Sinister: "it's the feel, you fool"

[mike windisch]

hey sinister,

list abuse and shout outs up top. pedantic windisch speil below. bail out 
now if you're not ready to sink with the ship.

<<<re:
"sometimes i think im depriving a village somewhere of an idiot"

for lines like this and lots of others, i've most assuredly taken a fancy to 
that paula cullen girl. If she ever gets herself to providence (the city), 
the tab for her booze explosion will be picked up yours truly and the rest 
of the five point nine action boys when i run out of money.<<<

<<< thank you for the compliment velocity farewell <<< my mailer couldn't 
connect with yours to say thanks off list.


spiel time:

here are two lessons learned in life last night. Both were funny and fairly 
poignant at the time.

(And even though this post prattles on a bit, and pokes its snout up the bum 
of mummybunny's recent chiding for our being so dishdurn self indulgent, it 
does I hope swing back to some of the core reasons anyone would like a band 
like b&s in the first place)

one: the magic that is chickenhawk & the joy that one's actions can bring 
into the world.

chickenhawk reminds me of a rodeo clown: couragious, funny and sanely off 
his gord. five foot two, built solid and even from his ever-present & 
contagious grin down to the place where his feet meet the top of his 
skateboard. his low center of gravity and springy pop allow him to 
consistently do the physically impossible with humor and pinache.

chickenman's talent level is high and his vibe elevates everybody else 
around him, be it on the wooden toy machine, carousing barside, or on the 
job taking care of an elderly lady. he's just one of those folks that makes 
everything better by being there.

At any rate, we're all at the park having ourselves a humpday session.  
everybody's taking long runs, making lots of their tricks and feeding off of 
each other's energy. during one of chickenhawk's runs, he did some amazing 
maneuver (i can't even remember what it was except that he was chest high 
above the ramp and and landed backwards with that big ass grin still 
plastered across his mug) that was so physically incredible everybody went 
nuts and started bellowing approval and shaking their heads in disbelief.

This sort of reaction usually happens when somebody is ripping, but this 
time it was special. there was laughter all around. sincere grins from deep 
within. it lingered. 15-20 seconds later we're still looking at each other 
and basking in the warm glow of joy that our friend had just brought into 
the world. all of his own volition and for his own satisfaction.

The reason why i'm relating it here, and what i think makes it resonate far 
from the world of five point nine skateboarding and into these sinister 
environs, is that it struck me as such a pure application of talent and 
creativity. Just some guy, doing something he feels driven to undertake for 
personal reasons, the product of which makes a positive and pleasurable 
impact on those who bear witness to it.

Kind of like a song that touches you and makes your innerds tingle they way 
mine do when that pasty scot stuey m starts singing slow graffiti. Or the 
way I'm unable to resist the compulsion to sing along as loud and poofy as 
possible whenever get me away... comes on in the car.

two: an exuberent way to greet a stranger who appears to share an esoteric 
interest with you.

Moreso with the shy-er euro listees, i've often read about one sinister 
spotting another with the upended badge but not having the moxie to approach 
and engage the stranger.

While carousing barside with findy the cake and punk rock paul at one dollar 
beer night, we began noticing a heavy-metal long hair guy drinking away 
right next to us.

findy and paul, being band mates in several humorous and hard-rocking 
outfits as well as being past masters in the heavy-metal arts, became 
convinced that this fellow was probably the only other jamoke in one up that 
had a familarity with King Diamond (a ludicrous 80's metal icon).

After a short period of trepidation, paul engaged the galoot, asking if he 
liked King Diamond and brandishing with his dexterous right hand the 
hella-killa devil horn mundra that any metaler worth his ragged mane and 
jean jacket has ingrained in his dna.

Without skipping a beat, the stranger replied: "I only know Angeline..." and 
began singing a duet to this masterpiece with paul. The stranger then blew 
us all away with one outpouring of the high range metal scream that he was 
an obvious master of.

We all collapsed in a heap of laughter, spilt beer and new-found comradery. 
Next came the if-only-this-had-been-captured-on-video lament that follows 
most classic bits of extemporaneous comedy and validates the fact that the 
scene was a pure and worthwhile moment. not to mention being the grist for 
an endlessly amusing memory.

I know that the whole heavy-metal scream bit probably won't come in useful 
if trying to break the ice with a stranger who bears the outward markings of 
sinister;

but the point remains that in many situations it is indeed better to regret 
something one has done than to lament an opportunity that slipped away. 
Trying to connect with a stranger that one seems to share an affinity with 
is might just constitute one of those times.

Also, I hope that the new album has a song about shyness being one of the 
problems that it is possible to drink away.


windisch out




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