Sinister: The clouds, for you, are gilded veils of wedding lace.

[Youn J. Noh]

Hi Sinister,

> this is a much belated official report of the SF
> sinister picnic. due to a set of spectacular
> directions leading all to a very small spot within a
> very large park, the sini-picnic was also, for many, a
> sini-marathon.

I did find the children's park in the end, but I started late from the
wrong side of the park.  A girl eating a peach on the bus told me where to
get off.  She and her friend got off at the same stop as me, but they said
goodbye to each other and walked off in opposite directions.  I thought
there was something romantic about that.  Maybe they modified their routes
to be together.

> intended to walk 5 miles that afternoon. the pickle
> prince even scaled a mountain in his search for
> picnicness.

The layout of the park is awkward: it's more for drivers than pedestrians.
Hills, yes, then the children's park appears in a sort of valley.

Stray birthday balloons tied to trees, limp by then - it was late
afternoon.  I thought of the fun you must have had.  But I can't say that
I expected to find you.  Too much time spent dawdling on the way up,
dreaming of girls with flowers in their hair.

Two lovely children, a boy and a girl, stood by a fountain, and an elderly
woman, perhaps their aunt, observed them from a bench.  I wanted to take
their picture, but you just can't do things like that.  They were so
golden, they made me think of the children in 'The Turn of the Screw'.

> girls thinking, "i want britney's body," in all
> it's delicious ambiguity!

Yes, it seems right for girls to be lovely, to fill out their skirts and
blouses, and for boys to be charming and gentle, asking their sisters,
"Shall I tell her some jokes?".

> smiling fools

> And I thought of 1491 things, naturally.

Obsessed with numbers.  (See, I watched 'Gregory's Girl' the other day.)

Narcissism - I don't know if there's much fun in that.  (But I don't know
if Kyla's saying it will end up that way.)

I was going to catalogue all of the charming things Stuart did onstage,
but David Moore was right - say no more.  (It's commendable that he has
managed to appease us all these times with just the right details,
faithful, but giving nothing away.  A fourth job, writing for the society
pages?  Sometimes a list of names will do.)

When I first subscribed to sinister, someone asked for suggestions for
something to read at a wedding.  I had this in mind then, and the news of
Ailsa's wedding brought it up again.  It's from the end of 'The World Is A
Wedding' by Delmore Schwartz.

	"'In the beautiful picture by Pieter Breughel [...] you can see a
squatting child on the floor, sucking his thumb which is sticky with
something sweet.  Standing by the table are two musicians, bearing
bagpipes.  One is young, handsome and strong; he is dressed in brown and
his cheeks are puffed out.  The other musician is unkempt and middle-aged.
He looks far away as if he were thinking of his faded hopes.  The serving
men are carrying a long tray full of pies.  The bride is seated beneath
the red-white mistletoe and on her face is a faint smile, as if she
thought of what did not yet exist.  The bridegroom is leaning back and
draining down the ale from a fat stein.  He drinks as if he were in the
midst of a long kiss.  Nearby is a dwarf and at the head of the table a
priest and a nun are conversing with each other.  Neither of them will
ever have a husband or a wife.  On the right hand of the bride, an old man
looks ahead at nothing, holding his hands as if he prayed.  He has been a
guest at many wedding feasts!  He will never be a young man again!  Never
again will youth run wild in him!
	'Opposite the bride are the fathers and the mothers, all four.
Their time is passed and they have had their day.  Yet this too is a
pleasure and a part for them to play.  I can't tell which is the suitor
whom the bride refused, but I know he is there too, perhaps among the
crush that crowds the door.  He is present and he looks from a distance
like death at happiness.  Meanwhile in the foreground a handsome young man
pours from a jug which has the comely form of a woman's body the wine
which will bring all of them exaltation like light.  His bending body is
curved in a grace like harps or violins [...]'"

Congratulations, Ailsa!








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