William S. Burroughs Ipsum

Silence is only frightening to people who are compulsively verbalizing. whether you sniff it smoke it eat it or shove it up your ass the result is the same: addiction. 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 getting so far out one day i won't come back at all. a cat's rage is beautiful, burning with pure cat flame, all its hair standing up and crackling blue sparks, eyes blazing and sputtering. then it developed sort of teethlike... it would get drunk, too, and have crying jags. after that, he began waking up for a while, you could see... of the brain behind the eyes. and there was no more feeling in them 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.

Artists to my mind are the real architects of change, and not the political legislators who implement change after the fact. happiness is a byproduct of function, purpose, and conflict; those who seek happiness for itself seek victory without war. 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. junk is the ideal product... the ultimate merchandise. no sales talk necessary. the client will crawl through a sewer and beg to buy. which came first the intestine or the tapeworm? your knowledge of what is going on can only be superficial and relative. 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 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. you know a real friend? someone you know will look after your cat after you are gone. 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. a cat's rage is beautiful, burning with pure cat flame, all its hair standing up and crackling blue sparks, eyes blazing and sputtering. nobody loved it. "it is you who will shut up he would tear it off his mouth and the pieces would stick to his hands... that's the one thing the brain must have died....

Our national drug is alcohol. we tend to regard the use any other drug with special horror. sometimes paranoia's just having all the facts. 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. the face of evil is always the face of total need. a paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on. a paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on. a psychotic is a guy who's just found out what's going on. if i had my way we'd sleep every night all wrapped around each other like hibernating rattlesnakes. after one look at this planet any visitor from outer space would say i want to see the manager. smash the control images. smash the control machine. artists to my mind are the real architects of change, and not the political legislators who implement change after the fact. when you stop growing you start dying. 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. shouting out it wanted equal rights. and the asshole said to him... and the pieces would stick to his hands... and the whole head... that's the one thing the silent, helpless suffering because the eyes went out... 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.