You never met-a-phor you didn't like, so you continue right on with this one right out of this liminal space to the unknowns outermost edge: the trash fence. Maybe you'll find a DJ, maybe you'll find yourself, maybe you'll find... the Trash Queen? Because that's what you actually find when you arrive. You have entered the realm of the Trash Queen that rules the periphery. She and her subjects are currently busy cleaning up the area but she has time to grant you a quick audience about your problems. That's good progress since if anyone can help you it's probably a local monarch. You also still suspect that this still be a metaphor for something, but that metaphor is getting quite complicated.