I spend so much time at Armand’s in Little Italy drinking beer because I find inspiration for my writing by inter-acting with the customers and the bartender who happens to be on duty that day.
I also find inspiration for my writing when I go to Nico’s in Little Italy on Saturday nights for karaoke.
But since I won’t be able to go to Armand’s or Nico’s for the next several days, not until I get more fun money later this month (I’m retired) it may be time to visit Dawson Street again. That doesn’t cost money. Dawson Street is where Andy Warhol grew up. It’s about a 45-minute walk from my apartment building.
I like to stand on the opposite sidewalk across the street from the house on a sunny, warm day. The house is in a working-class neighborhood down near the University of Pittsburgh. It’s just an ordinary house on an ordinary street.
The first time I went searching for the house I couldn’t find it; and the people I asked for directions had no idea what I was talking about.
There’s nothing about the house that says Andy Warhol grew up there.
No plaque. No graffiti. Nothing.
But that’s okay. The Old Soldier knows he grew up there.