My friend Judd lived in a meat freezer in a period of time spanning that summer of love far into the seventies. He always said that's all we were anyway: meat. Judd would say a lot of things, a self ascribed philosopher in an age full of marijuana and bullshit flourished. He had fitted it with all the necessities and it wasn't freezing or anything, although the smell was something that took some getting used to.

The more time we spent in that freezer, the thick metal door shutting us off from a world moving opposite us, the deeper we delved into the human condition. Lava lamps highlighted the walls where the ghosts of stains still hovered, and the more time we spent there, the closer we came to eternity, an infinity of our own design.

We didn't need disco, we didn't need banana split's at Smucky's: the place where girls skated around serving burgers and tripping every lucky once in a while on a stray cherry pit or marble. We didn't need anything save for our meat locker, stretching into its own time away from the mortal coils of the 1970's.