Here’s one for you: a creature addicted to guitar-chords. His head a
mirror ball with its countless facets reflecting no outer reality but a
sequence of inner selves. parade of conflicting emotions flashing past
in schizophrenic simultaneity. His shattered identity responding to the
oscillations of the guitar. Every chord sending shivers through his body,
rippling across his skin, stimulating some bizarre receptor, half organic,
half synthetic. Giving in to his junkie mantra, we denude an underground
power-line, splicing the old amplifier into the city’s nervous system.
Surging with promethean electricity the chords reverberate through the
deserted tunnel, minor harmonies dissolving into ecstatic static. He jacks
into the energy source, twisting and sizzling until his mirror globe
explodes in an [bad word] of white noise