Sinister: If I were bread, would you be my butter?

[Laura Llew]

Caution: This post may cause drowsiness. Alcohol will intensify
         effect. Use care when operating 'heavy machinery'.


"Students whose parents had the big bucks to afford it. Holly and Wanda had 
little bucks."
This is an excerpt from Brittany Spears latest work of fiction (fiction 
referring to writing here - not to her chest size). After reading the 
stylistically beautiful melodramatic prose which Brittany weaves, with the 
help of her mommy, I find myself wondering how I could even begin to think 
of even writing a grocery list out with the knowledge that I shall always be 
literarily inferior. Somehow, I shall find the inner strength to move 
forward and write a post to Sinister.

As much as I like Sexy Steve's posts, I must say - Enough with the Pynchon 
talk already!! It only makes me feel guiltier about that copy of GR sitting 
in the back window of my car. (I didn't want it to get lonely so I got the 
Gravity's Rainbow Reader's Companion to accompany it. Now they can be unread 
together. See, I'm nice to my books.) We could talk of Proust since I've 
made it halfway through Remembrance of Things Past. I once heard the pinefox 
proclaim that he wished he could cuddled up with a volume of Proust's work, 
sipping a cup of tea, and having a madeline or two..... right in front of a 
fire - so he would have something to throw the book into. Tsk, tsk. Not to 
like such a work! (I *adore* the first part of Swann's Way.) Mr. Fox, should 
I send you the new graphic novel of this classic which just came out? Calm 
down! When I say *graphic* I mean as in comics. Maybe you'd like it better 
if there were lots of purty pictures. You can't blame the pinefox if he's 
drawn to the visual. I heard that PF likes to fancy himself as the next 
Chi-Chi Rodriguez so he can go around simpering and saucily saying, "Why I 
got more legs than a bucket of chicken!"  I fully approve. I think PF looks 
much better in short frilly skirts than he would in Trousers.

***STORYTIME***
Now, Miss Laura Llew is going to tell you about her dream from the other 
night!

Doesn't it involve Belle and Sebastian, the Sinister list, or anyone you 
care about?
Not a chance!

Are you still excited?
You should be!

I had been on one of those "reality" TV shows like they have on MTV which is 
odd since nothing on that channel is real. (Please refer to previous 
allusion about Broccoli Spear's chest). The show I had been on had already 
finished and I was at a reunion special where all the cast members were 
sitting around in a circle talking about how life had changed since the 
show. One of the males was saying how disappointed he was to discover all 
the girls he had sex with during that season who he thought were beautiful 
were really Joyce Carol Oates ugly once he was sober enough to see straight. 
I replied with, "If you think that's bad, all the girls I slept with were so 
ugly that when I woke up the next morning they were males."

Well, at least none of them looked like anyone on the front of the new 
single cover. Scary!
(Notice the sly attempt to try and fake like this is content. Go Laura Go!)

Today I discovered that the site of last year's Southern picnic, Big Witch 
Gap, wasn't named for a witch but after Tskilegwa who was the last of the 
Cherokee Eagle Killers. (They consider Eagles sacred and their feathers are 
used for various festivals and dances so only someone proscribed in the 
methods and procedures was allowed to kill the eagle.) After consulting with 
my multiple personalities, it was decided that this year's picnic would take 
place at the same spot and whenever I find my copy of B&S's last album with 
a recording of their performance at the Bowlie on the other side. Featured 
author has not yet been decided.

I'm glad I don't live in London where I would have to pretend that I like 
picnics with lots of attendees. I'm glad I don't live near large phallic 
symbols in New York's Central Park which annually draws hordes of 
Sinisterines each year. I can sit here in Western Carolina, pouting, and 
pretending that I feel as if I were missing out just because I can't go to 
any B&S concerts in Scotland. It must be awfully hard to have to shout with 
glee at every opportunity, "I have tickets to see Belle and Sebastian!" Does 
your throat get sore? Do your fingers tire typing it?  I know that b&s could 
never sound better than when I listen to them in my bed.

If I ever decide to 'field test' this theory, I'll let y'all know.

Laura
'meeting all dem der Laura Llew needs since 1977'

A rough translation of "Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa" in Southern is: 
This ratcheer sho sounds like a sorry Leonard Skynrd cover so I reckon I'll 
be a gittin gone.

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