Sinister: Girls that drop cups in cafes

[Rask]

well sinister, I only just purchased the cd. I have had the album i would
say close to a month, and been weighing it up and down, and some of you will
remember I said i didn't like it very much and that it was overproduced yada
yada. Got a bit of a public dressing down from Robin Stout.(he apologised
though, what a nice fellow)



 But i have to say that when I took it out of its box, put it into cd player
a kind of magic took over. I sat crossed legged on the floor and read Stuart
's liner notes, which were grate. (mailing his jacket back to his house is
my favourite bit). It all made sense with the notes and it playing out my
stereo, the sun shining in the window. A composite piece. There is a lesson
here kids, mp3's are the tool of the devil. I download all my stuff at uni,
on their ultra fast connection, but i have noticed something. The more twee
or fay the music, the slower the connection the other side. If you set about
downloading, say the new strokes album, good ole fashioned(almost) rawk, the
users all have an upload speed of about 100, but the more twee the music the
weaker the transmission speed. I had a bastard of a time getting camera
obscura and Isobel's new album. Anyway, because i'm wanking about trying to
get a user on soulseek that can give me the song at a good speed i want to
be instantly blown away when I've finally procured the damn thing and play
it on my headphones, and then of course they are all out of sequence. Its
just not a nice experience. Even when i have it all loaded in the right
order and playing away it just didn't do it for me. But the act of coming in
and loading the disc and reading what stuart has to say made me warm to it
more. I think music is instantly contextual, and if the context is looking
over my shoulder to see if the network administrator has found out that I've
hacked the websense filter then it changes the music too.

Anyway long story short I am quite enjoying the record.



****Dear Catastrophe Waitress****
I was sitting in a café in once with a friend of mine, we had been playing
chess and he had been beating me, I decided to blame my poor performance on
the fact the café was getting very loud and busy. I was getting a bit sulky
really because I don't like to lose. So I stared into space and he read a
book, I think it was the unbearable lightness of being, and he was
underlining my copy.



 It was one of these evenings that we were really just passing time and that
is the only phrase for it. I hate that phrase to "pass time"; I mean what is
one passing time till exactly? I know this sounds a bit trite, like pop
psychology rhetoric, to make every moment count or something, but really it
saddens me to pass time. That is also the best reason I can come up with
when people ask me why I don't wear a watch. I like to give my affectations
solid theoretical grounding, and with the eyes to heaven they nod as I
explain. So the café was quite dark but it was the cosiest place we could
find on a cold night. A girl in the corner had caught my eye from the very
start of the evening. She looked really nervous, she was a waitress but she
looked as though she were new. She was pretty, not overly so but her manner
naïve enough to give her charm. I caught her eye a few times as she served
the tables next to mine.

I was looking at her when it happened; she dropped the entire tray of cups
all over the floor in front of me and a look, this look of sheer annoyance,
almost grief like in its contortions came over her face and she bit her lip
beautifully. It seemed to over-compensate by far for the crime. She hissed a
sorry to me for getting coffee on my chords but all I could do was sit there
and think of this look. My friend turned to me and said exactly what was on
my mind. "Did you see her face as she dropped the cups, wasn't it beautiful"
.



 In my minds absence she had all but cleared up the mess but I decided to
make a show of helping her clear it up. She smiled and awkwardly turned back
towards the kitchen with her nervous walk. I must admit to passing time up
until that point, but after that I basked in how sexy I thought this girl
was and her nervous annoyance. You must understand that it wasn't an angry
moment it was embarrassment it was vulnerability, it was perfect. Since then
when I'm asked what kind of women I like I maintain that I like "girls that
drop cups in cafes".  It's the feeling that they are slightly inept at their
jobs, my friend suggested. That perhaps they are inept because they do
something else, perhaps artists or writers he continued. Perhaps this is the
case, perhaps not, but since then I have noticed that she has many
counterparts and partners in crime all over the world. An honourable mention
is to the girl that used to serve me espresso everyday in a café at Place de
la Sorbonne in Paris (she actually tipped my table over) , she used to brush
her hair in the back before she came out to take my order I could see her
face in the mirror. I was too shy with my French to ask for anything more
than an espresso however.



Richard (Rask)



P.S  "Bunking off though you're a toff" = playing truant even though your
posh

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