I took my GPZ out for a ride
the engine felt good between my thighs
The air felt cool, it's was forty degrees outside
I rode to Pennsylvania near the Delaware Gap
sometimes I got lost and had to check the map
I stopped at a roadside diner for a burger and a coke
There were some country folk and some hunters inside
somebody got themselves married and somebody died
I went to the juke box and played a hillbilly song
They was arguing about football as I waved and went outside
and I headed for the mountains feeling warm inside
I love that GPZ so much, you know that I could kiss her
They put the thing down your throat so you don't swallow your tongue, and they put electrodes on your head. That's what was recommended in Rockland County to discourage homosexual feelings. The effect is that you lose your memory and become a vegetable. You can't read a book because you get to page 17 and have to go right back to page one again."
Yesterday, Daisy Mae and Biff
were groovin' on the street
And just like in a movie
her hands became her feet
Her belly button was her mouth
which meant she tasted what she'd speak
And curtains laced with diamonds, dear for you
And all the Roman noblemen for you
And kingdom's Christian soldiers, dear for you
And melting ice cap mountains tops for you
Oh, oh, and knights in flaming silver robes for you
And bats that with a kiss turn prince for you
The news I feared the most, pales in comparison to the lump in my throat and the hollow in my stomach. Two kids have a chance meeting and 47 years later we fight and love the same way -- losing either one is incomprehensible. No replacement value, no digital or virtual fill...broken now, for all time. Unlike so many with similar stories - we have the best of our fury laid out on vinyl, for the world to catch a glimpse. The laughs we shared just a few weeks ago, will forever remind me of all that was good between us.
Rather than traveling like Christians from paradise through knowledge to sin, Lou leads us like Jews from sin to knowledge to acceptance of our inevitable state of bereavement. Lou understood that we are utterly forsaken. But in making-do, in getting by, a kind of love emerges; a love for ourselves, for each other, and for the redemption of extracting a little shudder of jouissance from the fissure between living and dying, between dreams and responsibilities, between thought and expression.
How did he come to recite those lines on "Street Hassle"?
Because if I'd done them, they'd have come out funny. And when he did it, it sounded real. He was at the same studio, the Record Plant. It wasn't making it with me doing it So the engineer said, "Why don't you ask Bruce to do it? He could really do that" So we asked Bruce to do it, and he rewrote it a little.
The ending of his passage is a clever take-off on "Born to Run" – "There are tramps like us/Who were born to pay." Was that his contribution?
No, that was mine. It had been written with him in mind, but he wasn't there. I was just playing off the title.
'They played “Pale Blue Eyes” and “I Can’t Stand It.” During lunch hour they played “Heroin” and “Sister Ray".Steve Wasserman was disciplined for getting up and dancing'
I went to Beverly Hills High School, something I can never mention on the campaign trail. It’s like death. Beverly Hills High School is just like Scarsdale west. It has a few movie stars, but it’s basically a very good rich Jewish high school. At least it was when I went there.
This was the early days of pot in 1968, I guess, or ’67. I went to the Shrine Auditorium and saw this group, the Velvet Underground. What Jonathan Richman says about them is true: They’re four people dressed in black standing there very formally making these incredible sounds. They’re like this infernal machine of sound. How the hell did they make that much sound? And they were very charismatic. The songs were truthful and I thought Lou Reed was charismatic and I just loved them.
I was student body president at the time, and I decided: Why not try to get these guys to come to the high school? They were in town so I called up the Whiskey A-Go-Go. They transferred me to the motel where they were staying. I called them at the motel. This was the day after they recorded their third album. Their manager, who was a totally crazy man, swore to the school’s vice principal that there were no drug references in any of their songs. “I’m Waiting for My Man” is just about a homosexual pick-up, nothing to do with drugs. And she bought this, and I later got to distract her while they were singing “Heroin” on the stage.
So they showed up. You remember, they were a failed band, right? So they were desperate to have an audience.
They’d just finished the album the night before. I don’t think they’d gone to sleep. Maybe some drugs were involved, I don’t know. They played very well. Then we had a panel discussion with the Velvet Underground, the school psychiatrist, me, and the leader of the school marching band. I wish I had a film of this. Lou Reed and the psychiatrist got into this incredible pissing match. The psychiatrist said, “I did like your music but it’s too loud. It hurts lab rats.” And Lou Reed said, “If I was a lab rat, maybe I’d care,” or something. They just hated each other and they were all jerks, Lou Reed and everybody else. It was considered a disaster because they weren’t getting along; we were supposed to have sweetness and light and there was contention. But in retrospect, it was a neat thing.
To our neighbors:
What a beautiful fall! Everything shimmering and golden and all that incredible soft light. Water surrounding us.
Lou and I have spent a lot of time here in the past few years, and even though we’re city people this is our spiritual home.
Last week I promised Lou to get him out of the hospital and come home to Springs. And we made it!
Lou was a tai chi master and spent his last days here being happy and dazzled by the beauty and power and softness of nature. He died on Sunday morning looking at the trees and doing the famous 21 form of tai chi with just his musician hands moving through the air.
Lou was a prince and a fighter and I know his songs of the pain and beauty in the world will fill many people with the incredible joy he felt for life. Long live the beauty that comes down and through and onto all of us.
— Laurie Anderson
his loving wife and eternal friend
I have never seen an expression as full of wonder as Lou's as he died. His hands were doing the water-flowing 21-form of tai chi. His eyes were wide open. I was holding in my arms the person I loved the most in the world, and talking to him as he died. His heart stopped. He wasn't afraid. I had gotten to walk with him to the end of the world. Life – so beautiful, painful and dazzling – does not get better than that. And death? I believe that the purpose of death is the release of love.
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