If I Don't Write, I Begin To

Unhappy Parents Teach You A Lesson That Lasts A Lifetime.

Burroughs Called His Greatest Novel Naked Lunch, By Which He Meant It's What You See On The End Of A Fork. He's A Writer Of Enormous Richness Whose Books Are A Kind Of Attempt To Blow Up This Cozy Conspiracy, To Allow Us To See What's On The End Of The Fork . . . The Truth.

The Endless Newsreel Clips Of Nuclear Explosions That We Saw On Tv In The 1960s (were) A Powerful Incitement To The Psychotic Imagination, Sanctioning *everything*.

In The Past We Have Always Assumed That The External World Around Us Has Represented Reality, However Confusing Or Uncertain, And That The Inner World Of Our Minds, Its Dreams, Hopes, Ambitions, Represented The Realm Of Fantasy, And The Imagination. These Roles, It Seems To Me, Have Been Reversed. The Most Prudent And Effective Method Of Dealing With The World Around Us Is To Assume That It Is A Complete Fiction - Conversely, The One Small Node Of Reality Left To Us Is Inside Of Our Own Heads.

Everywhere You Look - Britain, The States, Western Europe - People Are Sealing Themselves Into Crime-free Enclaves. That's A Mistake - A Certain Level Of Crime Is Part Of The Necessary Roughage Of Life. Total Security Is A Disease Of Deprivation.