MUSIC IN PHASE SPACE

Tag: drugs

  • Fear of the Shakes

    Look, pal, let’s get something straight, okay? I don’t have time for your bullshit. I need five grams of coke, ketamine, MDMA, meth, Adderall, ecstasy, oxy—whatever the hell the market’s cooking up these days. A little PCP, a dash of heroin, if that’s what’s trending. Don’t tell me it’s not necessary. It is. I don’t…

  • Butler

    You wake up. Reach for the phone. Thumb scrolls before brain boots. Load me up, Jack. Infinite feeds, infinite loops. A dopamine drip straight to the veins, a carnival of blinking lights. You don’t even know what’re looking at. Doesn’t matter. The Machine knows. The Machine feeds.   And the screen hums like a cicada…

  • The Poppy Index

    Opium is a bureaucracy of the flesh. A ledger. A meticulous clerk with a pen of black tar ink, scratching endless entries into the neural book. It does not create—it records. A meticulous hand. A totalitarian librarian, bent over his desk, stamping “APPROVED” on each incoming sensory impression, filing away the vast detritus of human…

  • The Great Re-Centralization: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Drug Trade

    There was a time when the gears of the global narcotics machine ran with the quiet efficiency of a well-oiled state department initiative. The system was Byzantine, sure—layers of plausible deniability, offshore bank accounts, non-profits with names that sounded vaguely humanitarian—but at the end of the day, the cocaine got where it needed to go,…

  • We take bribes, you take bribes. We admit it, you don’t. Who’s more honest?

    We take bribes, you take bribes. The difference? We don’t waste time hiding it, compadre. It’s all out in the open, like the sun burning through a desert sky. Why bother pretending? This world runs on greased palms, quiet deals in the shadows—you know it, I know it. It’s what keeps this whole chingado mess…

  • Tech Cycles

    I have always been curious about what a tech cycle looks like from up close, the mechanics of it, the raw gears grinding beneath the polished veneer. As this last one scrapes the bottom of the barrel and sputters to its inevitable end, it’s worth noting that innovations like the first iPod or the latest…

  • Fear and Loathing: Political Conventions 2024

    Red Flood pulsing, Vegas lights refracted through a cracked windshield. Faces flicker on the motel TV, a kaleidoscope of rictus grins and disembodied teeth. The Republican National Convention – a Roach Motel for the American Dream. Cut-up slogans flicker across the screen: “STRONG BORDERS, STRONG DRUGS!” – cut to a montage of emaciated faces, hollow…

  • Constructive Ambiguity is Xanax Talking

    Constructive ambiguity ain’t your doctor in a white coat, shushing anxieties with a pill. It’s Xanax talking alright, but Xanax laced with broken glass and mescaline. It’s the serpent in the garden, whispering riddles instead of offering forbidden fruit. The air hangs thick, a smog of cotton in your skull. You peer through it, vision…