I preferred "David Cronenberg: Interviews" but this still had gems:
The way a child discovers the world constantly replicates the way science began. You start to notice what’s around you, and you get very curious about how things work. How things interrelate. It’s as simple as seeing a bug that intrigues you. ...everybody’s a mad scientist, and life is their lab. We’re all trying to experiment to find a way to live, to solve problems, to fend off madness and chaos...
I tend to view chaos as a private rather than social endeavor.
One of the things you want to do with any kind of art is to find out what you’re thinking about, what is important to you, what disturbs you.
Every community has a whole unspoken dictionary, and I wanted to invent one of my own.
It’s like a tumor or liver or a spleen that decides it will have its own independent existence. It still needs to share the common blood that flows through all the organs, but the spleen wants to go off and do a few things. It’ll come back. It has to. But it wants to have its own adventures. That’s fascinating to me. I don’t think of it as a threat. It’s only a real threat if all your organs decide to go off in different directions. At a certain point the chaos equals destruction. But at the same time the potential for adventure and creative difference is exciting.
In Crimes of the Future I talk about a world in which there are no women. Men have to absorb the femaleness that is gone from the planet. It can’t just cease to exist because women aren’t around. It starts to bring out their own femaleness more, because that duality and balance is necessary... Burroughs was fascinated when I told him about a species of butterfly where the male and female are so different it took forty years before lepidopterists realized. They couldn’t find the male of one species and the female of another. But there are also hermaphrodite versions of this butterfly. They are totally bizarre. One half is huge and bright and the other half—split right down the middle of the body—is small and dark. I can’t imagine it being able to fly. There’s no balance whatsoever.
I have to show things because I’m showing things that people could not imagine. I’m presenting audiences with imagery and with possibilities that have to be shown.
The strength of the middle class is that it’s like an amoeba. It can absorb anything. The way it defends itself against what seems radical and threatening is not to put a shell around itself that can be cracked and broken, but to absorb whatever it is and assimilate it.
Why is it not much consolation that a hundred billion people have gone through death before us? You’d think by now we could say, “Well, Alexander the Great died, so what am I complaining about?” Does it help? No. The fact that it’s so common doesn’t diminish its potency on a personal level.
How about some of these films being a rehearsal for a life after death, or a transmuted life—a life that is transformed into something else?
I’m talking about the possibility that human beings would be able to physically mutate at will, even if it took five years to complete that mutation. Sheer force of will would allow you to change your physical self. To understand physical process on earth requires a revision of the theory that we’re all God’s creatures—all that Victorian sentiment. It should certainly be extended to encompass disease, viruses and bacteria. Why not? A virus is only doing its job. It’s trying to live its life. The fact that it’s destroying you by doing so is not its fault. It’s about trying to understand interrelationships among organisms, even those we perceive as disease. To understand it from the disease’s point of view, it’s just a matter of life. It has nothing to do with disease. I think most diseases would be very shocked to be considered diseases at all. It’s a very negative connotation. For them, it’s very positive when they take over your body and destroy you.
All lovers are young lovers, even when they’re sixty. Old people don’t think they’re old. There’s no such thing as an old person. There’s a person who has been broken on the rack of pain and infirmity, but there’s really no old person. When someone dies at eighty, it’s the death of a young person.
On dreams: It’s the tone. Intangible. And yet it’s palpable, in the sense that you wake up and you’re still living in it. You’re not in the narrative any more, but the half-life is still there. I had a dream that I was watching a film and the film was causing me to grow old fast. The movie itself was infecting me, giving me a disease, the essence of which was that I was aging. Then the screen became a mirror in which I was seeing myself age. I woke up terrified. That’s really what I’m talking about, more than any puny virus.
...underneath the veneer of artistic and philosophical endeavor comes the childlike. Which is why even the most pessimistic film-making has some optimism behind it. Just making a film is a positive act, some act of faith
I have to go back to the voice that spoke before all these structures were imposed on it
It’s like the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. Borges has written a wonderful critical essary on that poem, saying that the English translator, Edward Fitzgerald, was no good as a translator because his work on the Rubaiyat is very faulty; that Khayyam was actually not a very good poet. But somehow, over the span of nine centuries, they combined to make this little gem of a poem that would never have happened otherwise.
One of the reasons you find a writer so compelling is that they crystalize for you stuff that’s already in you.
Burroughs says you must allow yourself to create characters and situations that could be a danger to you in every way. Even physically. He in fact insists that writing be recognized and accepted as a dangerous act.