MUSIC IN PHASE SPACE

Month: May 2021

  • The White Whale/The House of Usher/VITRIOL

    THE WHITE WHALE I inhaled the tang of brine and decay that clung perpetually to the Spalding Yard, the LAPD’s maritime branch moored in the belly of San Pedro. “I’m Captain Scotland of the Spalding Yard,” I rasped, my voice seasoned by harbor dust and nights spent chasing down leads that evaporated like the morning…

  • Manslow Hammer

  • Robota

  • Magonia

  • Abstractions: Sunken Cthulhus

    The grey boys are at it again, hijacking abstractions like cowboys wrangling shadows. War on terror? Too goddamn big to see the trigger finger on the machine. They paint these abstractions on billboards, pump them through the media static, a virus burrowing into the meat of our minds. The Control freaks love abstractions, man. Easier…

  • Arthur C Clarke’s Monolith

    In the grand tapestry of existence, the monolith stands out, not as a majestic pillar of cosmic design, but as a curious anomaly, a self-inflicted bubble of solipsism. Imagine, if you will, a region of spacetime carved out by the monolith’s very being. Its mass, charge, and angular momentum, writ large in some cosmic equation,…

  • End of History Tinpots and the Last Man

    In the flickering neon wasteland of the Post-Ideological, the Berlin Wall, a concrete scar on the face of time, crumbled like a thousand roach motels, a crumbled ziggurat, became a playground for feral children. History, a rusted jalopy, sputtered its last, coughing out exhaust fumes of ideology. Liberal Democracy, a chrome-plated behemoth, rumbled across the…

  • Data

    Data. A scabrous flesh-puppet twitching on cold metal slabs. You feed it your sins, your failings, and it bulges, engorged with your psychic sewage. A monstrous server-god, howling for more, hungering for the offal of your humanity. Data. Daemons of transgression amassed. A digital confessional where sins are not forgiven, but merely stored, archived for…

  • Air Conditioned Prose (Weapons of the Weak)

    Air Conditioned Prose Writers: Hipsters in air-conditioned universities cuttin’ up Scott’s “Weapons” like discount sushi, twistin’ it into a weapon against the very resistance it documents. Bullshit. Scott wasn’t peddling resignation, man, he was unveiling the roach motel of power. The weak ain’t sheep. They’re cockroaches scuttling through the cracks, pissing on the carpet of…

  • Tragedy of the Commons

    The Privatization Racket: https://ramurrio.medium.com/games-without-frontiers-980abb60b1e7 They call it the Tragedy of the Commons, man, a cosmic downer flick projected on the greasy screen of reality. Garrett Hardin, that square with a heart full of barbed wire, spins this yarn about how people, us rubes, can’t be trusted with the good stuff – the land, the water, the air, even. We’d just suck it dry, turn it into a…