The Andy Warhol Diaries by Andy WarholMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
I came to this book since I was into Velvet Underground, (some) Warhol movies, artists out of The Factory, etc. However I was confronted with one of my own pet peeves; people that were born in the early 50s and talk about the decade like they were a teenager or adult like people born in the late 30s talking about WWII like they were vets. There ought to be a word for that. I was born in '70 and this diary is '76-'86 and seems like recollections from my adult life: affluent Iranian jet setters, SSTs, Jerry Hall, etc. Little things jump out in these largely banal reports of going to parties, etc. He often has to "glue" because he was bald, but there is no need or desire to explain, he dealt with that like the "surgical corsets" he must wear after being shot by radical feminist writer Valerie Solanas. Possibly these trite things stand out to me since Warhol comes across as so ... uncomfortable, but comfortably so... Does that make since. Like an observer from an alien world who knows that he doesn't fit in.
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