MUSIC IN PHASE SPACE

  • Honestly Fake

    I live in Venice, and Abbot Kinney is a little deal with the devil we’ve made. Every shop there is paying for the privilege of make-believe — pretending not to have to be really organic while performing it anyway. Santa Monica doesn’t pretend to be organic. That’s the difference. Abbot Kinney says: You may skip…

  • The Black Hole

    I first noticed it on a Tuesday, which seemed appropriate for a sinkhole. It had appeared overnight in the center of Municipal Plaza, approximately where the statue of Founder Henderson used to stand,  who had apparently founded something at some point but the plaque had worn smooth decades ago. The sinkhole was modest. Perhaps three…

  • The Registry of Orphans

    I. The Architecture In the autumn of 1952, the directors of the National Historical Institute summoned Dr. Eliseo Ferrer to inform him that his services as a chronicler had been terminated. He was not being dismissed, they hastened to clarify, but rather reassigned. After thirty years of distinguished service documenting the agrarian reforms of the…

  • The Curator

    I was hired to soften things. Not to lie, Mr. Vilner explained during my interview—he was very clear about this—but to prepare people. To ensure that when the bad news arrived, it arrived gently, cushioned by context, wrapped in perspective, delivered with appropriate emotional scaffolling so that no one would be traumatized by suddenness. “We…

  • The Liquidation of Responsibility

    Just finished the Sean Combs documentary. It’s nauseating how a generation of politicians and influencers gave cover to this operator as a viable “empowerment” example for Black people. Democrats and respectable liberals loved it, flaunting playlists like credentials. He was offered as proof that the system worked—not because the harm wasn’t visible, but because it…

  • Nostalgia For Capital

    The nostalgia isn’t for decentralization, censorship resistance, or user ownership. It’s for the ignition—the moment when capital concentrates, detonates, and creates a brief window where everything glows white-hot. The technical language (decentralization, permissionless, trustless) is just the safety protocol you recite before the test. It’s not what anyone’s actually there for. Revival is Capital Migration,…

  • Software Eats Itself

    Late 2010s, somewhere in the protocol stack. A quiet panic went terminal. The smart money—the money that used to be smart—caught the scent. It wasn’t a bug. It was the feature, finally fully expressed: software, in its commodity state, wanted to be free. Not libre. Gratis. Worthless. But this was the hidden corrosion in the…

  • Moorcock

    Moorcock’s multiverse is the first one that isn’t built like a strip mall of IP franchises. Before Marvel turned “infinite worlds” into an excuse to recycle plotlines forever, Moorcock treated parallel realities as a way to ask better questions. His multiverse isn’t rent-seeking; it’s curiosity-seeking. It doesn’t exist to justify more product—it exists to make…

  • Jumping the Shark

    There’s a moment—somewhere between the last viable business model and the first desperate publicity stunt—where an ecosystem stops being an ecosystem and becomes a carnival ride with broken hydraulics. In the 1970s it was Fonzie on water-skis; in 2025 it’s Web3 shoving “social trading” into your feed like a malfunctioning vending machine. That’s what “jumping…

  • The Wrong Room

    This started as a Farcaster post. Halfway through writing it, I realized it didn’t really matter — not the ideas, but the channel. There’s something faintly ridiculous about posting a critique of abstraction layers onto yet another abstraction layer, as if the medium itself isn’t part of the problem. What exactly is the hoped-for outcome…

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