My first encounter with Burroughs was in the drawling, high-pitched lectures of Tom the Priest in Drugstore Cowboy. Of course, now I know Burroughs better, I figure he was playing himself. Not Tom, then: Bill. Bill the Priest. El Hombre Invisible. A modern day Buffalo Bill with words for bullets, playing out his last stand forever on the sun-baked, hard-packed desert of postmodern expression.
I saw Naked Lunch the movie before I read the book. God I love that movie, it’s one hell of a trip. I didn’t dig the book though, total DNF on the first try. Then I went to MMU as a mature student in my early twenties as a single mum of one, and I sort of collided with Burroughs headlong, ended up tangled together like I was trying be the same damn person. Continue reading