Altered States
I had this thought yesterday that seemed somehow sublimely wrong but I can't really wrap my mind around it and get a good image of what it would be like, just that it's very very wrong somehow.
William S. Burroughs on E.
William S. Burroughs on E.
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More seriously, I wonder if he wouldn't be wracked with guilt and sorrow and horror. Men of his generation didn't really have outlets for that stuff, although he managed to make a few of his own; I think there's a nonzero possibility he'd just crack up and start sobbing like a baby.
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