Naked Lunch

so... just in case anybody was wondering, watching the film adaptation of the William S. Burroughs book does nothing to clear up the bizarre haze of Kafka, drug use, and gay desert sex that is found in the book. If anything, I will no longer trust manual typewriters or their oversized, carapaced, animate alter-egos. The jury is still out on whether reports can be filed on laptop computers or not...
in fact, the film was so bizarre that I don't even know if I am able to call it good or bad. It's just out there. Kind of like "Brazil", the fanciful Terry Gilliam creation, except that at least "Brazil" was somewhat coherent. Oh well. Maybe the telling factor is that I seek out these bizarre movies in order to challenge my own concepts of film, coherence, and normalcy.