Sinister: Things not to say to your half-Jewish girlfriend...

[sophia katrina]

dearest Sinister,

I feel strangely compelled to post, if only to correct the (erroneous, of 
course) impression that i joined the list only to pick up [Aus, vernacular, 
eqiv. to UK: pull]. So I thought the best way to do this was to summon up 
all of my higher faculties, wherever they had got to, and flood all 1500 of 
you with lyricism and erudition. It would have been a deluge of wit and 
wisdom, I'll tell you. But somewhere between my lyricism reserves and my 
fingers I took a detour and ended up at a petrol station beyond the black 
stump [Aus, vernacular, middle of bloody nowhere, cf. Woop Woop], spilling 
bad coffee on the maps and swearing, while it got darker and darker outside. 
(Or did was I stuck in the Doldrums? Have any of you read the Phantom 
Tollbooth?  I love childrens'  books more than life itself).

It really has been a dull week - enlivened, of course, by all your wonderful 
posts from everywhere. There have been some very beautiful ones recently. 
Aside from reading them and being touched by how heartbreaking and lovely 
they were, I have been a bit lost in the Doldrums. I've spent all my time 
doing things related to art (like painting walls, hanging shows, delivering 
invitations, posting slides) but I haven't used my camera in a couple of 
weeks and I feel slightly empty. Richard Avedon put it more eloquently: "If 
I go through a day without doing something related to photography, I feel as 
though I have neglected something essential to my being; as if I had 
forgotten to wake up. I know that the accident of being a photographer has 
made my life possible".

Maybe the reason I'm not working is that I'm fundamentally a lazy 
perfectionist. Can other lazy-no-more perfectionists share the solution to 
this problem? I need to get rid of my perfectionism somehow. Perhaps some 
kind of ritual, an exorcism maybe, or psychic surgery where they wave your 
hands over your belly (where does perfectionism reside anyway?), slop around 
some fake blood, and shout "AH-HA! YOUR PERFECTIONISM IS GONE FOREVER" while 
holding up a bloody piece of gristle they bought from the butcher's last 
week, & which was just starting to turn.

I bought "The Geometrid" last week, and have been listening to it a bit, but 
it didn't have the song about someone who doesn't believe that people landed 
on the moon. Is it on another album? Does it actually exist, or was I 
misinformed? If it does exist, then I'm convinced that it was written for my 
ex-boyfriend. There are many reasons we aren't together today, some 
involving being dumped over e-mail while travelling, being stranded at 
Heathrow with 25 kilos of luggage and £4.72 in my pocket, and the like, but 
the real clincher was that he didn't believe that people really landed on 
the Moon.  I didn't catch the entirety of his mutterings, but they had 
something to do with the Ruskis, or possibly the Reds under the bed, and 
black helicopters, and closed-circuit television, and the spooky 
similarities between the seven-headed beast in Revelations and the United 
Nations, and definitely the World Zionist Conspiracy. On the list of things 
not to say to your half-Jewish girlfriend, I'd say that anything involving 
the World Zionist Conspiracy (or ZOG, as those wacky survivalists call it) 
ranks in the top ten. I will personally send some matzoh ball soup (or a 
flat-packed, customs-friendly equivalent), to the sinisterian/s who can 
offend me more!

Oh dear, this really has been an outpouring of whinge. So sorry to vent my 
spleen at you all, who really don't deserve it. So here's something non 
whinge-related:

Several people mentioned ice cream trucks. Where I used to live, in the 
nearest thing London has to a ghetto, ice cream trucks used to go by at 2am, 
playing music and everything. As a wide-eyed first year, I was very confused 
by this. Who buys ice cream at 2am, I wondered? Then someone told me they 
sold DRUGS (cue collective gasp from audience). I saw three of them, parked 
outside someone's house near the tube station. Didn't the police know about 
this? Or did the driver buy them off with lemon ice lollies, flakes and 
chocolate sprinkles?

When I do start living the life of the beautiful people, I promise to tell 
you all about it -

love & apologies,
sophia
X


_________________________________________________________________
Send and receive Hotmail on your mobile device: http://mobile.msn.com

+-------------------------------------------------------------------------+
        +---+  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!                +-+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------+