Blow Job

I have no time to write anything. Think what you will. It is staged reality. Beautiful. And I will always love it.

Belongs in the factory...

I do not want to be alive now. I belong to 1960s New York.
Please send me back.

... exert form "Poor Little Rich Girl"


... exert form chelsea girls.

It is not that I want to be someone else. I want to be me. I just think i was born in the wrong time. Everything about me gravitates towards then.
This modern world is too confusing and I hate it.
It isn't romantic nostalgia ... it is a yearning a loss.. a bit like waiting for your soulmate.

bad romance (warhol)

B went on for such a long time about all her "creams" that I asked her "Don't you like to have people come in your face?"
"Does is rejuvenate?"
"Haven;t you heard about thee ladies who take young guys to the theatreand jerk them off so they can put it al over their face?"
" They rub it in like face cream?"
"Yes. It sort of pulls it tighter and makes them yunger for the evening."
" It does? Well, I use my own. It's better that way. That way I can do it at home before I go out for the evening. I shave my underarms, spray them, cream my face, and I'm all set forthe evening."
" I don't shave. I don't sweat. I don't even shit," I said. I wondered what B would say to that.
(The philosphy of Andy Warhol)

Somewhat amusing.
Literature is Art.
Sex is funny.
Nothing is serious.
Conersation is generally pointless.

life

"I have Social Disease. I have to go out every night. If I stay home one night I start spreading rumors to my dogs." - Andy Warhol