William S. Burroughs lived between 1914-1997. A bright individual, strange, dark, wonderful. He was born into a fairly well-to-do family, given an exceptional education [including Harvard]; he seemed to let this go simply for the fun of it by moving to new york, and getting involved in the criminal underworld.
In 1940, he was sent to a mental hospital for cutting off the end of pinky to impress his male lover. He was drafted into WWII, but, of course, our U S of A didnt want homosexual former mental patients around our good ol boys, so he was given a civilian disability, and left him with that.
Burroughs then made back to New York, getting involved in dead-end jobs [just because he could], back into the underworld [just because he could]-- junkies, homosexuals, young intellectuals [you know, the kind of people Mother wouldnt want around the house]. He soon got involved in morphine and herion, amonsgt other things. He was introduced to Joan Vollmer, for whom he dismissed his homosexuality for [for a while that is], and hosted frequent parties of orgies, sex, drugs, and intellectual psycho-babble.
Burroughs, one day [one day that he later recalled to be a depressing one... waking up knowing that something bad was going to happen] spent the day drinking, and being blue-sy... decided in friends' company "Its time for our William Tell act"... She placed a glass of water on her head, he took aim... and killed her. He was devastated. He left the country after his lawyer who got him on bail killed someone else.
Burroughs somehow ended up in South America... Where he came in contact with the extemely powerful [even more so than LSD] ayahuasca hallucinagen. It has been used for centuries as a catalyst for religious shamans to go on spiritual or healing journeys. "There is nothing to fear. Your ayahuasca consciousness is more valid than Normal consciousness."
Burroughs then afterword headed to North Africa [specifically, Tangier]... Drugs were easy to find here... along with attractive young men. Our little Billy-Poo was still reeling over the death of Joan. Here, here he was free. Here was where he wrote, and wrote he did. He drank, ate marijuana candy, wrote on an insane schedual, then throwing them of to the side, paper after paper, only to start writing again. In this delirious state is where Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg found William Buroughs... They compiled his obvious genius into a manuscript, filled with his bizzare and disturbing writings and images [some of which gave gave Jack Kerouac nightmares], this manuscript made of his loose compilations were published in 1959, entitled The Naked Lunch.
William claimed that he was "shitting out my educated Middlewest background once and for all. It's a matter of catharsis, where I say the most horrible things I can think of. Realize that--the most horrible dirty smily awful niggardliest posture possible. . ." ... It was this spewing of thought and emotion in nothing but words and pictures, and in this writing Burroughs that Burroughs tried to escape and vomit out his social and family binds that held him down, deppressed him... and ultimately led him to some self-destructive and harmful descisions in his life [like playing William Tell with Joan...]
In Paris, quite by accident, the cut-up technique was discovered. His close friend accidently cut up a stack of newspapers and magazines... and found the lines and words jumbled and re-arranged themselves to form a new text. Burroughs quickly became with the cut-up technique [as we all know now].
The rest of Burroughs life as we know it is trifled with social insanity. He quickly got involved with social training and control [fed by his new view of words due to his new cut-up technique]... He found scientology, and became "healed" by the new techniques of Scientology and sleep-whatever bullshit L. Ron Hubbard and all these psycho-babbling people love to deal with. In the end, Burroughs really enjoyed and appreciated the use of the techniques that he claimed helped him far better than years of psychotherapy.
But as he penetrated more deeply into the church he discovered that the visionary Hubbard was also an eccentric fascist and that his "church" used appallingly effective mind control techniques to assure a steady supply of loyalty, secrecy, and cash. Burroughs found it sickening and ironic that a tool effective for setting people free was being used to enslave them in other ways. He broke with Scientology and went on to blab all that he knew. (Note that a man with fewer guns might not have been so brave! Scientology had a strong policy of punishing those who broke the silence or pissed them off.)
Burroughs was now exploring his mind and the world using drugs, writing, the Dream Machine, etc etc etc; he was becoming an underground celebrity. Artists, writers, songwrites, muscicians, his arts became well known in the underground world of the youth.
after the Death of a good friend, Burroughs expanded his art territory by taking on painting. And soon with that, he started his "shotgun art phase"... by one day shooting his shotgun at plywood... becoming entranced by the random marks and holes, vast shapes of blasted wood... He began shooting paint cans onto plywood. He also became interested in viennese waltzes, Mayan codices, surrealism, egyptian burial rituals, space Travel, cats, popular fiction, especially Frederick Forsyth and Robin Cook, daily routines, doing ordinary everyday things with great care and attention to detail. Really, he just became obsessed with being obsessed. [he is Burroughs, after all]
