Sinister: damned by dream

[mike windisch]

it was most certainly some tight and perverted business indeed. But thanks 
be to the wisened arbiter of normal reality, it was just a dream.

The docile, twee and ever-so-stylee easy listening belle and sebastian 
somehow morphed into a heavy metal rock video on the street in front of this 
here office building.

Stuart Murdoch, sporting a mullet cut (see mulletsgalore.com) and 
brandishing a flying-V guitair, was strutting about like some coked-out 
cross between mick jagger and billy squire in a revealing pair of 
tight-assed nuthugger jeans tucked into oversized pony hightops (circa 
1984).

A sleeveless Ted Nuget shirt revealed them thair arms of sex held high in a 
callous clap-along to an amphetimine-fueled version of TBWTAS.

I had to rub my eyes, blink numerous times and say "what the shit" out loud 
repeatedly in an effort to clear this abberant hallucination from my sight.

But to my chagrin, this sordid scene continued to unfold as
that demure chanteuse Isobel emerged from behind the cello done up in patent 
leather fetish gear with a menacing scowl pasted across her visiage. She 
strutted sluttily over to Herr David, who was hastily scribbling something 
into a note book.

With a mighty motion of her stiletto-heeled thigh-high Kiss boots, the 
Isobatrix kicked the scribe square in the bass and onto his ass.

Laughing, she snarled wickedly into the microphone something to the effect 
that she had had enough of his panty-waisting poofta antics
and had better scamper off to his tree fort if he didn't want her to unleash 
the full force of her fresh can of whoop-ass on him.

With a studly chortle, Stu. M quipped into the microphone that "this fuggin 
shit always happens when the bitch's bender ends because the crank ran out"

..... At this point I awoke with a gasp, my sheets sweat soaked and heart 
racing. I was gripped in a hybrid emotional state that combined fear, 
laughter and the odd sensation that things were not right in the world at 
all... In fact, just recounting this horrific scene makes me feel dirty and 
sinful.

In other realms,
I caught a very intimate Hefner gig at Brown a couple weeks ago. It was my 
first encounter with their music and despite a possessed pa was very 
rewarding experience. I cannot stop listening to the recording I made on the 
down low with my trusty radio shack recorder.

Also, the Make Up will be gigging with a hastily-named supergroup (featuring 
members of sonic youth, the bad seeds, and some other indy luminaries) this 
Friday night at the Secret Theater in New London CT. This is a good co-op 
space with a byob speakeasy booze policy. contact me or check 
www.hozomeen.org for more details.

ciao,

windisch


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