Sinister: six non-lectures

[Liz Daplyn]

Dahlinks!


  For a short week, this one has lasted quite long enough already.  But what 
a grand weekend preceded it!  From making people cry with poetry (full 
granny-sized props to me, I think) at the gorgeous wedding of an 
ex-Sinisterette to her Ryan Giggs-alike metaller sweetheart, to exhibiting 
my little-known Tina Turner karaeoke stylings to a select audience of Ben 
and Rob (now known as an hilarious purveyor of Stevie Snacks) at the 
former’s fine Swiss Cottage establishment, via being conpicuously ignored by 
non-drunk people while quaffing Chardonnay out of Powerpuff Girls pink 
glittery plastic beakers on the Tube, it was a protracted but not too 
sleep-deprived hoot.  Snogs (with tongues) and the associated infectious 
bacteria to everyone involved in and around the Greenwich (more pub than 
pic)nic.

  Saw John Lydon on breakfast TV yesterday telling people to get off their 
arses and enjoy the Golden Jubilee; his rationale being that we should get 
our money’s worth out of the royals while there are still enough of them 
around to ridicule without feeling sorry for them.  He then proceeded to 
belch loudly.  R!O!C!K!

  A Word to the wise on *eXtreme* sports - for the rise in their popularity 
I blame the Windows 'undo' function.  See, if you aren't worried about the 
consequences of an action you perform while fiddling with Excel (and don't 
get me started about the History box in PhotoShop) due to the ability to 
backtrack using Ctrl-Z, it's an easy step to jumping off a bridge attached 
only to solidity and sanity by a piece of knicker elastic.  Another thing to 
lay on the no doubt expensively tasteless doorstep of Bill Gates.

  Listening to Sodastream while waiting at the bus station this morning, the 
shrill cackling of hordes of children on their way to school filled any 
aural gaps like a weirder live version of ‘If You’re Feeling Sinister’, 
only, well, Welsher.  Still, it kept me from focusing on the music itself 
too much, which is a good thing, as being half-asleep on a grey morning is 
conducive to emotional fragility, and snivelling on public transport ain’t 
my idea of a good idea.  Maybe I should have listened to Adventures in 
Stereo instead, but these things are seldom planned effectively.

  More muzak: oh, the Spare Snare album I bought at the weekend is really 
great.  Trying to come up with a suitably lazy NME-stylee comparison, I 
thought they sounded like a cross between Stereolab and Teenage Fanclub.  
‘On acid’, tee hee.  Also, have just found out that Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci 
(the lovelies) are playing Clwb Ifor Bach in Cardiff on the night I shall be 
getting as drunk as a marsupial whilst participating gleefully in the 
Sinister Drinking Olympics in Brighton (lest we forget: May 25th, kidz!).  
Ho hum, another of life’s little tragedies.


  Love,
    Liz :x


***
Humanity i love you because you
Are perpetually putting the secret of
Life in your pants and forgetting
It’s there and sitting down

                  e. e. cummings
***


P.S.   nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.

P.S.2 (RIP Sega):  Now that Ken is in America, I wonder if he will stop 
being so uptight about the treasure hunt clues and get a life.


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