Sometimes I dream of having some sort of public space that I could just spin slowed oldies like this, one Sunday afternoon a month, and there be a big ass cookout going on at the same time, maybe fry up some fish, and just create a vibe. Then I also think I need some sort of mobile sound system, with lasers and DIRTGOD in bright garish letters that cause the hard of seeing to cover their eyes. But there’s nobody to show me how to cobble this together, and most of those I encounter, like me, seem more channeled into finding things to buy to create this type of thing rather than build it from junk. And if you “google” anything at this point, you get sponsored results, even when you don’t. So maybe I should just take my battery powered speaker and battery powered mini turntable set-up, and just go play these oldies slow for the frogs in the big pit of the old canal along the river where the railroad yard is near Bremo, by the 69th mile marker. That’s where I’ll go when I’m dead and gone and my life has been archived in ash, so it makes sense to glorify the spot now, and get the amphibians hype enough to grow legs and jump up out the water and walk on mud.
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