I was possessed of what I like to call “fugues” back when, now and again. One was of a person I knew, who got involved somehow in my controversy in my visions. In the fugue, he called himself DEMON. He ended his speech with “I am DEMON, hear me.” One was strangely enough in praise of Adolf Hitler. I really don’t know where that one came from, but I was known to do very stupid things early when I was overtaken by these visions of mine. I also remember praying to Alice Walker, the author who wrote The Color Purple. That one I don’t feel bad about at all. But definitely do I have regrets for some of my deeds and misdeeds. Even if they only did happen (for the most part) inside my head.

Much I did with music. When this started for the second time, I remember listening to a violin concerto by Mozart, and I (on the fly) added another violin to the tune in my mind, completely original, in keeping with the melody. It was often to put essence behind the music, through the vocals, through the instruments, into the hearing of it, so that it packed emotive impact. As Beethoven once told me, one must drive the music. So for me, I will have no magic wand, but a conductor’s baton. Like unto playing guitar in the style of Hendrix and Satriani, instrumentals that they never played, perfectly rendered in the sound of my visions.

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The Great Blasphemy