Sometimes people use “madman” to describe their somewhat eccentric friends. If they happen to consider them intellectually gifted, they’ll use “madman genius” or some such nonsense. I don’t utter, or write, those words often, but in the case of author, performer, hierophant, and mastermind Cody Goodfellow, there’s really no better way to describe him. Reading Goodfellow’s prose is like cracking your skull open against a marble statue and then having that statue pour acid into your brain as it feeds you grapes.