Sinister: beyond the bedsit infamy

[Rachel Playforth]

some of my best friends are indie kids.  most are not.  funnily enough, in
real life one doesn't meet that many pure stereotypes, however amusing they
are when they spring fully formed from the minds of music journalists.  and
long may their powers of invention flourish.  i mean, it's not as if anyone
actually believes it.

speaking of fiction, juicy lucy (ever a watchword for good taste) swooned
over gilbert blythe, who was indeed a junior heathcliff, majestic in his
thrilling cruelty, unexpected heroism, and intellectual power.  but my heart
was already lost to... dick from the famous five, a michievous and maverick
spirit, though sturdy, amongst the cloying fog of ginger beer and ice cream.
i never met a real boy who remotely resembled any of my literary crushes,
and it never occurred to me that this was because most of what i read was
written at least 40 years earlier.  <sigh>

re the 'challenge archel' proposed by chris:
i might be wrong, but isn't the tape tree organised by the (ahem) dear
departed lark girl up and running under its own momentum by now?  but if
someone informs me otherwise and instructs me on how to go about it, i'd be
happy to plant the acorns and watch as mighty musical oaks spring forth.

re my tattoo:
much as i doubt anyone is really on tenterhooks, i have 3 stars on my upper
arm.  the tattooist seemed to think there must be some cosmic significance
to this, and was rather disappointed when i said that i just thought i'd be
less likely to get bored of them than, say, a pokemon.

i've been pretending i'm a stoodent again and going out clubbing in the
middle of week, then going to work wired on caffeine, labouring under the
illusion that i am actually at my best.  (5 people have been sacked in as
many days, so i don't think i'll be burning the joss stick at both ends
again for a while, just in case.)  wednesday was the monthly visit to
brighton of gay indie night popstarz, which is possibly the only event where
a young man wearing pink bunny ears and very little else offers you quality
street to the background strains of 'smells like teen spirit'.  then on
thursday we went h.i.p h.o.p. at cut to the chase, a really fantastic night
which i haven't been paid by my friend matt (aka dr mook, in da house etc)
to advertise.  honest.

yesterday i was in olde london town.  tate modern... nft... covent garden...
theatre.  how civilised am i?  our choice of play was 'art', which i highly
recommend despite the current cast being culled exclusively from coronation
street and spandau ballet.  there's a great bit with olives...

brighton meet up/dirty weekend still going ahead for the 24th, with an
option to come to the launch of divebomb, a new indie pop night, on the
23rd.  we shall fight them on the beaches...

luv archel xxx


***************************************
Rachel Playforth
'She may not be famous, but she's right' - Homer Simpson

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