Sinister: Underground Parking Lot

[Genevieve Wesley]

I think I am maybe a little too late for the Plath/Hughes discussion, not 
too bad, as I don't really know anything about them, but I thought this bit 
was lovely, especially for you artistic sinister types:

Ted Hughes's Poetry in the Making

It is better to call it an assembly of living parts moved by a single 
spirit. The living parts are the words, the images, the rhythms. The spirit 
is the life which inhabits them when they all work together. It is 
impossible to say which comes first, parts or spirit. But if any of the part 
are dead... if any of the words, or images or rhythms do not jump to life as 
you read them... then the creature is going to be maimed and the spirit 
sickly. So, as a poet, you have to make sure that all those parts over which 
you have control, the words and rhythms and images are alive. That is where 
the difficulties begin. Yet the rules, to begin with, are very simple. Words 
that live are those which we hear, like "click" or "chuckle", or which we 
see, like "freckled" or "veined", or which we taste, like "vinegar" or 
"sugar", or touch, like "prickle" or "oily", or smell, like "tar" or 
"onion". Words which belong directly to one of the five sense. Or words 
which act and seem to use their muscles, like "flick" or "balance".
But immediately things become more difficult. "Click" not only gives you a 
sound, it gives you the notion of a sharp movement...such as your tongue 
makes in saying "click". It also gives you the feel of something light and 
brittle, like a snapping twig. Heavy things do not click, nor do soft 
bendable ones. In the same way, tar not only smells strongly. It is sticky 
to touch, with a particular thick and choking stickiness. Also it moves, 
when it is soft, like a black snake, and has a beautiful black gloss. So it 
is with most words. They belong to several of the senses at once, as if each 
one had eyes, ears and tongue, or ears and fingers and a body to move with. 
It is this little goblin in a word which is its life and its poetry, and it 
is this goblin which the poet has to have under control.

Marybeth wrote:
2. Wouldn't it be fantasmic if a certain Mr. Murdoch rewrote The
Beautiful South's "Song for Whoever" and changed all the names to his little 
muses? Lazy Jane, Photo Jenny, Judy and Lis(a) oh i forget your
name........

I love the chorus of that song, but the way that song begins! Cringe. It 
sounds so adult ontemporary contorted-facial-expressions-on-the-piano, but 
maybe it's deliberate cheesiness. But I like the idea. Tom, Josh, Ben, Dan, 
Brad, Matthew, Ryan, Jason, Brook, Conrad, I wrote this song for YOU.
We are doing a Poetry section in class now. I did a sonnet about shopping 
for my first bra with Grandma at the Sears in Michigan. There's something 
really tacky yet memorable about lingerie section in department stores. I 
think Stuart got it perfectly with one of my favourite B&S lines, 'start in 
lingerie, and Doris is your supervisor'. Nightmares of tan underpants that 
go up to one's chin...that's why I am so glad Sinister chose Red Underwear 
as the offical celebration colour.

I think The Boy G and Erica should download 'No Means No' by Canadian 
popstar Ricky J. I can picture them dancing to it.

The Peacock also wrote to the list, intercepted.
I should slap you Peacock, but you might like that. Anyways, I'll try and 
persuade the 'pussy boys' but I'm not sure. I think they are mostly 
confused. So there is the picture of the two of you together, and clearly, 
that's THE PEACOCK. But is that Stuart David, shrouded in darkness? I should 
know my beloved's face, but..it's...all...so...hazy. Stuart David could be 
locked in your basement for all I know,Peacock.

I wonder who's behind this evil Murdoch plot, getting everyone excited for a 
non-existant gig in hopes of causing rage towards fair, gentle Struan. 
CONSPIRACY!!  I was excitedly hoping it was archenemy Alasdair Gray, 
prancing around in a tower with a feathered masque and cape while Struan is 
locked in a snow-globe, slender fingers pressed against the glass, but 
apparently Alasdair Gray is actually quite lovely. Maybe it's this Evil-Bob 
character?

Love and Pearl Necklaces,
Genevieve
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