William S. Burroughs Ipsum

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. like all pure creatures, cats are practical. silence is only frightening to people who are compulsively verbalizing. a paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on. if i had my way we'd sleep every night all wrapped around each other like hibernating rattlesnakes. desperation is the raw material of drastic change. only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape. 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 there is in fact something obscene and sinister about photography, a desire to imprison, to incorporate, a sexual intensity of pursuit. in the morning with transparentjelly... and the whole head... as one judge said to another judge: be just. and if you can't be just, be arbitrary..

Language is a virus from outer space. most of the trouble in this world has been caused by folks who can't mind their own business, because they have no business of their own to mind, any more than a smallpox virus has. 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. the way to kill a man or a nation is to cut off his dreams, the way the whites are taking care of the indians: killing their dreams, their magic, their familiar spirits. black magic operates most effectively in preconscious, marginal areas. casual curses are the most effective. i am getting so far out one day i won't come back at all. 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 love? what is it? most natural painkiller what there is. after one look at this planet any visitor from outer space would say i want to see the manager. 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. every man has inside himself a parasitic being who is acting not at all to his advantage. knowing you might not make it... in that knowledge courage is born. a cat's rage is beautiful, burning with pure cat flame, all its hair standing up and crackling blue sparks, eyes blazing and sputtering. we are all alone, born alone, die alone, and -- in spite of true romance magazines -- we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way. i do not say lonely -- at least, not all the time -- but essentially, and finally, alone. this is what makes your self-respect so important, and i don't see how you can respect yourself if you must look in the hearts and minds of others for your happiness danger is a biologic necessity, like dreams. if you face death, for that time, for the period of direct confrontation, you are immortal. it was unlike anything i ever heard. bubbly, thick, stagnant sound. a sound you could smell. this man worked for the carnival, you dig? then it developed sort of teethlike... "it is you who will shut up around here anymore. like a tadpole's tail would have amputated spontaneously and infiltrated and atrophied. than a crab's eye at the end of a stalk. 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.

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. most of the trouble in this world has been caused by folks who can't mind their own business, because they have no business of their own to mind, any more than a smallpox virus has. sometimes paranoia's just having all the facts. the way to kill a man or a nation is to cut off his dreams, the way the whites are taking care of the indians: killing their dreams, their magic, their familiar spirits. the aim of education is the knowledge, not of facts, but of values. perhaps all pleasure is only relief. 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 artists to my mind are the real architects of change, and not the political legislators who implement change after the fact. 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. the dream is a spontaneous happening and therefore dangerous to a control system set-up by the non-dreamers 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. open your mind and let the pictures out. that old feeling is still in my leaking heart. and to start with it was like a novelty ventriloquist act. after a while, the ass started talking on its own. he would go in without anything prepared... and his ass would ad-lib and toss the gags back at him every time. he thought this was cute at first but the asshole would eat its way through you could hear him for blocks, "it is you who will shut up after that, he began waking up like burning gasoline jelly and the whole head... it needed the eyes..