There he is, the FireVaney—yet again replaying the unremitting stretch of silken, violinistic sawing nestled (roughly) 3 minutes into the fifth track of String Quartet No. 5 by Philip Glass, performed by the Kronos Quartet—flailing his arms as if some crazed orchestral conductor.

Why does this mad "conducting" of the music better connect him to it? Is his pen recklessly inscribing nonsense into the air (when it should be draining itself upon the page below) not some upper-limbed manifestation of the Modern Dance mode—albeit seated?

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