Sinister: may the feet remain at a respectful distance from the mouth (unless you're into that kind of thing)

[Gordon]

Hullo.

    Sewing. Or maybe darning's the word. Anyway, the pocket of this H&M
linen jacket is now complete with a wonky repair job, ready for summer
(via the washing machine at 40deg.C with similar colours says the label)
and, more presently, a trip to Tesco's in search of olive oil and a
turnip. Firstly, however, a wee note to the sinister list to keep my
hand in, as it were. It's my first attempt to weave in quotations from
other posts, as recommended by Kenjuggle (of #sinister fame and
competing with Vodkabird for the *acro* championship), so bear with me
(or not; it being a free and busy world with lots of finer temptations).

    Ruvi Simmons wrote of a Marks and Sparks checkout person:

     ...as I was leaving, having handed over
     a fistful of change in a feeble attempt at prolonging the
     entire experience,
     she said, instead of goodbye of the usual mutterings, "take
     care".

I had a similar experience whilst shopping in Euralille a few years
back, in which a girl said "doucement". This sound remained with me for
hours, miles even, all the way to St.Raphael on the Cote d'Azur the
following morning, where a couple of equally charming (but cunning)
women took the trouble to relieve me of most of my luggage, from the
rack at the far end of the railway carriage, including a rather fabulous
(and brand new) artificial-fibre black polo-neck from... Marks &
Spencer.

    Gneiss (one and the same person I assume?) Will said:

     I want to take more photographs.  I suddenly had this urge,
     which i've
     not had for a few years, to go and take pictures of beautiful
     things.

This reminds me of some lines spoken by John Malkovich in the Antonioni
film *Beyond The Clouds* which was screened on the British Broadcasting
Corporation's second channel last night. The monologue was along the
lines of 'I'm no philosopher; I see the world in images; I make my
reality by recording the surface of things'. In the background was a
view of a vaulted colonnade and the ochre facade of another building
across the street. More gorgeous and self-sufficient cinematography
highlighting the architectural marvels of Ferrara ensued. Scrumptious.
(with a nod and a wink to the jazz commentator on *The Fast Show*).
    Carrying on the theme, but in terms of sound, was a dialogue between
lovers, under the said-same vaulting. The female character, Carmen, says
to the dashing young water-pump engineer (I paraphrase) 'isn't the human
voice strange: the sound of the sea one comes to ignore in time, like
the wind or birdsong but, no matter how hushed or indistinct, one can
never ignore the sound of a human voice.'
    I wonder if this explains my ambivalent relationship to song lyrics.
Until my mid-twenties, I studiously avoided music with vocals, or if
lyrics must, sung in a foreign language which I couldn't understand. I
think it's because the sea, wind, birdsong etc. were the things I wanted
to hear, conjoined with almost an embarassment that someone else should
be co-opted to act as my emotional spokesperson over the top: that
inescapable dominance of the word over the sound. I realise this seems
rather ridiculous, and belies an isolationist position vis-a-vis other
people. I'm getting over it.  De-doo-ra-ra-de-de-doo-ron-ron. And

     It's making me blue
     Pantone 292

is a great lyric.

    Tim Malone wrote:

     Today I went out and bought a cd walkman...and
     walked around in the rain listening to Tigermilk. Everything
     takes on
     a new meaning when the sounds of life are mixed in with a good
     cd.

I agree totally. I've got this RYKO tape of the Kaluli people of Papua
New Guinea cutting a tree down in the Bosavi rainforest. There's sounds
of frogs and rain too. It sounds terrific to the tune of 'Mind the Gap'
and crackling newspapers on the London Underground.

    Last but not least for now, former lollypop man and lurker from
Berkeley/Barclay whatever California James Warner " once spent a winter
in Tullibody
Clacks." My commiserations. It's not the prettiest of places. Still,
there's tons of whisky to nick if you're a dab hand at breaking into the
bonded warehouses that stretch along the horizon to the south.

    Right. Turnip time.

    Gordon


     Since Japan's modern theatre attempts to take European drama
     and wed it theatrically to lifestyles of contemporary Japan,
     there is no room for the movements of bare or naked feet.
     Actors, because they must wear shoes to perform, have, in a
     manner of speaking, lost their feet.
         -Tadashi Suzuki "The Grammar of Feet"



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