Sinister: Masquerading as superheroes

[Joseph Askins]

Been a while since my last post...

Shafted yesterday's Psych 1 lecture and skipped on over to the comic
store instead.  Walked out with $15 dollars worth of new comics (ten
years ago, that would have bought me, oh, 15 comics...today that buys me
five) and again skipped over to Whizz Records.  I had reviewed the new
Southpacific album this week and absolutely fell in love, so I talked to
Breeze about ordering my own copyt.  I can almost guarantee that I'll be
broke by the time it comes in, but knowing the speed at which Breeze
works, I'll probably be out of school and raising kids by the time he
finally calls me to tell me they've arrived.

Made it home in one piece, read my Batman comics, and took a nap.  Woke
that evening, got some dinner, and footed it over to Drew's dorm room.
He was wanting to read the latest Sin City and was finished making tapes
of my "Tigermilk" and "LLPJ" CDs (and now that I think of it, I don't
believe I made it out of his room with them...that sneaky rat).  We sat
around, expounding on the brilliance of Frank Miller and carrying on
about whether or not "Watchmen" was REALLY better than "Dark Knight
Returns".  We're such nerds.  Looking at the clock, we realized that it
was almost time to head over to the Ranch, and we didn't have a ride.
Thankfully, Tony hadn't left his apartment left and was willing to swing
by and pick us up.

Got to the Ranch around 9:30.  The Ranch is a big, ranch-style house
right outside of Columbia, and the guys who live there are always
bringing bands in to play in the oversized basement.  A spacy noise rock
extravaganza of a band called the Allscars were playing.  Someone said
that they had connections to Nation of Ulysses and Dischord Records, but
I never pursued to find out what their story was.  They played well,
with the lead singer/trumpeter guy providing more entertainment through
his dancing than through the actual music.  Near the very end of their
set, he ran into the crowd, handing people whistles and kazoos to play.
I was one of the lucky recipients, but again, I don't believe I made it
out of the basement with my whistle.  After it was all over, we hung
around, trying to decide what to do. Drew was talking to a few of our
friends from the radio station, while I was chatting it up with an
attractive little number with short dark hair and an equally short
skirt.  Lost interest in her after she told me that she hadn't read
"High Fidelity" but insisted that it couldn't be any better than "Our
Noise".  Blasphemy.  And just as I was figuring out what to put on her
mix tape, no less...

Drew, Tony, and I drove over to our friend John's house for post-show
refreshments (Pabst Blue Ribbon and burgers cooked on John's new George
Foreman grill).  John had a few video tapes lying around, so we popped
one in--"Real TV:  Disasters Caught on Tape!"  Nothing we haven't seen
in similar shows on Fox every week, but it fit the atmosphere.  Drew and
Tony left right before a few more radio station kids showed up.  I
stayed there until 4:00, listening to Big Star and Dusty Springfield.
Everyone headed out or turned in around the same time, and I got a ride
back to the dorm.  My roommate was nowhere to be found--probably off in
his girlfriend's bedroom, where he can be found most of the time--and I
crashed as soon as my head hit the pillow, my head filled with dreams of
Batman and girls with good taste.

Joseph "Ooh, my picture is finally on the Sinister page" Askins

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