William S. Burroughs Ipsum

A functioning police state needs no police. 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. there couldn't be a society of people who didn't dream. they'd be dead in two weeks. i am getting so far out one day i won't come back at all. like all pure creatures, cats are practical. you can't fake quality any more than you can fake a good meal. desperation is the raw material of drastic change. only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape. love is a haunting melody that i have never mastered, and i fear i never will. 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 writers, like elephants, have long, vicious memories. there are things i wish i could forget. when you stop growing you start dying. 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. 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. in the magical universe there are no coincidences and there are no accidents. nothing happens unless someone wills it to happen. how i hate those who are dedicated to producing conformity. nothing is true, everything is permitted. and started eating. day and night. beating at it with his fists... "because we don't need you and grow there. would have amputated spontaneously except for the eyes, you dig? 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.

Anything that can be done chemically can be done by other means. there is nothing more provocative than minding your own business. a cat's rage is beautiful, burning with pure cat flame, all its hair standing up and crackling blue sparks, eyes blazing and sputtering. little raspy incurving hooks give orders anymore. for a while, you could see....

Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape. 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. how i hate those who are dedicated to producing conformity. the face of evil is always the face of total need. language is a virus from outer space. there couldn't be a society of people who didn't dream. they'd be dead in two weeks. the dream is a spontaneous happening and therefore dangerous to a control system set-up by the non-dreamers to be an outlaw you must first have a base in law to reject and get out of, i never had such a base. i never had a place i could call home that meant any more than a key to a house, apartment or hotel room. ... am i alien? alien from what exactly? perhaps my home is my dream city, more real than my waking life precisely because it has no relation to waking life... hustlers of the world, there is one mark you cannot beat: the mark inside. shouting out it wanted equal rights. it would get drunk, too, and have crying jags. after that, he began waking up like burning gasoline jelly and grow there. and the whole head... that's the one thing it needed the eyes. than a crab's eye at the end of a stalk. what a horrible loutish planet this is. the dominant species consists of sadistic morons, faces bearing the hideous lineaments of spiritual famine swollen with stupid hate. hopeless rubbish..