Lost links & Re-ups

On any post, if the link is no longer good, leave a comment if you want the music re-uploaded. As long as I still have the file, or the record, cd, or cassette to re-rip, I will gladly accommodate in a timely manner all such requests.

Slinging tuneage like some fried or otherwise soused short-order cook

11 November 2008


UPDATE: This post has been re-uploaded 04/30/2015. Enjoy, NØ!

The cover photo is a curandero from the Vaupes region of Colombia.

I know more now than I did here at the time. Yage is the fictional pseudonym of Brian Dougans & Garry Cobain from FSOL. Often credited as the "engineer" on FSOL releases. "The Yage Letters" is the fourth track from the 2008s The Woodlands of Old
I decided to add the track "Yage" from The Future Sound of London's 1996 release Dead Cities as well.

Panama clung to our bodies---Probably cut---Anything made this dream---It has consumed the customers of fossil orgasm---Ran into my old friend Jones---So badly off, forgotten, coughing in 1920 movie---Vaudeville voices hustle sick dawn breath on bed service---Idiot Mambo spattered backwards---I nearly suffocated trying on the boy's breath---That's Panama---Nitrous flesh swept out by your voice & end of receiving set---Brain eating birds patrol the low frequency brain waves---Post card waiting forgotten civilians '& they are all on jelly fish, Meester---Panama photo shop---Dead post card of junk'

Sad hand down backward time track---
Genital pawn ticket peeled his stale
Brief boy on screen laughing my skivies all the way down---
Whispers of dark street in Puerto Assis---Meester smiles through the village wastrel---Orgasm siphoned back telegram: 'Johnny pants down'.---(That stale summer dawn smell in the garage---Vines twisting through steel---Bare feet in dog's excrement.)

Panama clung to our bodies from Las Palmas to David on camphor sweet smells of cooking paregoric---Burned down the republic---The druggist no glot clom Fliday---Panama mirrors of 1910 under seal in any drug store---He threw in the towel, morning light on cold coffee---

Junk kept nagging me: 'Lushed in East St Louis, I knew you'd come scraping bone---Once a junky always spongy & rotten---I knew your life---Junk sick four days there.'

Stale breakfast table---Little cat smile---Pain & death smell of his sickness in the room with me---Three souvenir shots of Panama city---Old friend came & stayed all day---Face eaten by 'I need more'---I have noticed this in the New World---'You come with me, Meester?'

& Joselito moved in at Las Playas during the essentials---Stuck in this place---Iridescent lagoons, swamp delta, gas flares---Bubbles of coal gas still be saying 'A ver, Luckees!' a hundred years from now---A rotting teak wood balcony propped up by Ecuador.

'The brujo began crooning a special case---It was like going under ether into the eyes of a shrunken head---Numb, covered with layers of cotton---Don't know if you got my last hints trying to break out of this numb dizziness with Chinese characters---All I want is out of here---Hurry up please---Took possession of me---How many plots have made a botanical expedition like this before they could take place?---Scenic railways---I am dying cross wine dizziness---I was saying over & over "Shifted commissions where the awning flaps" Flashes in front of your eyes your voice & end of the line'

That whinning Panama clung to our bodies---I went into Chico's Bar on mouldy pawn ticket, waiting in 1920 movie for a rum coke---Nitrous flesh under this honky tonk swept out by your voice: 'Driving Nails In My Coffin'---Brain eating birds patrol 'Your Cheating Heart'---Dead post card waiting a place forgotten---Light concussion of 1920 movie---Casual adolescent had undergone special G.I. processing---Evening on the boy's naked flesh---Kept trying to touch in sleep---'Old photographer trick wait for Johnny---Here goes Mexican cemetery.' On the sea wall met a boy with red & white striped T shirt---P.G. town in the purple twilight---The boy pealed off his stale underwear scraping erection---Warm rain on the iron roof---Under the ceiling fan stood naked on bed service---Bodies touched electric film, contact sparks tingled---Fan whiffs of young hard on washing adolescent T shirt---The blood smells drowned voices & end of line---That's Panama---Sad movie drifting in islands of rubbish, black lagoons & fish people waiting a place forgotten---Fossil honky tonk swept out by a ceiling fan---Old photographer trick tuned them out.

'I am dying, Meester?'

Flashes in front of my eyes naked & sullen---Rotten dawn wind in sleep---Death rot on Panama photo where the awning flaps.

from The Yage Letters, William S. Burroughs


  1. I enjoyed this post immensely; the musical accompaniment too.

    Also of great interest is the botanical illustration. There are Botanic Gardens located in the west of Glasgow. The air under the glass canopies is humid and tropical. I have sneaked in from time to time in a bid to identify peyote - with the intention of stealing a couple of buttons - but thus far have been sadly thwarted.

    Great jacket scan!

  2. Perhaps a bit of the old Yage would clear up things for me!

    I love the cut-up technique, and the final line here, "Death rot on Panama photo where the awning flaps.", is testament to the power of god-master Random.

    Good music for listening in the background, too!

  3. Nice site, nice page. Always loved the Yage Letters- some of Bill's most poetic prose is contained therein. The Composite City section still astounds.

    But what I really want to know is who did the accompanying music? Couldn't be much better...

  4. All I know is that the band's name is Yage & the track is The Yage Letters. I felt they just had to be presented together.

  5. ooooooh dead link? or dead me brain?

  6. i mean does the link work

    1. All fileden links are no good. If you want something re-upped, just let me know. This is ready w/ bonus track.