Sinister: some notes on the weather fields

[spendthrift]

Wesley couldn't even play the guitar when he started, much less write a
song. Sure he was handsome, but the girls always found a way to turn him
down. By the time he put the finishing touches to the Indian Burns, it was
suddenly clear he had, quite by accident, become a master of catchy hooks,
subtle phrasing, and tense, self-lacerating lyrics. How had he gotten
there? Many evenings of jangly strummed guitar, propping the guitar
against his bent knee, for fear the strap would exacerbate his back
condition. He credits the History Channel, the many proprietors of free
access internet porn groups, and curry, in its myriad forms, for shaping
his unique vision of corruption, decay, brutality, and no solace. "A boot
in the face of mankind forever," is the mantra he picked up from Orwell. 

Gavin was a veteran of single parenthood and the early 80's punk rock
scene: he had the hairline to prove it. After replacing Thurston Moore on
guitar for often shirtless linguist and Noam Chomsky-opponent Michael
Bord's band Artless, he toured the United States and Europe countless
times, scoring a top 100 hit in Norway before he was through. He lives in
a large creaky storage building cluttered with the mindless junk of a
now-expired neo-Nazi architect and his gay Buddhist son. For the meantime,
he has turned to criticism in an attempt to make others pay for his
thwarted creative genius.  

Our protagonists met under the not-so-benevolent gaze of a revisionist
Marxist philosopher and crazed sex fiend who shall remain nameless. Wesley
was arrogant and dictatorial since the day he was born. Humility and
submission were pounded into him every day of his blighted youth, to no
avail. Observe how he prances about the stage. Witness, if you dare, the
dreaded karate dance.

The Weather Fields were raised in an atmosphere of indifference and spite.
All their casual greatness as pop songwriters, performers, and
instrumentalists seems to come as an afterthought. It serves to prove the
injustice of life on this planet. It would be difficult to imagine two
more unworthy conduits of musical greatness, and yet there they are:
sending jolts of current into the collective consciousness that can awaken
us and spur us to reach for our better selves. 

" Some men are born mediocre, other men achieve mediocrity, still others have 
mediocrity thrust upon them."

				-Joseph Heller

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