Sinister: "Watch us wreck the mic, psych."

[João Victor]

There must be many songs called Marianna :P Well, yeah, not popular ones,
but...

I know of a song called "Mariane". *Almost* your name :P It's by a brazilian
band called Legiao Urbana... The song isn't *sooo* good, but anyway... well,
here goes the lyrics:

"Mariane"

"I've been working all day,
I've been thinking a lot,
I've been doing some things
That are not quite right.
I've been thinking about you
I've been thinking about you
When will you return?

I've been working all day
I've been thinking a lot
I've been lost in the morning
I don't know what it costs.
Will you find me there?

And i guess it's just a phase,
I don't know where i'm going.

And i guess it's just a phase,
I don't know where i'm going.

I've been working all day,
I've been thinking a lot
I've been lost in the morning
I don't know what it costs.
I don't think about you,
I will be able to do.
Will you let me be?

And i don't know where i'm going,
I guess it's just a phase.

And i don't know where i'm going,
I guess it's just a phase.

Just a phase."

That's it,
Victor.



-----Original Message-----
From: owner-sinister at xxx.org
[mailto:owner-sinister at missprint.org]On Behalf Of Miss Marianna Longmire
Sent: Segunda-feira, 19 de Agosto de 2002 19:36
To: sinister
Subject: Sinister: "Watch us wreck the mic, psych."


Where Marianna complains like an old woman. apologies in advance.

It was one of those really hot London afternoons, so I tucked my little
folding chair under my arm, sat in my backyard and read in the sun. Which
was lovely, really, until my serenity was disturbed by my neighbour - the
devil in a fish net muscle shirt - and his appalling musical selection.

You may remember I once told a story about my neighbour playing a selection
of great tunes out his window and onto the streets below. And how this was
great, and I loved it because it made this fenced-off street feel like a
little community. Well, I've since changed my mind. He is, officially, the
fifth most odious person I have ever had the misfortune to know. Primarily,
because he conducts ALL his conversations as if he were yelling, and his
musical choice has moved from the wonderful Destiny's Child to playing
rubbish Euro-trance tunes so loud I /literally/ can't hear myself speak. He
is the bane of my existence and he makes me want to kill things.

But, you'll be pleased to hear, I wasn't going to take this abuse any
longer. I was gonna kick his ass the only way I knew how. Musically.  And so
began the Hackney Stereo Battle-Off Royale!

Who will win this clash of the Titans?

King: Hot dang! The ref's whistle has barely blown, and the neighbour has
brought out the big guns, playing MousseT's "I'm Horny."  Longmire doesn't
stand a chance against a player of this calibre.

Cole: But wait! She's reaching for her CD collection, what album do you
think she'll choose? She's going for Ladytron, but no it's BRAINSTORM!
BRAINSTORM! BRAINSTORM!

King: Wow, that's a smart move from Longmire; the neighbour is on the floor
in agony! It seems Eurovision 2000's runners up are positively SLAYING him
with their indie-lite stylings. This match is ove. hang on, what's this?
Retaliation?

Cole: I can't believe it! He's actually managed to make it up again like an
80-year-old on Viagra and OUCH! He's playing The Vengaboys!

King: Oof, that's gotta hurt. But Longmire seems undeterred. In fact she's
laughing as her volume dial goes up to 35. What's she gonna do to him?!

Cole: Oh! My! God! It's DAPHNE AND CELESTE!

King: HE'S GOING DOWN!

And so, I won.

For about ten minutes, after which my celebratory cup of Earl Grey started
to tremble as the opening refrains of DJ Otzi's "Hey Baby" came bellowing
from the flat above. And, like all good Australians, I cursed. And, like all
good Australians, I couldn't actually be arsed to do anything more about it.

So I sat in my room and played the entire B+S (content!) back catalogue at a
rather more reasonable volume, and danced, and wrote, and pondered. And a
niggling thought came back to me and poked me in the eye. I hate my name.
Rather, I hate the fact that my name hasn't (to my knowledge) been used in a
song. Oh sure, all you Lisas and Janes and flipping Belles get a mention,
but just once I would like my name to be used in a song. Or even a
television show. Fact: I once wrote a fan letter to the chief script writer
of Neighbours, hoping that somehow, he would become so enamoured with my
name that he'd introduce a new character to the show, just so he could call
her Marianna. And then, you know, she'd get it on with Kristian Schmidt. And
it would be like we were dating. Or something.

But, NO! My dreams were never realised. And I was forced to watch my sister
Caroline jump about in glee to Shaggy's "Oh Carolina", bragging about how
great she was as her name was in the top forty. I mentioned the misspelling,
but she never seemed to listen, so I just punched her and went off to read
her secret love letters.

Of course, this whole egotistical issue of wanting my name in a song could
perhaps be traced back to a brief period of being ostracised in primary
school.  This wasn't because I joined the boys' dungeons and dragon club,
and it wasn't because I refused to smoke after school in the all-ages
playground simply because it sounded far too much like a rebellion cliché.
No, I was on the outer because the hippest thing you could have in your
pencil case was a ruler with your name PROFESSIONALLY written on it. And of
course, 'Marianna' was deemed far too obscure for the manufacturers to
bother. Bastards. I can't tell you the pain it used to cause me seeing all
my friends with their gleaming plastic named rulers, whilst I had to do with
a 30 cent wooden ruler. Although, granted, I did jazz it up with 'Marianna
loves Corey Haim for eva!' And 'Madonna rules!' etchings made by my compass.

Still, mustn't grumble. On #sinister chat there was talk about the Beckham's
insistence on naming their children after where they were conceived. I would
be called Barrabarrup Longmire. Now try finding THAT on a ruler.

xx Miss Marianna.

PS. Sarah is /so/ right. Red Shoes are the greatest things in the world.


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        +---+  Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list  +---+
     To send to the list mail sinister at missprint.org. To unsubscribe
     send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to
     majordomo at missprint.org.  WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister
 +-+       "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper           +-+
 +-+  "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+
 +-+    "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000     +-+
 +-+  "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000  +-+
 +-+  "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001   +-+
 +-+               Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa                 +-+
 +-+               Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut!                +-+
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