dodgers dugout; nlds, san diego, ca; photograph via l.a. times I once again find myself suffering through yet another of the Los Angeles Dodgers' Ides of October - so distraught I've reverted back to capping my lines. Eliot was mistaken. April is not the cruelest month. I felt our impending doom as the season went … Continue reading the ides of October – the cruelest month.
He was our elder, yes, but not the level of elder that, say, Betty White was. I mean, as much as she was loved and grieved, I would posit the great majority of folks knew it would be coming soon. Which was why the news of Leslie Jordan's death last week came as such a … Continue reading daddy, watch me twirl – a requiem for leslie jordan.
weekend sleepover with tom; los angeles, ca; 2010. he, most definitely, was not planned for. i'd started at city college not long before and was working at a dog rescue slash indoor daycare as an attendant - adding another dog to the house, the furthest thing from my mind. they'd named him tom at the … Continue reading song for edgar ellington – king of the laundry, prince of cats.
it used to be that just about seven or eight o'clock every night i'd smoke myself a tightly packed bowl before settling in to my little ikea sectional and what had become my nightly ritual. popping my earbuds in, i'd close my eyes and press play, sometimes an album, sometimes a playlist, mine or sometimes … Continue reading lost music, tom’s diner, & little nas x at the arch of the rainbow.
my name is pan ellington and i am the queer trans sun of martha renteria & harry young. i write this requiem in honor and memory of carlos renteria, my uncle, life partner to bob. charles renteria, ca. 1950s portrait of a queer american family; east los angeles, ca - 1978 // photographed by martha … Continue reading requiem for charles renteria, my uncle – a gay man born in 1932.
the four horsemen of the apocalypse - artwork by jukenos on deviantart as i write this a fire burns southwest of lake tahoe that, as of today, covers almost two hundred thousand acres. it is one of many currently burning throughout my state. as i write this i'm thinking of the boy in kabul who … Continue reading stumbling towards the apocalypse – a manifesto.
henry's at the graduate hotel; berkeley, ca.; 2020 the signs hang undisturbed in windows all across america - "now hiring." and workers aren't biting, as i'm sure you've heard by now. with everyone from the united states chamber of commerce, your mom & pop restaurant owners, chain restaurant regional managers, ceo's and c-suite management types, … Continue reading out of the covoid – a brief from a retired american service worker.
i realize it's a miracle that i've been able to live in the bay area as a blue collar artist hustling about $25k a year at my joe job waiting tables in a hotel restaurant. it's also a miracle i can take sick days and paid time off doing this kind of work, a benefit … Continue reading into the covoid – a brief from an american service worker.
julius warhol, paul frank/andy warhol foundation; ca. 2002 i'd kicked myself after the fact for not wearing my vintage paul frank tee that day, a collab with the andy warhol foundation, circa early aughts. maybe that's what led to the fate of pan's fifth, i thought. we'd stayed until the museum closed, having wandered the … Continue reading requiem for pan’s fifth.
sticker bombs : about to deploy. as an indie artist out here living outlaw style on the edges of late capitalism, i'd posit that most of us have one - fatal flaw, achilles heel, call it what you will. mine? that eternal struggle, negotiating the space between my creative productivity and self-promotion. the slap poem … Continue reading a brief note on the artist’s fatal flaw.