The Ticket That Exploded (Burroughs, William S.) (20 page)

“Man, like good bye” —

smoke song strung together on scar impressions — urine shadows in the gutter —

Now some words about the image track — The human body is an image on screen talking — Spread slow-motion flashes and you see the image sharp and clear — Flesh done slow motion — The Short Time Hyp is subliminal slow motion — Like this: a movie at normal speed is run at 24 frames per second — 35 frames per second is not
perceptible as slow motion if the image on screen is more or less stationary — But the image is on screen longer than you are there watching it — That is you are being short-timed 11 frames per second — Put a beautiful nude image on screen at subliminal slow motion and it will be built into your flesh — That is whenever the sound track is run the image will literally come alive in your flesh — Word with heavy slow-motion image track
is
flesh — You got it? — Put on any image at 35 frames per second with sound track and play the sound track back and see the image sharp and clear — Now run your image at 24 frames per second and play back the sound track — Not so sharp and clear. Now run the image track speeded up and play back sound track — You will notice that the image recall is progressively dimmer.

The venereal disease films shown by the U.S. Army in the name of hygiene were run at 35 frames per second — at 35 frames per second sores and swollen genitals and the sound track a standard army medic voice — tattooed chancres across millions of young bodies with indelible short-time ink — scar impressions reactivated by any army medic voice — So that’s The Short Time Hyp and the Flesh Gimmick — subliminal slow-motion image — Play the sound track back and the image will rise out of the tape recorder — Slow-motion sound track is flesh — Use for this purpose background noises of dripping water — With appropriate background music you see the image sharp and clear — compliments of Pavlov — The Short Time Hyp is called “the real thing” — thing is right — subliminal slow flesh out of the tape recorder — Word with heavy track
is
flesh — sex tape playback with
human image — program from phallic statues calling old image track across a million young bodies with sound track faces — I am precisely saying that disease films shown by the U.S. Army at 35 frames per second are called in question — Sex phantoms have prevented research on flesh — a sex movie at 35 frames and citizens redirected — have any script you want on screen talking, Doctor Reich — Restore juxtaposition of images sharp and clear — And playback there you got formulae could be discovered today — Presumed right of the boards who intend to take over the image behind what filth deals consummated privately — easily corrupted your flesh with these association locks in repeated image — 35 frames per second is not perceptible as slow orgasm death — Mutual erections built into dawn sleep — Open shirt flapping came alive in your flesh — This 35 frames is local line you got it? — Look down and see the image of human nights there — The board is near right now — screen subliminal death — relying on fading voices —

“And so we turn over the board books — Let them see us — i am dying cross newspapers of speeded-up and played-back sound track — Stranger lips bring Ali’s body — fading my name in whiffs of evening breeze” — “Closed frames — is only the silence with water — Millions of young bodies with voices won’t do you a bit of good — Slow-motion sound track is rectums naked in dripping water on dead nitrous flesh — Now some words about the image track — Time screen talking — female impersonators loud and clear — And so we turn over a steady stream of frames that meanwhile i had forgotten — Image is on screen longer than Scandinavia outhouse
skin — Your flesh with the sound track trails my Summer dawn wind in repeated image chains — Heavy slow-motion rectum plays the sound track boy from muttering tape recorders — Boneless mummy travels on new flesh with the sound track — Exquisite screen penis spurted heavy skin — End of the line — Empty flesh of KY and rectal mucus not perceptible as slow gate from human form — Faces sucked in other apparatus and you are there — So pack your ermines, Mary — The human body is transient hotel memory pictures — Put a beautiful nude image under slow motion and it will be built into boneless mummy pressed flat like a suit — That is whenever the sound track the mummy is made of comes alive in your flesh — The Short Time Hyp is body molded in two halves — 35 frames is not perceptible as slow green boy softens the middle line more or less stationary — But the sound track of deep freeze is in — You are there naked in whiffs of thawing meat — Slow-motion sound track is clothes — Voices from other dressings repeated the image from erogenous word with heavy slow-motion body — Want it? — Put on any image over rectum of broken ice and play the sound track back — Excitement of human nights there — Point of these exercises is clear — The venereal disease films show frustration to buy ersatz summons — Run at 35 frames fading cocks disappear on dead nitrous flesh, sores and swollen genitals — tattooed screen in response to magnetic short-time ink — Tape recorder word is slow pants using for this purpose all sexual apparatus— Scandinavia outhouse skin is not perceptible as slow invading force — The image will rise out of orgasm leaving — background noise of dripping water — board
books are written in symbols more or less stationary like this — $ — American upper middle class — You are there — That is exposed to sexual frustration and humiliations at 35 frames per second — Put a beautiful street boy upbringing slow motion and it will be built into ‘easily corrupted’ and so forth — That is whenever the sound track is run these association locks come alive in your flesh — The board track is flesh you got it? — Stupid pressure group relying on 35 frames per second with sound track and the technical brains they have see the image sharp and clear — Speed up and play back the sound track — Control machine is disconnected — in the bread line without ‘clothes’ or a dime — collaborators — liars — traitors — back into time are such as you — cowards who cannot face your ‘human animal’ accounts — sex and pain track absent today — Fade-out overtakes image in subliminal slow sheets dripping out of the tape recorder — TV program melted flesh instrument imposed by force — Subliminal slow-motion techniques at 35 frames per second now are ended — Resulting spirits melted into air — The image fell out through the glass screen and spread Pan God of Panic piping blue notes loud and clear — Back into time are such as you, Mr Bradly Mr Martin — I edit delete and rearrange flesh and zero time to the sick lies — I fold in the door — Couldn’t form nova — These our actors proffer the disaster accounts and show the method in operation” —

Under the story Mr Bradly Mr Martin — grey calm his face, dream shut off — I fold distant fingers — child of nova, the story over — I told him you walked out — You can look any place — Your stale overcoat not taking any
rap for those board bastards — twisting hole in everybody — spilling out Limestone John, Hamburger Mary, Jacky Blue Note — on tracks I told — definitive arrest — crime child, good bye — couldn’t reach me caught in the door — just silver film on your stale movies — round over and I fading —

These our actors bid you a long last good bye — Johnny Yen playing the flute in a shower of ruined suburbs —

“Man like healed and half-healed scars under the story — A street boy’s good bye” —

Ancient Rings Of Saturn in the morning sky — The Old Doctor raises his blue hands — silence at this old doctor twice — hello yes good bye — indications enough in empty room, Miranda — Sex Garden caught in doors of Panic — Izzy the Push, Limestone John, Hamburger Mary, Jacky Blue Note, silence to the sick lies — “Marks? — What Marks?” — Identity fades in empty space — last intervention, the Subliminal Kid — helped me with fingers fading —

“Indications enough showed you your air — Like good bye then, Willy the Rat — Remember i was movies played good night — Known end of the line outside 1920 movie theater — Bring the Doctor on stage — Call the point — Last rotten terminal” —

His face showed strata of last good byes: “Like healed
and half-healed scars, Kiki”— some clean shirt and walked “No good
no bueno
—
adiós
, Meester” — Poo Poo the Dummy talking away in empty room “Green Tony and Willy the Rat on the last saucer, boss” —

“Errand boys” —

“I’m not taking any vaudeville voices — Bring the Doctor on — i’m going to rat on everybody” —

“Few more calls to make tonight” —

“We do our work and go — The ticket that exploded posed definitive arrest” —

“Perhaps, Inspector Lee” —

“Few more calls to make tonight left fingers fading Mr & Mrs D — exploded Sammy the Butcher — Indications enough just ahead, Inspector Lee, we do our last film — alteration in the morning sky — Like a street boy exploded the word — Last round from St. Louis melted flesh identity — John made coffee and scrambled some eggs. The kitchen was outside the partitioned bedroom . . a wired glass door opened onto the outside stairs over a vacant lot. John stood there with a cup of coffee late morning sunlight in his eyes.

“Why don’t I work for your uncle’s company? Work for a company and what do they give you? . . member of the Country Club . . house and garden . . a wife . . heart attack at 55 .. no thanks .. Come over here . .”

He guided Bill with gentle precise fingers and sat him on stool in front of a box lined with metal. The box was wired to a series of boxes progressively smaller. In the last box was a crystal cylinder that rotated on a copper rod. John adjusted a needle touching the cylinder.

“Now talk . . something from your novel. . .”

“Well I have some of it here . . the first chapter . . I wanted you to see it. .”

“I will hear it which is not the same thing . . Words on a page travel at the speed of light. . 186,000 miles per second . . Your spoken words travel at 1,400 feet per second . . would take quite a while to catch up and illuminate the page . . All right.. go ahead . . And try not to crackle the paper.”

Bill began to read: “sunlight through the dusty window of the basement workshop . . John’s face grey and wispy a soft blue flame in his eyes as he bent over the crystal radio set touching dials and wires with gentle precise fingers . . I’m trying to fix it so we can both ten years from now listen at once .. Here hold this phone to your ear’.. actions become a legendary figure . . ‘Do you hear anything? Yes maybe out through the dusty window would be the first step, Smoky.’.. empty back yards and ash pits frogs croaking ‘John’ . . metal prickles that spread to the groin . . far away sunlight . . outside wooden stairs . . screwdriver . . ‘No. Get your hand away. I’ve told you ten times already.’”

“That’s enough . . one minute . . Now I will read.”

He picked up a magazine: “It was as though the sky had darkened for an instant as though there had been a sudden murmur in a gust of wind a sound of faraway trumpets a sighing like the rustle of a great silken robe for a time the whole of nature round about partook of this darkness the bird’s song ceased the trees were still and far over the mountain there was a mutter of dull menacing thunder. That was all. The wind died along the tall grasses of the valley the dawn and the day resumed their place in time and the risen sun sent hot waves of yellow mist that
made its path bright before it. The leaves spiraling up laughed in the sun and their laughter shook until each bough was like a school in fairyland. God had refused to accept the bribe.” working for a company and what do they in a gust of wind room Bill was breathing give you? a sound of faraway trumpets a sighing like in a soft electric silence and member of the Country Club the rustle. great every breath sent the blood house and garden silken robe for a time pulsing to his crotch.. He turned to John.. a wife the whole of nature round about.. “Jesus” . . John put a finger across his lips . . heart attack at 55 partook of this darkness .. He bent over and took off his “No thanks”.. the bird’s song ceased; the trees were still shoes and socks. The two boys .. come over here. I’m going to record your voice stood naked looking at each other your master’s voice that and far over the mountain hands on each other speaks through you there was a mutter of their bodies washed in blue he guided Bill with gentle twilight fingers in front of a box the wind along.. all fours on the sofa metal grasses of the valley. The dawn and “Allah .. Jesus that feels the box was wired to a series resumed their place great Johnny.” “Shut up Billy” . . boxes progressively smaller and in time and his flesh shivered and twitched in a coil of wire in a crystal risen sun hot waves spasms squeezing cylinder of yellow mist. . path bright tighter warm blue spurts “Now talk something from before it. The leaves spiraling up toward the novel “Well I have some of it here . . laughed in the sun.. “Look Billy the milky first chapter”.. their laughter shook sad train whistles.. see the trees.. a school.. cross a distant sky wild geese.. hear it in fairyland.. God had refused to accept the bribe . .”

“Now I am going to cut the cylinder into sections and rejoin the sections alternating your voice with mine . . take me an hour or so.. you can pass the time reading this”..

He handed Bill a copy of the
Saturday Evening Post
. . on die cover boy at an attic window waving to a distant train. Bill turned to “The Diamond As Big As The Ritz” by F. Scott Fitzgerald and started to read. He finished the story.

“All right now .. his master’s voice . . listen . .”

The sound was scarcely recognizable as human voices .. a cadence of vibration .. Bill felt a rush of vertigo as if the sofa was spinning away into space. Blue light filled the darkening room. Bill was breathing a soft electric silence that sent the blood pulsing to his crotch . . the two boys naked bodies washed in blue twilight shivered and twitched in spasms .. He was spiraling up toward the ceiling ..

“Look Billy the Milky Way.”

sad train whistles cross a distant sky . . wild geese . . boy there waving to the train . . your
Saturday Evening Post
a long time ago . . two young bodies stuck together like dogs teeth bared . . two dead stars . . They went out a long time ago in empty back yards and ash pits .. a rustle of darkness and wires . . They went out and never came back a long time ago..