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David Wojnarowicz

August 18, 2013

Written and collaged by Liam Michaud-O'Grady

David Wojnarowicz

“The sounds of his breath and the echo of body movements I am no longer able to separate. And all of it mixing with the stream of semen drifting over the line of my jaw and collecting in a pool in a pocket created by the back of my neck where it meets his upper thigh and abdomen. I become vaguely aware of his hands cradling my skull and his face appearing out of the hot sky leaning in and I’m lost in the idea that at the exact moment of the kill, the owl’s eyes are always closed, and I feel his tongue burning down my throat and the car is in seizure and had a cop car pulled up in that moment and had I possession of a gun, I’d have not thought twice about opening fire.”

3 T E E N S K I L L 4 – N O M O T I V E
there are so many stories why his band was called 3
teens kill 4. the one that i first heard, and the only one
that i ever remember is that in 1989 in new york city
there were these 3 queer kids hanging out one night,
and they were approached by four random guys.
somewhere near the brooklyn bridge. and these guys
were yelling FAGGOTS!!! and running at them with
pipes and chains and stuff they’d found on the ground.
and in the chaos that followed, in the process of
defending themselves against the attack, the 3 queer
kids ended up killing the 4 dudes assaulting them. and
that all the newspaper headlines that followed for weeks
and weeks read things like homosexual gang attacks
unsuspecting pedestrians, and killer gay gang strikes
again, and then, 3 teens kill 4 – no motive.
and there’s this photo i have of david wojnarowicz lying
in bed, without a shirt, smoking a cigarette, where he
looks half asleep and is so fucking dreamy i want to die
every time i look at it.
and i can’t think of anything else but these 3 kids and
the thousand things running through their heads in the
split moment between deciding to run, and deciding to
stay. and about this guy naming his gay hardcore band
after this one moment.
and this photo I have of him it looks like it was taken by
a lover. and the edges are a bit brown from the aging
darkroom chemicals eating away at the paper, from
where the stopbath didn’t reach all the corners. and i
imagine this photo – now taped next to my window –
has been passed from lover, to lover, to friend, to lover,
passing from one pair of faggot hands to another.

written and collaged by LM

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