William S. Burroughs Ipsum

A functioning police state needs no police. a paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on. in my writing i am acting as a map maker, an explorer of psychic areas, a cosmonaut of inner space, and i see no point in exploring areas that have already been thoroughly surveyed. your knowledge of what is going on can only be superficial and relative. love is a haunting melody that i have never mastered, and i fear i never will. knowing you might not make it... in that knowledge courage is born. like all pure creatures, cats are practical. there is in fact something obscene and sinister about photography, a desire to imprison, to incorporate, a sexual intensity of pursuit. 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. did i ever tell you about the man who taught his asshole to talk? his whole abdomen would move up and down, you dig, farting out the words. shouting out it wanted equal rights. screaming at it to shut up... nothing did any good, i can talk and eat and shit." and grow there. that's the one thing sealed off. of the brain behind the eyes. as one judge said to another judge: be just. and if you can't be just, be arbitrary..

Your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer. artists to my mind are the real architects of change, and not the political legislators who implement change after the fact. admittedly, a homosexual can be conditioned to react sexually to a woman, or to an old boot for that matter. in fact, both homo - and heterosexual experimental subjects have been conditioned to react sexually to an old boot, and you can save a lot of money that way. there couldn't be a society of people who didn't dream. they'd be dead in two weeks. be just and if you can't be just, be arbitrary. silence is only frightening to people who are compulsively verbalizing. i am getting so far out one day i won't come back at all. as soon as you know you are in prison, you have a possibility to escape. 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. finally, it talked all the time, "it is you who will shut up i can talk and eat and shit." like a tadpole's tail and grow there. and the whole head... would have amputated spontaneously that's the one thing and then finally.

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. how i hate those who are dedicated to producing conformity. that old feeling is still in my leaking heart. i can talk and eat and shit." it needed the eyes..