[088]
11/26/2010 03:11 p.m.

The cart on the corner of Irving Park & Kimball sells chicharrones fried in the fat of pure dissonance. The makers of these rinds regularly put the music of John Cage and Igor Stravinsky into a pan, caramelize it, and then deglaze the pan. What's made, the burnt and delicious l-glutamate heavy remains, those are added to oil in a deep frier. The process is laborious, but the outcome is well worth it, and you purchase bags of them for one dollar and thirty seven cents.

You crunch them lovingly, licking grease from your fingertips. As you digest the sounds, your neurons struggle to keep up.

The fail, they fail, and miserably. With each unsuccessful attempt to find a pattern in the sound-fat, your neurons spit out dopamine in luxurious squirts. You slowly but surely go crazy.

The dopamine overdose begets in you auditory and visual hallucinations.