Using one camera and one light source, Seliger sought to capture the participants in the nation's ongoing fight for LGBTQ civil rights.
Anger: I could take the baseball bat we keep beneath the bar and smash every liquor bottle to smithereens like the previous
The nuns' landlord reportedly raised their monthly rent by 58 percent.
On Wednesday, Jan. 13, the Museum will hold its first Volunteer Fair, connecting patrons with nonprofits including Project
What are you reading these days? she asks. James Joyce. Ulysses. No way. No one understands that. Swamped now, huge waves
'Do you think the Facebook guy will give me any money?' asks Cat, fishing for quarters in her bid to purchase a full share in a can of Tecate.
Down the block, the liquor store could only say, he bought a bottle of champagne for breakfast every day. Some may have remembered
People downing Red Bull and Jagermeister depth charge shots in record numbers. Austria and Germany. Hammers and slammers
Tony Bennett left his heart in San Francisco. George left his liver.
And the pop from the tin goes straight through his body. And I'm the one who hands it to him like the servant at dawn placing
On the box, Trump looks like he is having a good time ranting and raving. Talking about The Deal.
All my thoughts just keep going round and round inside my head, says Jane, stirring her gin with a pink pinkie, head slumped
That's it, Alex. I'm sick of your bullshit. You're 86, which is 60 points above your I.Q. I'm surprised you can count that
He sweeps the bar. I wipe the tables. Then grab the padlocks, lock the doors and think, how did I end up here? We walk around the street market at 3 a.m., under the hum of lampposts, thinking about what to do next. We share a flask of whisky.
Did I just see something slither to the shadow? Trip to the ice machine, all that is frozen in time like that cockroach, just kidding. I need to get my peripheral vision checked. I'm sure I just saw something flee to the darkness under the stairs.
All gone. Everyone. Just me now. Alone with the bar. My old friend. It's sad. The bar weeps. It cries out, why am I the place for the sads and the alones. For the wicked.
John is going away. To a rehab nuthouse -- his words. One year in exile with a bunch of drunks. Ordered by psychiatrists. The doors are locked night and day. But he's figured out a way to get supplies delivered.
I tell the doorman. I have a bad feeling about tonight. Soon, the twisted is spotted. His face barrels evil. This one with a mustache, most menacing.
MAC sweeps, I run the final glass wash cycle of the night, plunk the stools on the bar, check no one is dead on the balcony