From: owner-precious-things-digest@smoe.org (precious-things-digest) To: precious-things-digest@smoe.org Subject: precious-things-digest V4 #132 Reply-To: precious-things@smoe.org Sender: owner-precious-things-digest@smoe.org Errors-To: owner-precious-things-digest@smoe.org Precedence: bulk X-To-Unsubscribe: Send mail to "precious-things-digest-request@smoe.org" X-To-Unsubscribe: with "unsubscribe" as the body. precious-things-digest Friday, May 7 1999 Volume 04 : Number 132 Today's Subjects: ----------------- Church in Delgany, Ireland, Help. [Zephyr21x@aol.com] ATTENTION CALIFORNIA EWF!! [Easter Feurig ] flying Dutchman [Stephen Golato ] Matthew Perry, Tori fan ["Erin Martin" ] Dreams [Shirley Ye ] Anyone know... ["Shaigirl 19/f" ] Re: Anyone know... [Michael Curry ] Re: flying Dutchman [Nadyne Mielke ] My story... [DeperLee@aol.com] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Thu, 6 May 1999 12:41:06 EDT From: Zephyr21x@aol.com Subject: Church in Delgany, Ireland, Help. I am going to Ireland on Monday and I plan to go to the church where Tori recorded part of BfP. I have located Delgany on the map but I really have no idea where the church is. Could someone who has been there give me an idea of how to find it. And if there are any other Toriesque places in Ireland please let me know about them. Thanks in advance, Sharon ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 06 May 1999 08:58:22 -0700 (PDT) From: Easter Feurig Subject: ATTENTION CALIFORNIA EWF!! ATTENTION CALIFORNIA EWF!! If you want to or plan to go to the Concord concert in sept., please go to this page: http://zap.to/the_stinky_souls to find out more about a California EWF group. We plan to meet early at the concert and plan more get togethers in the future for our own California-style ToriFest! Thanx again and hope to hear from you soon! *Pandora* (cat named Easter) __ http://www.go.com ________________________________________________________ ____ Get your Free GO Network Email address at http://mail.go.com ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 6 May 1999 15:24:33 -0400 From: Stephen Golato Subject: flying Dutchman After reading the posts about the flying dutchman stories, I was wondering if one of my favorite Tori songs (Not the Red Baron) relates at all to this story. It was written about the same time she wrote the flying dutchman (i assume) since it is on BFP. I wish this song would just go on forever. Not the Red Baron is way, way, way too short. Anyone know any stories or history or interpretations to that song? Thanks. Steve "What the media says is only the headline. Determine the rest of the story on your own, gather information from many sources, and draw your own conclusions." ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 06 May 1999 09:56:50 -0400 From: "Erin Martin" Subject: Matthew Perry, Tori fan Hey! The other day I was taking a day off and reading Cosmo. I look for Tori references wherever I am and I found one. There was an article about Matthew Perry (Chandler Bing on "Friends") and he was talking about how the other castmates make fun of him for listening to such serious music. He said something like, "If you're a female under emotional duress, I will buy your album. Tori Amos and Sarah McLachlan I love. Of course, if you're a lesbian, I will buy it twice." So we have Mr. Perry and Mr. Reiser as sitcom actors who like Tori. Anybody know anybody else who's come out of the Toriphile closet? Hugs, Erin ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 06 May 1999 10:01:36 -0700 From: Shirley Ye Subject: Dreams Lately, I've been seeing a lot of Tori in my dreams... Last night I dreamt that "Merman" was going to be on the 2-disc release, and to go along with "Merman" there were a bunch of pictures in the CD booklet of Tori swimming underwater. Some of the lyrics on Merman changed too, like she did an improv at the beginning or something. Another dream I had a couple of weeks ago was that I was roomates with Tori and we were just sitting around, talking in our bathrobes. =P Shirley Ye Berkeley, California shye@uclink4.berkeley.edu I am not an angry girl, but it seems like I've got everyone fooled. Every time I say something they find hard to hear, they chalk it up to my anger and never to their own fear. - -Ani Difranco, Not a Pretty Girl ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 06 May 1999 14:35:07 PDT From: "Shaigirl 19/f" Subject: Anyone know... Can somebody tell me the recording date of the Sessions @ West 54th? I was thinking it was like 11/14 or something close to that. I dunno... I'm not sure, that's why I'm asking! =) Thanks! Peace, Love, & TORIness ~~Shaigirl "I can be cruel I don't know why." -Tori Amos **~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~** Shaigirl 19/f * shaigirl79@hotmail.com AOL IM: Shaigirl79 * ICQ#: 7032035 Confessions of a Shaigirl * http://glenmar.com/~mmb _______________________________________________________________ Get Free Email and Do More On The Web. Visit http://www.msn.com ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 06 May 1999 18:40:30 -0400 From: Michael Curry Subject: Re: Anyone know... At 02:35 PM 5/6/99 -0700, Shaigirl 19/f wrote: > >Can somebody tell me the recording date of the Sessions @ West 54th? I >was thinking it was like 11/14 or something close to that. I dunno... >I'm not sure, that's why I'm asking! =) Thanks! It was November 14th. Mike ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 06 May 1999 20:20:40 -0500 From: Nadyne Mielke Subject: Re: flying Dutchman At 03:24 PM 5/6/99 -0400, Stephen Golato wrote: > >After reading the posts about the flying dutchman stories, I was wondering >if one of my favorite Tori songs (Not the Red Baron) relates at all to this >story. It was written about the same time she wrote the flying dutchman (i >assume) since it is on BFP. I wish this song would just go on forever. Not >the Red Baron is way, way, way too short. Anyone know any stories or history >or interpretations to that song? Thanks. "Flying Dutchman" is a LE-era bee-side, so it and "Not the Red Baron" weren't written in the same time frame at all. /nad ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 6 May 1999 21:18:42 EDT From: DeperLee@aol.com Subject: My story... Hello, fellow Ears with Feet! I'm a fairly new EwF myself (I've been in to her for about a year or so...My friend forced me to listen to Under the Pink, and Its been down hill ever since!) but I wrote a story based on my favorite song, "Yes Anastasia." I was wondering if anyone would mind giving me their comments on it, keeping in mind that I'm not totally sure if I like it!! Well...Without further Adeu, here it is! Oh yes...one more note!! all the (i) and (p) are from when I sent it to another person. They are basically to denote Italics and paragraph breaks! A Visit From Teacher Based on the song, "Yes Anastasia," By Tori Amos Author's note: When writing this, I noticed that I made the girl's hair red, a lot like that of Tori Amos. However, I'd like to say that the girl in this story is, by no means, meant to be or even seem like Tori. (p)The mellow, deep sound of the young girl's cello sang sadly, like the crying wind that sounds through a storm. The music she played could touch anyone; even the most untrained person could hear the emotional and technical superiority of her music. This was an obvious sign that the adolescent had been playing since a very early age. In truth, even her posture depicted a certain expertise; her copper-colored locks swayed across the body of the mahogany cello as her bent head moved from side to side with a grace that is only seen in the lazy rocking motion of the sea. She was in a state of deep listening, although her mind was not focused on the music. (p)Instead, she listened to the voices downstairs, those that she was not supposed to hear. The cello practice was a ruse, it was meant to create the idea that the girl was in her usual state of musical concentration and thus keep those voices from speaking in a soft voice that she could not hear. She listened intently to every word spoken with ears that had been sharp at birth yet were made better with her years of cello practice. (p)"^ÅShe is different from others. She doesn't quite fit in, and it's becoming more of a problem." The adolescent recognized her Literature teacher's voice. The young girl heard the matron-like voice of Miss Pallida. "Yes, well, she is not meant to be like everyone else. She is her own person in that she wishes to remain alone." (p)It was almost humorous how perfectly the piece the girl played fit the conversation. The cello's deep moan echoed what could be the cries of a lonely child. The girl wondered if the two women downstairs noticed the puzzle-like fit of the piece to the mood of their conversation. She smiled slightly at the movie-like quality of the situation, and at a certain dynamic swell which echoed the young teacher's next words. (p)"Yes well^ÅI am concerned for your daughter, Mrs^Å" (p)The girl smiled sadistically at the sound of the older woman's curt interruption. "^ÅMy name is (i)Miss(i),(i thank you." (p)The girl improvised a barking chord right after Miss Pallida's interlude that almost mocked the older woman. The younger girl knew how much of a feminist the woman was, and it amused her as to how it annoyed Miss Pallida when someone assumed that she was married! (p)By the sound of her voice, the girl concluded that her teacher was embarrassed by her mistake. The younger girl could almost see her teacher blushing. "Well, Miss Pallida, as of late, the young lady has been receiving some negative^Åattentions^Å" (p)The girl laughed to herself as a sharp chord ripped again through the silence created after those last words were uttered. When the sound faded, she heard Miss Pallida speak. (p)"Negative?" (p)"Negative^Åyes^Å" The young girl could almost hear the way Ms. Acer struggled for the correct words. "You see, she is very quiet^Å" (p)"Yes I know this. It is her nature to be very quiet." The music obediently softened and, in the mind of the girl, it took on the personality of a young virgin innocently picking violets in a meadow. The girl outright grinned, this was becoming quite an amusing game! (p)There was no stutter or pause that would indicate to the girl that those downstairs could sense her game. Instead, she heard her teacher's timid voice continue. "Yes^Åwell^Åshe only wears those very long dresses. They are out of date, I suppose you could say." The girl laughed at Ms. Acer as the young teacher began to drift to other topics. "You know^Åthey have those silly empire waists and those short sleeves. They are very pretty, but ^Ådifferent. Most girls, you see, wear very^Åcasual things^Åjeans, cotton tops^Åyou know! The fashion today! She is the only one who consistently wears^Åparty dresses. It's very far from the norm." (p)Here now, the girl changed her virgin melody to something odd. It was still sweet and it yet contained the sounds of an innocent, but now it was not predictable. Instead it whipped from key to key in a very unconventional way. (p)The girl noticed that Miss Pallida had yet to sense her "game." She instead heard the older woman answer in brisk tones. "You are wandering, Ms. Acer. What Anastasia wears is of no concern to you. What I wish to know is what this 'negative behavior' is about." (p)The young girl mimicked the same dark chord that filled the air when the words, 'negative behavior' were first uttered. Even as she was playing her game, however, she was thinking of her name: the one that Miss Pallida had finally spoken of. It fit her; the girl was quite proud of the ancient sound of it. It was an antique name that was as Grecian as the style of dresses that she wore. She didn't really care that she was different from the other students; she simply wanted to hold on to the Grecian heritage that was installed into her early on. She remembered the nights when she laid quietly on her mother's lap as the woman spoke softly of her native Greece. (p)Anastasia allowed herself to drift into those memories until they came to a rather cruel point. With a small cry, she pushed those painful memories away quickly and switched her attention to the voices downstairs and to her little game. "Well, Mrs^Å.ahhhhhh^Å(i)Miss(i)( Pallida," Anastasia heard her teacher recover quickly from the mistake. "I will tell you the entire story as I saw it." Now this would be fun! Anastasia would soon have an entire story to improvise her music to! She listened intently to the words below and she prepared to change the melody that had become increasingly dark. (p)"You see^Å" Ms. Acer' voice sounded. "After school today I was preparing to leave, as I always do. As I was packing up, I saw Anastasia through the window in my classroom. She was sitting in the school's garden, you see. It's a very nice garden, and your daughter was very innocently reading a book on a bench in the center of it." (p)Anastasia quickly brought her music back to the lilting sounds of her virgin song. She realized that she was far from the piece she had started from; the earlier music had been brooding while this melody was very innocent. Anastasia giggled slightly, what she was now playing sounded like it belonged in a Disney movie! "Now, Miss Pallida, she painted a very pretty picture outside, so I was watching her^Å" Anastasia heard the woman's voice trail as if she was embarrassed. "She reminded me of when I was a child, you see." Anastasia giggled at the silly way her teacher was meandering from topic to topic. If she continued like this, she would never get to the juicy part of the story! (p)"Well, as I said, Anastasia was reading alone^Å" Once again, Anastasia heard the timid sound come to her teacher's voice that could only mean that the younger woman was uncomfortable with the details of what she had to say. "^ÅAs of late^Åand I think it is because of her lack of socialization^Åthe kids, they have tried to find a boiling point in your daughter^Åteasing, you know^Åand a little...ehhh^Åharassment. " (p)At that word, Anastasia's fingers changed her happy melody into something that sounded foreboding, as if it came from a horror film. Her fingers played increasingly darker music as her mind was caught in the story her teacher spun below. (p)Her teacher spoke still. "They^Åthe boys, I mean^Åtouched her, sometimes. I reported them and they were suspended, of course, and I thought the harassment would stop! It did for awhile, until this afternoon." (p)Miss Pallida's voice came again. "This afternoon?" (p)"Yes. What I came to speak to you about happened this afternoon. Let me finish telling you exactly what I saw^Å" (p)As her teacher uttered these words, Anastasia's brow furrowed as her memories surfaced yet again. She once again tried to bury them, and then realized the conversation and the game she played were the two things that brought those painful times back. Yet, for some unknown reason, she could not stop herself from continuing. (p)"Now^Å I told you that she was sitting there reading." Her teacher continued. "I had the windows open; it was a nice day, so I could hear what was said. Some of her classmates came up to her and tried to get a response out of her, but she did not even look up. They taunted for awhile, as kids do, and I was about to go stop them, but they seemed to get bored and they began to leave. I had no idea what was going to happen next^Å" (p)Anastasia frowned slightly as she improvised a dark bridge in her tune. She tried not to remember the past, but the story was bringing those memories back to her. She pushed them away again and tried to continue as she had before. (p)"One of the boys turned around, though, as the group was leaving and picked up a rock suddenly." The teacher continued. "I really don't know what made him decide to do that, but he did. He took that rock, it was very small, mind you, and he shouted something very obscene at the girl. I really don't want to repeat it." Anastasia heard Miss Pallida's voice boom below. "I want to hear, though, Ms. Acer." (p)"Well^Å" The younger woman's voice continued hesitantly. "He called her a whore^Åa^Åwell^Åehhh^Åa^Ådirty whore." Anastasia heard her voice shake with revolt at the words. "I hardly think she's done anything to deserve those words, though." (p)Anastasia felt her heart tear. She was not a whore now; she had (i)never(i) been one, really! She had to grow up the hard way, but she had never been a whore by her own choice! (p)"Anyways," The teacher's voice sounded. "As I was saying, he called her that and then he ^Åwell, he (i)threw(i) the rock at her. It hit her on her arm, I remember that clearly, and I remember how startled she was when she looked up at them. By now, all the other children had turned to face the situation. This young man, now, he then said something to the effect of, 'You know they used to stone the whores way back when?' She just stared at him in surprise. To be honest, I've never seen that much emotion on her face, ever!^Å" (p)Anastasia heard Miss Pallida's voice interrupt very curtly. "And you did nothing to stop this because^Å?" (p)"You have to understand, Miss. Pallida, there were many of them and only one of me. I couldn't do anything^Å" Anastasia thought the young woman's voice sounded very frightened. (p)"You could have contacted the authorities. You could have done something without harming yourself. Anastasia was one against many and you did nothing?" Anastasia smiled slightly at Miss Pallida's demanding voice. (p)"I'm sorry!" The younger voice sounded. "I should have done something but I didn't! Please, let me finish the story^Å" The higher-pitched tones sounded whining and pleading. (p)"Fine then. Continue." The matron's voice seemed rather angered to Anastasia, but she imagined that Miss Pallida wished to hear the rest of the story. (p)"Well^Åhe, the boy who initially threw the rock, continued to say something about how whores would run away like cowards, and how she was probably a coward. If memory serves he said, 'We'll see how brave you are, little whore.'" (p)Anastasia's game stopped after those words, and she rested her head on the body of her cello as if it was a comforting friend. (i)I'm not a whore^Å(i) she thought to herself in tired words. She started to remember the nights she spent on the streets, even as she tried to push the memories back into the hiding spots they once held. (p)No matter, the teacher below didn't even know the girl was listening, nevertheless the pain she was causing. She simply continued her story in her now slightly detached voice. "Well, the other kids, this boy's friends, cheered at his words. They then picked up rocks and they began to throw them also." (p)Why wasn't her teacher paying any attention to the pain she was causing? The incident brought back memories, and reliving the incident caused horrid memories too! (p)Anastasia whimpered softly as she continued to stare outside her window. She remembered earlier in the day when she had dug up all her courage and taken the punishment. Maybe she was a whore, and maybe she disserved the sting of the stones. She would take her judgement, and she would not be called a coward. (p)Anastasia remembered her childhood. She sniffled softly and ran her hair roughly through her cascade of auburn hair. She wished she could forget it and move on, but the frozen look of fear on her mother's face still haunted her. Anastasia remembered the night when she was three years old, and she recalled the body bag they wheeled out that contained her mother. (p)Her mother^ÅAnastasia remembered the time before she died, too. She saw the woman who had worked her fingers to the bone to support the two of them. She loved the woman, her mother, raped so young and then impregnated. Her mother's life was as difficult as Anastasia's had become. It was almost good that her mother had been shot when she was. (p)Anastasia forced herself to forget those memories and she returned to the conversation that she could not stop listening to. It seemed that she had not missed much. (p)"Your daughter quickly stood up and she ran away. The kids followed her though, and they screamed rather taunting things. Kids are very high strung when something stirs them, you see. Well, they chased her to the edge of the school grounds, when one of the kids shouted something to the affect of, 'We'll see how brave you are! We'll see how fast you'll be running! Yes, Anastasia, we'll see how brave you are!' Something struck your daughter then, I really don't know what. She just stopped running, turned around quickly, and then flung her arms out." It was no use; Anastasia's mind drifted yet again to the past. Tears left a salt-path down her face as she remembered her three year-old self running down the street away from her dead mother's face. She remembered running into that man, the one who's name she never learned, and she recalled him telling her that he would take care of her. (p)Anastasia shook her head in pain, but the memories continued to pour out. She saw the man teach her his trade, she saw countless men use her and then discard her. She felt sadness that situations such as hers had become cliché. Her hands went to clutch her head as her heart poured through the three years that she had been a whore-child. (p)She wasn't now, though! The authorities saved her when her pimp was caught, and then Miss Pallida had taken her in. The woman was good, if strict, and she had given Anastasia her beloved cello. All the younger girl wanted to do was forget, forget, move on, and be loved. But some how, the past haunted her, and the children from the school brought back memories that she felt would never leave her. Anastasia sat down sadly on the floor beneath her window. She was defeated now, and nothing could stop the memories from coming. Faintly, and through the myriad of memories that now pulsed through her head, she heard the final words of her teacher's story below. (p)"^ÅThe children continued to throw the stones until the administration could stop them. We wanted to take her to the hospital to make sure she was all right, but by the time the other kids were taken care of, she had disappeared. I wanted to make sure she had come home and that she was safe." (p)Somewhere in the corner of her mind, Anastasia saw the image of one of the men that had touched her. He had placed a black dog collar around her five year-old neck and had chained her to a bed. She recalled how he had kneeled down and petted her naked body as he spoke. "Come along now, little darling^ÅCome along now with me." Her mind hurt her as the memory came flashing back. (i)No teacher^Å(i) she thought. (i)I will never be safe.(i) Thanx again for reading!! Jennifer ------------------------------ End of precious-things-digest V4 #132 *************************************