Sinister: Letter from the Core of the Sun

[shannon eckardt]

Dear Sinisterines!  It’s been so long!  I feel like the lost sheep returning 
to it’s fold!

RED KNICKER DAY EXTRAVAGANZA
Just to let you know:  I, for one, will be participating in Red Knicker Day. 
  Although, I will be the only one to do so in Arizona, where pants are 
practically outlawed between the months of May and September.  I am suitably 
insane enough, however, to a) tread the thin line between heatstroke and 
hypothermia, and b) be the only participant in my region.  Phoenix is the 
sort of place where individuality is glaringly obvious, and gawked at.  
Which satisfies my insatiable need to shock, and makes the idea of being the 
sole Red Knicker bearer in the Valley quite appealing.  Of course, if it 
were up to me, I’d make it a national holiday.  Not enough holidays in this 
country, really.  I mean, we don’t even have a Bank Holiday, or anything 
like Boxing Day.  I find myself buying international calendars and privately 
celebrating Ascension Day.  It’s a lonely job.


OBSESSIONS
So.  Have you ever found yourself obsessing on, say……erm….okay, a person who 
is quite different from you?  Let’s just call him, um, mormon-boy.  
Opposites attract, right?  Okay, so unfortunately I can’t control who I’m 
attracted to.  That would be nice.  In Shannon’s world it’s a distinct 
possibility, and a perk.  But we’re not in Shannon’s world.  (also, in said 
world, feather boas and sequins would be added to Red Knicker Day, as an 
augmentation).  So…..moving on…..this boy (groan) doesn’t swear, and doesn’t 
smoke.  Ugh!  He’s a *nice* boy.  He hasn’t expressed any immediate 
displeasure at the fact that I do both, in profusion.  Not only am I a chain 
*smoker*, I’m a chain *swearer*, as well, I‘ve discovered.  I’m quite 
smutty, actually.  From time to time.  But earlier this week I caught a dim 
glimpse of a swearless, smokeless future, and it was dismal, let me tell 
you.  So, I called off the wedding in my head and moved back toward reality. 
  I think it was a good move.  I said, “Fuck this!”  Ha!  it was a 
liberating statement, to be sure.  It is only natural to swear.  When it’s 
115 outside, naughty words come to mind easiest, when you’re moved to speak. 
  But, in the true spirit of obsession, for one evening of friendly 
billiards rivalry, I conducted an experiment - tenuously, but with 
determination.  I decided to replace all the nasty words (that, let’s face 
it, fairly itch to come out when you’re doggedly playing pool) with the 
word, “crumb.”  For example, when you choke on the eight ball for the second 
time leaving your opponent with a perfectly aligned shot for the side 
pocket, you would say, “Oh, crumb!”  instead of “Oh, m**herf**cker!“  You 
might imagine how well this worked out.  In short, it didn’t.  But I did 
discover what a dirty mouth I have.  And since I almost immediately 
rescinded my sincere efforts to clean up, and be a good little girl, I have 
gone to the opposite end of the spectrum, and decided to be as creative as 
possible with my colorful language.  I won’t repeat my creations.  But they 
were good, if I do say so myself.

DEIFICATION (not to be confused with defecation; there is a distinct 
difference, after all)
There‘s another boy (of course), and he truly is the saviour. He works at a 
record store, as is appropriate for a contemporary saviour.  He just burned 
me a copy of his own Badly Drawn Boy’s “How Did I Get Here?” which is quite 
an expensive CD round these parts, and damn-near impossible to find.  
AND…..he burned me a copy of a B&S boot…..er.  Well, let’s just say, not 
many folks have this one.  (If you’d like to hear it yourself, send me an 
email off-list.)  Oooo, he’s a doll!  Something about that jet-black hair 
and wavy green tattoos…  Well.  (cough).  Anyway.  You can see why I’m moved 
to the idea of deification.  I figure I’ll declare a day of celebration, 
much like the previously proposed, “Celebrate Your Gods!” Day, except it 
will be just for the Record Store Saviour.  I’ll commission marble busts out 
of blue-veined Carrara marble and affix a diadem on his forehead, just like 
Caesar!  I *did* mention I was given to excess, didn’t I?  Right.  Well, 
maybe I’ve gone too far, this time.  But sometimes I think I’m a genius ;-)

SPEAKING OF GENIUS…..
I had this brilliant idea, at about lunch time.  See, I sit in my car 
sometimes at lunch, after my Red Bull run, to smoke and listen to music, and 
generally avoid the madding crowds.  So, I’m sitting in my Beetle (her name 
is Gita; I was sure you wanted to know that) listening to “Wandering Alone,” 
reveling in the smooth magic of Stevie’s voice, laughing like an escaped 
lunatic, and it occurred to me, that Gita would look *fine* with a small 
disco ball hanging from her ceiling. The gentleman who happened to be 
sitting next to me (he’s another post altogether) assured me that he could 
arrange the electrical wiring so that it would sparkle, and that the natural 
movement of air in the car would make it spin, charmingly.  It was a moment 
of temporary insanity.  Suddenly I had visions of glow in the dark stickers 
littering the plush interior, and a fondue pot sizzling in the trunk, to be 
shared with friendly strangers at the drop of a hat.  For the sake of 
convenience, my glove compartment would house neatly arranged condiments, 
and aesthetically arranged napkins.  I have my moments.  I don’t think this 
was one of them.

MAKE IT THIS FAR, DID YOU?
Oh, so many clever posts to comment on.  I think I won’t.  I think I’ll 
summarize:  I’ve enjoyed the sudden resurgence of Ink Polaroid’s.  They’re 
quite vivid.  And the gratitude ‘round here is astounding.  HONEY, love, you 
are revered!  Ken Chu’s delicious wit is never amiss.  And Gordon, I love 
your verbose soul!  Never a dull moment in my Inbox, I tell you!  Asm, you 
are *truly* my hero - your CD revival package is posted and somewhere over 
Nova Scotia, RIGHT NOW!

I’m off!  To bed!  It’s late - or early.  This is what I get for drinking 
too many Red Bulls.

Sini-Love to All!
S.

p.s.  Fifteen minutes?  Pah!  I’ve spent hours crafting this.








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