Burroughs was never into drugs simply for a good time. Despite his psilocyben bummer he agreed to go to Cambridge to participate in further experiments in consciousness alteration. Burroughs looked forward to working with sensory deprivation and submersion tanks, stroboscopes, machines to measure brain waves, and all the technologies and wonders that a prestigous university could supply. But his hopes were dashed as soon as he arrived at Harvard. All he found was a semiperminant cocktail party with a bunch of starry-eyed intellectuals talking some half-assed jive about brotherly love.

From Acid Dreams, which is a cracking good book.