She called them my Lou boots, named for Lou Reed , the lead singer of the Velvet Underground, along with a number of other projects that were immensely important because they involved Lou Reed. I didn’t like the boots until she said that. They were fake Italian, and I didn’t really think I’d have them for more than a week. I traded them for a couple of records, the vinyl kind, and wore them home. The next day there was one of those holes you get when the shoes don’t fit right.
So I was going to get rid of them, but the following week I was taking a trip to New York, boutique hotel included, and I wanted boots because I always thought that you should have boots when you’re in New York. But I wasn’t thinking it all through because you need nice shoes for all the walking that you do. If these boots gave me the sore foot from one day, a whole week might be really nasty for me. It turned out not to be so bad. My foot had healed a bit and so there was a callous forming, and they were fine.
Walking was easy enough, and they turned out to have a nice cushion to them, but I did notice that my button on my jeans was coming off. I had to tighten my belt a little, but then I saw that my shirt had a hole in it, and my sunglasses were bent. By the time she started calling them my Lou Reed boots I was already irritated with everything in the world. But the way she said it made me laugh. It was enough of a laugh in fact that it did make me think about sangria in the park, and how this was turning out to be all right.