TANKY WARHOL
I enjoy a good tag (tag me people). This one's courtesy of my Santa Monican bloggin' buddy who comes to us from the worldojeff:
1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Locate the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences on your blog and in so doing...
5. Tag five people (nope won't do that again) and acknowledge who tagged me (done).
Saturday April 8, 1978: Mick wanted us to hear his new record, and we were going to bring it over to Studio 54 but it was at Earl McGrath's house so we went over there (cab $4). Jann and Jane Wenner were there and Stephen Graham who had something wrapped in foil in his pocket. It looked like drugs, but it turned out to be a Rice Crispie (sic) cookie.
About a dozen years ago I went through a period of being infatuated with All Things Warhol. I learned the whereabouts of some of his old haunts in NYC and made a project of checking out where they'd been: The Factory at Union Square, for instance, and Max's Kansas City (the latter, presently incarnated as an Asian deli, where I just had to have lunch. Planted in the dimly-lit dining area on the second floor, I chewed on chicken teriyaki and conjured up images of Iggy Pop and Candy Darling across the room doing lines of blow).
It was around that time a thoughtful friend gifted me with The Andy Warhol Diaries. I devoured it. Today the pages are brittle and yellowed like an old Bible and its contents as pertinent as People magazine. But I hang on to it for sentimental reasons. Plus it's a fine toilet read. 
5 comments:
I occasionally pick up my copy and check out the current day's date, just to see what he was doing on this day so many years ago.
Awesome choice of a book, my friend.
For one person to have such an influence on the shared consciousness blows my mind.
Just like Charles Eames, but completely different.
I'm in Ptown till the 13th! Let's meet for a beer!
Once, in a mid-town Manhattan restaurant, Andy Warhol sat at a nearby table with some friends. I have never seen any other human being whose eyes glittered the way his did. Do you think it was drugs? I think it was just the way those eyes devoured everything around him, including me.
father t: I doubt it. I seem to recall his writing that he believed substance use would be bad for his public image.
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