In lifeproof houses they hover over the young, sop up a little of what they shut out. Only the young bring anything in, and they are not young very long.
I don’t think anyone could write a completely honest autobiography. I am sure no one could bear to read it: My Past Was An Evil River.
Gilbert and George said: “But don’t you see? That’s how Bacon is. He is absolutely right to behave as he wants.” Not as he wants. As he has to behave. An artist must be open to the muse. The greater the artist, the more he is open to “cosmic currents.” He has to behave as he does. If he has “the courage to be an artist,” he is committed to behave as the mood possesses him. “That’s the man who booed Princess Margaret!” – the peasantry shrink back from his sulfurous glow.
Ever notice how many expressions carry over from queers to con men? Like ‘raise,’ letting someone know you are in the same line?
In many tenement apartments the front door opens directly into the kitchen. This was such an apartment and we were in the kitchen.
Todos creemos al principio que podremos controlarlo. Luego dejamos de querer controlarlo.
A narcotics agent infiltrated the beatniks by writing bad poetry. WE are not bad writers but our purpose is ultimately the same: to expose and arrest Novia Criminals. In The Naked Lunch, The Soft Machine and The Novia Express i have shown who they are and what they are doing and what they will do if they are not arrested. These books were written to expose and arrest criminals. Minutes to go. This is war to extermination.
The old writer couldn’t write anymore because he had reached the end of words, the end of what can be done with words.
The American upper-middle-class citizen is a composite of negatives. He is largely delineated by what he is not. Gains went further. He was not merely negative. He was positively invisible; a vague respectable presence. There is a certain kind of ghost that can only materialize with the aid of a sheet or other piece of cloth to give it outline. Gains was like that. He materialized in someone else’s overcoat.
All you cat lovers, remember all the millions of cats mewling through the world’s rooms lay all their hopes and trust in you.
All the world’s a gallows and we all play our parts, some are towel boys, others lewd doctors, most of us just dirty old men whimper at life’s Glory Hole.
A typical modern Puritan, she was able to believe in sin without believing in God. In fact, she felt there was something soft and sinful about believing in God. She rejected such indulgence like an indecent proposal.
Governments fall from sheer indifference. Authority figures, deprived of the vampiric energy they suck off their constituents, are seen for what they are: dead empty masks manipulated by computers. And what is behind the computers? Remote control.
New Orleans is a dead museum.
I am the cat who walks alone. And to me all supermarkets are alike.
The world network of junkies, tuned on a cord of rancid jissom, tying up in furnished rooms, shivering in the junk-sick morning.
I have learned the cellular stoicism that junk teaches the user. I have seen a cell full of sick junkies silent and immobile in separate misery. They knew the pointlessness of complaining or moving. They knew that basically no one can help anyone else. There is no key, no secret someone else has that he can give you.
It is doubtful if shame can exist in the absence of sexual libido.
Or suppose you are a singer. Well splice your singing in with the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Animals. Splice yourself in with newscasters, prime ministers, presidents. Why stop there? Why stop anywhere? Everybody splice himself in with everybody else.
These colorless sheets are what flesh is made from – Becomes flesh when it has color and writing – That is Word And Image write the message that is you on colorless sheets determine all flesh.