I grew up obsessed with the world of Andy Warhol. Amazingly, I’m now a work colleague of one of his famed 1960s superstars and underground film actors, Taylor Mead, who just turned an impressive 86. (He was already middle-aged when he joined the Factory clique.)
On Mondays we have back-to-back time slots at the Bowery Poetry Club. He reads his poetry and strolls down memory lane, then sticks around for my Bingo gig, playing along as his pills-and-liquor high kicks in.
Taylor is delightfully ornery, irreverent and trés gay. Although he rarely remembers my name, we have a good rapport. The evidence: My interview with him on this video reel.
Happy Birthday, Taylor! I admire your stamina!
