Olivia Nuzzi’s much-maligned memoir American Canto opens with a phone call and a cockroach rave. Stomping down Fifth Avenue in front of the Met, Nuzzi argues with croaky-voiced bear-crime-scene-stager and whale-beheader Robert F. Kennedy Jr…I mean, The Politician…about whether their long-shot presidential candidate x political journalist affair is wrong (it is). Answering his invocation of … Continue reading
Thank the filth elders above that Connie Marble somehow survived her attempted execution for assholism and skulked from Baltimore to small-town Pennsylvania to live out her sunset years! That was the first thought that crossed my mind as Aunt Gladys rounded the corner of Pepperidge Farm, crap cereal, and hot dog enthusiast Principal Marcus Miller’s … Continue reading
Chain restaurants at the mall used to mean something in this country. Stand-alone restaurant storefronts just a short jaunt away from the mall’s irresistible gravitational pull did too. Or at least I thought they did. When I was a teen in suburban Pittsburgh during the early aughts, Olive Garden, TGI Fridays, Outback Steakhouse, Texas Roadhouse, … Continue reading
A car crash is the most American way to leave this planet, isn’t it? The freedom of the open road and the promise of auto manufacturing fracturing into shards of metal and glass, airbags blowing into bone, skidding tires squealing before the crunch. And…welcome to the car smash! Certainly, I’m not the only one who … Continue reading
Faint, daydreamy pencil doodles of poised women with 1940’s-style wasp waists, their faces simple with cupid-bow lips and angled Barbie cat eyes, cover a ragged piece of three-hole-punched lined paper yanked from a drug store notebook. Beside and below these figures are mannequin-like heads with less defined faces. What they lose in facial features, they … Continue reading
Volunteering to have your face sat on in public is all it takes to earn my respect. Apparently, anyway. The act of being smothered by a highly sought-after “ass influencer” at a gallery performance was the exact moment when I had to hand it to writer Bianca Bosker: she has dedication. In her art world … Continue reading
In Lucas Hilderbrand’s The Bars Are Ours; Histories and Cultures of Gay Bars in America, 1960 and After, the pictures, a collection of bar flyers, ads, photographs, gay press headlines, and various ephemera culled from fifteen years of research, are worth as much as—if not more than—the text. “Lick your way through the summer,” beckons … Continue reading
I doubt I’ll look at a butter knife the same way ever again after reading Jamie Stewart’s Anything That Moves. That cool, silver, kind of fussy utensil will forever be etched in my brain as tossed unceremoniously into the bushes like Sally Draper’s Barbie doll after an indulgence in childhood anal fixation. Those rounded edges … Continue reading
You may not know this, dearest Filthy Dreams fanatics, but I’ve occasionally been accused of being long-winded. Rambling. Exhausting. Draining. Just a tad wordy. In a culture where we have writers and editors tweet-advising us to make articles shorter and more palatable for readers, I tend to do the opposite. I don’t care who likes … Continue reading