Here today, gone tomorrow

Here today, gone tomorrow is the phrase Andy Warhol uses to frame the shock of Brigid Berlin’s near collision with a truck. In the diary, it gives sudden danger a stark, provisional meaning: the relief that Brigid is alive is inseparable from the recognition that the day could have ended differently.

The Phrase in Context

Brigid had crossed the street to buy cigarettes while Warhol and the others were in an antiques shop. A moment later, he heard a loud noise and a thud, ran outside, and found her lying in the street with a truck just an inch from her belly. Brigid got up laughing and said she was all right, though she had been frightened. The truck belonged to an art restorer; its driver offered to take her to the hospital, but she declined.

Relief and Warning

Warhol’s relief became an immediate gesture of generosity: he told Brigid she could have anything in the world. The day’s purchases included four ice-cream cones, cookies, and cake, and the two walked for an hour to make sure she was okay. Against these ordinary details, here today, gone tomorrow registers the near accident’s abrupt turn from routine to possible catastrophe. Warhol hoped the scare would teach Brigid to be more careful, making the phrase both a reflection on how quickly life can change and a practical admonition prompted by the day’s danger.