William Burroughs and Allen Ginsberg in conversation 1991 – 2 (“Marijuana Habits”)

The May 27 1991 Burroughs and Ginsberg conversation continues, after this momentary exchange

AG: That wasn’t very strong grass, but I did feel it most of the morning.

WSB: It’s stronger than what you realize. It makes more of a dent in your consciousness than you realize. In other words, it has no.. It doesn’t have an impact, but there’s definitely a shift…

AG: Yeah

WSB: …of consciousness, I thought.   I’ll roll some more in a moment.

Yes, it’s certainly for me, the most beneficent and useful of all drugs. I got so much from it, writing.

AG: I don’t smoke much any more..

WSB: Well, I smoke..

AG: When somebody has it around I do.

WSB: I.. I must have it. I need it for my work. But I find that if I smoke a joint and then look at a picture, there’s so much…

AG: Well, yeah, there’s a lot more..to see (actually)..

[Audio of this exchange can be found here, beginning at approximately eleven-and-a-half minutes in and concluding  at approximately twelve-and-a-half minutes in] 

One comment

  1. If you have not given yourself the pleasure of reading “Last Words: The Final Journals of WILLIAM S. BURROUGHS”, I beg you all do so as soon as you can. It is not too far fetched or paranoid (a measured dose of paranoia is a good thing– an ever present Canary in the coal mine of the Freedom we decide to enjoy with our friends, Loved One– but the Paranoid Canary can give us just the right amount of warning to thwart psychotic DEA…”We don’t even have a TRACES case here, Chief.”
    The Canary gives a contented, mocking SQUAWK.
    “It’s the BIRD…he tipped them off.”
    The Chief squinted hard at the agent. So hard, that he could not see anything and had to be carried out to one of the cars. The air conditioning hit him in the face. Ice Cold– “COKE!! Lt. Offers, give me that package we keep for planting on the poor hapless bastards of this life…I’m gonna do something I haven’t done in several hours. I’m gonna do a RAIL!!”
    (The action becomes confused here and a grade C octopuses wanders in from a Grade B film next studio over)
    The Chief feels the trickle of the Pura perico run down the back of his throat.
    “Heh! A GAWDDAMN Octopuss. Just in time, too!”
    Someone yells cut, but no one knew who.

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