RETREAT DIARIES
Yeah, I know, this is Bill Burroughs territory, but what the hell...
No!
I won't be able to go to Tangier, to Interzone, not even to 9, Rue Git le Coeur, Paris, the Beat Hotel, for that matter...
Why? No tengo la plata en los bolsillos.
But I'll move through it somehow. I can feel the heat closing in, but...
There it is, the White Subway. It's all white indeed, even the trains are such color. I can just jump on it and travel on, wherever I may go.
A backpack, a battered boot, raggedy t-shirts, a lumberjack jean, something to protect me from the cold and a portable typewritter, that's all I need.
Well, if I was living in the 50's, maybe. Nowadays, to live a burroughsian life you need a laptop, and that's far too expensive.
Need the job, mister? Well, I do too...
nosferatu
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