Sinister: Like a sheaf of wheat at the foot of the Altar. . . my humble offering.

[Intellectualvoid at xxx.com]

Hello All.

I've nothing of any importance to say, but indulge me if you will.  If you 
won't, kindly hit delete now and save yourselves.  For those kind souls who 
read on. . . 

<>

How I agree!  I have been dipping in my Nick collection lately, myself, and 
'From the Morning' remains my absolute favorite accoustic.  That biography 
(and I assume we're talking Paul Humphries?) is quite good, making much out 
of very little information.  What an enigma, that Mr. Drake.  I'm listening 
right now, as a matter of fact, to his home-recorded version of "Don't Think 
Twice, It's Alright," which is spectacular, and much better, in my warped 
opinion, than Dylans.  Anyway. . . on to less important things.  No, really.  
I have no wit left tonight; this is it.

I've been watching this little spider do some work on her web; every night 
she comes out and weaves more silk around her little sack of goods, which is 
suspended right in the middle.  I can't bring myself to ruin her little home, 
even though I know if I don't, her sack of goods will yield hundreds of new 
little spiders.   I don't think we have room for all of them, do you?  No.  I 
think not.  I suppose I'll have to take her down.  I hope I don't sound too 
Twee (although stereotypes make me quite ill), but I keep thinking about 
Charlotte's Web.  Remember, with Wilbur and all the other fun farm animals?  
Yeah, well, I also consider the Buddhist philosophy that every creature has a 
place, an innate right to life, as do we.  I've always had a bent in that 
direction.  I don't (can't) kill anything, and I cringe when I find 
butterflies baked into the grill of my jeep.  It's just not a pleasant world 
for the small creatures, is it?  Not with all of our little machines racing 
around in their airspace (or groundspace, considering coyotes, javelinas, 
skunks, elk and the like), or in a spiders case, mine for instance, the end 
of a broomstick.  Hell, I cringe at Jurassic Park II, when the hunters are 
trying to rope in that one little 'saur.  I have no stomach for animals (yes, 
even computer generated ones) getting trapped, hunted or annihilated, TV 
included.  Oddly enough, and no offense of course, I have no problem with 
people killing each other.  That's their own problem (er. . . I mean our 
problem).  Well enough of that.  See how smoking outside the house is more 
entertaining than using the Smoking Lounge inside?  Even as we watch, the 
horizon expands.  Nod and smile.  Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.  


with much sinister affection,
Shannon

ps. . . Hannah, I too am synesthetic, though with color, rather than smell.  
I'll mail you about it, rather than bore EVERYONE.  Even more.
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