In which Leonard Cohen weighs in on the stuff of love and confusion and those avalanches that sometimes cover one’s soul. We’ve all known them. In Philip Random’s case, there may well have been some LSD25 involved and yes, in fact, it eventually occurred to him that he hadn’t completely annihilated his ego, and that God Himself wasn’t singing to him from the far side of the room with a face as big as a fireplace. It was in fact a fireplace and a scratchy side of Leonard Cohen vinyl that someone had thoughtfully put on. And it was good.