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Naked Lunch is a novel by American writer William S. Burroughs, originally published in 1959. The book is structured as a series of loosely connected vignettes. Burroughs stated that the chapters are intended to be read in any order. wikipedia
WSB reads 23 random sentences from Naked Lunch
1 “No glot… C’lom Fliday”
2 “Well well,” says O’Brien…. “Long time no see eh?”
3 ” ‘And theirs will be a painful doom. Sold Arabia.’ He vaults over the bar. ‘I’m not taking any more, Ahmed. Pick up thy Surahs and walk. In fact, I’ll help you. And stay out.’
4 Bulletin of the Coordinate Factualist on the subject of replicas: “We must reject the facile solution of fiood-ing the planet with ‘desirable replicas.’ It is highly doubtful if there are any desirable replicas, such creatures constituting an attempt to circumvent process and change. Even the most intelligent and genetically perfect replicas would in all probability constitute an unspeakable menace to life on this planet….”
5 You can cut into Naked Lunch at any intersection point…. I have written many prefaces. They atrophy and amputate spontaneous like the little toe amputates in a West African disease confined to the Negro race and the passing blonde shows her brass ankle as a mani-cured toe bounces across the club terrace, retrieved and laid at her feet by her Afghan Hound….
6 Notes from Yage state: Images fall slow and silent like snow…. Serenity… All defenses fall… everything is free to enter or to go out…. Fear is simply impossible…. A beautiful blue substance Hows into me…. I see an archaic grinning face like South Pacific mask…. The face is blue purple splotched with gold….
7 Lovable Lu your brainwashed poppa say: “I’m strictly for fish, and I luuuuuve it…. Confidentially, girls, I use Steely Dan’s Yokohama, wouldn’t you? Danny Boy never lets you down. Besides it’s more hygienic that way and avoids all kinda awful contacts leave a man paralyzed from the waist down. Women have poison juices….
8 “‘You are only being the most notorious paper hanger in Greater Mecca. I am not a wall, Mr. Mohammed.’
9 “I thought it was a Blomberg-Stanlouski test.”
10 “No! No!” screams the D.S.
11 “Let it be! And no holes barred!(“
12 Later the boy is sitting in a Waldorf with two colleagues dunking pound cake. “Most distasteful thing I ever stand still for,” he says. “Some way he make himself all soft like a blob of jelly and surround me so nasty. Then he gets wet all over like with green slime. So I guess he come to some kinda awful climax…. I come near wigging with that green stuff all over me, and he stink like a old rotten cantaloupe.”
13 Lord Jim has turned bright yellow in the woe withered moon of morning like white smoke against the blue stuff, and shirts whip in a cold spring wind on limestone cliffs across the river, Mary, and the dawn is broken in two pieces like Dillinger on the lamster way to the Bio-graph. Smell of neon and atrophied gangsters, and the criminal manque nerves himself to crack a pay toilet sniffing ammonia in a bucket…. “A caper,” he says. “I’ll pull this capon I mean caper.”
14 A wave of electric horror sweeps through the Conferents…. They storm the exits screaming and clawing….
15 A.J. turns to the guests. “Cunts, pricks, fence strad-dlers, tonight I give you — that international-known im-pressario of blue movies and short-wave TV, the one, the only, The Great Slashtubitch!”
16 The Jury gasps…, One dies of a heart attack…. Three fall to the floor writhing in orgasms of pruri-ence….
17 She puts on a record, metallic cocaine be-bop. She greases the dingus, shoves the boy’s legs over his head and works it up his ass with a series of corkscrew movements of her fluid hips. She moves in a slow circle, revolving on the axis of the shaft. She rubs her hard nipples across his chest. She kisses him on neck and chin and eyes. He runs his hands down her back to her buttocks, pulling her into his ass. She revolves faster, faster. His body jerks and writhes in convulsive spasms. “Hurry up, please,” she says. “The milk is getting cold.” He does not hear. She presses her mouth against his. Their faces run together. His sperm hits her breast with light, hot licks.
18 “Dinner is Lucy Bradshinkel’s cunt saignant cooked in kotex papillon. The boys eat happily looking into each other’s eyes. Blood runs down their chins.”
19 Subject: “A mark?”
20 “This citizen have a Latah he import from Indo-China. He figure to hang the Latah and send a Xmas TV short to his friends. So he fix up two ropes — one gimmicked to stretch, the other the real McCoy. But that Latah get up in feud state and put on his Santa Claus suit and make with the switcheroo. Come the dawning. The citizen put one rope on and the Latah, going along the way Latahs will, put on the other. When the traps are down the citizen hang for real and the Latah stand with the carny-rubber stretch rope. Well, the Latah imitate every twitch and spasm. Come three times.
22 The Sailor drifted down into the Plaza. A street boy was shoving a newspaper in the Sailor’s face to cover his hand on the Sailor’s pen. The Sailor walked on. He pulled the pen out and broke it like a nut in his thick, fibrous, pink fingers. He pulled out a lead tube. He cut one end of the tube with a little curved knife. A black mist poured out and hung in the air like boiling fur. The Sailor’s face dissolved. His mouth undulated forward on a long tube and sucked in the black fuzz, vibrating in supersonic peristalsis disappeared in a silent, pink explosion. His face came back into focus unbearably sharp and clear, burning yellow brand of junk searing the grey haunch of a million screaming junkies.
23 Berger (leaps to his feet): “Preposterous! It’s health incarnate!…”