We talked about Atrophied Preface, ''WOULDN'T YOU?'' in class. It was brought up that the atrophy which is taking place is that of the ''meaning'' of the preface. The ''Atrophied Preface'', however, happens right at the end of the trip. Webster's defines atrophy as a decrease in size or wasting away of a body part or tissue; ''also'': a wasting away or progressive decline;

a perpetual flowering

(Willa Cather).

So here, it seems that Bill is pointing towards the organic structure of The Word. Language is alive and moving and spreading, in an eternal ebb and flow, and with the shifting faces and constant patterns of Chaos. As The Word is an organism, it and of and for itself, it adapts and eats and moves about the World, and thus must feed off of some resource.

The preface, the old, silly idea, its living, breathing structure somehow continuing in this harshhungry world, is atrophied, but it is where We, the reader, get the highest dose of Burroughes. That thing, ''language'', that sweet ticket, is alive. Burroughes is perhaps realizing the great power and possibility of The Word, and thus The Word's agency and animal-motive (as a thing which must feed and shit to survive).

The Word is an animal like Captitalism,

which eats and shits to go on--

and yet, there is something so beautiful

in the wordly petals which sprout from steaming dung paddies.\

'' Atrophied Preface'' itself seems to be in some Interzone, if only by the nature of its being of becoming, in and out of the shit of the world. And this state allows maybe, an escape from the Hell of Time. Not only for Bill, but for everybody. Pre-sent time suggests only the present exists, only the moment of creation.