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...upon arrival at the islets of langerhans I waded out to an isolated rock, which I climbed, reaching the summit just before sun down. I sat and watched as the western sun chased a transparent icarus beneath the earth, leaving the distant hills to perform their morbid shadow play. They absorbed the horizon into their dark body with the slickness of a malevolent amoeba...Shortly thereafter my head slipped into a passing nebula...thankfully i managed to record the journey via my concealed auraliser...


Whilst merged with the nebula I was accosted by the zeitgeist who slipped me its secret blueprints, several constructive fumblings later I had concocted an awkward meta-instrument (the sonicosmotic orchestra ) that when enablised, ejaculated rancid sonus which smelled of hot capacitors. Unperturbed by the 'bleu' smoke that rose in enticing wisps from the rear of my devices, I pushed on with my improvisation until a twitching located around the neck of my tweed socks indicated that I should cease. When what was left of my senses returned, I digitised the results of my experimentation for posterity and narrowcasted them from the summit of my solitude under the moniker - sonicosmotic 1

 

down into the wasteland daddyo. . . far out. . . . .