Capitalism, Crackheads, and Quantum Mechanics - What I Consumed This Week

I’ve been on a subconscious hunt for answers about how we experience reality—from psychedelia to physics to propaganda.

Curtis and Gribbin both toy with how systems—be they political or physical—challenge our sense of autonomy, whereas Uketsu's Hidden Pictures and Gribbin's rundown of popular interpretations of quantum mechanics will both make you question what’s “really” happening versus what we see. (And Thomas De Quincy - some classics aren't worth reading is my conclusion)

This post is more of a quick rundown of everything I've consumed this week. Let’s call this the first weekly media dump. A quick assortment of the various bits and bobs I've consumed over this last week (Clearly it has not been a very busy one). No promises that this will be a regular thing—but if you’ve ever wanted to glimpse the inside of a week where Adam Curtis, quantum physics, and crackhead memoirs collide, well, buckle up. I’ll link out to longer pieces covering my thoughts in more detail (if they exist, Adam Curtis - I'm looking at you), but here’s a buffet of brainworms for you to consume in the meantime:

All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace (2011) + Can’t Get You Out of My Head (2021) - Documentaries by Adam Curtis

Systems thinking. Cybernetic dreams. The lies of Neoliberalism.

Curtis' documentaries feel like visual experimental jazz, cutting between old interviews, eerie stock footage, and voiceovers that sound like bedtime stories for nihilists. What stuck with me? The idea that our obsession with systems—natural, technological, economic—isn’t actually making us freer. It’s just disguising power in new costumes and keeping us feeling helpless and complacent.

Read full post here

Confessions of an English Opium Eater by Thomas De Quincey

This book was a major drag. It was like the literary equivalent of listening to a pretentious guy at a party who thinks quoting Greek makes him interesting.

Sometimes you pick up a classic expecting insight or at least an interesting journey, and sometimes... well, sometimes you get Thomas De Quincey's Confessions of an English Opium Eater. Let me be blunt: It was an absolute waste of time.

There’s some pretty Victorian language reminiscent of A Portrait of Dorian Grey (a much superior book that is definitely worth the hype) here, sure. But that's where any enjoyment ended for me. I'd honestly rather read almost anyone else from that era because De Quincey comes across as unbearably self-indulgent and vain. It feels like he throws in random Greek phrases purely to show off, not because they add anything meaningful.

Worse still, the writing often feels fragmented and incomplete, like sentences drifting off before reaching a proper conclusion. It reminded me uncomfortably of conversations I've had with actual crackheads, except De Quincey manages to be far more convinced of his own genius throughout.

As someone genuinely interested in reading about altered states of consciousness – the supposed core of the book – this was profoundly disappointing. The actual descriptions of opium experiences are at the end of the book, maybe like 20 the last pages in the text. Most of the beginning is just De Quincey hyping himself up, tearing down contemporaries, and generally being insufferable. I've genuinely had more entertaining conversations and gleaned about as much useful information from real-life addicts who weren't nearly so far up their own ass.

Skip it. Seriously. There are far better ways to spend your reading time (Real crackheads have told me better stories. Maybe go find your local addict to go have a chat with instead). Hard pass.

Hidden Pictures by Uketsu

A palette cleanser with teeth. Quick. Bloody. Poppy. Reads like watching a classic thriller.

After Curtis’ existential despair and a disastrous slog through Victorian opium ramblings, I needed a quick win.

Hidden Pictures delivered. Classic mystery beats, but with slick pacing. Not a thinker—just a vibe. Sometimes that’s enough. If you're looking for a book that grabs you and doesn't let go until the final page, Uketsu's Hidden Pictures might be exactly what you need. I dove into this one right after finishing Confessions of an English Opium Eater and found myself completely hooked.

Reading Hidden Pictures felt like watching a really engrossing thriller movie unfold in my head. It has that perfect blend of mystery and suspense that keeps you eagerly turning the pages. I managed to devour it in just a few hours – it's definitely a quick read, but it packs a satisfying punch.

There's not much more to say without giving things away, but the pacing is excellent, and the mystery is compelling.

Six Impossible Things by John Gribbin

Brain candy. High concept, low barrier for entry.

This book re-sparked my love affair with quantum theory and got me to reach out to an old friend with whom I used to debate this stuff back in college.

(Hello Hari! We still have no free will as far as I can tell.)

It walks through six major interpretations (Impossible Things!). He starts with familiar territory, like the Copenhagen interpretation – the one most of us likely encountered in school, where a quantum wave "collapses" into a particle only when observed. Then he moves through others, like Bohmian mechanics, which presents the intriguing idea of the particle as a surfer riding its guiding wave. I quite liked that visual.

Gribbin covers several other interpretations, but the one that truly resonated with me, aligning uncannily with my own intuitive thoughts on the matter, was the final one: the Timeless Transactional Interpretation. This view suggests influences can travel both forwards and backwards in time at the quantum level to determine outcomes. Sure, it might challenge conventional notions of free will, but frankly, that doesn't bother me much. The elegance of the transactional interpretation felt deeply compelling.

It's a very quick read, yet it tackles the literal complexities of quantum physics with remarkable clarity, putting profound ideas into relatively simple terms. I wholeheartedly recommend Six Impossible Things. It was a fantastic brush-up on quantum concepts and introduced me to interpretations I hadn't fully considered before. More importantly, it achieved what the best popular science books do: it sent me down a rabbit hole of further internet research and genuinely piqued my interest in the field all over again. If you have any curiosity about the strange and wonderful world of quantum mechanics, this concise, engaging book is definitely worth your time.

Novocaine (2025)

A Punch-Drunk Palette Cleanser

Sometimes, after spending hours spiraling through heady systems theory, Adam Curtis documentaries, and existential think pieces, your brain just begs for a break. Novocaine hit that sweet spot for me. It’s not groundbreaking cinema, and I’m not going to pretend it changed my life, but it was exactly what I needed: a solid, weird little action-comedy that lets you switch off your overclocked thoughts for a good 2 hours.

The plot is simple but serviceable: a guy with CIPA (Congenital Insensitivity to Pain with Anhidrosis—a real condition where people can’t feel physical pain) gets caught up in a botched bank robbery, decides to save a girl, and proceeds to get absolutely wrecked for the rest of the film. It’s the kind of movie that knows exactly what it is: a pulpy, funny, action romp where the protagonist just keeps getting beat up and somehow powers through.

And honestly? That’s refreshing. In a world where action movies are either grimdark prestige pieces (John Wick) or Marvelized quip-fests, Novocaine feels like the chaotic middle child—messy, sincere, and kind of charming. The action is scrappy and fun, and the humor is just offbeat enough to keep things interesting without trying too hard.

The CIPA angle adds a nice twist—the fight scenes which lean into the comedy of him not reacting to blows at all and even being concerned for his attacker at certain points. Sometimes it's fun to just turn your brain off and watch a dude stumble through explosions and violence like a slapstick Terminator.

Casting’s solid, direction’s breezy, and it never overstays its welcome. It’s not one for the Criterion Collection, but if you’re burnt out from overthinking your media consumption—or if you’ve just spent six hours watching Can’t Get You Out of My Head and need to actually get out of your own head—this is a great reset button.

Verdict: 7/10. Watch it with snacks. Especially recommended for post-curtis brain fog or a Friday night that doesn’t want to be too serious.