William S. Burroughs Ipsum

There are no innocent bystanders... what are they doing there in the first place? every man has inside himself a parasitic being who is acting not at all to his advantage. and the pieces would stick to his hands....

Happiness is a byproduct of function, purpose, and conflict; those who seek happiness for itself seek victory without war. 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 aim of education is the knowledge, not of facts, but of values. silence is only frightening to people who are compulsively verbalizing. smash the control images. smash the control machine. which came first the intestine or the tapeworm? a paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on. there is no intensity of love or feeling that does not involve the risk of crippling hurt. it is a duty to take this risk, to love and feel without defense or reserve. 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 thou shalt not be such a shit, you don't know you are one. the dream is a spontaneous happening and therefore dangerous to a control system set-up by the non-dreamers 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. 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 panic is the sudden realization that everything around you is alive. it would get drunk, too, and have crying jags. nobody loved it. day and night. in the morning with transparentjelly... like burning gasoline jelly nerve connections were blocked... because the eyes went out... than a crab's eye at the end of a stalk..

Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape. our national drug is alcohol. we tend to regard the use any other drug with special horror. a paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on. happiness is a byproduct of function, purpose, and conflict; those who seek happiness for itself seek victory without war. like all pure creatures, cats are practical. the cat does not offer services. the cat offers itself. of course he wants care and shelter. you don't buy love for nothing. the face of evil is always the face of total need. 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 after one look at this planet any visitor from outer space would say i want to see the manager. there are no innocent bystanders... what are they doing there in the first place? 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. the junk merchant doesn't sell his product to the consumer, he sells the consumer to his product. he does not improve and simplify his merchandise. he degrades and simplifies the client. knowing you might not make it... in that knowledge courage is born. it's the little touches that make a future solid enough to destroy. cheat your landlord if you can -- and must -- but do not try to shortchange the muse. 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. 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 there is in fact something obscene and sinister about photography, a desire to imprison, to incorporate, a sexual intensity of pursuit. his pants and start talking on the street... it would get drunk, too, and have crying jags. and the asshole said to him... and the pieces would stick to his hands... like burning gasoline jelly and the whole head... give orders anymore. 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.