William S. Burroughs, Drugs, and Creative Writing
E. Jayne Forish
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"So death... brought me in contact with the invader, the Ugly Spirit, and maneuvered me into a lifelong struggle, in which I had no choice but write myself out."[1] 
---William S. Burroughs
I find myself habitually learning, but not what they think I should learn. Does this mean I must validate everything I believe in?
I can convince myself that all my beliefs are very wrong very quickly, spontaneously, like a paranoid twitch that develops overnight. Other people don't notice, though it happens too often, like a record caught in repetition, and always accidental.
I needed a way to validate my beliefs, which seemed impossible. Perhaps the things I believed really did lack value. Perhaps my whole life has been misled.
I refused to believe that. I lived through too much to believe that. I survived long enough with my beliefs to know something more existed. It required a new interpretation, a new perspective, a reflection. I have grown; I have matured. Now what?
I like drugs. There is no point in denying that fact, though I have tried since embarked on my endless cycle of use and abuse years ago. I chose to do drugs; I never chose addiction. I deal with the repercussions on a daily basis. It wasn't fun; it wasn't glamorous, but if I had to make the choice again, knowing the results, I'd still do it. I don't regret a thing, although I watched myself self-destruct. I participated in my own death, but survived. Because I survived such self-inflicted monstrosities, I damn well better have learned something.
I valued drugs above all else in my life for years. I based my relationships and interactions in terms of drugs. My sole purpose in life became drugs, and I do not value things with no reason.
I have consistently danced around the issue. I rarely speak of the issue directly, and it led me nowhere. It allowed me to hide. Until recently.
I reached an epiphany within the past few months: I no longer wish to hide. The things I say have merit in the world, in academia, in my life. By hiding my beliefs, I lost my sense of self, and now I needed a solution.
---William S. Burroughs
I find myself habitually learning, but not what they think I should learn. Does this mean I must validate everything I believe in?
I can convince myself that all my beliefs are very wrong very quickly, spontaneously, like a paranoid twitch that develops overnight. Other people don't notice, though it happens too often, like a record caught in repetition, and always accidental.
I needed a way to validate my beliefs, which seemed impossible. Perhaps the things I believed really did lack value. Perhaps my whole life has been misled.
I refused to believe that. I lived through too much to believe that. I survived long enough with my beliefs to know something more existed. It required a new interpretation, a new perspective, a reflection. I have grown; I have matured. Now what?
I like drugs. There is no point in denying that fact, though I have tried since embarked on my endless cycle of use and abuse years ago. I chose to do drugs; I never chose addiction. I deal with the repercussions on a daily basis. It wasn't fun; it wasn't glamorous, but if I had to make the choice again, knowing the results, I'd still do it. I don't regret a thing, although I watched myself self-destruct. I participated in my own death, but survived. Because I survived such self-inflicted monstrosities, I damn well better have learned something.
I valued drugs above all else in my life for years. I based my relationships and interactions in terms of drugs. My sole purpose in life became drugs, and I do not value things with no reason.
I have consistently danced around the issue. I rarely speak of the issue directly, and it led me nowhere. It allowed me to hide. Until recently.
I reached an epiphany within the past few months: I no longer wish to hide. The things I say have merit in the world, in academia, in my life. By hiding my beliefs, I lost my sense of self, and now I needed a solution.