David Wojnarowicz (born Red Bank, NJ, 14 September 1954 – 22 July 1992)
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David Wojnarowicz (born Red Bank, NJ, 14 September 1954 – 22 July 1992)
annual parasitic attack in our household in the form of worms that form a knot in my abdomen for days I cannot sleep well and a lingering un
not to be obvious but WHO is doing it like toni morrison (jazz, 1992)
nighttime blues and greens driving home with my friend playing the song i’ve heard so many times before didn’t realise it was big dreams followed by dreams. didn’t know things can so easily be so easy again just a flick of the switch and all the lights in all the rooms are back on. the buzz of the wires behind the walls is beautiful and warm when i press my cheek to it. you can go now if you want but i’ll miss you forever
— Frank Bidart, from “Half-light: Collected Poems 1965-2016; 'Guilty of Dust'”, published c. 2017.
10:15 - Infinite laundry cycles every day I peer into the machine as it swirls the dirt and sweat out of our clothes. When things come out they smell clean, lavender and soap, no longer like us.
10:16 - I hang the clothes out one by one on the railing of our staircase. I use the ornamental curves of its design to hang smaller pieces; the larger ones I shake out, set to shape, and drape over the handle.
10:17 - I love the ritual of it, the care taken for every single item, nothing rushed, nothing crumpled, by the time the clothes dry they are ready to be put on the body. What body? My tired body, here, your tired body, there, separated for now, tired more than ever for now.
10:18 - It's quick, then, the disintegration of smells and routines and fondnesses. Sometimes in your eyes I see a flicker of resentment, upset that I misinterpret as anger, what use is this anger, why is it directed at me, I don't understand.
10:19 - In our misunderstandings we keep missing each other, it's like we are stepping away from the center line, we don't collide, we don't meet, something keeps slipping past, it's not meant to be like this, but it is like this, but it's not meant to be, it feels wrong, I feel deranged by it.
10:20 - When I try to touch my own body I break apart my sadness into seeds that propagate. It's too painful, even more painful than someone else's hand, with someone else I can eat their presence.
10:21 - With myself I have only myself, unbearable. I am sitting in my throne of five hundred wet clothes. It is raining outside, lightly, I can't hear it but I can feel it. There's a catch in my neck from something I did in my sleep.
10:22 - I don't remember, it doesn't matter, it'll work itself out --
Frances Arno Saphro (Ukrainian, 1877-1962) 2 Art Deco Tapestries, 1940s
Material Culture
21:24 - The most beautiful sunset in the world every time
21:25 - I remember the other most beautiful sunsets in the world I had the chance to see so many of them alone and so many of them with my beautiful friends whose faces I have lost in remembering but whose laughter I remember, a hand pressed against mine in the metro, or a cigarette shared between us as we weave in and out of a crowded street.
21:26 - It was so long ago how can I still know these details but I do somehow in fact I remember better than ever the long-agos the missed-outs. I crossed out so many letters from my text but they were still there when I counted them. Well that's enough for now isn't it. Sweet sweet love that never ends.
21:27 - Falling out of love is quick but falling back into love is difficult it requires overcoming many hurdles. I am not accustomed to this laborious task but I work dedicatedly towards it, I know I can do it, how, but I know, but how, but I am certain that I can, and it is this certainty that I lay the tracks down on.
21:28 - I understand the passage of time the same as I ever have the same as the first time I conceived of time. It came easily to me even though it was meant to be challenging but I know the difference between minutes and seconds because I watched the numbers change on the microwave screen.
21:29 - The first of my beloved machines into whose face I would peer and watch the bottle spin in the golden light and then press the button right before the DING! to check the temperature. Then climb the steps down from the microwave back into the groundspace, the housespace, surface shared by everyone else.
21:30 - Today the smoke across the horizon covered and sheltered the sun I thought it was like tufts of cotton S thought it looked like a war scene we were both right in our own ways.
23:57 - I'm very into you are you very into me or have we slipped so swift into this spiral we are sliding down into the throat of time where we will be gulped inwards and forever lost. Are we so into each other we are no longer apart and thus no longer together.
23:58 - Prodigal daughter missing all their fucking calls if I never get to speak to my father again I will be all the better for it. It should have happened years ago the branch snapped before I leaned any weight on it.
23:59 - Instead another grand betrayal of my lifetime another misstep I will have to hold on to, hold myself against, hold against the world, I will have to bear this weight forever, the weight of not-forgiving. Somehow the more difficult one.
00:00 - I am somehow the more difficult one in every equation as much as I small myself as much as I deter myself. The largeness of my desire terrifies and shames me which is not what I want to feel at this age. I do not want to cower in the face of consequences I want to throw myself into any sea that can take me.
00:01 - In that I want to be free. Free from what? From responsibilities, tethers, caregiving, etc.? No, but free to touch, to feel love, to feel loved, etc. If I could go back and restructure our entire framework I would because I know better now I know myself better now.
00:02 - You would have seen me through / but I could not undo my desire. In the kitchen the words spoken for me. Already you know and I know and I want to leave some room for doubt but doubt is the room we stand in. The floor is sweating doubt, the counters are floured with it.
19:24 - My urges are not impulsive as in untrustworthy they are instinctive as in they are instructions from god. Within half a day I rearrange my house I shave two years' worth of hair off I begin a book that is made of nothing.
19:25 - What does it mean to start writing a new book how do I know if this is the one. This is the one I know it. To me it has the feeling of tearing a fruit apart. My hands are sticky and the air is sweet. It's unforgiveable. Impossible not to think of birth, which means it is impossible not to think of death. I love the end.
19:26 - I love. The end. Holding hands with my friends is the best story I ever read. How many more how many more times will I get to rest my head against your shoulder. Beautiful new friend who clatters around my kitchen in the dark at five a.m. what did I do without you what did I do before you.
19:27 - Cleaning the same house I have lived in for years makes it new the same way shaving my head makes me new the same way waking up and looking out the window makes the world new these are such simple and perhaps petty truths but I love them I do. How easy it is to start over. What am I hoping for when I reach out in the darkness who is going to be there to press their cheek against me.
19:28 - Old friends and new they will be there with their arms open and their memories charged with decades' of knowledge that has slipped me by. I have been told so many times that I am full of lies that I no longer trust what I have said, done, thought, been through, but my record keepers are faithful, they remind me of me, they are me sometimes more concretely than myself. I write in the most unbearably small hand.
19:29 - So many years apart but I knew in my heart I knew it with such belief that we would trace the same arc along the horizon me and you who are inevitably bound to one another. This I know is love too but it's not a love that I want to encourage it's a love I just have to live with.
19:30 - A love I live with the way I live with my limp, one leg dragging behind the other, my knee that collapses without warning, I live with it, I anticipate its failures, I go so far as to even accept it, I take care of it, that's what it's like to love you now, I don't have a choice but to tend to it.
19:31 - But if I had a choice would I rid myself of it. I tried and tried but I could not. There is no point in thinking about what would happen if I had a choice. I do not! I never will! That's the kind of beginning I want to write: stuckness, flowers in hand, catching my best friend's tears on my tongue like snowflakes.
10:14 - How could you how could I how could I what how could it at all. The moment lapsed time yanked its skirt back up to reveal its long-long limbs. I have no choice but to bend over for it. I didn't know it would happen again like this why did I not know. 10:15 - Endless refrain of my life: It is only in my aloneness that I am alive. I shrink when overtaken by others, I shiver when pressed, I am only at ease when I am with myself, and then, from there, from that origin, set off.
10:16 - Gertrude Stein says to act as if there is no center. I agree, there is no center, the arcs flow from anywhere I load my weapon, it could be my shoulder, my waist, my elbow, it could be my solitude, my dark delicious solitude, it melts on the tongue, it's bewildering and beautiful. 10:17 - I just knew it I just knew you would change too if I changed. In some ways you are as you have always been as you have been for more than a decade my ideal companion. You change so rapidly so abruptly only I can keep up, I who also changes so rapidly so abruptly with no warning whatsoever.
10:18 - I am scavenging for your new name are you scavenging for mine. Do you want to know what my hands are like now they are stronger than ever. I want to know what your hands are like now I want to know what you smell like is it the same enchanting perfume or is it something new. Would I find it repulsive now.
10:19 - Our youth is over but our you keeps going. So many years separated no contact on this plane and yet when you pull at the thread that ties us I feel it, I pull back, I tug harder, you respond to my message, you are so far away, can you feel me, I know you can, I know you can.
10:20 - I know you can because I can too, I can feel you all the time. I barely remember your face, your small (?) eyes, your crooked (?) teeth, your large (?) nose. Is your hair long or short. Do you have a soft belly now or is it blank, flat, grumbling.
10:21 - Because you knew how to hate me I know you knew how to love me unconditionally, whatever of me I gave you you had a powerful reaction to. Parsing through old text I realise how much I pushed back at you, how honest I was, how I said: I imagined my future and it stunned me to think that I would spend my life with someone so insensitive. 10:22 - I said: I want to be alone, I cannot do this. I just don't want to. I don't know how you responded because all that remains of the archive is my side, your text is gone, you are gone from it, there are blanks where I can imagine what you must have said. 10:23 - How I would have loved you if you were a woman, well, did you become one, are you one, were you always, did I challenge that in you, did I push something too hard, did I hurt you. It doesn't matter, we are both where we always were, in opposition, which is unbelievably intimate.
10:24 - In opposition to you I find your absence which is confronted by my own absence. I am losing myself to something, someone, all the time. Where are you where am I where are you --
hiiiiii it’s been a while and tumblr deleted my art blog, but i’m planning on taking some commissions this summer, if anyone is interested!!!
i make little hand painted (not digital) watercolor portraits of pets/stuffies/anything you want
* lightfast paints and 100% archival ink (you can hang them up without them fading)
* 100% cotton watercolor paper
* i mail them out you will get the real thing (US-based)
BUSTS: $30 // 6x9in
FULL BODIES: $50 // 9x6in
GROUPS: $40 per figure // 9x12in
if you have any questions, want to see more samples, or you’re interested please feel free to reach out on here or at my email [email protected]
*ALSO if you are interested but my pricing is too high please let me know and we can work something out. i raised my prices this time around cuz of The Economy but i really want people to have them if they want them*
4/4 slots open
writing all these silly lines could have been easier but for now i’m imagining a wildly different life that hurts to snap out of
a decade, more, again, i’m mid-air, Y, and you’ve thrown my sky the grandest affair
b r usH ed t he ma ne Of ev e R Y mon st Er m Y
lo ve W e tr ieD i t
A ll n O lo ng er Fr i end
i c an cA l l but
I fe el Y r he a rt & fe el
m Y he ar T
le ash Ed
to Y rs
5PARTYPOEM
Button's got four holes ready to be filled, diagonal/crossed, up-down-up-down, thrilled
to be pleasure-swilled like that, 'solutely drowned, Button sucked, strapped, struck, beat, bound,
boys surround him, if two's a party Button's got 'round twenty now, he's slick, swanky, he's hot
-shit clanking his tin head against the cage, don't get him wrong, Button's dead-serious, he's aged
here, in the "scene", underground, where dark eyes find openings 'nd needles push thru sound, the guys
know him inside-out, they kiss his reddened scars, they make love to all his mouths, they don't care
who Button's been, for real, they see him, they get him, they stuff him to the brim, don't mistake this for some shallow thing, it's Button's whole life on the upswing four holes agape, it's no joke, it's how he attaches himself to surfaces, sows
himself in, latches part to part, a simple heart, then start
over, Button, keep that chin tucked, crossed/diagonal, down-up-down-up
Excerpt of "East Boston, 1966" from God's Silence - Franz Wright