William S. Burroughs

Today;  one of my favorite days in literary history: the day that
Uncle Bill Burroughs came to planet earth; February 5th, 1914.
“We can console ourselves with the Buddhist admonition
that nothing is more stultifying than safety…”
“Salutations to all my relations, that is all who can relate to me
and those to whom I relate.”
And of course;
“LOVE? What is it? Most natural painkiller what there is. Love.”
Dear Uncle Bill…
I related from the very first sentence right to the last.

—- William S. Burroughs, February 5th 1914 – August 2nd 1997

Shakespeare’s Take on Sex Addiction: Sonnet 129

The Expense of Spirit in a Waste of Shame

The expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust;
Enjoyed no sooner but despisèd straight:
Past reason hunted; and no sooner had,
Past reason hated, as a swallowed bait,
On purpose laid to make the taker mad:
Mad in pursuit, and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.







Moroccan Mountain Exile

01.08.2011 - THE SILENT SHOOT - THE WORK, writing room table, looking up




The Naked Blonde Writer today made an executive decision to retreat to the mountains of North Africa in order to give undivided attention to her works-in-progress; one being The Hollywood Bus Stop. The decision has been made due to the fact that TNBW cannot manage the daily requirements of social media while simultaneously producing good copy.
These North African mountains have no internet access; a geographical location chosen by design. She leaves tomorrow.
NB: no concern necessary: TNBW is in very safe hands.
Thus, no further posts are likely to be made until August. Sincere apologies forwarded to all those expecting a short story in the Death Series for Patreon. Your Humble Narrator is not physically or mentally robust enough to keep running around North Africa to find internet access when in such a remote location. Sometimes writers just have to disappear…
We trust this will be understood by all Avid Readers, Attentive Listeners and Glorious Voyeurs (you know who you are).