Last Friday, sealed up in a hole in the wall full of goths, I was visited by five different acts, each one more different and haunting than the last. Bloated and then, subsequently, pissed, desperate for the toilet. That was I. Each act came one by one to show me what they had made, and like some fetishistic, Dickensian nightmare, I submitted and watched what each one had to offer.
The apparition GRT existed outside of a corporeal form and played dark rammers throughout this tumultuous evening between the other ghostly bodies presenting themselves to me. Whenever one would leave, she would return behind the decks and to soundtrack my cigarettes (spooky cigs).
The first of the true beings to visit me that night was Lapalace. The noisy terror stood before me and yet still there was something oddly beautiful about the sounds they made. The gear they had in front of them blasted out haunting tuneless wonders that shook my body about across the room (although, somehow, I was still sat, ass firmly planted, on a stool at the bar drinking a pint). I was thrilled and worried. Mild potential of pissing of pants.
Next to extend their hand to me were Those Holy. There were two foul cloaked creatures that appeared this time. One looked very familiar, however the shifting face of the supernatural to reflect a known friend has been heard of before. Their machines made even more noise than I had heard from the previous beings. It was incredible that through the blasts I wanted to dance. But my body would not allow it (not sat on stool anymore though). Large potential for pissing of pants.
Liminal Project. I had even heard this name before and yet the apparitions, thrice now, still appeared hazy amongst smoke. Feet wanting to move more furiously now. I was feeling a strong grip around my throat. There probably are moral lessons to be learned from this evening. I am locked into the sounds, am aware it’s music, and I am feeling good. Maximum amount of trousers wetted from piss.
The final dual apparition appeared before me. PC World. This I suppose is Paradiso on my journey. It seems that way. The apparition on stage was friendly and in ecstasy. I am prepared to dance. Each composition brings me closer to the state that I imagine was once called ‘birth’ but may come to be known, in a metaphorical sense, as ‘the end of the evening’. There is light pouring across the room. I have shat myself.
And then I woke up and it was all a dream but they all still had gigs booked for in the future.Â
The end.
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