Sinister: she said: i know what it's like to be dead. i know what it is to be sad. and you're making me feel like i've never been born.

dagnyrae gettingfurtheraway at xxx.com
Thu Nov 14 05:02:56 GMT 2002


{and there it was: you have been given a voice on the
sinister list. the truth of it, though, is that i
always had one. i've always had this voice. the
priviledge is not in the having. it is, rather, in the
using. so.}

 

hello.

here i am with the uniform of the established scene,
tripping through in red shoes that leave damp
footprints.

sinister's address is easy enough for me to imagine:
worldwide. and now i am happy to be here. to be a
part. of the world. i always used to think i was just
in it, or through it, like an arrow-pierced heart, my
head pointed down, my feet in the air and my middle
just all wrapped up in everything else. 

lately i think my head is up, though, and my feet
down, back where they should be. if the middle could
be all wrapped up in arms, that'd be loverly enough
for me.

belle and sebastian. should have a pink mailing page
of people. with an address that's listed as:
worldwide. 

content: my favorite is the blue one, though i like
the green one more. the principle of the thing, i
guess, and the second red one is much less better than
the first red one. 

i've sat here on my end in my part of worldwide for
three weeks meeting you, and i think there has been
talk of change among ranks and files. i wonder what
you were like when you talk of what i suppose were
your good old days, your days of finding everything
fresh and sqeaky new, covered with whatever wonder i
hold for you now.

isn't it going to make you puke when i say: everything
will always be as it should be, even if the shape of
things differs in the end from the beginning. 

and, well: shapes get fucked the fuck up. 

change always irritates me, particularly its
processes; funny, then, that i should be so in love
with abstractions, drunk on the process of art, not
the finished result.

but then this is not art with a capital a.

and you are not art with a capital a.

you are the a.

that doesn't change. only the process does. only the
finished product is never complete for the way it will
be perceived, and is, and will be tomorrow.

and so here, voiced: i am happy.

it doesn't really matter if you are not; you will be.

i will always be new here, and that is the way and the
shape of my voice. "we will it so, and so it is past
all accident." 

*rae





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