Why a hap-hap-hop-hoppy Easter Sunday to you, dearest Filthy Dreams bunnies! What’s that? You’re not religious? That doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate the ecstatic joy of trash religiosity. I mean, this Easter, I feel like I finally understand the resurrection of Christ. I mean, nearly 30 days into my bout with COVID-19, I know how … Continue reading
“Maybe I can’t find you, Peter,” darkly exclaims David Wojnarowicz, walking through a cemetery in his essay “Living Close To The Knives” (100). While detailing his harrowing and nerve-wracking attempt to find the grave of photographer Peter Hujar, who Wojnarowicz later describes as “my friend…my brother my father my emotional link to the world,” Wojnarowicz’s … Continue reading
Is it possible to look back to that gold lamé-draped, handlebar moustache-wearing, disco-dancing, cruising post-Stonewall era of the 1970s without the lens of the HIV/AIDS pandemic, which would irrevocably alter the course of LGBTQ life? Can you look at artwork, photographs and other documentation from that decade without searching for the images and names of those who would disappear in the decades to come? Or of the others who would become continual caregivers to friends and lovers? Or the clubs, bathhouses, piers and others spaces that would be shuttered for fear of transmission? Continue reading
Toasting our Filthy Dreams glasses back to Dolores De Luce, her rallying cry for those inhabitants of the Island Of Misfit Toys powerfully describes the individuals filling the pages of her moving and hysterical memoir, My Life, A Four Letter Word: Confessions Of A Counter Culture Diva. Continue reading