Watched Pie in the Sky: The Brigid Berlin Story the other day. It was really inspiring. She comes across as really funny and likable in the movie, everyone says really nice things about her, even her OCD stuff. It was really cool to get more inside information on her. She's a really underrated part of Warhol's Factory scene, as John Waters says in the film, cause it was mostly made up of "beautiful women". I think Brigid is beautiful too but not a very conventional (by 1960s standards) way. I never realized, before seeing the movie, about Brigid Berlin's own art career story. A lot of the things that Warhol used to great effect, like polaroids and tape recording, he got from Brigid Berlin. She had been doing polaroids and double exposures first. She had been tape recording people first. She would give these live performances, "satanic masses" in which people would gather in a theater and she would make phone calls and broadcast them over the theater. I think that's just great. In the movie Brigid talks about how Warhol would jsut install her in the factory. Put her on a couch in the back with a microphone and just have her talk all day. About anything that came into her head. That sounds just great. She has a big part in my favorite book, Warhol's a: A Novel. I was tuned into this book my senios year of college for my Advanced Art History Course. It's really trippy and beautiful. The premise of the novel is that Warhol and Ondine take a lot of drugs and record 24 consecutive hours of thought. They ended up not doing exactly 24 hours, adn spreading it out, and there are all sort of typing errors with Warhol leaves in because they look cute. But the idea to write a novel, according to Warhol, was just so that they could sell the rights to make a movie and be played by hunky actors. I just like the premise: 24 hours with a drugged-up superstar. Warhol just records everything, totally uninflected and with no narrative agenda.
Kind of an interesting idea.
If you do it right, I guess.
We're babysitting a friend's cat. She's a kitten, really. Her name is Figaro and she is truly adorable, though she utterly lacks the murderous heart i so prize in a feline companion. She's very skittish.
Anyways we've had her for a few weeks now and apparently she's come into heat. She moans at me a lot. And I find myself responding, with grunts, to acknowledge her suffering unfuckedness. In the kitchen I am making another Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich for the fifth day in a row and I am grumbling as she moans Yeah, Me Too. I know. It's oddly strange, freaky, inspiring. sexy. More than a little annoying. I hope her owner gets her soon. She sprayed a little in my room and as we know, Everybody Gets One Chance, and then That's It.