… and we are in bed together
and we don’t care
about anything …
Darling, all night
I have been flickering, off, on, off, on.
Freddy Sam’s mural for Open Walls Baltimore at Lafayette Ave and Charles St
A woman from the audience asks: ‘Why were there so few women among the Beat writers?’ and [Gregory] Corso, suddenly utterly serious, leans forward and says: “There were women, they were there, I knew them, their families put them in institutions, they were given electric shock. In the ’50s if you were male you could be a rebel, but if you were female your families had you locked up.
We are, as a species, addicted to story. Even when the body goes to sleep, the mind stays up all night, telling itself stories.
I love kissing. If I could kiss all day, I would. I can’t stop thinking about kissing. I like kissing more than sex because there’s no end to it. You can kiss forever. You can kiss yourself into oblivion. You can kiss all over the body. You can kiss yourself to sleep. And when you wake up, you can’t stop thinking about kissing. Dammit, I can’t get anything done because I’m so busy thinking about kissing. Kissing is madness!
If I had my way we’d sleep every night all wrapped around each other like hibernating rattlesnakes.