You’ve probably seen us namedrop William Burroughs more than a few times on the site. Creatively, he’s our steadfast albeit slightly crooked north star, the original algorithm breaker - el hombre invisible*.

The phrase “often imitated, never duplicated” applies better to no man; he managed to pave his own singularly unique road, one that countless other poets, writers, musicians, and general madcaps across several generations chose to blindly follow him down, usually in some ill-attempt at emulation.

Contemporaries/friends of Burroughs like Ginsberg and Kerouac were evidently inspired by his writing style; Bowie stole his cut-up poetry technique; Lou was a character straight out the pages of Junkie; even the Beatles were fans to some degree.

Bill, Jean, and Debbie. Photo by Victor Bockris

Allen, Patti, and Bill, at CBGB’s. Photo: Unknown

Kurt and Bill. Photo by James Grauerholz

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Our Friday Night Flick this week is Burroughs, the only documentary made with direct support and involvement from Burroughs himself. Developed chiefly by Howard Brookner with assistance from Tom Dicillo and a fledgling Jim Jarmusch (both were students at NYU at the time), the film features readings from some of his better known works like The Naked Lunch, Cities of the Red Night, and The Soft Machine, as well as verbal testimony from some of his closest friends; but what we’re really here for is the insight it provides into Burroughs’ obscured personal life.

For instance, did you know that upon his graduation from Harvard in 1936, Burroughs’ parents granted him a monthly allowance of $200 (around $4,000 adjusted for modern rates) for 25 consecutive years? That he studied to be a doctor for a year in Vienna? That he (allegedly) almost worked for the CIA, after being denied entry into the Navy?

I know, these all sound like very un-Burroughs-esque bits of behavior, and they kinda might take away from the mythos of it all. But subverting expectations and not giving two shits about the thoughts of others was always his modus operandi and part of his greater mystery.

“I am not one of those weak-spirited, sappy Americans who want to be liked by all the people around them. I don’t care if people hate my guts; I assume most of them do. The important question is whether they are in a position to do anything about it. My affections, being concentrated over a few people, are not spread all over Hell in a vile attempt to placate sulky, worthless shits.” —William Burroughs

Nothing but sunshine per usual.—Jackson Todd

William “Billy’ Burroughs via Getty Images

* “The nickname, given Burroughs by Spanish street kids in Tangiers in the late 1950s, was a compliment to his skill at slipping tracelessly through narrow alleys to score a drug fix. Its current implication is that here’s a subject who’s not going to sit still to have his portrait taken.” [Los Angeles Times]