He regurgitated it all backwards, then lived it all forwards, mixing, sampling, and splicing his life’s dream history. He read life back to itself like a hari-karish-na novel and a riot act all in one. Singing, “I say can you see, I say you, say you see,” but without the music. The ritual was frightening, yet devoted and ethical. The rhythm was lyrical. It was a surgical repair with or without the ether coming one of these days, in any case. Stand up Man…