By Rob Teixeira
Queer zines are just barely in their twenties. A history of a mere two decades of cultural dysfunction and, as Bruce LaBruce and G.B. Jones put it in their 1989 Maximum Rock & Roll article, “fucking punk up the ass” may seem premature. Yet in this murky genre that continues to challenge and overturn and re-interpret dominant histories, a few years can be a lifetime – the months and weeks between all but forgotten queer zines marking the emergence of new styles and attitudes that still reverberate today.
However premature a “history” of queer zines is in the grand scheme of things, there is the sense that something important, unique, and almost unprecedented occurred in the mid-to-late-80s that we are still trying to assess and come to terms with through the photocopied pages of today’s queer zines. What is this mysterious sensibility? Dennis Cooper put it best when, in a 1992 article in the Village Voice, he described the fervour surrounding early Toronto queer zine, J.D.’s – largely responsible for giving voice to the queer-punk style and its politics – as “combustible romanticism.”
A Brief History
You can’t have combustion without a spark. As far as I can tell (I should acknowledge the help of the friendly volunteers who maintain the Canadian Lesbian & Gay Archives here) the first “queer content” zine was called Faggots and Faggotry. It was a New York zine produced in the early 70s by Ralph Hall, active in the Gay Activists Alliance, a post-Stonewall radical gay movement. The zine was filled with homoerotic line drawings, poetry and political commentary. The content was largely personal reflections on love, sexuality and politics. Billed as the offering of “limp-wristed revolutionaries” and produced by FIRM, “Faggots International Revolutionary Movement” it’s an impressive zine of its time, a precursor to 80s zines that would fuse lifestyle and politics into a synergistic queer anarchist sensibility.
Hall’s zine should not to be confused with Fags and Faggotry, which was put out by Mike Niederman of London, Ontario almost a decade later. That zine was actually part of an on- going series published in the late 70s under the blanket title: Heartwar Fuckzine. Each issue was variously titled: “Vice Gets The Boot”, “Lust Pulls the Trigger”, “Fags & Faggotry”, “Good For You”, “Guns”, “Box”, “Pretty Music”, “Tuff” and “F+F”. The issue I’ve seen, the third, is “Fags & Faggotry: A Magazine of Searing Anarcho-faggotry” dated August 81. It’s printed on a variety of coloured paper stocks and features photographs of nude young men culled from what seem to be ’60s nudist catalogues (as well as gay porn). Great images aside, there are interesting articles excerpted from various sources including a piece on prison homosexuality (from BLOWUP) and an interview with Johnny Rotten (from Punk #8, March ’77). It’s a zine that nicely anticipates what would soon become a full blown subculture – “homocore” – the “queering” of punk. Indicative of the cross-fertilization that was occurring among queer zinesters at the time, Mike Niederman also credits the phenomena surrounding the Toronto zine J.D.’s as an influence on his work.
At around the same time we see the emergence of an eye- catching zine that was also noticeable due to its high circulation and its inclusion of ads. Published by Bill Elderado, the Toronto Rag appeared in 1980 and ran for at least five issues. Its flashy design, use of colour and collage, made it stand out – as did its 12″ length and 4″ wide format. Although not exclusively a queer zine, it reviewed gay and lesbian restaurants and bars, punk shows and had interesting commentary of local music, reviewing Toronto based acts like the Diodes and Rough Trade. It’s second issue contained a report on the huge demonstration by gays and lesbians to protest the cops raiding four Toronto bathhouses in February, 1981.
But a discernible queer punk style doesn’t really emerge until the publication of Toronto punk zine, Dr. Smith. Produced by Candy from 1984-1988, Dr. Smith is not really a queer zine at all. But don’t let that fool you, there is punk-lad love and punk dyke attitude amidst all those grainy photos of the supposedly macho punk/hardcore scene of the mid-80s that Dr. Smith carefully documents. Like the origin of the name – the Dr. Smith of the Lost in Space TV series who practically gropes young Will on camera – Dr. Smith (the zine) is a secret agent, infiltrating and perverting punk and exposing its subversive side, revealing that queers were always part of the terrain of punk, both in the pit and on the stage. Beyond its sly aesthetic, Dr. Smith, with a profusion of photos and interviews with the likes of Bunchofuckingoofs, Red Cross, and Rank and File, is a lost record of a time long gone.
Dr. Smith has the look of a classic punk fanzine, with lots of xeroxed photos and newspaper clippings of youth gangs and punks that surfaced in the mainstream media as a public concern. The underside of these clippings was a sense that public discomfort with the increasingly fragmented, freakish scene of early 80s punk rock was taking its toll against non- conformists: walking the streets at night, as every woman, queer, and “freak” knows, can be a dangerous thing. Reports of violence against her friends and other queers and punks led Candy to produce a zine dedicated to exposing all kinds of ‘queer- bashings’.
Called Fist in Your Face, the zine invited readers to “share in the pain” and accepted true first-hand experiences of victims of violence. Each issue sported an unsettling cover photo of a person with a black eye or mangled face. True stories from readers detailing harrowing experiences from back alley attacks to bar-room brawls were mixed in with media reports of celebrity misdemeanors.
The 1980s saw a lot of activity by zine publishers, punk/ hardcore musicians and underground film makers working in the Super-8 format. There was a loosely connected network of queer do-it-yourselfers, creators of a “counterculture” that supported each other’s work through mail-art and correspondence. It was inevitable, then, that a gathering to thrust queer faces and bodies into a single space for a few days would take place. The convergence finally happened at a national queer zine gathering in Chicago in May 1991. Billed SPEW by the organizer, Steve LaFreniere, and held at the Randolph Street Gallery, it was regarded as a watershed event, bringing together a wide array of alternative artists, punks and otherwise creative queers.
In one fruitful collaboration, precipitated by their meeting at SPEW, Mark Freitas, editor of the U.S. queer zine, P.C. Casualties (where some members of the Buzzcocks first “outed” themselves in print), met Joanna Brown, new to the homocore scene. Together they formed Homocore Chicago to produce queer punk concerts and events. On November 13, 1992 their first event, a Fifth Column show at the Czar Bar, was well attended and both were pleasantly surprised by the diversity of the crowd.
Homocore shows soon became regular events that held together a loose network of diverse queer musicians and bands including some that went on to more mainstream recognition such as Tribe 8, Team Dresch and Bikini Kill. A second SPEW, organized by Dennis Cooper and others in Los Angeles in the spring of 1992, attracted even more people than the first one.
The “anti-convention” SPEW 3 was held in May 1993 at the Buddies in Bad Times Theatre. The organizers tried to create a space that avoided the mere buying and selling of zines by holding informal discussions as an opportunity to meet and talk with others. Around 300 people showed up for an all-ages show with local bands, Ignatz and Chicken Milk, and Michigan’s MATCH. At the time of Spew in Toronto, Bruce LaBruce released his swan song to the zine scene with Monstar, “The last word in zines”, a fat wad of xeroxed text and photos aimed at detractors of the spectacle that is the on-going Bruce LaBruce phenomenon.
After Spew in Toronto, a couple of queer punks came together in the summer of 1994 to start putting on shows. Robert Johnson (known as RAW-Brt on promotional material) and friend K-RAN started scheming to book bands, artists and open mike readings under the name of Candy Machine Productions. One of the more popular series of events they put on was an underground film night held at Symptom Hall in October 1994 with the likes of Greta Snyder, G.B. Jones, Suzy Richter, Kika Thorne, John Porter, David Findlay and Jeanne B. These nights boasted some inspiring work from underground Super-8 film creators, and served to create a homocore ambiance that continued to emphasis and develop the sense of community that was the project of the various Spew gatherings.
Putting the Queer in Punk
The frenzied nature of SPEW, the homocore shows and zines such as J.D.’s and Candy’s Fist, all spoke to the increasing disaffection felt by queer fans of punk and hardcore. No longer satisfied with being an unheard sub-group of an already marginalized movement, and alienated by the sacred cows and conventions of a smug, commercialized gay and lesbian community, young queers created a scene in the 80s and early 90s as heady as it was heartfelt and seductive.
The divide between punk and queer, however, continued. The gay and lesbian community was cementing its roots into the social and political bedrock of the city, roots that supported an array of bars, stores and restaurants, made possible by a long process of political agitation. But, like colorful and odd species of vibrant marine life left struggling after the tide has gone out, punks, “New Wavers”, and other queers who didn’t fit in with the “clone” look were regularly treated with suspicion in the gay mainstream bars. What they experienced was an exclusion from the very spaces that were purportedly set up to provide a friendly space for all queers to meet. The political will that had helped carve out social space for queers turned in upon itself; a homogenous culture formed with strict codes of dress and conduct. G.B. Jones, co-founder, in 1986, of the queer-punk zine J.D.’s, tells her own story: “All the J.D.’s gang had been thrown out of every gay bar in Toronto by that point. It was obvious we weren’t consumers of the ‘right’ clothes, shoes, hairstyles, music and politics that the rigid gay and lesbian ‘community’ insisted on: we didn’t subscribe to the racism and misogyny and their ridiculous segregation of the sexes, either. Plus we were poor.”
Punk history has been a staple of publishing for many years now and the story has been re-told in a sizable amount of books, but the tale of queer in punk – inseparable from the queer zine movement – must be read between the lines. Jon Savage’s England’s Dreaming documents a burgeoning queer sensibility emerging from the adventurous Sex Shop run by Malcolm McClaren and Vivienne Westwood. Fashions that borrowed from the new gay sexual codes of S/M and camp appeared on T-shirts made by Westwood and worn by Sid Vicious and others. An already famous image is one drawn in the style of Tom of Finland, (an erotic gay male artist who drew exaggerated images of leather and uniform men) and worn by Sid Vicious; the image on the t-shirt depicts two cowboys in leather chaps facing each other with their cocks just a hair away from touching. Early New York punks like Patti Smith and the Ramones used gay and lesbian themes in their songs. “Redondo Beach” from the Horses album, is Patti Smith’s lesbian love dirge. The Ramones’ 1976 self-title album contains a song, “Fifty-Third and Third” that describes male hustlers working at that intersection in New York city.
Gender fucking has always had a place of pride in the history of rock as a whole: the Glam scene, David Bowie’s transformations, and U.S. singer Wayne County of Wayne County & The Electric Chairs, who eventually became transsexual Jane County, are just a few examples.
The contours of early gay culture (as demonstrated in the disco movement and later Glam Rock) had all the right elements for a burgeoning punk culture. Drawing style and fashion from fetish and sadomasochistic gay subcultures, the early punks borrowed sexual codes from a queer rights movement that championed cultural militancy.
G.B. Jones, Bruce LaBruce and the rise of J.D.’s
In the pantheon of D.I.Y. Queer-punk culture, G.B. Jones stands out as a woman who has persistently cultivated an intensely personal and political vision in her work. As the drummer-vocalist with all-girl punk band, Fifth Column, with band members Caroline Azar, and Beverly Breckenridge, Jones was instrumental in opening up “dyke-core” music to larger audiences. At the same time, Jones was also producing striking drawings of sexually aggressive punk dykes. Influenced by Tom of Finland (the “father of gay porn”), Jones’s “Tom Girl” drawings cultivated an aesthetic all their own, deconstructing the fetishization of the symbols of power in gay male porn and shifting these onto the eroticization of the female rebel and the revolutionary. One drawing depicts two tough and sexy punk women on a motorbike, on the run after stripping and tying a policewoman to a tree and inscribing the words “I am a fascist” on her uniform.
Then, in 1986, the stark first issue of a zine with just the title “J.D.’s” in grainy type face appeared. Edited by G.B. Jones and Bruce LaBruce who called themselves and their comrades, “The New Lavender Panthers”, the zine would exist for nine issues over the next five years and be the catalyst for the development of a discernible “homocore” subculture. For Jones, already a drummer-vocalist and a film maker, making zines was a natural part of the whole queer D.I.Y. thing. “Shut up and do it!” she’s been known to say playfully to her compatriots. Meanwhile Bruce LaBruce was producing and acting in Super-8 gay porn, playing in the band Zuzu’s Petals and go-go dancing for Fifth Column at some of their gigs. Together the duo would collaborate on each other’s ground-breaking queer-punk films. G.B. Jones produced Troublemakers and the Yo-Yo Gang and LaBruce came out with the gay film-circuit favourite No Skin Off My Ass, written by the duo. LaBruce has moved on to acquire a sort of succès de scandale in recent years and remains the toast of the queer film world with two more independent films, Super 81/2 and Hustler White. (I should say that though LaBruce has been indispensable in bringing radical sexual codes and queer desire to a larger audience, albeit with mixed results, his never changing on-screen persona has been known to inspire tedium in a grassroots suspicious of the kind of self-aggrandizement and over-exposure he cultivates.)
Right from the start, J.D.’s was a collaborative project. The idea sprung from the desire to push the punk scene further, to see how far a group of in-your- face-queers could go within the constraints of the punk subculture and the established gay scene. By the late 80s the gay movement and its development into a rigid gender system evoked a lifeless sexual politics that the J.D.’s creators railed against. In a February, 1989 article for Maximum Rock & Roll entitled, “Don’t Be Gay or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Fuck Punk Up the Ass”, Bruce LaBruce and G.B. Jones lob their invective at both punk and gay subcultures for failing to extend the boundaries of sexual politics: “The gay ‘movement’ as it exists now is a big farce, and we have nothing nice to say about it, so we won’t say anything at all, except that, ironically, it fails most miserably where it should be the most progressive–in its sexual politics. Specifically there is a segregation of the sexes where unity should exist, a veiled misogyny which privileges fag culture over dyke, and a fear of the expression of femininity which has led to the gruesome phenomenon of the ‘straight-acting’ gay male.”
In J.D.’s this serious accusation was presented more as a possibility. Over-xeroxed images of their nude friends (mainly punky boys) project a crazy primal eroticism, where danger and friendly fun seem to lurk together in half-cocked smiles. Earlier issues contain an ongoing story by LaBruce recounting, in confessional style, his sexual escapades with “Butch”, a sexy and laconic stud. Various issues also feature G.B. Jones’s “Tom Girl” drawings and the popular “J.D’s homo-core Top 10”. The homo-core mix tape originally started as just a joke, with Jones making a mix tape of punk bands doing songs with gay themes. But this term eventually took off, with the emergence of homocore hits, and a U.S. zine by the same name. Today, Jones uses the term “Queercore”, which she finds more inclusive of both genders, as well as the transgendered and bisexual. “But,” she says, “I still think ‘homocore’ is a fun word.”
For many participants and observers of the “movement” known as “homocore”, it is an amorphous network not easily categorized or pin-pointed. Homocore is rarely fixed in one locale but rather it exists as a loose network of musicians, zine producers and film-makers, with participants drawn from all over North America, Europe and Australia. I asked Jones if a sense of community, albeit an alternative one, was consciously pursued from the beginning with J.D.’s. Her reply betrayed unease with the whole idea:
“That kind of stuff makes me nervous. I’ve always thought of ‘community’ as something defined by geography, something which the queer zine scene never has been. In fact, it’s the opposite; anti-nationalistic, with equal amount of contempt for all governments, international borders and nationalist identity. And, although there are ‘scenes’ in lots of cities, it doesn’t confine itself to a ghetto; it lives in the mail, on the net, on record, on tape, on CD, on video and film and in zines.”
The pioneering zines of the 80s laid the groundwork for the new explosion of zines that was to come. Larry-bob (Laurence Roberts) editor of the long- standing queer zine Holy Titclamps has been compiling a prodigious list of queer zines that he collects and distributes under the title of Queer Zine Explosion. There are some 200 zines currently listed from North America, Europe, and Australia.
One of the more infamous zines of the ’90s is BIMBOX. BIMBOX is the creation of Toronto’s Johnny Noxzema and Rex Boy. Their zine is chock-full of acidic commentary on the state of the gay and lesbian community today. They position themselves as queer provocateurs and attack the state of the “gay union” for its stagnation into smug self-righteousness and commercialization. Their words are harsh – the equivalent of throwing a flaming molotov cocktail into the gay circuit party scene. They can (and have) been accused of being superficial and irresponsible at times – “All victims of gay bashing deserve what they get!” – went one of their missives. Although hard to stomach and easy to dismiss, their rhetoric exemplifies what political zines are meant to do best – they’re angry, intense, obsessive and anarchistic. Although made in Toronto, the antagonistic creators go out of their way to make the zine hard to find and relatively unavailable in Canada. (You can read it at the Gay and Lesbian Archives.)
The BIMBOX boys recently collaborated with Jena von Brücker (of Don’t Tell Jane and Frankie) and G.B. Jones to produce one of the stranger fanzines of recent years. Called Double Bill, it is a William Conrad fanzine that puts William Burroughs through the misogynistic meat-grinder. Conrad (of the Jake and the Fatman TV series) is held up as a kind helper and true companion of women while Burroughs is mocked and put on trial as a woman-hating murderer.
Pagan Queer Zines
Another exciting wave of queer zines seems to be emerging from the milieu of paganism, and what might be called “sex magick”. While paganism has always reflected a cadre of sexual non-conformists (what do you think the witch hunting in the 16th and 17th centuries was really all about?) the self declaration of queer paganism seems to be asserting itself with particularly magical power these days. In Canada there are at least four queer zine producers currently publishing whose productions find unique links between paganism and sexuality.
One of the most vocal and militant of these zines is This is the Salivation Army, edited by Scott Treleavan. With its penchant for wolf aesthetics, Army is an intrepid mixture of Brion Gysin-like visionary cut-ups, Aleister Crowley “Sex Magick”, and the visionary politics of Throbbing Gristle and Psychic TV. True to the homopunk form, Scott has also produced a video, Queercore: A Punkumentary, a visceral romp through some of the main movers and shakers of the underground queer-punk milieu in North America, complete with a queerpunk soundtrack.
Another notable zine is King of the Fairies by Glendon McKinney. This Toronto zine is dedicated to the wily world of Cape Breton fiddler Ashley MacIsaac. Detailing his every move, wrapping it up in fantasy, and personal reflection, King of the Fairies is an obsessive work, elegantly lucid in word and design (elegant being a word not often employed in connection with zines). Concert reviews, drawings, newspaper clippings, personal stories, erotic fantasies, and Celtic folklore and history, all combine to form an Ashley tapestry that continues to entrance, even after seven issues.
Leave it to the quixotic and endearing Infantile to mix up a fondness for postmodern theory, paganism, and queer culture in its own peculiar way. The editor Paul Zevenhuizen, an amiable and humble “neo-pagan, polytheistic queer” is on a playful mission to create some new mind-scapes for body and soul. “With my zine,” Paul told me, “I’m quite seriously trying to create another world, in the tradition of all the great utopian/ dystopian writers and thinkers. Not just to dream about one, but to actually cause it to exist by the force of my thinking.”
Infantile conjures up a medley of striking graphics, collages and bits of writing. In issue #9, for example, Paul produces an interview “from beyond the grave” with an activist of the infamous Baader/Meinhof gang, Gudrun Ensslin, who died in prison under mysterious circumstances in 1977. Paul, who sees zines as a space where dreams, inspiring rants, serious writing and strange humour all co-exist, wasn’t aware of many queer zines when he started.
“When I started my own zine I was not really at all familiar with other people’s works. The only one that I had come across was Hippiedick, put out by the late and much-lamented Gene Barnes of California. I’d seen an ad for it in RFD, the magazine for Radical Faeries, and assumed that it would be simply longhair porn.”
Each issue of Infantile carves out a little more of that mysterious pagan past, infusing it with relevant material for today, as a process in the vital art of living. Paul also takes a wry and witty look at the magickal arts providing pagan recipes and dissecting curious ancient rituals, all the while providing readers with feasts for the eyes and crotch in the form of fleshy nude nymphs shaped from commercial porn images.
Finally, Pamela Brown’s Paganda offers up a lively mix of stone circles, spiritual geometry, witches and sexuality for those looking for a more women-centered approach to the queer pagan world.
Another important movement I should mention is the rise of transgender/transsexual politics and its reflection in the queer culture zinescape. Gendertrash, out of Toronto, produced by Xanthra Phillippa and Mirha-Soleil Ross, reminds us that we shouldn’t take anything about our gender behaviour for granted, that our ‘performance’ as male and female, is largely socially conditioned by our culture’s definitions and restrictions on gender-roles. The strident message is not lost on queer cultural radicals, who are wise to the idea that before there was a discernible gay and lesbian movement there were individuals who were calling into question fixed gender ideas. The first issue, “Gendertrash from Hell” dated April/May 1993, contains poetry, rants on gender oppression, a re-interpretation of the film, The Crying Game, a personal account of a FTM transsexual’s journey, and practical items like electrolysis tips and community listings. Gendertrash lets those affected by gender-oppression speak on their own terms. The interview with “Hooker of the Year” Justine Piaget in the Fall 1993 issue helps to uncover the gap between TG/TS who work as prostitutes and those who don’t.
Where Gendertrash can come across as a humourless adult, Amanda Kelly’s Tranzine strives for a sweet, almost cloying, sense of childlike innocence. In this zine Amanda relates personal experiences and covers topics as varied as dressing for “success”, transgendered people in pornography, and her popular comic, “Little Trany Franny”.
Queer Zines: The Future
As long as a bland and commercialized mainstream gay culture pervades, there are going to be zines to rupture through some of that commodified narcissism. As long as there are still radical sexual ideas, as long as there are segregated gender bars in the gay scene, as long as there are HIV positive people who are treated badly by those who should know better, queer zines will continue to act as an important (sub) subcultural force. From sex workers to transsexuals, the seamier, grittier and more honest underside of queer culture can be found represented in queer zines and their homocore inspired up-front attitude. With so many “above-ground” glossies vying for the attention of “gay” dollars and reflecting limited lifestyle choices, the option of self-publishing and the potential for alternative community that comes along with zines is becoming ever more relevant and important. Queer Zines and queercore are, increasingly, the only alternatives to a growing gay monoculture. They also have an important place in the still developing world of zine culture as a whole.
Like zine culture in general, the queer zine scene is about pushing individual creative pursuits to the limit and countering the myth of “all-for-one and one-for-all” community. A disparate grouping that lacks any easy consensus, laudable all the more for its inherent diversity and autonomous creativity, queer zines don’t so much have a history as they do a mythology, a legacy, if you will, of provocation and individual empowerment. We’re a long way from the pseudo-coherence of 70s mantras like: “gay united and strong.” In the queer zines documented here and the many others around the world, difference is reveled in, taken for granted. So too is a politics irrevocably fused with play, irony, creativity, and, above all, sexuality. Perhaps there can never be a history of queer zines. In many ways, they represent the lost locales and forgotten moments that history fails to account for. Queer zines exist in a timeless place – “a new Golden Dawn,” as Paul from Infantile puts it, “where dreams are achieved, and lives are lived in fullness.”
Rob Teixeira is a regular contributor to Broken Pencil, a community health worker and queer visionary.
Queer Zine Explosion & Holy Titclamps
Larry-bob, Box 590488, SF, CA 94159-0488, email:
Dyke-core bands, queer zines and videos. G. B. Jones’ catalogue,
JD’s back issues available.
“Double Bill” (#5: The Final Issue)$3. P.O. Box 55, Station “E”
Toronto, ONT M6H 4E1
Send SASE for info. Box 476953 Chicago, IL 60647
Canadian Lesbian & Gay Archives
Good selection of queer zines; friendly staff. P.O. Box 639,
Station “A” Toronto, ONT M5W 1G2
Includes article “Anarchy, Punk & Queers” by Robynski. A report
on an anarchist gathering in
Peterborough. P.O. Box 271, Station “F” Toronto, ONT M4Y
Edited by yours truly. Queer political zine tackling issues like porn, queer youth sexuality, and porn-rings. Issue #3 contains an article on the London Porn arrests, fiction, poetry and original erotic images.
P.O. Box 271, Station “F” Toronto, ONT M4Y
Great lesbian political zine hailing from Guelph, with a pagan priestess slant.
Michele Coitus, c/o Get your laws off my body productions,
30 Neeve, Guelph, ONT
Fear Comics/Guilt Comics
by Maurice Vellekoop c/o Reactor Art & Design
51 Camden Street Toronto, ONT M5V 1V2
This zine produced by Joannie is chock-full of interesting material for and by women about their sexuality and other sundry topics.
48 Craig St. London, ONT
Pamela Brown, 113 Wolseley St., Toronto, ON, M6J 1K1
Splicing artwork, essay, poetry and photography, this is an exploration in gender and sexuality.
Michael Barker, Box 67539, RPO Spadina West, Toronto, ON, M5T 3B8.
King of the Fairies
Glendon McKinney, 91 Sackville St., Toronto, ON, M5A 3E6, $2
This Is The Salivation Army
Scott Treleaven, PO Box 67539, RPO Spadina West, Toronto, ON, M5T 3B8, $2
Paul, 16 Keystone Ave., Toronto, ON, M4C 1H1, $2
An abandoned diary of personal reflections on queer life.
Daryl and Laura, $2,
Box 22172 Regina, SK, S4S 7H4
Inventive and raw document about the travails of being HIV positive today.
Alex McClelland, $2,
20 Prince Arthur, Apt. 15G, Toronto, ONT M5R 1B1