PARAPHILIA TRASUMANAR

Darla tried to hide herself within the crowd. As she moved among the people, she created a whirlwind of papers and objects about her, attempting to conceal herself. To her credit, by the use of her contrivances, she was the only one in the Palace who was a match for the wizardly Satori Circus. She then signaled to her throng of biker dupes to continue disrupting the performance as she made her getaway. As she departed, the Palace was nothing more than a hailstorm of debris. The show continued but her damage was done.

Satori Circus transmitted his thoughts to me: “Darla Dade was the culprit here. It was her devious efforts that caused the disruption. I will seek her out in another time and place, and put an end to her madness once and for all.

“For few believe in my powerful secrets, so I must be careful. However, in the future many shall know the name of Satori Circus! The secrets I possess are many and powerful, from being able to stop time in its tracks to creating passion out of thin air with my many potions. My magic attracts women and women attract Satori Circus!”

Then Satori Circus began to dematerialize. The last words I heard him cry out were “Let there be Circuses” and “when The Stooges next rock, let it be for the world!” The phrases gave off a ghostly echo, and in the blink of an eye, the charismatic Satori Circus the Armarantine was gone.

Such were the bizarre events taking place in the Palace this Detroit night. A combination of forces that encompassed things I never knew possible, nor even knew existed.

In a dark mental flash I saw the Asheton brothers leave the stage, even before they could finish the finale of their distributing beat to “Gimme Danger.” Another bottle shattered in between Iggy and James, and the remaining members departed, to return no more.

Amidst all the garbage and broken debris on the stage floor, Stanley the MadHatter came out one final time, but only to close the show. As he approached the mic, someone in the crowd tilted the stand and attempted to steal the microphone. Stanley chastised the culprit to such an extent that the would-be thief appeared to be frozen in his tracks, and upon the MadHatter’s command, meekly surrendered his attempted ill-gotten souvenir. The curtain then closed. The concert was over, kaput.

What a night. I could not believe it had played out like this, but it had.

On my way to my car, still reeling from the events of the evening, I suddenly remembered the camera. My god, the pictures! The first time I had attended this concert I had not had a camera, but this time I had. Would the photos develop?

I reached out my right hand to unlock the car door. The key turned in the lock, but as I reached for the door handle with my left, my fingers were unable to grasp it. My body had begun evaporating, and in seconds I had faded into a darkened nothingness. As I spun in the vortex, I realized that events in time could, and in some cases should be changed, but to what level was it possible to do so? I did not know. Was I treading on dangerous territory? Could this “time tripping,” if controlled, be the ultimate avenue of historical, cultural and political subversion?

I zapped back from the vortex into my parent’s home in Lincoln Park. The title track of Raw Power was still spinning on the turntable. A few more rotations and I felt myself fade out 31