Channeling Utopia when going for a drive

along the boulevard of broken dreams
unexpectedly flush with brilliant tune
that recording artists acknowledge
as worthy of giving high-five
quickly ushering to webbed
wide world gifted individual
who announces Saturday night live
from New York (think Chevy Chase
feigning a tumble)
which "original soundtrack"
to the television show Saturday Night Live
the iconic theme song written by Howard Shore,
inspired by Junior Walker's music,
late-night television,
and a John Lennon-
Elton John collaboration.

However, the show is most famously associated with the "Saturday Night Fever" soundtrack, a 1977 album by various artists, including the Bee Gees, that became a cultural phenomenon and is frequently misidentified as the SNL soundtrack.
Now please pardon my rambling rant and rave because myself (an aging balding baby boomer and long thinning haired pencil necked geek), and the wife hate to make a confession, but the reason I write in a helter skelter fashion linkedin to guilty conscience, which wracks against sense and sensibility of a major noteworthy crime (by far serious hellish soul asylum come judgement day) readily considered committing an act more sacrilegious and far surpassing being reprehensible far worse case then sinners in the hands of an angry god), who lapsed from being near religious acolytes of the fab four mop topped rock icons originally known as the Quarrymen, and unwittingly caused a ruckus when (don't ask me why) we as day trippers no longer tuned SiriusXM broadcasting all things Beatles found on channel 18, and hashtagged as rank apostates forsaking ourselves formerly being diehard Beatle fans (matter of fact this fool on the hill and nowhere man once took an excursion in a yellow submarine regaling himself within an Octopus garden in the sun), I friggin swear we accidentally tuned the dial of the car radio to Utopia located on Channel 341 risking loss of life or limb if someone merely dared to touch or feign adjusting the radio knob, and rendering serious suffering, and triggering uber violent major anarchistic fallout if guest or regularly insured occupants in our vehicle (a 2020 Hyundai Elantra) whether accidentally subsequently or flagrantly upended our listening pleasure of body, mind and spirit immediately synchronized with dance hits, club anthems, guilty pop pleasures, and underground dance classics from the 1990s and 2000s additionally both of us forever always pleasantly surprised and never expected to hear music from artists like Madonna, Daft Punk, and Amber, as well as mixes from resident DJs, and no sooner than situating ourselves in our 2020 Hyundai Elantra one after another soundcloud bombards and blasts thru the (ear) airwaves cocooning us within an aural webbed wide world as we travel the long and winding road ofttimes analogous to a magical mystery tour.
No auditory experience beats commercial free radio ala SiriusXm courtesy Google refers to a US-based satellite and online radio broadcasting company formed in 2008 by the merger of two competing satellite radio services, Sirius Satellite Radio and XM Satellite Radio, the game changing name combination of these two original companies provides subscription-based access to a wide variety of channels, including music, sports, talk shows, and news, delivered via satellite or through streaming.

After sampling a small range of genres from A to Z from the over 150 full-time channels available in the car, and over 200 on the streaming service, including music, news, talk, and entertainment we found our sweet spot with a station called Utopia, which SiriusXM Utopia channel (Channel 341) offers a mix of classic and retro dance, house, club, and electronic music, focusing on hits from the 1990s and 2000s, and features tracks from pop icons, dance divas, and electronic music pioneers, providing a bridge between classic disco and modern dance music.

Suddenly, I wanna participate in the creation of danceable tunes, yet know less than diddly squat, nor would this foo fighting beastie boy be financially equipped to purchase materials relevant to said task, no matter countless amateur and/or professional singer song writers populate the airwaves, and possibly launch a successful career when just a young lad or lass encouraged courtesy family or friends (kith or kin) or maybe hypothetical renown personality born as a child prodigy inherently gifted with teasing out dulsifluous and mellifluous sounds and retains the ways and means to replicate a string of notes heard just once, or maybe their (his/her) cerebral cortex, (which carries out essential functions of your brain, like memory, thinking, learning, reasoning, problem-solving, emotions, consciousness, and sensory functions) allowing, enabling and providing prospective genius analogous to a conduit flowing with unstoppable melodies and lyrics justing in the figurative wings to become potential blockbuster hits similar to a aspiring writer (nobody I know) aims to craft a literary pièce de résistance without breaking a sweat, nor (unfairly) gush forth full bore with a masterpiece awaiting the theater to capitalize on resultant fantastic effortless delightful creation.

Thus yours truly (me) will resign himself to joust with words exploring attempts to cadge an emotion, idea, or fleeting thought to surrender himself to the small medium at large will-o'-the-wisp (ghostly, floating light often described as a small blue flame or ball seen at night over swamps and marshes) infesting an unsuspecting victim and kindling (tinder like) with a burning passion to unleash frenzied figurative ball of fire into a spectacular resultant uber unquestionable artistic thing of beauty, whether linkedin to one sense or another, but irrefutably considered exemplary and the humble creator unbeknownst to him or her leaving a posthumous legacy affording emulation initially inspired from some random piece of music heard nonchalantly buzz-feeding the subconscious while driving Miss Daisy.

Ofttimes from the least unlikely environments (such as a child subjected to harsh reality of a violence prone broken home) manages to draw the attention of a perceptive teacher and doggedly pursues metaphorical avenues to secure ways and means to finance once in a lifetime opportunity to allow, enable and promote innate talent (left to wither and die if left at the cruel fate imposed to an abusive domestic scene – in an of itself the raw bits to develop a work of art addressing wretched and deplorable conditions unfit for human or animal habitation) necessitating crucial intervention in a timely fashion to salvage potential doom and gloom into a success story (also incumbent upon the lad or lass to put their nose to the figurative grindstone – though methinks many gifted progeny intuitively comprehend requisite energy and time needed to experience escape from the clutches of damnation.

I think of myself (an extremely introverted boy, adolescent and emerging adult), who although the genetic product of caring and doting parents, provided a safe and secure home lacked the ways and means to secure social services intervention, which cost free need based programs did not exist to intercede and buffer me from horrendously being scapegoated courtesy bullies (their target being a diminutive socially withdrawn passive kid) lending himself to endure brickbats additionally linkedin to speech impediment courtesy submucous cleft palate.