Burroughs: The Movie Page #7

I've always felt - See,

I always felt funny dealing with Billy.

I loved Billy and, uh,

felt like a brother to him.

But you know how it is

between brothers.

There's a little rivalry.

Especially if one brother is a fuckup...

and the other is

an extraordinarily competent...

accomplishing person...

which is the one that I was, of course.

But I felt like he looked at me

as a reproach...

a living reproach, that I was the son

that William wanted, and not he.

Of course when they got together,

father and son...

as all fathers and sons,

there was a great deal of contention...

as there was

between me and my father...

as there was also

a great deal of empathy.

I would say that Willy had

a good deal of empathy with Bill...

and dug him,

admired him a great deal.

Actually loved him a great deal,

I would say.

But Willy was also very difficult

to be with...

and, you know, burned down a lot

of situations where he might have -

Well, I mean,

people wanted to take care of him.

I found this in the trash, and it plays

"Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star"...

which I thought was kind of nice.

And my grandmother used to

call me "little lamb" all the time.

So it all clicked, you know,

all this synchronicity and stuff.

The pills. Also it has no eyes,

which I identify with that too.

Billy is sort of the last beatnik.

And Billy sort of

held out for principles...

that are all in Jack Kerouac's

On the Road...

that everyone else had long

abandoned, you know?

Like, all the beatniks became

the hippies that became the yippies...

that became whatever

through the decades.

And Billy held on to these principles

in a certain way, you know...

of not wanting to compromise

in any sense...

as opposed to what everyone thought

the gods are...

which is William and Allen Ginsberg

and all those heroes.

All the men who had turned

every nuance into something

that supports them...

in some fashion,

either money or fame or this or that.

Joan, while she was pregnant,

was eating a lot of amphetamines.

So I don't know what effect

that had on his nervous system.

I saw his correspondence with Bill.

It was real easy to see

from his correspondence...

that there was a great ambivalence...

that - that - that William was a -

He loved Billy, Billy was his son...

and yet he didn't know how,

what he could do.

I knew that there had been

a lot going down...

before I ever came in the picture

and that Billy felt the same way.

He admired - In fact, almost to

Billy's detriment in some ways...

he admired William so much

that he wanted to be a writer himself.

I'd come, uh, back from New York

just in time to keep from dying.

I just wrote Speed

to figure out what had hit me.

The same thing

as writing down a dream.

I just wanted to know, uh,

keep track of the people that I'd met.

There's a closet full of stuff.

And there was about two books

of prose and poetry...

which we're now typing up.

What is it

you went through last year, Billy?

Liver transplant...

which is one whopper

of an operation.

It was absolutely terrible.

It couldn't have been worse.

It - It - You know -

Made him an invalid, of course,

for the rest of his life.

And, um, he was really lucky

to live that long. It's, um -

Lots of them don't.

He had the liver transplant,

and he's completely wiped out.

And he's a junkie on top of it,

so he won't drink.

And then he's an alcoholic

on top of being a junkie.

And every time you see him

he's just almost in a state of collapse.

So a year and a half ago

I said to myself...

"This is really the last time

I'm gonna see you."

But it never was, you know.

Just like everyone who's, you know -

they go on forever.

Well, let's face it. Anyone who's

a devout Christian at this point...

is sort of beyond redemption.

I mean, holy sh*t.

I mean, who wants to hear about that?

Well, that depends on what kind of

concept they got of Christianity.

One thing I've been exercising on is,

um, who gets a dime, or a quarter.

When I'm walking down the streets

with all the spare changers...

and it's getting to be fun.

This guy's got a more honest attitude,

and this and that.

And one guy came up and said,

"Give me a f***ing quarter.

I'm a wino."

So he got his quarter real quick.

It's an old, old technique.

You shouldn't fall for it.

This guy, you should have seen him.

Tell him - Just hand him

the Town & Country.

There's a whole section in there

on work in Boulder.

Also, there's a -

Down the street there

there's a dishwasher wanted sign.

- Where is it?

- In that, um, greasy Greek restaurant.

- Um - Um -

- Dino's?

Nah, they won't hire me,

'cause I was in there...

back when I was doing

a lot of drinking a couple of times...

and I applied once

and the guy remembered me.

He took one look and said,

"Forget it."

Well, you gotta apply anyway.

There's one thing

I wanted to ask you. How's Al?

- Who?

- How's Allen?

I don't know. I haven't seen him.

- You're going tomorrow.

- I'll see you before I do.

- You will?

- Yeah.

- You'll drop by?

- Yeah, I will.

- That's a beautiful coat, Bill, really.

- Isn't it hot?

Yeah, it looks like, um,

the Yukon, you know.

Yeah, like that guy -

Okay, the bill torn.

I won't say.

Well?

- Good night.

- Good night.

- Good night, Bill.

- Good night, Bill.

Sweet dreams.

Nice seeing you.

Thanks for coming down.

- Good night.

- Good night.

He was sitting in his robe

at the big table in the bunker...

having some toast and coffee

for breakfast.

He finished that,

and he had a cigarette.

And I said, "Bill, I have some

very bad news, but I have to tell you.

Billy died this morning."

And he got up from the table

and walked into his room.

I knew that he was in there, feeling

and remembering all the years...

that Billy had been his son.

Everything would come back to him

in a moment like that.

Now that he is gone,

I feel like I'm a son to William.

I think he was very fond of Willy.

There was a kind of unspoken charm

between them.

'Cause they were very much alike

in temperament.

Billy Jr. was quite a great writer

and quite a sharp mind.

Brilliant pantomimist, or imitator,

or inimitable -

you know, as a prose writer.

He had a good sense

of dialect and fact.

An amazingly factual writer,

like his father.

So I - I don't know

what effect it has on Bill.

He doesn't -

He seems to be stoic about it...

"Kim decides to go west

and become a shootist.

If anyone doesn't like the way

he acts and looks and smells...

they can fill their grubby peasant paw.

Kim's training as a shootist begins.

He meets a wise old assassin,

whispering Kes Mayfield.

The old man didn't seem to hear.

He spoke to the air in front of him.

Your hand and your eyes know

a lot more about shootin' than you do.

Just learn to stand out of the way.

His empty eyes, old, unbluffed,

unreadable, rest on Kim.

'City boy, did you ever see

a dog roll in carrion?'

'Yes, sir.

I was tempted to join him, sir.'

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