Burroughs: The Movie Page #3

for the children.

That was the impression I had.

My grandfather invented

the Burroughs adding machine...

and founded

the Burroughs Corporation.

The family shares would be worth

$60 million today...

but the family sold out

for a fraction of that...

so I never got a penny from it.

What did your mother look like?

Oh, she was, uh, she was thin.

She had a thin face.

She had a very spiritual,

a very ethereal face.

She had a great, um,

sort of instinct about people...

and we were quite chummy.

- Your mother and you?

- Yes, oh, very.

Oh, Grandma,

she'd had about 13 kids.

This grim old woman who said...

"I'd rather see a son of mine

come home dead than drunk."

And all her sons were

these alcoholics, you know?

Oh, Grandmother,

oh, Grandmother, what the f***?

And her husband -

She-She kept forgetting

her husband's intemperance.

Her husband drank, it seems.

- Another drunk.

Yes. Yes, indeed.

It's in the family.

That is me.

It's one of the, uh -

"William Seward Burroughs."

Well, that must be Laura Belle.

That's when we were very young.

You've got a sweet,

angelic expression there, Mort.

You looked pretty cute yourself.

I tried to read Naked Lunch.

I read halfway through it

and I pitched it.

It-It didn't make much sense to me.

And, frankly, it didn't appeal to me.

I didn't see any real necessity

for the language he used.

I know he was using it

for the shock, uh, purpose.

But, uh, to me, it doesn't do that.

It just sort of disgusts me.

Well, this was the bedroom

that I shared with Morty.

As a child I was very much

afraid of the dark...

and afraid to be alone...

particularly at night.

So I preferred to have someone

in the room with me.

Sometimes when we were out

at the other place, I remember...

if my parents were out...

the butler would have to come up

and sit in my room...

and if Mort was out,

until Mort came home.

Yes, I was afraid of the dark.

I was afraid of lightning,

all these things.

They don't bother me anymore.

You begin to see there is no boy

there in the dark room.

He was looking at something

a long time ago.

Changed place, sad image...

circulates through

backwards time.

Dead young flesh and stale

underwear. Bending sex words.

Little Blue Books.

Adventure stories.

Coming of Age in Samoa...

The Book of Knowledge

and Dorian Gray.

Music of East St. Louis.

Toodle-oo.

Warm spring wind blows

faded pink curtains...

in through the open window.

A child reads a letter.

"Dear Mom and Dad,

I am going to join the wild boys.

When you read this,

I will be far away."

Well, all these, um,

experiences from my childhood...

typical of Saint Louis in the '20s...

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