Sinister: I was drunk on the streets of the South for four days on end...

[Christina McDermott]

*yawn*
Apologies...it's the dawn of a new weekend and I'm still recovering and
shaking off the remnants of the old one. Saying that, it was a bloody good
one though. I could get used to being one of these (inter)national Sinister
jetsetters, going new places, meeting new people, drinking strange and
exotic brands of alcohol...
A fair few people from the Sinister massive that were in Brighton last
weekend have divulged most of the semi-sordid facts about what went on
there, so I feel I should fill in the gaps about the things that hapenned
when either a) No one was looking or b) they all buggered off home.
Yes, it was my band's first gig last Monday, and I have to say, it was
AMAZING! Well, it was for me at least being the chanteuse on stage who (to
use an old Mancunian phrase) was  "fookin' brickin' it" (for all of you who
are not aware of this phrase, it means I was scared stiff). Apparently, I
did a rather good impression of someone who knew what she was doing as well
as putting on a persona of being immensely fashionable and self-confident.
I think it was the pre-gig KFC that did it personally. Those people must
put something in the special sauce. Or, it also could have been the copious
amounts of alcohol I consumed during the afternoon alongside the Polish
cigarettes. Eitherway, I didn't mess up too badly, people seemed to like
me, I was even heckled! Oooh, and they laughed when I told them my Menswe at r
story (the punchline being "I don't want to seduce them anymore because
they're apparently all on crack" Create story around that as you will). And
I dj'ed too along with Matt the Medieval Minstrel Willson (when he didn't
bugger off and abandon me with records I didn't know on the stereo to go
schmooze and be a popstar) and people liked the stuff I played even if they
didn't dance...but I didn't mind, because I was happy and could do silly
dances in the DJ booth because no one could see me doing them...until the
guitarist in my band came along and shouted Eddie Izzard sketches at me
before attempting to scratch my favourite Jim O'Rourke record in a
hideously Fatboy Slim stylee. Damn him. Anyway *PLUG! PLUG!* We're doing a
Battle of the Bands type thing in Oxford again on Sunday at the Wheatsheaf
(at least, I think that's what it's called) and if you want to you can come
along and tell people how great you think the Endless City Lights are,
especially that very attractive mad shouty girl at the front...
It was a weekend of going to different people's nights, smoking lots and
dancing in very silly ways really. Carsmile's night was wicked cool, I
especially liked the numerous and utterly bizarre bootlegs that he was
playing and I saw a boy set himself on fire on purpose so as to create a
new hole in his jeans. I think he was trying to impress people but instead
he made himself look arsey because he burnt himself in the process which
made me snigger :D
Anyway, edited highlights include such wonderous things as meeting many of
the Sinister massive that I had never met before, (Hello and Hugs to the
lot of you! I have to say I'm rather upset that I had to go home before I
saw Mark Cassorotto fall arse over tit into the sea), having an amazing and
lovely long talk with Maddy on the walk to Brighton train station, going to
the funfair on Brighton pier and on the waltzers and having Dancing
Hatchback take pictures of me and Becky going ARRGGHGHHHHHH!!!! whenever it
started to go faster, watching Paul Field have a (verbal) fight with some
obnoxious twat on the train back to London, seeing Carsmile Steve drunk,
sitting in pubs for days on end, staggering back to Matt's flat on Sunday
evening and being rather loud, Archel the mistress of smut, Me and Liz
doing very amusing American hick impressions complete with banjo solos, me
and Hatchback comprising the list of "All the stupid things Cay has said in
conversations with James" which is now resplendent on my wall at home and
his name being changed from "Dancing Hatchback" to "Dancing Flapjack" in
celebration of his new flat cap.
And then I came home, woke up on Wednesday morning and realised I had to
come back to the real world filled with essays on Hobbes in my flat on my
own and felt sad for a while until I realised that I had peanut butter,
bread and a toaster and made peanut butter toast. It didn't make things
entirely better, but it helped. 
You should all try it :D
And yes, it was Valentine's Day yesterday and I was rather happy because I
got a Valentines Day card from someone who wasn't my Dad! (Although he sent
me one too, bless him) Ok, it was a Sinister Valentine, but it made me feel
marginally better. Then again, anything would have been better than last
year (My boyfriend dumped me on Valentine's Day. Grrr...bastard...I know.
And I had the 'flu too.) I spent the whole day listening to love songs in
the winter sunshine, being genteel, drinking tea, reminiscing about ex
boyfriends whose beds I would lie on on summer days with the window open
and the smells of the biscuit factory next door permeating the room and
listening to Photo Jenny and him shouting "The girls are LESBIANS!" when
Struan sings "The girls are just friends" and looking a mess on purpose
because I don't have a boyfriend and so no one would really care whether I
made an effort or not. I rather liked it. Then in the evening, I went to
Finsbury Park and looked at the amazing view of London from the top of my
best friend's road whilst smoking menthol cigarettes, eating pizza and
looking at the stars. We don't need boys so long as we have our record
players, clarinets (or keyboards in her case), studded belts and bad
poetry. Oh and Vienenttas too. Those are always important.
I didn't have any pancakes on Pancake Day. Maybe this weekend, eh?

I've gone on far too long as always. Fifteen minute rule? Pah! More like a
fifty minute rule for me.
 
Love and Aislers Set records,
Cay Cola-Cube
xXx
 


"If I can't dance, I don't want to be part of your Revolution..."
-Emma Goldman
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