*Ho HA!* What’s that, dearest Filthy Dreams cult member…*ahem* I mean, reader? Oh, I’m just practicing my new method breathing for when I move to Sweden to join the Hårga, that darkly sunny commune, from director and writer Ari Aster’s deeply unsettling yet intoxicatingly beautiful cult horror classic Midsommar. I’m ready to drink mushroom tea … Continue reading
I don’t know about you, dearest Filthy Dreams readers, but I’ve been feeling a bit woo-woo recently. If I had to pinpoint the source, I’d date it to the last Democratic presidential debate in June, when a shining star soared across my screen like a beacon of New Age psychobabble and half-baked, half-lit ramblings. Yes, … Continue reading
What does it mean to be radical? How can people from marginalized communities work to disrupt dominant systems of power and control? These questions have exploded recently, particularly after some crusty critics moaned about the lack of radicality in the 2019 Whitney Biennial and artists furiously took to social media in response. But, what is … Continue reading
Water…water….water….so much sweat….so much swea….needs air conditioning! Lord almighty, I feel my temperature rising! Whew! What’s that Mary? Oh I’m just trying to survive. No, not just survive the grind of daily existential crises, but survive this heatwave. WHOO! HEATWAVE! With the temperatures reaching the upper 90s, New York has become a garbage-reeking hot Yoga … Continue reading
“To live in a country where you can take an ugly old mountain and put faces on it—faces of great Americans who did so much to make our country super great—well, that just makes me…proud to be an American!” No, this perversely patriotic phrase wasn’t uttered at one of Trump’s demented and near unintelligible Rose … Continue reading
Yeeeeeeeeeeeeehaw!! *spins cowboy hat around* Ahem…*cough* whoa! What’s that? What’s with my fringed and rhinestone-studded jacket, bolo tie and boots? Well, I want to be a cowboy, baby! Here, grab some whiskey, preferably from a dusty and potentially dangerous saloon, while we celebrate the birth of our country by diving headfirst into fanatical cowboy mania. … Continue reading
I love museum gift shops. I know, I know–this isn’t too much of a surprise after I’ve continually admitted my undying love of the worst of late capitalism, including yes, corporate Pride. But unlike that rainbow colored free-for-all, which comes around only one month a year to tickle my frantic shopping spree fancy, museum gift … Continue reading
