leak in the film

The best of Burroughs’ novels, besides the grisly, the viscious (but unfortunately accurate) satire or caricatures of “decent people”, is what I (and I suppose he coined) the leak in the film: 

We all know the cut-up technique by now, probably overknow it, while this extraordinary vision of the leaks into reality (reality being likened to a prerecorded film)  , so, I can’t think of words other than prophetically or magickally composed,  rhapsodic, seem to be ignored.  He had an intuitive grasp of magickal technique – rather than relying on past sterile dogmatisms.  In this area, he really was a thelemite,  more than many who hail themselves so – he was using the method of science and the aim of religion (he would shun the word “religion” but it probably is worn out).  Sections of his novels are magickal texts, and not the parts describing “magickal” texts or techniques, it’s underneath in the poetry, the way other realities and control systems are underneath.

The world in his novels is often a world that is conventional in the usual sense of a novel (say a western), there is some entrancing prose of the mind of the protagonist and the natural world,  interspersed with ickiness, when suddenly we see that it is all a stage setting,  props in a movie.   A film we can alter, or at least have the chance at altering, perceiving, if we are lucky, observant, look out of the corner of the eye, apply the technique…..edit the film – we could begin by saying to ourselves  “i don’t like the film”


on the assembly line

Assembly line – “we wanted to get the music (the music of the slave, commodified into  pop) out of the cotton fields and onto the assembly line where it belonged” g.p.o. on coining the term” industrial music”

– My 2 experiences working on an assembly line were a slaughterhouse in Omaha (now most jobs are held by the “illegal” or “legal” mexicans) and a Motorola factory in Florida – it’s interesting to contrast the 2

 I worked on the evening shift at the slaughterhouse, then staffed by “spectral people, grey as ashes” – who talked little as they handled the flesh in its process to the end for shipment.  On the concrete floor beneath us there was always a coating of bloody goo.  When an inspector entered through the 2nd story door, visible to us under the management office, wearing his pristine white lab coat and a white hard hat, he was immediately ushered into the office – I never saw him descend to the level of hell where the actual work was being done.

I worked at the front of the line: this required taking cuts of meat from the guy behind me who power hosed the carcass (him,  the constant butt of jokes about his being a homosexual from people further down I could not see) and I immediately placed them on the conveyer belt.  The machine set the pace, so I had to keep up no matter what, for the next person in line, and so on.  If I happened to drop a piece of meat on the floor into the red goo, I did not have any option other than to pick it up and send it on down the line.  There were two white barrel containers at the front of the machine, top of a steel table: one marked “edible” and one marked “inedible” from the sides of the edible container there were blue veins.   Women had the easiest job, so to speak, at the end of the line, doing the saran wrapping of the pieces.

 When I worked on the Motorola assembly line, The person at the front of the line had the most difficult job: soldering tiny circuits on a circuit board.   Usually people were switched around.  There were large digital screens overhead indicating how many pagers had processed from the time the horn blew, which began the work, until the horn blew again, which stopped the process.  The noise was deafening.  The line next to us had a large black woman who would continually yell “Go! Go!” in an effort to make the rest of the people on the line increase speed of their tasks: this was because if you did more you got a bonus, also she was gunning for a management position.  I soon saw there was a caste system in the plant: at the top were Caucasians, who managed to make it off the line into some kind of supervisory position unless they were complete dolts, next were Black women who stood and observed the lines, under them were light skinned Cubans males, then Black males, then darker skinned Cubans and Cuban women, and at the bottom of the social rung, Indians from Pakistan, all of whom were male. 

Needless to say, there was a lot of ball-busting going on all around, from which I was usually thankfully exempt; unlike other blue-collar jobs I’ve had where most of the co-workers were white. 

It’s soul destroying work – it’s insane work -why did i work there? to survive when i couldn’t find anything else: when I hear on the news about assembly line workers making too much cash, I remember my experiences – I say pay the assembly line workers more and the lawyers less.

“and i said don’t go doggy, he stopped for a minute, and then he ran under the car”


aleister lugosi

i was crazy about lugosi as a kid

now i’m crazy about crowley:

“Some critic wrote of Lugosi “acting with total sincerity and a kind of demented cornball poetry and the words, like the old crimson lined black cape, seem tailored equally well for the shoulders of Aleister Crowley..this avatar of anarchy, the epitome of rebellion, this incarnation of inconsistency.  Now to us, he is quaint.  Worse: he is Camp.  Worse yet: he is corny”

Robert Anton Wilson

and i was a child and she was a child….

The castle by the sea, sounding like an E.A. Poe poem, is a gothicish architectural monstrosity (transported from Europe, stone by stone)overhanging ocean crashing boulder, constructed by the heir of the arm n’ hammer fortune.  When I lived in the area,  from time to time, I filled in as postmaster in the quaint post office of Magnolia, Mass, the castle’s town/village.

Through a reliable source, who shall remain unnamed, I learned that Mr. Hammond had a predilection for midnight soirees , with naked young men, (one of these Charles Olson, Gloucester Poet of projection described somewhere) diving into the pool, his immense organ (the musical kind) jamming.  He also possessed a keen interest in astrology. 

For a more exacting and standard appraisal: 


Mister Hammond’s Immense Organ