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I've just started reading "Call Me Burroughs", a biography of William Burroughs. He's coming across right away as a self-indulgent asshat. The prologue describes how Burroughs wanted to be purged of a demon through a Native American sweat lodge ritual, and the biographer describes the years of preparation the Hopi require prior to this cleansing.
Of course Burroughs and his crew had a Hopi medicine man, but went through it without any training or even serious thought. Allen Ginsberg was there, and insisted that he himself should participate in the nude, and when the smoke got uncomfortable, William Burroughs simply had to leave. All a bunch of childish poseurs.
I'm going to continue on through the book, but my contempt for these "arty" people is building, and I've got "The Broken Road" waiting to read, about a walk across Europe in 1933.
Of course Burroughs and his crew had a Hopi medicine man, but went through it without any training or even serious thought. Allen Ginsberg was there, and insisted that he himself should participate in the nude, and when the smoke got uncomfortable, William Burroughs simply had to leave. All a bunch of childish poseurs.
I'm going to continue on through the book, but my contempt for these "arty" people is building, and I've got "The Broken Road" waiting to read, about a walk across Europe in 1933.
