My best friend Dave sends me his punishing techno.
He can’t write moral philosophy without Dr. Rubinstein
drilling holes in his head. We should offer drugs to prisoners
as an alternative to prison is his thesis. Pills to flatten libido.
Pills for compliance. Though computers can seamlessly
beat-match on their behalf most DJs consider it immoral.
Some inmates describe their unwanted desires as a radio
blaring inside their heads, Dave says. They want to turn
the volume down. I love to hear a DJ mistime a spinback.
Then I really want to dance. In Berghain we do not enter
the lightless dungeons but are glad that they exist. Degarelix
can make anyone relax. Side effects include bone-thinning
and night sweats. His pupils love to see who he becomes
at the weekend. Volunteers clean blood from the walls
with a bucket of abattoir chlorine. He feeds me magnesium
tablets to keep my jaw at ease. We hold hands by the bass bins,
sweating and forgiving each other for everything. I love to see
his pupils dilate like something high above us, falling.