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: Another lover hits the universe. The circle is broken. But with death comes rebirth. And like all lovers and sad people, I am a poet.
: Some things, once you've loved them, become yours forever./And if you try to let them go... /They only circle back and return to you./They become part of who you are... Lucien Carr
: ...or they destroy you.
: [to Lucien
] Fuck you! You're a phony.
: [on Kerouac's writings
] It's brilliant, no? Allen Ginsberg
: It's missing some periods and commas. Lucien Carr
: It's better than anything you've ever written. Allen Ginsberg
: I use periods and commas.
: [reading his poem
] Be careful, you are not in Wonderland. I've heard the strange madness long growing in your soul, in your isolation but you fortunate in your ignorance. You who have suffered find where love hides, give, share, lose, lest we die unbloomed. Jack Kerouac
: Allen, that was beautiful, kid. Lucien Carr
: You wrote that? Allen Ginsberg
: You asked me to.
: You got me and Jack and Bill making your vision come true because you can't do it yourself. Lucien Carr
: No, Allen. You got what you wanted. You were ordinary, just like any other freshman and I made your life extraordinary. Go be you, now all by yourself. Leave me alone! Allen Ginsberg
] You don't mean... you don't mean that. Lucien Carr
: Allen. Leave!
: [Ginsberg has just met William S Burroughs
] Is he a criminal? Lucien Carr
: He wishes he were.
: [upon William Burroughs offering him a joint
] Uhm, no thanks, I don't do the cannabis. William Burroughs
: Show me the man who is both sober and happy, and I will show you the crinkled anus of a lying asshole.
: So. How are you? Joan Vollmer
: How am I? I live in a Mexican slum. My husband has run off with another man. And I've been too busy with my children to go down to the pharmacia and refill my dexetrina.
: I left Bill. Bill was sucking me dry. Bill is a psychic vampire. That's his phrase.
: You know as Bill says, you better get comfortable with your space time location. Lucien Carr
: This is not my space time lcation! This is fucking nowhere!
] Allen Ginsberg
: "Howl" for Carl Salomon. I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, angel-headed hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night...
[continues reading but unheard, credits roll
: There's no beat generation. It's just a bunch of guys trying to get published.
: [to Jude
] Maybe you sold out to God.