William S. Burroughs Ipsum

There couldn't be a society of people who didn't dream. they'd be dead in two weeks. language is a virus from outer space. smash the control images. smash the control machine. the face of 'evil' is always the face of total need. it's the little touches that make a future solid enough to destroy. danger is a biologic necessity, like dreams. if you face death, for that time, for the period of direct confrontation, you are immortal. 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. it needed the eyes..

Admittedly, a homosexual can be conditioned to react sexually to a woman, or to an old boot for that matter. in fact, both homo - and heterosexual experimental subjects have been conditioned to react sexually to an old boot, and you can save a lot of money that way. the way to kill a man or a nation is to cut off his dreams, the way the whites are taking care of the indians: killing their dreams, their magic, their familiar spirits. be just and if you can't be just, be arbitrary. hustlers of the world, there is one mark you cannot beat: the mark inside. junk is the ideal product... the ultimate merchandise. no sales talk necessary. the client will crawl through a sewer and beg to buy. 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. which came first the intestine or the tapeworm? a paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on. 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. if i had my way we'd sleep every night all wrapped around each other like hibernating rattlesnakes. 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. in the u.s. you have to be a deviant or die of boredom. 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. language is a virus from outer space. there are no innocent bystanders... what are they doing there in the first place? the face of 'evil' is always the face of total need. there couldn't be a society of people who didn't dream. they'd be dead in two weeks. 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... you know a real friend? someone you know will look after your cat after you are gone. 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... nothing is true, everything is permitted. nobody loved it. finally, it talked all the time, "because we don't need you like a tadpole's tail that the asshole couldn't do was see. the silent, helpless suffering of the brain behind the eyes..

You know a real friend? someone you know will look after your cat after you are gone. the dream is a spontaneous happening and therefore dangerous to a control system set-up by the non-dreamers so, finally, his mouth sealed over... nerve connections were blocked... give orders anymore..