William S. Burroughs Ipsum

Language is a virus from outer space. after one look at this planet any visitor from outer space would say 'i want to see the manager.' 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. be just and if you can't be just, be arbitrary. silence is only frightening to people who are compulsively verbalizing. your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer. smash the control images. smash the control machine. 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. 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. hustlers of the world, there is one mark you cannot beat: the mark inside. 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. that old feeling is still in my leaking heart. but the asshole would eat its way through shouting out it wanted equal rights. and it wanted to be kissed, you could hear him for blocks, "it is you who will shut up after that, he began waking up he would tear it off his mouth and the whole head....

Anything that can be done chemically can be done by other means. 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. 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. i am getting so far out one day i won't come back at all. 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. it is to be remembered that all art is magical in origin - music, sculpture, writing, painting - and by magical i mean intended to produce very definite results. paintings were originally formulae to make what is painted happen. art is not an end in itself, any more than einstein's matter-into-energy formulae is an end in itself. like all formulae, art was originally functional, intended to make things happen, the way an atom bomb happens from einstein's formulae. 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. but the asshole would eat its way through and sticking candles up it, but... he would tear it off his mouth that the asshole couldn't do was see. the brain must have died....

Artists to my mind are the real architects of change, and not the political legislators who implement change after the fact. a paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on. black magic operates most effectively in preconscious, marginal areas. casual curses are the most effective. 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. 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. 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. you know a real friend? someone you know will look after your cat after you are gone. open your mind and let the pictures out. and built an act around it... finally, it talked all the time, nothing did any good, all over his mouth. the silent, helpless suffering.