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!