"In the City Market is the Meet Café. Followers of obsolete,
unthinkable trades doodling in Etruscan, addicts of drugs not yet synthesized,
pushers of souped-up harmine, junk reduced to pure habit offering precarious
vegetable serenity, liquids to induce Latah, Tithonian longevity serums, black
marketeers of World War III, excusers of telepathic sensitivity, osteopaths of
the spirit, investigators of infractions denounced by bland paranoid chess
players, servers of fragmentary warrants taken down in hebephrenic shorthand
charging unspeakable mutilations of the spirit, bureaucrats of spectral
departments, officials of unconstituted police states, a Lesbian dwarf who has
perfected operation Bang-utot, the lung erection that strangles a sleeping
enemy, sellers of orgone tanks and relaxing machines, brokers of exquisite
dreams and memories tested on the sensitized cells of junk sickness and
bartered for raw materials of the will, doctors skilled in the treatment of
diseases dormant in the black dust of ruined cities, gathering virulence in the
white blood of eyeless worms feeling slowly to the surface and the human host,
maladies of the ocean floor and the stratosphere, maladies of the laboratory
and atomic war… A place where the unknown past and the emergent future meet in
a vibrating soundless hum… Larval entities waiting for a Live One…"
- Naked Lunch
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