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January 30, 2014

Naked Lunch


I can feel the heat closing in, feel them out there making their moves, setting up their devil doll stool pigeons, crooning over my spoon and dropper
I throw away at Washington Square Station, vault a turnstile and two flights down the iron stairs, catch an uptown A train .... Young, good looking, crew cut, Ivy League, advertising exec type fruit holds the door back for me. I am evidently his idea of a character. You know the type: comes on with bartenders and cab drivers, talking about right hooks and the Dodgers, calls the counterman in Nedick's by his first name. A real asshole. -- William Burroughs

Posted by gerardvanderleun at January 30, 2014 12:15 PM. This is an entry on the sideblog of American Digest: Check it out.

Your Say

The man could write. I've always admired that paragraph. His sneering description of the man who held the subway door for him is classic.

Posted by: Punditarian at January 30, 2014 1:46 PM

Tasty, Gerard, tasty.

Posted by: chasmatic at February 1, 2014 6:06 AM

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