excellent package of chocolate HobNobs and Jaffa Cakes
and fuzzy kitty stickers

~ ListDom Lisa for teasing and tempting with steamy-windowed mini-van
chronicles.  Surely a Sillustration in the making...

~ Joan Of Dark (altho you NEVER post ennymore... foonky chick, the world
needs you...)

I went to the nude beach last weekend, for the first time this year.  Now
sitting down is difficult.  The children called me red-butt.  I've learned
my lesson.  Flopping around is fun, but SUNSCREEN, damnitt....

Going to Europe this summer.... Paris and Venice.... late July.... still
hoping for a picnic.....  anyone?  Beuller?  Beuller??

I still miss everything I've ever had........

Love,  Brier



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