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Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape. anything that can be done chemically can be done by other means. 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. the aim of education is the knowledge, not of facts, but of values. like all pure creatures, cats are practical. the cat does not offer services. the cat offers itself. of course he wants care and shelter. you don't buy love for nothing. whether you sniff it smoke it eat it or shove it up your ass the result is the same: addiction. there are no innocent bystanders... what are they doing there in the first place? artists to my mind are the real architects of change, and not the political legislators who implement change after the fact. 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... thou shalt not be such a shit, you don't know you are one. knowing you might not make it... in that knowledge courage is born. i am getting so far out one day i won't come back at all. the dream is a spontaneous happening and therefore dangerous to a control system set-up by the non-dreamers 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. like all pure creatures, cats are practical. in the magical universe there are no coincidences and there are no accidents. nothing happens unless someone wills it to happen. open your mind and let the pictures out. and started eating. "it is you who will shut up i can talk and eat and shit." and grow there. of the brain behind the eyes. and then finally the brain must have died... 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.

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. how i hate those who are dedicated to producing conformity. 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. day and night. after that, he began waking up the silent, helpless suffering of the brain behind the eyes.. 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. a cat's rage is beautiful, burning with pure cat flame, all its hair standing up and crackling blue sparks, eyes blazing and sputtering. 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. shouting out it wanted equal rights. screaming at it to shut up... like a tadpole's tail that the asshole couldn't do was see. and infiltrated and atrophied. so, the brain couldn't 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..

There is nothing more provocative than minding your own business. the face of 'evil' is always the face of total need. 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. 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. i can talk and eat and shit." the brain must have died... and there was no more feeling in them.