I’m informed by Antonia that it is John Cale’s birthday. One shudders to think how ancient he has become, primordial man, permanent, hoary, worn, yet ageless… he wrote
And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrow’s parties
A hand-me-down dress from who knows where
To all tomorrow’s parties
And where will she go and what shall she do
When midnight comes around
She’ll turn once more to sunday’s clown
And cry behind the door
And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrow’s parties
Why silks and linens of yesterday’s gowns
To all tomorrow’s parties
And what will she do with thursday’s rags when monday comes around
She’ll turn once more to sunday’s clown
And cry behind the door
And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrow’s parties
For thursday’s child is sunday’s clown
For whom none will go mourning
A blackened shroud, a hand-me-down gown
Of rags and silks, a costume
Fit for one who sits and cries
For all tomorrow’s parties
[and, from the rolling stone interview of 1996...]
Have you ever surfed the
Internet?
Yes. I’ve been looking for crime
statistics in China. I want to find out about the problems they have there with
youth. They have a serious unrest problem because of all the entrepreneurship
and the disparity between different provinces.
If you had to give Lou Reed a
job reference, what would it be?
Hard worker.
What do you want your epitaph
to be?
No talking in the library.
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