We come from the island of ice and grass
When I write about Singapore’s secret drug and party scenes the feeling is like wading into black waters. Everyone says: “don’t go there, it’s too risky!”—and it’s true that police surveillance in this dystopian Disneyland is so meticulous, even talking about drugs is taboo.
My friend tells me a story: his homie was “randomly” picked off a flight from the Netherlands and drug tested at Singapore’s Changi airport. Doing drugs overseas is illegal for Singaporeans; our bodies are policed even beyond the country’s borders. Even though he wasn’t carrying anything, he was arrested just for having THC in his piss. “Don’t forget you still hold a Singapore passport,” my friend cautioned. “At the end of the day, they own us.”
But am I really going to get locked up for sharing anonymous accounts of Singaporean weed culture… on Substack?! Maybe it’s hubris, but this seems ludicrous. Still, it’s striking that no one has ever written about Singapore’s underground drug scenes before—not like this, straight from the streets without pity or propaganda. So to be cautious while swimming in uncharted terrain (especially since my Instagram got deactivated this week lol), I’m paywalling this post to curb it from the worst possible outcome: going viral.
Below the jump: scary stories and insider intel from Singaporean stoners, the regional ramifications of Thailand decriminalizing weed, and an analysis of Singapore’s insane meth trends via a new government report I can’t stop thinking about. I don’t need to tell you this, but paying for a subscription is the best way to tell me: “you’re a crazy bitch but keep doing this!” I might also delete this post in a week, who knows, so catch it while you can.
PS: I jumped on the Contain podcast recently to dissect my recent reporting on Singapore’s secret party scenes. We also debated which cities are throwing the best “post”-pandemic raves, and what drugs the deconstructed club dolls are doing in Texas. Check it out, it’s a good one.