William S. Burroughs Ipsum

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. hustlers of the world, there is one mark you cannot beat: the mark inside. the only possible ethic is to do what one wants to do. in the u.s. you have to be a deviant or die of boredom. language is a virus from outer space. 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... 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. as soon as you know you are in prison, you have a possibility to escape. it was unlike anything i ever heard. bubbly, thick, stagnant sound. a sound you could smell. this man worked for the carnival, you dig? 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. finally, it talked all the time, all over his mouth. except for the eyes, you dig? that's the one thing the silent, helpless suffering.

A functioning police state needs no police. nothing is true, everything is permitted. every man has inside himself a parasitic being who is acting not at all to his advantage. like all pure creatures, cats are practical. the only possible ethic is to do what one wants to do. 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 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. 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. every man has inside himself a parasitic being who is acting not at all to his advantage. as soon as you know you are in prison, you have a possibility to escape. 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. 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 screaming at it to shut up... and the asshole said to him... and the pieces would stick to his hands... nerve connections were blocked... give orders anymore. the brain must have died... because the eyes went out....

Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape. 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. nothing is true, everything is permitted. 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. nobody owns life, but anyone who can pick up a frying pan owns death. a paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on. a psychotic is a guy who's just found out what's going on. after one look at this planet any visitor from outer space would say i want to see the manager. there is nothing more provocative than minding your own business. language is a virus from outer space. smash the control images. smash the control machine. 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. nothing is true, everything is permitted. 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. nothing did any good, in the end, not me... that's the one thing so, the brain couldn't.