Edie Sedgwick, 1967

Bobby told me to write it all down. Write, write, write it, write what? I’m not an artist, poet, creative. Not like him. A few paintings once, before it all. Before this, before Andy, before all that death. In Cambridge, there were paintings once, oh yes! I remember now. I had wanted to paint, paint what? Eyes. I liked to paint my eyes with black liner.

Write it down, why? Whatever there was to write, he didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to be reminded.

I have a family of writers, artists, creatives. Fuzzy, my father, took to sculpting. But not me. I paint my face. How could I pick up a pen? I try not to keep paper in the apartment except money because of fire. A cigarette could slip and we’d both go up in flames.

My brother Minty died first. Hanged himself at Silver Hill. Then my brother Bobby ran his motorcycle into a bus. That death was easier. We’d all been through it once. Like getting your eyebrows waxed. First time, your eyes are watering, second time, you know what to expect, know how not to feel, know how to blink so that your eyes don’t fill.

And then I met Andy. Andy, who made me a star—first his star, then everyone’s star. Superstar, Superstar, Edie Superstar. He made me love my new signature. Oh, he was a darling, he had been, he made me feel so… but it was all a disaster, really, in the end. Everything special, he took it all.

You look fantastic in my coat, darling. Leopard really goes with your eyes.

Now Bobby—he was like Fuzzy. Even Andy knew it, never liked him, never trusted him. Andy always so jealous and he didn’t even want to fuck me. He’d rather fuck my father. God, he’d kill me for saying that. Then he’d laugh, and we’d laugh and laugh and I miss laughing with him like laughing with Minty.

Every man in my life is some twisted version of another.

You know, sometimes I forget I have a mother, sisters, girlfriends. It’s like they’re just songs playing in the background.

Write it all down. There’s nothing worth remembering, except you, Bobby. None of it. Even Minty, I’d forget him. I want to forget anyone who isn’t in this bed with me like you are. Except you’re not right now, but I thought? I just—I thought you were just there, weren’t you? Oh, weren’t you? Things are so confused these days. I feel I am forgetting.

I hate it when you tell me that I’m not making sense, when it’s you, it’s you who doesn’t make sense. Write what down? A list? Instructions? Whatever anyone wants to know? I haven’t got time to write! My god, darling, who has time to sit still? No one sits still in New York, not even when Bobby’s on his guitar, on the stage with his harmonica and no one just closes their eyes and listens. They sway because you never stop moving when you feel good, and you can’t stop moving when you feel down, at least I can’t; if I stopped I’d never start again and no one stops to write it down—you’re just there, and then you forget, and then you’re somewhere else.

Where’s my coat? Don’t bother asking me to stay. But if I’m staying… If I’m staying, I wish you’d turn the camera off.

Did you see where Bobby went? He told me to write something down for him. I just can’t remember what he asked me to write.

Andy told me once that I was just a reflection. A reflection of all the things he wanted and thought he would never be. And I said, is that true? Is that really true? Is that all I am? And what a waste! All this time thinking I was a person with blood and bones and pain and really I’m just a little piece of fragile glass.

He said he’d given up painting. But he never gave it up, how could he? He was a liar, always a liar, a liar, all lies! He painted me! Painted my face!

I told you, get that thing away from me! I do not give you permission to film me now, darling, I’m a mess, an absolute mess. I mean, look at me. Put it down and come here, come closer.

Bobby. Is it really you? You look so different now, almost like Minty. But Minty’s dead and you can’t be him, you can’t be you. Oh, Bobby, I’ll write it all down. I will. I’ll write anything you say, just promise not to go—I get so scared when I’m alone. Stay with me, stay, and I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you what you want to hear.