Who Really Is Trent Reznor?
There’s a skinny black cat sprawled asleep on the suedette sofa. Out on the balcony that overlooks the obligatory LA pool, a colossal cheese plant is left to survive in a giant pot of dust. Below, puddles of clear blue water, that look as though they were spat from the pool, partly drown the terrace. A legacy of the catastrophic effects of the recent earthquakes. A grand piano stands neglected in a corner of the extensive open-plan living/dining room. A large African head piece doubles as an extravagant paperweight on a table strewn with rock magazines, fan mail, newspapers and advertising circulars that read Cheat-A-Shrink. Are You Tired Of $60 An Hour Doctors? Under the table in the lounge there’s a box containing a collection of sex aids, all wires, batteries and synthetic genitalia. On the floor in the dining room, a gilt-framed 18th century oil painting offers a resting place for the cat. And who could be living here, in this grandiose mini-mansion turned repository for random cul
