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the girl with Andy Warhol
"the girl with Andy Warhol"
You know,
I read one day about the girl with
Andy Warhol, that painter:
Before coming along to
her story, my
focus on each word
of the text was
short-winded,
like a reel of
mi-
cro-
fil-
m spinning as I catch a
quick glance of
each impressed image
before it fades
into the transience
of post-that-one-short-moment when,
of every captured moment
of life on the film,
it alone
flashed to my eyes.
Now, I cannot recall the
girl's name (the one with
Andy Warhol, that painter
who mass-produced images),
but I suppose her name is
of minimal importance anyway because
her story is what brought this moral,
this didactic meaning to me, not
her name,
you see? and that,
that right there, is the whole
focus
of my remembering her specifically,
the whole point.
Right.
She,
of every young "to-be" there with
Andy,
captured every moment
of life on video, film,
in a laudable effort to save it all
to savor later. And she really did it,
amazing as it may sound;
she captured everything on an
endless
reel
of
tape
up until
the day
she
died.
It really was very noble, what she tried to do;
I've thought a great deal
about her lately, though:
I believe she made
one mistake,
one little,
easy
yet terrible
mistake:
the person filming,
you see,
never gets a part in the movie.
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