William S. Burroughs Ipsum

Our national drug is alcohol. we tend to regard the use any other drug with special horror. every man has inside himself a parasitic being who is acting not at all to his advantage. black magic operates most effectively in preconscious, marginal areas. casual curses are the most effective. you can't fake quality any more than you can fake a good meal. silence is only frightening to people who are compulsively verbalizing. you were not there for the beginning. you will not be there for the end. your knowledge of what is going on can only be superficial and relative i am not one of those weak-spirited, sappy americans who want to be liked by all the people around them. i don't care if people hate my guts; i assume most of them do. the important question is whether they are in a position to do anything about it. my affections, being concentrated over a few people, are not spread all over hell in a vile attempt to placate sulky, worthless shits. there are no innocent bystanders... what are they doing there in the first place? thou shalt not be such a shit, you don't know you are one. cheat your landlord if you can -- and must -- but do not try to shortchange the muse. it is to be remembered that all art is magical in origin - music, sculpture, writing, painting - and by magical i mean intended to produce very definite results. paintings were originally formulae to make what is painted happen. art is not an end in itself, any more than einstein's matter-into-energy formulae is an end in itself. like all formulae, art was originally functional, intended to make things happen, the way an atom bomb happens from einstein's formulae. that old feeling is still in my leaking heart. finally, it talked all the time, day and night. that the asshole couldn't do was see..

A functioning police state needs no police. how i hate those who are dedicated to producing conformity. the cat does not offer services. the cat offers itself. of course he wants care and shelter. you don't buy love for nothing. your knowledge of what is going on can only be superficial and relative. as a young child i wanted to be a writer because writers were rich and famous. they lounged around singapore and rangoon smoking opium in a yellow pongee silk suit. they sniffed cocaine in mayfair and they penetrated forbidden swamps with a faithful native boy and lived in the native quarter of tangier smoking hashish and languidly caressing a pet gazelle. as soon as you know you are in prison, you have a possibility to escape. nothing is true, everything is permitted. finally, it talked all the time, all over his mouth. he would tear it off his mouth it needed the eyes. it was trapped inside the skull... as one judge said to another judge: be just. and if you can't be just, be arbitrary. out of the closets and into the museums, libraries, architectural monuments, concert halls, bookstores, recording studios and film studios of the world. everything belongs to the inspired and dedicated thief.... words, colors, light, sounds, stone, wood, bronze belong to the living artist. they belong to anyone who can use them. loot the louvre! a bas l'originalit.

And built an act around it... it was trapped inside the skull.... Man is an artifact designed for space travel. he is not designed to remain in his present biologic state any more than a tadpole is designed to remain a tadpole. in deep sadness there is no place for sentimentality. be just and if you can't be just, be arbitrary. the aim of education is the knowledge, not of facts, but of values. perhaps all pleasure is only relief. the cat does not offer services. the cat offers itself. of course he wants care and shelter. you don't buy love for nothing. nobody owns life, but anyone who can pick up a frying pan owns death. your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer. in the u.s. you have to be a deviant or die of boredom. language is a virus from outer space. there are no innocent bystanders... what are they doing there in the first place? writers, like elephants, have long, vicious memories. there are things i wish i could forget. there couldn't be a society of people who didn't dream. they'd be dead in two weeks. when you stop growing you start dying. every man has inside himself a parasitic being who is acting not at all to his advantage. thou shalt not be such a shit, you don't know you are one. it's the little touches that make a future solid enough to destroy. as a young child i wanted to be a writer because writers were rich and famous. they lounged around singapore and rangoon smoking opium in a yellow pongee silk suit. they sniffed cocaine in mayfair and they penetrated forbidden swamps with a faithful native boy and lived in the native quarter of tangier smoking hashish and languidly caressing a pet gazelle. whether you like it or not, you are committed to the human endeavor. i cannot ally myself with such a purely negative goal as avoidance of suffering. suffering is a chance you take by the fact of being alive. i am not a person and i am not an animal. there is something i am here for something i must do before i can go. then it developed sort of teethlike... and started eating. shouting out it wanted equal rights. day and night. beating at it with his fists... "because we don't need you that the asshole couldn't do was see. it was trapped inside the skull....