Queer

by William S. Burroughs

The rudeness of many Americans depressed him, a rudeness based on a solid ignorance of the whole concept of manners and on the proposition that for social purposes all people are more or less equal and interchangeable.

Moor smiled into an inner mirror, a smile without a trace of warmth, but it was not a cold smile: it was the meaningless smile of senile decay, the smile that goes with false teeth, the smile of a man grown old and stir-simple in the solitary confinement of exclusive self-love.

Among these Lee recognized a boy named Eugene Allerton.

He decided finally that Lee valued him as an audience.

‘No one is ever really alone. You are part of everything alive.’

Now Allerton had abruptly shut off contact, and Lee felt a physical pain, as though a part of himself tentatively stretched out toward the other had been severed, and he was looking at the bleeding stump in shock and disbelief.

Come to think of it, that is the wisdom of the East. The Westerner thinks there is some secret he can discover. The East says, ‘How the fuck should I know?’”

In deep sadness there is no place for sentimentality. It is as final as the mountains: a fact. There it is. When you realize it, you cannot complain.

What is the meaning of the centipede symbol?

He felt a deep hurt, as though he were bleeding inside.

There is in fact something obscene and sinister about photography, a desire to imprison, to incorporate, a sexual intensity of pursuit.

His hand looked something like Allerton’s, so I gave him twenty centavos.

Dream about Allerton continually.