William S. Burroughs Ipsum

Be just and if you can't be just, be arbitrary. all over his mouth.. 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. how i hate those who are dedicated to producing conformity. there couldn't be a society of people who didn't dream. they'd be dead in two weeks. a cat's rage is beautiful, burning with pure cat flame, all its hair standing up and crackling blue sparks, eyes blazing and sputtering. you can't fake quality any more than you can fake a good meal. the first and most important thing an individual can do is to become an individual again, decontrol himself, train himself as to what is going on and win back as much independent ground for himself as possible 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. never do business with a religious son-of-a-bitch. his word ain't worth a shit -- not with the good lord telling him how to fuck you on the deal. language is a virus from outer space. nothing exists until or unless it is observed. an artist is making something exist by observing it. and his hope for other people is that they will also make it exist by observing it. i call it 'creative observation.' creative viewing. when you stop growing you start dying. i am getting so far out one day i won't come back at all. the best way to keep something bad from happening is to see it ahead of time... and you can't see it if you refuse to face the possibility. cheat your landlord if you can -- and must -- but do not try to shortchange the muse. in homosexual sex you know exactly what the other person is feeling, so you are identifying with the other person completely. in heterosexual sex you have no idea what the other person is feeling. open your mind and let the pictures out. he thought this was cute at first shouting out it wanted equal rights. and the asshole said to him... "because we don't need you like a tadpole's tail so, finally, his mouth sealed over... that the asshole couldn't do was see. it needed the eyes. and infiltrated and atrophied. for a while, you could see... and then finally and there was no more feeling in them.

. Language is a virus from outer space. artists to my mind are the real architects of change, and not the political legislators who implement change after the fact. every man has inside himself a parasitic being who is acting not at all to his advantage. sometimes paranoia's just having all the facts. smash the control images. smash the control machine. your knowledge of what is going on can only be superficial and relative. your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer. desperation is the raw material of drastic change. only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape. language is a virus from outer space. writers, like elephants, have long, vicious memories. there are things i wish i could forget. i miss you so much your absence causes me, at times, accute pain. i don't mean sexually. i mean in connection with my writing. nothing exists until or unless it is observed. an artist is making something exist by observing it. and his hope for other people is that they will also make it exist by observing it. i call it 'creative observation.' creative viewing. panic is the sudden realization that everything around you is alive. and built an act around it... shouting out it wanted equal rights. it would get drunk, too, and have crying jags. you could hear him for blocks, screaming at it to shut up... around here anymore. in the morning with transparentjelly... as one judge said to another judge: be just. and if you can't be just, be arbitrary..

After a shooting spree, they always want to take the guns away from the people who didn't do it. i sure as hell wouldn't want to live in a society where the only people allowed guns are the police and the military. how i hate those who are dedicated to producing conformity. every man has inside himself a parasitic being who is acting not at all to his advantage. be just and if you can't be just, be arbitrary. hustlers of the world, there is one mark you cannot beat: the mark inside. the aim of education is the knowledge, not of facts, but of values. like all pure creatures, cats are practical. silence is only frightening to people who are compulsively verbalizing. if i had my way we'd sleep every night all wrapped around each other like hibernating rattlesnakes. the question is frequently asked: why does a man become a drug addict? the answer is that he usually does not intend to become an addict. you don't wake up one morning and decide to be a drug addict. it takes at least three months' shooting twice a day to get any habit at all. and you don't really know what junk sickness is until you have had several habits. it took me almost six months to get my first habit, and then the withdrawal symptoms were mild. i think it no exaggeration to say it takes about a year and several hundred injections to make an addict. the questions, of course, could be asked: why did you ever try narcotics? why did you continue using it long enough to become an addict? you become a narcotics addict because you do not have strong motivations in the other direction. junk wins by default. i tried it as a matter of curiosity. i drifted along taking shots when i could score. i ended up hooked. most addicts i have talked to report a similar experience. they did not start using drugs for any reason they can remember. they just drifted along until they got hooked. if you have never been addicted, you can have no clear idea what it means to need junk with the addict's special need. you don't decide to be an addict. one morning you wake up sick and you're an addict. (junky, prologue, p. xxxviii) smash the control images. smash the control machine. 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. thou shalt not be such a shit, you don't know you are one. 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. how i hate those who are dedicated to producing conformity. 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. but the asshole would eat its way through screaming at it to shut up... and the pieces would stick to his hands... like burning gasoline jelly that's the one thing it was trapped inside the skull....