/ new
/ old
/ book
/ email
/ aim
/ profile
/ host
/ poetry
/ zenbox
/ old drama
/ radiomigration

/ negating ouroboros

/ drivel .001

/ wasteland & further; waiting for a slaughter

/ november is a month of ghosts

a grey knive lurking on the corner of the bathroom counter, incongruously balanced on the edge - just about to fall - the light of day leaked into the room like dish detergent being squeezed gently out of a bottle, and over in the corner, rats rustled in a paper bag. he walked into the room to the sound of the ceiling fan slowly misunderstood. his left sneaker squeaked slightly. paper in his pocket crumpled up and a blue crayon behind one ear. a muddy cigarette in one hand and no lighter. his eyes are silently stained-glass windows inside a church with no congregation, waiting for the hollow bellpulls - the doorbell of the Almighty. he takes out a sharpie and marks an x on the wall. moments later a fly buzzes fatly in and lands on the ��������������������������������������������spot, preening and humming to itself. below, at the baseboard, an ant trundles in. he looks at the mirror. he looks away. outside, a bird hits the window, and all things still, in hushed������������������������������������������mourning. an ignorant cricket looses a selfish mating call and
2003-05-18, 5:30 p.m.

the Western Lands

��������� �����text by william s. burroughs

the Road to the Western Lands is by definition the most dangerous road in the world, for it is a journey beyond Death, beyond the basic God standard of Fear and Danger.

it is the most heavily guarded road in the world, for it gives access to the gift that supersedes all other gifts: Immortality. the Road to the Western Lands is devious and unpredictable. today's easy passage may be tomorrow's death trap. the obvious road is almost always a fool's road, and beware the middle Roads, the roads of moderation, common sense and careful planning. however, there is a time for planning, moderation and common sense. a dangerous road. every pitfall, every error, every snare to which Everyman has been liable since the beginning, you are sure to meet on the road to the Western Lands.

to reach the Western Lands is to achieve freedom from fear. do you free yourself from fear by cowering in your physical body for eternity? your body is a boat to lay aside when you reach the far shore, or sell it if you can find a fool... it's full of holes... it's full of holes.

i want to reach the Western Lands - right in front of you, across the bubbling brook. it's a frozen sewer. it's known as the Duad, remember? all the filth and horror, fear, hate, disease and death of human history flows between you and the Western Lands. how long does it take a man to learn that he does not, cannot want what he "wants"? you have to be in hell to see heaven. glimpses from the Land of the Dead, flashes of serene timeless joy, a Joy as old as suffering and despair.

prev / next

�SEH