Sinister: The New Harry Potter

[Jay Eckard]

Hello Sinister.

You'll forgive the sack cloth and ashes, I'm sure. I'm always lamenting* you 
see, and I do my Lamentation Old Skool style.

So let's all join hands and dance around Cheesybun Eric for being a New York 
picnic Mummy.

*Tra la la, hi de hi! Fol de rol de rol!

Wasn't that fun? We should do that more often.
Make sure you write him back with all your plans to attend. And bring him 
plenty of cheap white wine in thanks.

It's been a busy week for me. Actually it hasn't, and since I'm not 
Christene Irene, I won't plumb the depths of my personal ennui for you. At 
length**. I did however, spend significant time this week stalking what can 
only be called The Lil'est Emo Kid.
Imagine it: Little Chuck Taylors! A Little Strokes-esque Fringe! Little Cord 
Flares! A Little Mechanic's Jacket! I can tell you, it was even better than 
your imagination! We followed him down the street and watched him go into 
the Drug store (possibly to buy Lil' Condoms) and then to the Record Store, 
where he reclined against a sign that merely said "EMO." Oh, to have had a 
camera!
We thought, my! What an ideal Children's Book Character he would make with 
all his Lil' Friends, like the Lil'est Hipster and the Lil'est Indie Grrl.
(Can you imagine the pictures? "The Lil'est Emo Kid couldn't be a Barista 
'cause he couldn't reach the Espresso machine!" "Though he tried and tried, 
the Lil'est Emo Kid couldn't reach the cash register to make change for the 
guy who bought a David Gray album!***")
We even got to see him putting up (though not very far up) Lil' Posters for 
his Lil' Band!
Chapel Hill Rulz.

Other stuff happened, too, like eating Fried Chicken with bats**** (Plural!) 
around. But that was with Laura Llew, and let's face it, she deserves a post 
of nothing but her!

And always remember:
Binge THEN purge.

GayJay

*Apparently I am always lamentating. According to Eric's post.
** I love you too, Miss Idleberry and Mr Markelby
***You buy that, you OUGHT to be screwed out of something. Besides your 
dignity.
****YES THEY WERE LAURA. You couldn't see. Birds don't fly at night, anyway.

--
"The Posby falls into a Trance
In which it does a little Dance."
                     Edward Gorey

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