I first met Stitches outside of his now infamous show at Propaganda in Lake Worth. Halfway into the set he left in order to chase after his baby-mama, who was upset with him for giving out cocaine to some scantily-clad female fans on stage. I’d write more about it, but the video is, of course, available online. A few weeks later I started a correspondence with him. After he became convinced I wasn’t trying to do a hit piece similar to the one previously published by New Times but simply learn his thoughts about the role of drugs in music and society, he agreed to speak with me. He asked for my address, which I hesitantly gave, and said he’d be in contact with me. Three days later I received a letter in the mail. On it was a piece of paper “No photos bc GPS” and on the back an address with a date and time on it. When I put in the address snailmailed me into Google maps I became a little worried. I promised I wouldn’t say where it was, but this particular neighborhood has an sketchy reputation. I put aside my reservations and went anyway.
I pulled into the driveway and noticed immediately that the paint on the house was peeling like an albino gumbo-limbo tree. The metal bars over the windows and doors had a similar texture, but from rust slowly chipping away and explosing a vector for tetanus transmission. Once in the house with the unassuming exterior, the façade of normal poverty quickly dropped. Two large men guarding the door answered my knock and brusquely patted me down. “Back on the right.” one of them grumbled. He sat in an ornately decorated oaken chair with red velvet backing and a border of shiny circular metal grommets. His normally poofy mohawk was done now in spikes that stood straight up several inches. In front of him was a similarly baroque desk with a cut-open brick of cocaine sitting on top of a large mirror. Next to it was a hunting life that looked straight out of Rambo. After I declined his offer of a line of some “straight off duh boat pure flake” I began the interview.
Ariel
“So I guess my first question is why do you like selling blow?”
Stitches
“Man, you even listen to my lyrics? I don’t like selling blow. I LOVE selling blow! And why, because of all the money man. I ain’t doing it anymore though cause I got too many eyes on me. Know what I’m saying? I don’t want to risk my son having to grow up without a father like I did, so I’m just making music now.”
Ariel
“You’re not selling blow anymore?” I say while motioning with my head to the desk and the house we’re in.”
Stitches
“Heh, don’t worry about none of this. Nothing’s in my name.” he said with a grin that showed off his numerous gold teeth.
Ariel
“Ok… Let me my second to last question another way. I know you come from a relatively privileged background and I can tell by the way you’ve managed to get so much attention for yourself that you’ve got some marketing savvy. If making money is your goal why do it by drawing all this negative attention via the tattoos on your face and the messages in your mix No Snitching is My Statement and just devote those skills of yours into a different career.”
Stitches
“That’s a long fucking question with a lot of presumptions in them. Yeah, true, my fams wasn’t so poor that we were on EBT, but you know that’s not even the point. I just never felt that the drug laws, not to mention a number of other laws, were fully something I could wrap my mind around. I mean I understood that they were there, but they weren’t rational to me so I never felt the need to follow them. Those are rules for lesser people, you know what I mean? That said I’m not going to lie, man, part of why I started flipping bricks was because of the thrill it gave me, not out of need. The feelings of excitement involved in the game are just so fucking strong. On the way to a pickup there this tension of wondering whether or not a cop is going to fuck with you. Then right before the meet you stress about things like: “Am I gonna have to pull a gun on someone?” While you’re their you’re on full alert. Afterwards it’s like, “What am I gonna buy with all this cash?” That shit is all a high in itself. Reading a bunch of books to become a fucking marketer like you’re talking about, man, that shit just isn’t for me. That’s for Last Men. I knew early on I’d rather study the streets and learn my lessons from there.”
Ariel
“So, would you say that a motto you live by is if it makes you feel good, do it?”
Stitches
“Naw, man, that’s some basic shit right there. Take a wider view of things. Contextualize this within the War on Drugs. Now people always talking about how it’s failed, but that all depends on what you define success as – right? “
Ariel
“True. So then how do you view the War on Drugs?”
Stitches
“Glad you asked. So, like, this cocaine right here started its production cycle in Colombia. Some broke ass farmers, whose major misfortune was being born into a region with limited choices for crops, into a family lacking any capital resources or ready legal access to it under a corrupt government still marked by colonial features that could give two shits about creating the economic conditions that will allow all but those that are already rich to thrive. Get me? So these people take this huge risk growing cocoa, cause their own government and the US government is trying to eradicate all their shit, because even though they’re making only a fractional percentage of it’s final street value they still make more than if they was growing maracuya, lulo, bananas or whatever the fuck. Now their doing this isn’t going to give them the money to send their kids to a private International school to get the kind of education and connections that will allow them to obtain true upward social mobility, but at least shit’s better and their not in as grinding a poverty if they were growing something else, right??”
Ariel
“Right. But, well, I mean they face a greater risk of death and dispossession…”
Stiches
“Spot the fuck on, man. Now think about it, that’s some real heroic shit right there. They’ve got super limited options in the conditions that they were born into and they decide to put their lives on the line to produce a product that people want just to make a little more scratch. Not to rob people or kill them, but just to be creators, producers of something. I respect that.”
Ariel
“So in your mind the war on drugs is a war against small-business entrepeneurs?!”
Stitches
“Nah, man. Like I said, think bigger and map out the connections. You’re thinking is positivistic and reified.”
Ariel
“What do you mean by that?”
Stitches
“Ok, so what I’m doing is deconstructing these positivistic notions that you and a lot of other people have about the War on Drugs. According to Frederic Jameson reification is defined as the removal of traces of production from the product. Now included in the production process are all the traces of distribution and legislation associated with it. I was just talking about the production side, then there’s the work that’s involved with processing and distribution – which is where the gangs come in.
These people are also subject to extra-national legislative pressures and policing powers that have terrible effects on the social order. Look at Mexico, man, when are people gonna start talking about that place as a failed state? Anyway, so the War on Drugs isn’t just this overreaching government attempt at the regulation of social mores, it’s really about means of partial control of countries through U.S. military aid. Not only do they give money to buy U.S. produced military equipment, but by training foreign soldiers at the Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation, formerly the School of America, the U.S. is able to place sympathetic military functionaries throughout the top echelons of those governments.
That ain’t the limits of product’s life cycle though. Many minds much more astute than mine have pointed out the debilitating social effects of mandatory minimum sentencing in America and how it mirrors Jim Crow policies. It’s all just a method of social and political control. A large number of businesses have attached themselves to this legislation and perpetuate the continuation of these failed policies simply because they make a lot of money off it.”
*
As I tried to wrap my mind around his unexpectedly intelligent answer to my questions a ferret with hair as white as snow freshly dropped on a Denver mountain peak came into my peripheral vision. It had in its mouth a small bag of money. It scurried past the rosewood desk. It, I presumed, climbed up one of Stitches legs. Stitches rubbed the creatures head. It cooed, dropping the bag. I noticed as the side of the animals mouth was rubbed that it’s teeth wasn’t what it was born with but was a golden grill. For fear of upsetting Stitches I held back my smirk.
Stitches then put the bag into a dropbox installed in the left drawer area of the desk. With his right hand still rolling circles onto the furred dome of the creature he then opened up the drawer to the right. The attention of the creature turned to the now visible booty. Stitches distracted the animal with by saying to it “Dineras is a good girl” repeatedly in a baby voice and a steady rubbing between the eyes. After quickly grabbing the treat from the small plastic bag he closed the drawer, turned the lock and brough the treat close to his chest. Dineras turned around. He moved the hand that had been circulating between the eyes and the top of his skull to it’s back. It ate the food from between his fingers and then continued.
*
Ariel
“Can I take a picture of her?”
Stitches
“Naw, the government’s tracking everything. I don’t want you uploading a picture that’s giving away the location of my trap house.”
Ariel
“Her name is Daenerys? Like G.O.T.?”
Stitches
“Huh? Don’t know what you’re talking about. Her name is like Spanish for money, Dinero, but cause she’s female it’s Dinera and because I want a lot of money it’s plural: Dineras”
Ariel
“Oh… Ok… Anyway, So I’m not going to lie, that was way more insightful than I was expecting. To follow up let me ask two things, first let me be clear, you admit then that you play a role in the perpetuation of this order of international domination.”
Stitches
“Bitch please, that shit ain’t on me. The majority of American’s are so apathetic to politics that they would rather let continue this sitch wherein their tax dollars finances civil wars in most of the countries that produce and traffic cocaine and pays for widespread violation of the libertarian intent of the Constitution through militarized policing just because to do otherwise would time away from their television watching.“
Ariel
“Ok, second question. So do you think that drugs should be legalized?”
Stitches
“As a tax-payer, yes. As a Christian, yes. As a libertarian, absolutely. But as someone that’s in the game and an American, hell no! The regulation that would be involved in something like that would rapidly deflate all the bumper profits from the trade. Plus without this means of controlling Latin America it’s possible they’d unite and be able to more seriously compete with to our economy instead of being crypto-colonial appendages to it!”
Ariel
“So who are some of your favorite producers and musicians right now?”
Stitches
“Mike Will Made It and Juicy J are killing it. I’d love to work with DJ Holiday and Southside. Trap Back is just fucking killer, man. You know what I’ve been playing on repeat though for the past few weeks, Run the Jewels I and II. Those tracks Oh My Darling Don’t Cry and Early, man? Fire! Speaking of which! You got to see this.”
*
Stitches got up from his chair and went into the other room. I looked at the large pile of white powder with curiosity and thought about whether this was not a set up like some of the other stunts that I’d read about. I wanted to know if it was real but didn’t want to actually try it. Right after the thought left my head he came back in with a tortoise in his hands. Every inch of its shell was various colored jewels. Green sapphires, red rubies, purple amethysts and what looked like a few diamonds were all arranged in such a way as to give the creature a motley pattern. He put it down next to me. Each step looked pained to it, as if it struggled under the weight of all the precious stones attached to it.
*
Stitches
“That’s Run the Jewels. I call him that cause he’s covered in jewels and he can’t really run. It’s ironic, get it? I also call him El-T, like El-P, cause he’s a Tortoise and Killer Mike cause he likes pizza. Get it? Like the Ninja Turtle? Hahahaha!”
Ariel
“That’s pretty funny… So, I’m curious, why you selling your donk?”
Stiches
“Got tired of getting pulled over in it and don’t want people to forget about me while my next mixtape is in production. I wish someone would buy it already cause I’m donating the money that I get from it’s sale – because I’m such a baller and respect the people that helped me gain the fame that I currently have – to a Colombian collective farm so they can use the money to buy more livestock and thus more quickly multiply their standard of living conditions.”
Ariel
“Ok, before I leave. I got to ask, is that real?” then nodded my head to the bag of cocaine.
Stitches
“What do you mean, is it real? It’s there in front of you isn’t it?”
Ariel
“Yeah, I get that. But, well, I haven’t seen you do a single line of that powder. Is it actually cocaine?”
Stitches
“You’re welcome to try it.”
Ariel
“No thanks. Can you just honestly answer the question?”
Stitches turned a little bit in his chair. It was the first time that I saw his swagger falter. A little turn in his chair, that’s all that it took. I went on the attack.
Ariel
“Why won’t you answer? Do you have something to hide?”
A tear came to his eye.
Stitches
“No. No man, ok, no. That’s not cocaine. It’s flour. Truth is I used to work at Panera Bread, and I love baking bread. Waking up really early, mixing and baking things that would feed lots of people gave me an incredible sense of purpose. It was one of the best times in my lives. The smells. Rye, barley, rosemary… Anyway, I got fired from there after I got caught smoking herb on my break. My songs are really just a celebration of that time that I felt such purpose and connection to the people around me.
He was now sniffling to hold back tears.
My song Brick in Your face? I came up with that when I was working there. While making stuff I’d rap about what I was doing, you know? Cause I was happy? So I was all like at my station making a sourdough and I get this feeling inside and just blurt out “I love pounding dough!” which later became the chorus of “I love selling blow!” And cause I was always curious with what kind of fillings people would put between the slices of bread I’d made I was all like “I put that loaf in your face! What’re you going to do with it? You like that taste best give me respect, bake u bake up bake up!”
And Mail? Man I’d just been thinking about how I’d know that if people were willing to buy my pastries via the mail then that’d mean they really respect my skills as a baker.”
Ariel
“So the tattoos of the AK-47 on your face and the stitches across your mouth..?”
Stitches
“Are just part of a carefully crafted image designed to give me and my music the aura of illicit drug culture authenticity that unsophisticated audiences require while simultaneously arresting the drift of all of my creative significations as an musician to reference all of the colonialist, racist and classist ideologies that various state and private apparatuses use to justify micro and macro management of fears through various forms of repression and policing while also indicating the need for people to speak up and be active against the perpetuation of such widespread human suffering so that a a few people can profit.”
***
You can watch the video for Stitches new single Facts below.
As indicated about, Stitches currently has his donk available for sale.
Also, as you can probably tell by now, I’ve never actually met Phillip Katsabanis/Stitches and this entire interview is fictional. I hope you enjoyed it anyway! Thanks for reading!
