Imagine the disturbance of molecules at the point of impact of plate tectonics and transpose that over the friction caused by a violin bow over a tuned brick or a brick run across the strings of a cello.
Suspend your record player in midair via ancient black magic spells, align it to 45 degrees, then drop the needle on a Tchaikovsky record made out of rumbling iron filaments. Douse with spaghetti.
Play the video for New Order’s “True Faith” (the slappy one) at regular speed x15, but not before applying an industrial magnet to the server housing the master file.
Repeat the New Order thing, but back in time, ensuring that your universe overlaps at conscious perception with the universe you just left — the playback can be off by a few fractions of a second, no big deal.
Train that piano to sing, like you would train a dog to sit or roll over; then clean up after it shits all over your new rug.
Instruct the caterer you just hired for a party at your house to use only ingredients found on or within asteroids in the Oort Cloud.
Host a charitable event; then, for the entertainment, wrestle to the ground a man made entirely of cutlery before underestimating his impulse to stay down.
Buy a new lawnmower, then play it on your record player that now obeys proper laws of physics (on the ground, at the correct angle).
Only inhale for an entire day.
Have weird, uncomfortable, vulnerable fun, just like Seth Graham wants you to.
Gasp is out March 23.
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