Hello and welcome to the show.

  I've just had a really traumatic lecture.  Photography and the Vietnam War.
Mmmmmm.  Detailed descriptions (and pictures too, yay) of exactly how napalm
was *improved* by the addition of phosphorous so it couldn't be washed off but
instead carried on eating into the flesh until it hit bone.  I couldn't believe
how nonchalant the rest of the lecturees seemed.  Goodness me.  It never ceases
to amaze me how human beings don't seem to tire of developing new and ever-more
painful ways of degrading and damaging each other.  I mean, half the pictures
extant of Nam were taken by soldiers photographing their own atrocities: "Gee,
Mom, look what _I_ got: it's a severed VietCong ear!"

  Goes quite well with a lecture we had the other day by an *artist* who
basically showed us a film of herself having a bit of a menage-a-trois.  With
closeups of (a) oral sex performed by all members (two laydees and a gent) of 
the party on all others and (b) the most ridiculous breast-jiggling since, well,
EVER.  Certainly brightened up _my_ afternoon.  Jesus.  And they say Fine Art is
a copout.  
 
  So for the first time in a long while I didn't get pished on Sunday, due to
all members of the finest debauched chapel choir in Oxford having work to do,
most unusually including myself.  So I went home, made a stab at the 
aforementioned ungainful employment, then listened to Tindersticks' "Second
Album" with just the unseasonal fairy lights on in the lounge.  All was at 
slightly warped peace.  I hadn't listened to that for a while, and it had a
rather larger impact than anticipated.  Lines like

  "Have you ever wondered what's inside that keeps us together?
  Have you ever wanted to take a knife and discover?"

    certainly make _my_ day.
Also, "Cherry Blossoms" _always_ makes me cry.  And that's what listening to
good music is all about, chillun: it makes you shiver and sweat unexpectedly,
it makes you drive your fingernails into the palms of your hands through sheer
excitement, and above all it makes you cry.  

  Which is why I'm so goshdarn excited about new B&S *product* (genuinely new
rahter than bowed shenanigins), even though I know that any promised release
date will be exceeeeeeded bigstyle.  Something else to induce violent booty-
shaking, uncontrollable giggling (oh yes, the first time I listened to "The 
State I Am In" properly) and, indeed, blubbing.  But I only cry in private, so
no-one gets to see my red puffy nose at future Tigermilking eeevents.  Heh heh. 

  BOOMshakalak!

  Love,
    Liz :x
                                                                0771 3014742
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