Do you find scaffolding ghostly and poignant? Do you see construction sites as evocative of memory? Do you consider a Porta John a phenomenal addition to public art? Do you think a worthy memorial to an area historically connected to queer people is an ode to a straight artist? If so, then may I suggest … Continue reading
*waves American flag wildly* Well, hello there, dearest Filthy Dreams patriots! What’s that? Why am I feeling just so proud of our fair nation on this 4th of July? Maybe it’s because I finally believe in the American dream again! Sure, we all know that the post-World War II dream of a suburban house, a … Continue reading
“I may have not had a boyfriend, but I did have a nose” That about says it all, doesn’t it? Always appreciate what you have! Even if it means having more than just a vacant nasal cavity. This perfect quote, which should frankly be sold on coffee mugs and throw pillows, comes courtesy of Ben, … Continue reading
*scrolls intently on phone* Oh! Why hello there, dearest Filthy Dreams readers! Why you startled me! What’s that? What are my plans this Memorial Day? Why, voyeuristically peeking at other people’s drama, of course! Sure, sure. I know some of you ambitious readers may want to go camping or for a day at the beach … Continue reading
Have you ever seen a painting of a male nude described as “an egregious demonstration of manspreading”? Me neither. Sure, if a dude is sitting on a train or a bus (preferably not nude, but it’s been known to happen), legs akimbo and junk exposed, ignoring the presence of anyone nearby as he takes up … Continue reading
I wanna tell you about a girl… Ok, I had to. How else to start a tribute to Anita Lane, the enigmatic singer and songwriter with the otherworldly energy of a haunted Victorian doll and a quaalude-soaked childlike voice to match, other than a reference to the opening line of the song “From Her To … Continue reading
Sometimes you just need a sexy lizard lady smoking a cigarette with her tiddies exposed or a disembodied donger hanging from a fishing hook. I don’t know about you, dearest Filthy Dreamers, but after a year plus of a pandemic, I can’t stomach depressing art anymore. You know, the art that seems dead set on … Continue reading
I wasn’t prepared to hear John Waters speak in tongues. I’m not sure why. What is there left to do after over fifty years of spreading the sordid slime of good bad taste around the globe than falling to your knees where your role model’s testicles were crushed before he was mowed over repeatedly with … Continue reading
If Lana Del Rey’s music had to be defined by one drive (other than driving fast), it would be the pursuit of freedom. Inextricably tied to the failed promise of America, Lana’s conception of freedom is lawless, wild, and always elusive. Continue reading
Whew! Did I just see a flying car whizz by my window? How long did we sleep? It’s almost like we’re in the future! Give me a cocktail of Soylent Green and Adrenochrome with a spritz of Chemtrail mist–we made it to the 21st century! I don’t know if you’ve noticed, dearest Filthy Dreams readers, … Continue reading