07 January 2013
The Underground Velvet
I admit it makes me feel cool. I feel cool knowing that I might be the only person in this dinky town of 600-ish that has heard of a band called The Velvet Underground. Cool like The Velvet Underground cool. Cool like I've been up for six days drinking champagne and snorting cocaine with models. Cool like I've just spent the night with ten whores in a penthouse overlooking Bangkok. Cool like I live in Paris and wear a silk scarf while eating bone marrow for breakfast. Cool like this short film.
In fact, I'm not all that cool. I live in Carey, Idaho surrounded by mud and Mormons. Instead of all night beanbag love-ins I chase moose out of willow thickets and sing praises to the rocks and sky above endless rolls of snow. Andy Warhol never had it so good.