“We’re going wireless.” The TTM is the first example of nonfiction from fiction, spun throughout these turntale bull chapters. Making real-world objects (whatever the real world is in 2019?) such as books and vinyl records, taken from within this very wonky turvy fictional-verse under your eyelids: Deep Scratch History World.
Plush shuffled up close to the turntables with a Lenny Bruce L.P in one hand, and some William Burroughs wax in the other. He flips the records onto the spindle, cues up the groove, and opens up the mixer channel. “Hahahaha, you like this? Be weird I have no pants on.” “Listen all you boards, governments, syndicates, nations of the world.”
Plush shifts crossfader again, cutting between two sources, new sentences emerge. Back in time, spirit tribes gather like smoke. DJs splicing narrative voices of historical weight.
MAX and PERCY stand awestruck, the penny dropped to their guts, their eyes spin around in sync with the turntables, a tiny winged orb flies past Plush’s retina. The audio signal splutters out from the speakers, as if neurally networked to an assortment of voices, like Reggie Watts on acid, blending choral, Gregorian, alien, native Indian, with north African overtones, a tornado of voices singing of love and unity. Yes. It goes…