Shoot me darling, shoot me in the head and go.

I think what I like about William S. Burroughs is that he's so clearly utterly, utterly batshit insane, but is so eloquent about it. You can hear his voice speaking every word.

He's the perfect slacker role model: didn't write his great work until he was forty-five, lived off his parents until he was fifty and still changed the face of Western culture. You should do so well.

The best biography (of anyone) I've ever read is Literary Outlaw by Ted Morgan (whose own life looks at a glance like prime bio material). A real page-turner. The film of Naked Lunch is more or less the writing of the book.

Further for your local interest: Burroughs on Scientology.

Entriggering traps for a gross gang of ghost types.

Acoustic typewriters are fantastically cheap these days. If you can find one. Charity shops should be able to help. Probably the hardest thing is actually finding ribbons, unless you're into reinking by hand (hint: don't.).

Selectrics (and their ribbons) are readily available, but they somehow don't have the right clattering feel to them. And they sit there humming, saying "come on, write something!"

Before we had the Internet, we'd send each other multi-page rambles using the postal system. I spent 1989 to 1994 churning out letters on an Olivetti Lettera 25. First draft, go over with pen, send. It did wonders for my writing. Sitting in my kitchen, clattering away. Feel the words hammered out your fingertips.

I so need to construct an acoustic-typewriter-to-LJ interface. I'm sure hirez will read this and come up with something.