Wit in Winter

I was going through some old photos and came across this one from the Andy Warhol Museum in Pittsburgh.
Ah, to be alone in Pittsburgh in the dead of winter. It feels just like this picture. Poor Andy. At least there is his museum for those of us who happen to find themselves there on business. The thing about museums is that these balloons are supposed to be floating around some debauched party not an empty sunlit room.The thing about Pittsburgh is that it has that feeling that many American cities have, that it used to be grand. I personally found it kind of creepy spotted here and there with some perfectly wonderful people. I mean, it's quite pretty, especially when I had to haul my ass back there the following summer but I experienced some sinister situations in the suburbs that to expound upon would only soil and sully your thoughts. Seriously.
Anyways, Andy Warhol... I read his book The Philosophy of Andy Warhol: From a to B and Back Again. I'll be your B. What a wit, but we all know that. I wish I had it on hand to extract some quotes, but here are some of the best ones from the book and other places just cause.

Being born is like being kidnapped. And then sold into slavery.

Fantasy love is much better than reality love. Never doing it is very exciting. The most exciting attractions are between two opposites that never meet.

I always wished I had died, and I still wish that, because I could have gotten the whole thing over with.

I like boring things.

I'm afraid that if you look at a thing long enough, it loses all of its meaning.

They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.