William S. Burroughs Ipsum

Your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer. a paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on. 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. your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer. 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. love is a haunting melody that i have never mastered, and i fear i never will. language is a virus from outer space. smash the control images. smash the control machine. knowing you might not make it... in that knowledge courage is born. 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... like all pure creatures, cats are practical. that old feeling is still in my leaking heart. and started eating. all over his mouth. he would tear it off his mouth like burning gasoline jelly would have amputated spontaneously and there was no more feeling in them.

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. desperation is the raw material of drastic change. only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape. happiness is a byproduct of function, purpose, and conflict; those who seek happiness for itself seek victory without war. a cat's rage is beautiful, burning with pure cat flame, all its hair standing up and crackling blue sparks, eyes blazing and sputtering. i am getting so far out one day i won't come back at all. 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. you can't fake quality any more than you can fake a good meal. smash the control images. smash the control machine. 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. 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. there is nothing more provocative than minding your own business. the dream is a spontaneous happening and therefore dangerous to a control system set-up by the non-dreamers hustlers of the world, there is one mark you cannot beat: the mark inside. there is in fact something obscene and sinister about photography, a desire to imprison, to incorporate, a sexual intensity of pursuit. how i hate those who are dedicated to producing conformity. and built an act around it... it would get drunk, too, and have crying jags. nobody loved it. same as any other mouth. beating at it with his fists... i can talk and eat and shit." it was trapped inside the skull... sealed off. 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. 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.

Every man has inside himself a parasitic being who is acting not at all to his advantage. hustlers of the world, there is one mark you cannot beat: the mark inside. the aim of education is the knowledge, not of facts, but of values. 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. smash the control images. smash the control machine. your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer. 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 language is a virus from outer space. 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. when you stop growing you start dying. i bear my burden proudly for all to see, to conquer prejudice and ignorance and hate with knowledge and sincerity and love. whenever you are threatened by a hostile presence, you emit a thick cloud of love like an octopus squirts out ink... like all pure creatures, cats are practical. and built an act around it... beating at it with his fists... around here anymore. he would tear it off his mouth except for the eyes, you dig? because the eyes went out....