Andy Warhol created me

Thursday, April 20, 1979
Had to go to the memorial service for Ambassador Hoveyda’s brother who was executed in Iran. Cabbed to Riverside Drive ($2.50). Everybody was there. We took our shoes off. There was a rug in the middle of the floor and no one wanted to step on it because it was like stepping on the body because there wasn’t a body there. There was Iranian music. It was like the best cocktail party but with no drinks.
Steve Rubell’s suing Ron Galella, I read in the papers – for starting a fight at Studio 54, he says. And I’m invited to Ron Galella’s wedding on Saturday. I think I’ll go.
- The Andy Warhol Diaries

I read a couple of pages of Andy Warhol’s diaries every night recently. I can’t explain why I love Andy Warhol. No one who likes him can explain why. I think Truman Capote described him as “A sphinx without a secret.”
This world wouldn’t be the same if he hadn’t existed, and I don’t think I would exist as I do now without him.

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Mr Thriller has been on high alert for the last few days. All this clean living and lucidity is starting to get to him. I was in the bookstore getting ideas for our 2008 calendar and all the great ideas were getting me all riled up. When someone with strong perfume passed by I almost broke down from some kind of deviant inability to contain all the pleasing input. It’s a good thing Mrs Wrongdesign wasn’t there, or I may have thrown her down between the aisles. Come to think of it, it’s too bad she wasn’t there - I kind of like the sound of that.