A square chunk of gaudy gold sits at the center of a low table, overpowering much of the other décor visible in the room—an inescapable brick of tacky opulence. One side reads in all-caps like your furious Boomer relative’s Facebook rant: TRUMP. On top is an ornate seal just out of view, obscured by the … Continue reading
“I feel a vague nausea stroking and tapping the lining of my stomach,” writes David Wojnarowicz in his essay “In the Shadow of the American Dream: Soon All This Will Be Picturesque Ruins.” I don’t think I ever quite understood the feeling of David’s nausea until this past week. It took everything in me not … Continue reading