#borroughs

[terminal2recordings]

T2R-055

5,000 Spirits Dead Roads LP Release Date - September 3, 2023 Cover Photo - Ric Cover Design - You Kyoung Jung

Music and vocals - Blair Dean Additional guitar on The Place of Dead Roads - Dan Symmons Saxophone on Joe the Dead and The Wild Fruits Ride Out (Reprise) - Phil Thomas Mastering - Martin Cantwell

Alternately raucous, desolate, delicate and raw, Dead Roads fluently combines elements of folk, electronica and country. Although not a concept album, the songs are all inspired by themes and characters in the William S. Burroughs book, A Place of Dead Roads. Listen now on Bandcamp, SoundCloud or YouTube!  Also available on all music streaming platforms. For more wet-plate photography from Ric, go here.

[alexjcrowley]

This Bond with this Q. Do you see the vision.

[alesario]

1951

photo Loomis Dean

[intraspecificviolence]

no one gets out here alive but how do we cope with this fact? as a species we have shown and simultaniously are entertaining various coping mechanisms and one is the idea of coercing other humans into subjugation by threatening to kill them. a killer is always a survivor and both tend to form dynasties that incorporate another coping mechanism that of the realm of the spirits. funeral rites seem empty for the digital native but they root not only in our collective fear of our individual death but as well in our collective fear of the dead and their envy on the living. or course the ideas of ghosts derives from our incapability of accepting death. the invention of an afterlife is yet another layer, like the bardo in the tibetan book of the dead but the former is a formulated concept to subjugate humans as the concept of nirvana [becoming one with god] is not available.

the threat of physical and spiritual death have been the reigns of church and nobility.

neither nobility nor churches have been made accountable.

for the same reason that crime is an integral part of any modern state.

03|24

[gaykarstaagforever]

I've never read any William Burroughs, but he was a gay man and heroin addict who lived to be 83. Who also this one time accidentally murdered his wife, and stumbled into the Moroccan independence movement while high on the earliest form of oxycodone, and inside a dude.

Sounds like he might have some interesting things to say.

[sons-from-adam]

No. 4of4 - I seldom see posts on writing and publishing so want to point out that this, also, is a form of art.

[tspoe-pods]

John Carter (2012)

John Carter (2012) - There is SO much to talk about when it comes to discussing this 2012 sci-fi/fantasy film. Is there more to this box office disappointment, or does John Carter merely look pretty? #PodNation #Podcast #MovieReview #JohnCarter #Fantasty #SciFi

There is SO much to talk about when it comes to discussing this 2012 sci-fi/fantasy film. Is there more to this box office disappointment, or does John Carter merely look pretty? Promo: Pop, Pour, Review (https://www.poppourreview.com/) Please click, follow, rate and review! https://linktr.ee/TSPandOE_Podcasts

[pensfan4lfe2]

Then&Now || Kyle Borroughs

[boricuacherry-blog]

I have never regretted my experience with drugs. I think I am in better health now as a result of using junk at intervals than I would be if I was never an addict. I have learned the cellular stoicism that junk teaches the user.

-William S. Borroughs

[lascitasdelashoras]

William Borrough

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

No Sugar Tonight 1

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Brock Rumlow

Summary: A regular customer becomes more than just a familiar face.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The evening shift is quiet. You don’t mind the low din of the atrium. The cafe offers the only light to the empty lobby. Hours ago, it was a rush of bodies and voices, now, the shops have closed down and the sign above you remains lit as the sole beacon in the business plaza. 

The slower hours are more routine than the frantic mornings filled with early risers desperate for their first dose of caffeine. You did a few weeks of that before you hopped on the evening’s rota. It gives you time to read between baking and cleaning. 

The front doors open and close, echoing through the space. It’s eerie this late at night but you it doesn’t bother you as much as it once does. The footsteps that follow add to the unease of their approach. You recognise the man by his silhouette. 

The marquee glow limns his harsh features, the stubble on his jaw adding to the sharp angles, his dark hair and brows give him a sinister slant. You smile as you stand from the stool and pour him a black coffee. You ring him up before he even gets to the counter. 

“Evening, sir,” you greet him. You still don’t know his name. All your other regulars like to chat. He doesn’t. “Black.” 

He flicks a card up between his index and middle fingers. The stamps across the rows add up to a free drink. You take it, brushing his calloused fingertips as you do. 

“Oh, a free drink. Exciting.” You cancel the transaction and slide his cup forward, “enjoy.” 

He grumbles and takes the cup. He moves to the other end of the kiosk and grabs a lid and sleeve. As he walks away, you bid him a good night. He never says much, if anything. 

You go back to sanitizing the frother. The work isn’t so dull when you have nothing else to do. The night wears on as the sky softens through the glass walls of the atrium   

Dayani arrives just before five to take over. You hand her the keys and balance the till before you go. She sends you off with the dread of the shift ahead. 

Out on the street, the lull remains. Not for much longer. The bus routes will pick up and the daily commuters will clog the streets. Your trek home is five blocks but not too bad considering. You share a loft with two other girls but you rarely run into them. You all work different shifts in different borroughs. 

Your room is at the rear of the old brick building. The legislated fire escape crosses your window and casts a shadow through the sheer curtains. You undress and unwind in your single bed. The room is small and not exactly worth the cost but it’s a roof over your head. 

You sleep until just after one. The city had you waking in spurts at the honk of an angry driver or the shouts of rowdy pedestrians. You eat the stale scone you claimed from work and have instant coffee to wash it down. 

You go through the usual. You wake up little by little and drag yourself out to the shower. You catch a glimpse of one of your roommates. Lottie barely seems to notice you as she carries a basket out the door. 

When you’re done washing up, you pull on your sweats and a loose tee. You waste some time watching TV on your phone then plug it in so you have some juice left when you leave. You eat a microwaved tray of pasta and change into your uniform. You do up your hair and face, nothing too much, and count the minutes until you’re due to leave. 

As exciting as the city can be, you can’t afford that part of it. You work, you sleep, you get by. 

Xander has an hour overlap with you before he goes. He tells you about all his midterms and the party he wants to ditch his studying for. It’s only an elective course anyway. He leaves in indecision. 

You never finished school. You did one year and dropped out. You did well enough but you couldn’t afford it. Not even the local community college in your hometown. Funny, you still came all the way out here to scrape pennies. 

The last rush of the day passes through. Those on the way to their own overnight shifts; security guards, hotel clerks, and all others. 

The silence sets in. You play around on your phone. The battery dies a lot quicker lately so you make yourself quiet the matching game and put it in your pocket. You pull out the novel you keep hidden behind the till and read until the door opens and closes. 

Same time, same man. His black hair swallows up the light of the sign above as you pour his coffee. You get him a new card and stamp it, handing it over with your usual smiling nicety. Still no response. He goes to grab his lid and sleeve. 

You wait patiently. He doesn’t march off like usual. You peek over as he strides along the counter. He drops a bill in the tip jar. You thank him. Still no answer. 

He walks off and you look in the cup. You can’t believe it. You snatch up the bill and push through the door at the side of the kiosk. You hurry after his shadow. 

“Sir, sir, I think you made some mistake--” the door closes heavily and his figure passes outside the glass panels. You can’t go that far without locking up. Oh well, he’ll be back tomorrow and you can let him know. 

You walk back to the cafe stand and dip back behind. You unfold the hundred dollar bill. Maybe it’s not real. Maybe it’s a joke. Looks pretty real when you hold it up to the light. 

[alexjcrowley]

Queer: 25th Anniversary Edition (Penguin Modern Classics), edition by Burroughs, William S., Harris, Oliver.

[skulsakz]

cover from “junky” by william borroughs

[desmon1995]

The spirit of Cyrus and how the system crushed her.

One of the biggest changes from The Warriors 1979 film to this new vision isn’t just the gender swap of key characters—it’s how the police and the entire system are reframed as the real evil in the story. When Cyrus gathers all the gangs, her vision isn’t just about peace between rivals; she’s calling for a unified front against the cops who lurk around and disrupt their lives. Her speech isn’t about street power, but about empowering the community to stand against the forces of oppression.

The truth is, Cyrus sees the real enemy isn’t within their own streets—it’s those serving a system that’s set on keeping them down. History has proven her right: policing in America has often been about protecting the elite, silencing anyone they deem "unacceptable," especially if they don’t fit the “ideal” mold. Indigenous people, Black and Brown communities, anyone who dares to exist outside white, privileged norms—they’re the ones society polices, the ones the system works to erase or control.

In the original, male Cyrus came across as just another "big bad" trying to be a mob boss. When he dies, you’re almost led to shrug it off, like his dream was just a fantasy. But here, with a Black woman as Cyrus—a true activist—you feel her tragic death echo, channeling the loss of figures like Martin Luther King Jr.

And then there’s Luther. He’s an unsettling character, someone the system actually benefits. Why? Because he’s white. He gets away with things others can’t, shielded by his appearance and privilege, even as he revels in tearing the community apart. Of course, someone like Luther would hate Cyrus’s dream—it threatens his automatic advantage. The cops won’t go after Luther or his gang, just like the police tend to ignore white supremacists and hate groups today. As long as they look a certain way, they’re not seen as a “real” threat.

What’s chilling is how Luther and the Rogues are invited to join a movement of solidarity, to unite with the community, and instead they become the ones who tear it all down. When Luther sings his first song, it’s jarring—a complete shift from the soulfulness of “Can You Count?” to his arrogant, snide tone. He’s out of sync with the world Cyrus dreamed of, and he uses that to his advantage. He casually tips off the cops, sneers at the women (calling them “girls”), and mocks non-white characters for how they speak. He embodies privilege weaponized.

Meanwhile, the police barely lift a finger throughout the album. They only go after the Warriors when they’re at their most vulnerable but ignore every other gang causing havoc. Officer Barnes, for example, uses his authority to harass the Warriors, almost baiting them into a fight. When Ajax gets cornered in "The Park at Night," Barnes makes it clear that he sees her as prey, but he still knows he can call for backup with a snap of his fingers. Another officer, Victor, kills Fox in cold blood without a hint of remorse.

This album’s ACAB message is no footnote—it’s the heartbeat of the entire story. The gangs know the police are their greatest danger, the Borroughs dream of change under Cyrus’s leadership, and even Luther sees the cops as a tool to weaponize. The Warriors, once they leave Coney, see how deep the rot goes.

By the end, there’s an underlying message that speaks louder than anything else: this system is beyond saving. It needs to be torn down because it was never built to protect them. This is where director Davis and her mark shine, bringing a fire and an urgency to the story that makes it resonate with today’s social climate.

And honestly, I hope Lin-Manuel Miranda keeps collaborating with voices like hers. It’s making his work grow in ways that feel bold, necessary, and ultimately timeless.

[hater007]

william s borroughs

[vezzipuss]

David Bowie, Borroughs & Copectas, Circa 1974 🧑🏻‍💼👨‍💼