Sinister: your booty don't stop

[Sarah Garrett Sonner]

Criminy!

It's been ages. Gumption and chattiness take time to accrue and intersect 
and lately I'm all action and no talk, especially should the action be 
participation in sporting events, be they bowling, ice dancing, ice 
staggering, footie watching and subsequent drunken stumbling. So hello 
again. Suggestion for enjoyment of this post: imagine I'm cute and wearing 
fishnets and hotpants.

This Easter finds the resurrection of...

HEADINGS

my favorite postal affectation. Chris Jones used them, and Chris, if you 
bring scissors to the pre-Brixton picnic I'll give you a haircut--I'm good 
at cutting all hair except my own, which is why I haven't had a haircut 
since the regrettable wannabe Gregory's Girl forced bob of nearly two years 
ago. Egads! It's time for a trim.

REPORTING BACK, WAY BACK

Beans just DJed recently. Did anyone go and revel in the funk? Miss JennPB 
and I had so much fun dancing to his Funky Four Corners set at New Year's 
that we were sure our arches fell, and we were dead happy about it. We 
managed to hobble down Sauchiehall street towards our hotel along the frozen 
streets, skirting the kilted men airing their parts in the cold, squabbling 
couples, slick spots and strappily-attired ladies. I carried a priceless 
Polaroid in my pocket of Jenn and I posed with some newsboys, taken earlier 
that evening upon their mistaking us for Chloe Sevigny and Tara 
Palmer-whatever. That evening we also ate the world's best curry courtesy of 
the Wee Curry Shop of Buccleuch street, then spotted palely colored popstars 
at the other 13th note and contained our over-excitement with beer and the 
finest table football this side of the mid-Atlantic ridge.

CONTEMPLATIVE BIT

There was something about finally visiting the city of origin of a band 
that's occupied my "favorite" categories for so long that made things fall 
into place somehow. I suppose it's much along the lines of the reasons 
literary tourism can make sense--to see the same things, physically occupy 
the same space as that of an artist whose work affected you far away in 
space and time. Half pilgrimage, half exploration. Only more interesting and 
less intellectual than I am making it sound here...it was sunny the day we 
climbed the necropolis, tipped into the category of amazing for its view of 
the city--the dead and their monuments ranged like an audience for the river 
valley and mountain ridge with its delicate single line of fog-blurred trees 
in the distance. So many cities place their dead in out-of-the-way 
locations, not occupying real estate with prime southern exposure. Next to 
this, a very shiny industrial structure bloomed--the kind of thing that 
seemed as if it was made entirely out of stainless steel, as if toast or 
coffee would come out of it, not fumes or flame.

MORE CITY NOTES

Jeremy mentioned a quest for green space near Covent Garden. Handy tip: 
there's a small park hardly anyone seems to notice, right opposite the 
entrance to Temple tube but raised from the Embankment and I forget what 
it's called. Though it's about ten minutes' walk away from Covent Garden, 
every time I go in there to sit with the stark rosebushes and kill time 
before my classes start, no one is in there. I recommend it if you're around 
there and looking for a parkish place.

REPORTING NOT SO WAY BACK

The sparkly Rachel F and I wore suitably textured tights for the occasion of 
Tigermilking. Though it took awhile for everyone, apart from a few 
impressive pioneers, to work up to dancing (and though I'm guilty as well, 
kids, we all know if you can't get it up you may as well stay at home). The 
smut quotient was raised to an acceptable level thanks to Ken's interpretive 
dance to concepts like "arab strap," "best sex she ever had," and "famous 
for showing her chest." Though I recall he had some help on the last one. I 
embarrassed myself by saying incoherent things to several people I'd never 
met before, and was recognized by a lad I'd met at the same event a whopping 
two years ago, which impressed me greatly.

DID THE GROPING IN A COWBOY HAT

Archel reported on the Pow!erful Indieness of last Sunday, during which time 
Marianna and I separately attracted the attentions of at least one other 
friendly Camera Obscura spectator. Hoo boy, that was a tightly packed room. 
It was good to see the band play again and admire their stylin' footwear and 
fashion sense besides the tunes.

YOUR FOOTY DON'T STOP

It was quite educational to see the fitba Battle of the Lists. I think our 
side yelled more at/to each other, which might have served the same purpose 
as the Japanese martial arts "kiai," allowing for expression and thus 
further utilization of the youth and speed advantage for the thorough 
trouncing dealt to the opposition. Some nice ladies named Rachel, Rachel, 
and Dimitra gave me liquor, then the deceleration of the day found me 
centripetally drawn in to a discussion of literary matters and debate of the 
true meaning of "jangle". I would have been a voice of ignorance but for the 
fact that I am quiet in the first place and thus my ignorance can (and 
should) remain an aspect of my mystery.

RUCKUS

Lo many long seasons ago, another Jones, this one a Mike, posited:

>>i laughed rather hard when i read the suggestion of "yo! belle and
sebastian" for the new LP...perhaps belle will change her name to "the IZA"
and struan will be "ol crusty wanker" from now on. oh, i cannot wait.
>>
[I can't get the right link copied to this, but you too can type in "crusty 
wanker" in the search engine and hey presto!]

I believe that the new song titles bring this closer than ever to being a 
reality. I bet titles like Enter the twee (Glasgow style), B&S clan ain't 
nothin ta f' wit, Da Mystery of Celloplayin', etc. could be around the 
corner. Okay I'll stop right there. I recall mention of the method of 
composition of these songs, that they were directly influenced by the band's 
viewing of the movie in progress and then composing according to the movie, 
and so I assume a certain uh...removal? Someone tell me how incorrect I am.

ASSESSMENT

--->attempted to flirt
--->used headings
--->cursed
--->mentioned Ken Chu

If you have been affected by any of the issues raised in this post, please 
feel free to contact the SGS Action Line at the address above.

Look out Brixton! Yours with spring-like girlish glee,
SGS

PS When's the next London bowl-a-thon? It's time I got up the guts to 
challenge Ken's DDR supremacy, since I can't surpass his bowling style or 
prowess. I am the giraffe to his gazelle.


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