A Dimension inside a Disco Ball

Dernberger Spengleton,
Tender to the Conveyor
[Photo by Anna Meloylan]

This year began the annual juggler council retreat inside Anna and Spanky's giant inverted disco ball. The time was 9 o'clock. The location: Venice Beach. Representatives from various sects of the juggling world gathered from lands far away, coming to a common point to stir a cauldron containing that which cannot be encoded in words.

It was also the day of Venice Afterburn - an occasion during which desert people, subcultured artist's, and warrior individuals of all kinds came to the city to show city folks what is possible in the desert. Art cars were blasting electronic music, bouncing up and down. Warlock's spun fire and L.E.D. lights. There were jungle gyms, live bands, dancers, and art installations. This was at the center of the focal point that is Venice Beach - between the ocean, the skatepark, the roadside villages, street performers, bars and more.

Amidst this colorful chaos, the jugglers found their way to Anna and Spanky, who stood dressed in grand flamboyant attire. The two of them beheld a 10-foot tall disco ball adorned with mirrors and LEDs. It stood like a spectacle atop a small mountain at the center of the party. Everyone could feel its gravity.

"Right this way," Spanky said, "the time is right."

Alex, Cha, and Adam began their juggle, passing 9 pins amongst the three of them in a zig-zagging pattern. As they accelerated, a small portal appeared on the side of the giant disco ball. Ana encouraged them, "Faster, the portal is forming, faster!"

Once the portal had sufficiently widened, the three jugglers carefully stepped inside, maintaining their juggle along the way.

Multiplying fractal kaleidoscopic reflections in all directions. Compounding reverberating sounds and color. The sensory overload was such that even Alex, who had trained for this moment for years, required complete focus. The kaleidoscope made juggling nearly impossible - the many mirrors showed a million pins, but somehow jugglers needed to keep track of the original 9.

A man emerged into this dimension carrying a guitar, wearing a martian helmet, and singing in a heavenly ethereal voice. He played all the greatest solos ever played simultaneously while also reciting the scriptures of all holy books in their original languages. Generations of god-being wisdom was streaming at 100 megagigs per second into the jugglers' minds, hearts, and muscle memories.

"It feels like a firehose is pouring water from the fountain of truth into each individual neuron in my skull," Cha said. "This is incredible."

Adam and Alex's eyes were rolled back as they too were receiving a download, but somehow the juggling continued.

At one point, two pins collided and sent a terrifying echo throughout the dimension. The two pins ricocheted in opposite directions. What would happen if a pin falls? It somehow felt like the entire dimension would collapse upon the juggler's heads. They would never have the chance to return to the outide world to tell other people of what they had experienced. Nobody would ever know what they had learned.

Alex reached out and just barely caught the falling pin. The juggle became disorganized, but the group clung on just long enough for the god-being guitarist to finish reciting his message. When pins finally did hit the floor, the inverted disco ball collapsed and expanded again, then burped out the jugglers onto the grass outside. The larger Venice party had concluded, and people were making their way out the gates. Nobody had enough energy to marinate on their newfound experiences at that very moment, so they ate some pizza and small talked with other powerful beings nearby, including Pseudo, Saki, Momo, and many others. A full download would need to wait for another day.

As payment for its provisions, the inverted disco ball swallowed all 9 juggling pins permanently. Hungry hungry disco ball, must feed itself somehow.

For more articles by Dernberger Spengleton, click here. To get in touch with this writer, email spengleton@surrealtimes.net.

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