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.
one year -- from there to here. 11 august 2018. from there. from there on the couch. where i would wake at three a.m. one ordinary saturday morning, out of my doze to find my partner, then. dead on the floor, not yet forty years old. a cruel trick of the fates, i'd find myself … Continue reading one year — from there to here.
i was feeling under the weather this week and spent a good deal of time in front of the widescreen, hence this epic rec post instead of the usual, rather skimpy posts on the dastardly facebook page. i'm also finding myself cutting back on the news, because i don't know about you, but for me … Continue reading a grippa film screens for ‘ya.
alcatraz federal prison, 22 november 2018; photographed by pan ellingtonI stood on the top deck at the back of the boat, hands in my pockets, wondering at the depth and warmth of the darkness and the very bright light of the moon. It would be my first adventure without Her, something I’d wanted to see … Continue reading for Our love & for that morning.
25 june 2018; photographed by pan ellington.“I suppose it’s like the ticking crocodile, isn’t it? Time is chasing after all of us.” I’ve been staring at this blank page for months now, feeling the weight of Her death, the dichotomy that its sudden tragedy being years in the making, the meaning it has & will … Continue reading against the dying of the light — the third piece.
for bea, 7 july 2018; written & photographed by pan ellington. Have you ever watched the narrative of your life fold back upon itself in variations of the same theme, playing itself out in repeating patterns over the years? Most of the time I can’t help but fucking laugh. This time, though, there’s really nothing … Continue reading brave. for beatrice.
Her cards to me in our boo radley box #1; photographed by pan ellington.These are the pages I’ll surround myself with, pinned up on the walls as the world burns down all around me… “when my time comes around / lay me gently in the cold, dark earth, / no grave can hold my body … Continue reading requiem for elizabeth webster – my bird with peter pan eyes.
crowd in front of the stonewall inn, new york city, ca. 1969; photographer unknown My first semester at City College, that’s when I met Ruben. I’d noticed him right away, in U.S. History class. The way you do when you’re family. Not the first gay I saw in the wild there, but the first I’d … Continue reading queer history & us versus them.
I beat my alarm by two minutes, this day beginning for me like they all do. Up at six thirty to be at school by eight, I clear my eyes, feel them focus on the textured ceiling of my bedroom, probably toxic, and long since destroyed by Cat Madigan and I on one of our … Continue reading samoline avenue — an excerpt from a work in progress.
“all you need…”; 101 freeway, los angeles (photographed by pan ellington). It didn’t occur to me, that it was possible it could happen again — I mean, I couldn’t imagine what the odds would be and math isn’t my strong suit, anyway. And, yes, there is no doubt in my mind that my life is fucking magic, … Continue reading bird with peter pan eyes.