Sinister: leave no bones

[Ruth Allan]

hey sinister

today I looked at a tube of savlon's arnica paste for bruises and the first 
thing into my mind was to apply it liberally. It's not so much that there is 
anything  really wrong , more a collection of stresses each bearing his load 
on my skin till I feel like one of these days I'm going to wake up after 
flutter light sleep with a beating heart and find a big strawberry mark on 
my belly.

not so beautiful but at least then I could point it out to passes by, get 
arrested for flashing my navel and generally receive waves of sympathy. But 
my mum recently was hit on the leg by a golf ball  and looking at her 
proudly blooming thigh I thought it was pretty but didnt make me feel like 
she desparately needed a big hug. So maybe the strawberry mark isn't the 
thing.

My most vivid memory of a bruise was after me and a friend were attacked by 
robbers in tanzania. we'd spent the trip picking tiny fault with each 
other's smoking or what we'd like to eat or whether or not bananas for lunch 
and dinner and breakfast were parching us of our mini intelligence. The 
attack awful as it sounds was something of a relief. I had the bruise 
measured for posterity and it was at least 20 centimetres across and felt 
like a real thing but left no marks.

I was going to the flaming lips tonight but I cant make it. I'd also like to 
thank idleberry ? and rachel for talking about suede. okay this is so dull 
to non suedettes, but frankly this band completely changed my life. My 
friend says that I'm lying and that the only band was pavement, but pavement 
et al sounded to me of Guy's car and never quite making it to america , 
which shows perhaps that its never so much the music as where you were when 
you hear it, but suede were my thing and if there was ever a reason to 
compile a book of band like memories from one period it would be suede. 
Melissa who is now a great writer wrote me a review of the london gig , 
somewhere with balconies on her shi**y typewriter and I was so inspired I 
transformed the school magazine froma raving review of female sports to a 
horribly suede skewed journal of my so called and really quite dull suede 
filled life. Wasnt popular , but what other than rampant born again 
christianity could drive a person to bore their contemporaries in such a 
public way...

I'm moving back to manchester in a week, so if there are any sinister 
mancunians? I know there used to be some, but I think they've all got 
married, so maybe the ones, married or not still there might like to shout?

rx




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