The John Lurie piece in the new New Yorker is really something. One of those (less than weekly) occasions when I'm glad the Selected Ballads household has a New Yorker subscription.
I may have been primed for the which-one-is-crazier story of Lurie and his friend/stalker by having just finished John Gilmore's Hollywood memoir Laid Bare, in which fame and its frequent companion self-destruction are major themes. I might do a post of some of my favorite quotes from Laid Bare, which will certainly include the description of Dennis Hopper as "a goat in Miss Tweedle-dum's parlor".
If you haven't already seen it, you've probably at least had someone recommend it to you, but I can't let a post mentioning John Lurie and Dennis Hopper end without urging you to rent, buy, or YouTube Lurie's Fishing With John. Or, at a minimum, the legendary Tom Waits "fish in his pants" episode.
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