Wayne Koestenbaum

WARHOL CHEERS ME UP ABOUT GETTING BAD REVIEWS. Lousy press didn’t stop him, so he’s my role model for the shat-upon artist who bucks up (despite harsh criticism) and continues to produce. Being unlikable was his endeavor’s foundation.

Warhol cheers me up about never transcending kindergarten, never shedding infantile fascinations. Often my brain can’t accommodate what it receives; information glut shuts down my mainframe. Warhol processed perceptions in a peculiar way: He listed, atomized, cut, reformatted, and hybridized the angry corpuscles of fact that streamed into his system. His example helps me believe that no matter how elementary or convoluted my aesthetic method may seem, I am stuck with it, so the choice is either to kill myself or to practice—patiently—my flawed mode.

Warhol cheers me up about constant horniness—call it constitutive prurience or permanently dirty mind. He may

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