William S. Burroughs Ipsum

Artists to my mind are the real architects of change, and not the political legislators who implement change after the fact. our national drug is alcohol. we tend to regard the use any other drug with special horror. 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 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. perhaps all pleasure is only relief. you can't fake quality any more than you can fake a good meal. a paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on. 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 language is a virus from outer space. 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. a cat's rage is beautiful, burning with pure cat flame, all its hair standing up and crackling blue sparks, eyes blazing and sputtering. panic is the sudden realization that everything around you is alive. 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. his pants and start talking on the street... and it wanted to be kissed, screaming at it to shut up... "because we don't need you it needed the eyes. because the eyes went out....

Our national drug is alcohol. we tend to regard the use any other drug with special horror. happiness is a byproduct of function, purpose, and conflict; those who seek happiness for itself seek victory without war. the aim of education is the knowledge, not of facts, but of values. which came first the intestine or the tapeworm? your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer. whether you sniff it smoke it eat it or shove it up your ass the result is the same: addiction. 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. love? what is it? most natural painkiller what there is. 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... 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. 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. shouting out it wanted equal rights. beating at it with his fists... like a tadpole's tail.

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. how i hate those who are dedicated to producing conformity. like all pure creatures, cats are practical. the face of evil is always the face of total need. a paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on. desperation is the raw material of drastic change. only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape. 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 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. artists to my mind are the real architects of change, and not the political legislators who implement change after the fact. 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. 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... knowing you might not make it... in that knowledge courage is born. 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. danger is a biologic necessity, like dreams. if you face death, for that time, for the period of direct confrontation, you are immortal. there is in fact something obscene and sinister about photography, a desire to imprison, to incorporate, a sexual intensity of pursuit. that old feeling is still in my leaking heart. did i ever tell you about the man who taught his asshole to talk? his whole abdomen would move up and down, you dig, farting out the words. 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. his pants and start talking on the street... shouting out it wanted equal rights. and sticking candles up it, but... in the end, not me... nerve connections were blocked... the brain must have died... 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..