Sinister: It's all all right

[robin stout]

So I was thinking, you know, about this and that, and I decided that I don't 
know much about anything. I've always wanted to know about the stars and the 
planets and the shape of the universe. I knew a man once who was a proper 
genius and he could tell you the weight of Saturn and the names of the 
phases of the moon. I wish I could do that. If you were to go for a walk 
with me under a deep blue star speckled sky, and if I were feeling in an 
especially romantic mood, we might have a conversation that went like this:

Me: Oh look, up in the sky, it's Orion, can you see?

You: You mean where those three stars are in a row?

Me: Yes, that's right, those are his belt. Over there's the Plough: the one 
that looks like a saucepan.

You: Oh, yes I see. It's not much like a plough is it?

Me: No. "The saucepan" would be much better, but I don't suppose the Greeks 
had those when they named them. They were all eating roast boar, I imagine, 
and didn't care much for boiled potatoes.

You: What's that one up there? It looks like a teapot.

Me: Erm, I don't know. That one down there, though, is Orion's dog, erm, 
Dennis.

You: (dubiously) Oh. What's that funny squareish one over there? It looks a 
bit like a plastic bag.

Me: I don't know.

You: It's really big, though.

Me: Yes, well, erm.. Oh look! Over there! A hegehog!

I'd end up being exposed, as usual, for the know-nothing sausage-brain I 
really am. The same could be said on the subject of books. I love books. I 
love their pages and their smell. I like to run my fingers down their 
spines. I like the way letters and words form faces and patterns, ripples on 
a sand dune, cracks in a cellar wall. But I wouldn't say I know much about 
books. I don't read enough. I spent last Wednesday night laughing about the 
same joke on the same page, without turning over. An attitude like that will 
get me nowhere.

Don't ask me about music, either. My cd collection almost reaches the roof 
and is in danger of toppling and burying me, but I couldn't tell you who 
they sound like, or who plays the drums on this one or that. At a pub quiz 
you may as well send me off to the bar when it's the music round.

Now my record player, I understand that. A needle and a spinning groove. 
Take it all apart and put it back together with superglue. I can cope with 
that, but it's not much use to anyone else.

So what got me thinking about all these things was a conversation I had in a 
pub in Nottingham with a Dirty Vicar who had earlier been DJing some truly 
uncompromising sounds. He'd been drinking a bit and his dog-collar had 
slipped a little, but seemed all together to be quite a top fella and far 
more with it than I was. He asked me about Sinister. "Oh look!" I said, 
"Over there! A hedgehog! A hog in a hedge!". But it didn't fool him and he 
asked me again. I had to confess I didn't know much. I mean, I met the 
Pinefox once, but I couldn't understand what he said. I'm no expert on 
anything. I told him about this and that, about that and this, but i 
couldn't tell him much and think i probably made a lot of it up. I felt a 
bit of a fraud. But then, it occurred to me this morning that no one is an 
expert on these things. It's not just me. And there's nothing to really be 
an expert on. I mean, all you need to know is right there in your inbox, 
isn't it?


I've just come off the phone after booking a ticket for the B+S/Delgados gig 
in May. The man I spoke to was quite scary, but the hold music they played 
helped to calm me down. I guess I'll see lots of you there, including, with 
a bit of luck, Paulo, who is my new favourite sinister person ever. I'm also 
hoping to hop over to Edinburgh for a bit, killing two birds with the same 
jet engine, so to speak, so i'll prolly see some of you edinburgh types too, 
with a bit of luck.


auf wiedersehn

r o b i n x





[ by express delivery : http://www.superatomic.co.uk/blog ]




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