The Junk Equation: A Textual Analysis of William S. Burroughs' Junky
E. Jayne Forish
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"The 'evil' of addiction takes many forms-addiction to drugs, sex, religion-but all are variations on a pattern of control and domination of the individual's will." --Word Cultures[1] 
"I think, therefore I am. I have intentions, purposes, goals, therefore I am the sole source and free agent of my actions." --Descartes
"Who are you?"
"Name Wm Seward Burroughs III Sole male heir of Burroughs Machine Corp St Louis Mo Harvard Phi Beta Kappa 37 with postgraduate work in anthropology and psychology Columbia For the past 15 yrs have been acknowledged drug addict...Who are you???"
--El Hombre Invisible[2]
I am a junkie.
Or, at the very least, I fit that stereotype.
I never considered myself a street kid--being that I grew up in rural Western Massachusetts--but junkies seem to think otherwise. They think I have street smarts; they think I'm one of them. Really, it's just another game for me.
Not to say that I don't belong with that crowd. Over the summer I became a street kid (again)-accidentally-when I became involved with an ex-junkie from Springfield. Springfield, Massachusetts is not a real city. It's "just a city" in the eyes of a country-bumpkin like me--just a city for a pedestrian like me who couldn't make it to anywhere real, like Boston or New York City or even L.A.
I met Christopher in the psych ward this summer. We understood each other. We weren't really crazy; we were just two addicts who needed to detox quickly. We were just two bipolar kids caught up in the crazy game of life, mixed medications, and self-inflicted psychoses. We were only human.
I've never done heroin; I've never even seen it. But Christopher was 24-years-old and a recovering addict-an ex-junkie. Just another lost soul in the city looking for a final fix, stuck instead with 130mg of methadone a day. And he functions just fine-a computer consultant in Boston now, making six-figures a year with ease.
And he told me that I am the biggest junkie he ever met.
"I think, therefore I am. I have intentions, purposes, goals, therefore I am the sole source and free agent of my actions." --Descartes
"Who are you?"
"Name Wm Seward Burroughs III Sole male heir of Burroughs Machine Corp St Louis Mo Harvard Phi Beta Kappa 37 with postgraduate work in anthropology and psychology Columbia For the past 15 yrs have been acknowledged drug addict...Who are you???"
--El Hombre Invisible[2]
I am a junkie.
Or, at the very least, I fit that stereotype.
I never considered myself a street kid--being that I grew up in rural Western Massachusetts--but junkies seem to think otherwise. They think I have street smarts; they think I'm one of them. Really, it's just another game for me.
Not to say that I don't belong with that crowd. Over the summer I became a street kid (again)-accidentally-when I became involved with an ex-junkie from Springfield. Springfield, Massachusetts is not a real city. It's "just a city" in the eyes of a country-bumpkin like me--just a city for a pedestrian like me who couldn't make it to anywhere real, like Boston or New York City or even L.A.
I met Christopher in the psych ward this summer. We understood each other. We weren't really crazy; we were just two addicts who needed to detox quickly. We were just two bipolar kids caught up in the crazy game of life, mixed medications, and self-inflicted psychoses. We were only human.
I've never done heroin; I've never even seen it. But Christopher was 24-years-old and a recovering addict-an ex-junkie. Just another lost soul in the city looking for a final fix, stuck instead with 130mg of methadone a day. And he functions just fine-a computer consultant in Boston now, making six-figures a year with ease.
And he told me that I am the biggest junkie he ever met.