Sinister: maybe it's just me...

[marisa stroud]

I have a friend that sings while he’s walking. Just walks around, singing.

I sing with him when it’s dark. Otherwise, I sing in my head.

Except in my Monday morning Socialism in 20th Century Canada seminar.

Since it’s a class about socialism, it understandably has a lot to do with 
Marxism. And I don’t know about you, but whenever anyone says ‘Marx and 
Engles’, I think of Belle and Sebastian.

*amusing anecdotal aside: my boyfriend bought me the Waking Up To Us ep last 
December when I was feeling really sick. My best friend was visiting me in 
Glasgow, but wasn’t present when he presented me with my present. Later when 
she did see it, she thought he’d scanned in a picture of me with a dog and 
made his own cover art. Apparently I look like eerily like that picture of 
part of Sarah’s face. End aside*

My Monday morning socialism seminar is three hours long. The first hour and 
a half is usually a lecture from our cute little prof (he looks like the 
kind of grandad that takes you out apple-picking in the fall and teaches you 
about recycling). Then we break up into groups and do some kind of analysis 
work. It is usually then I start to space out and try to sing ‘Marx and 
Engles’ quietly to myself which, if you’ve tried, you’ll know is very hard 
to sing discreetly.

So I think the girl that sits next to me thinks I’m nutty as a fruitcake.

*are fruitcakes even nutty? I’ve never had one, perhaps because I’m afraid 
it’ll have nuts in it and I’d have to jab that epipen thing in my thigh. It 
looks scary and hurty, and I don’t want to have to try it. So I stay away 
from nuts and, consequently, fruitcake, thus exacerbating my ignorance of 
the ingredients therein*

That class has taught me that I’m not cut out to be a revolutionary. You 
have to be too angry at too many people for too much of the time. Also, I 
just wanna make necklaces out of interesting rocks and glue seashells to 
picture frames.

I took the Twee Test recently. I wasn’t sure if they were going to email me 
back, but they did.

The subject line said, “your tweeness”.

I thought it was a royal salute.

It might as well have been.

“You are 74% twee.
That is quite twee. Well done.”

There you are, boys and girls. Certified twee as fuck.

I think I should change the end of the song to reflect My Tweeness.

“She’s writing in the style / Of any quiet grrrl…”

There. That sounds a bit better to twee. I mean me.

marisa.




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