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This weekend, following a certain trail guided and guarded by the punks I asked, I attended a zinefest. I made my time brief and my presence light. Tensions are high right now, and no one needed a 48-year-old stranger clad mostly in black asking questions or nosing around too much.
I contributed to my first zine in high school, in collaboration with some friends. It was called “Idiot Box”. In the next issue — to the surprise of no one — I can be found penning an enthusiastic review for the demo tape of a certain band. I have an agreement with those friends involved who I am still in contact with to keep the contents private. We were 15 or 16, somewhere in the wilderness of growing up, and the cringe I feel reviewing what we wrote today can be palpable.
Sometimes, I am amazed that zines and zinemaking continue, the world we live in being one where the prevailing logic is that things that do not exist on the Internet do not “count”. As Tik Tok shut down, some users screenshotted their follower count and posted it on other social media, memorializing their lost reach and “clout.” Ten hours later, it was back up, and the dance continued, connections with “followers” as brittle and lightweight as ever but still accumulated as currency.
Sometimes, I am ashamed that I am amazed that zines and zinemaking continue. It reflects buying in to a cynical logic; that the venue provided by social media and the internet is the only venue. What I saw walking around the zinefest was not a commerce-driven marketplace but one driven by ideas; folks were engaged in authentic and sustained conversations about issues that mattered to them. The zines on the table or blanket were a way to start the conversation, but the point was the conversation: one on one, person to person. That is what these folks were seeking out and finding; authentic connection. That is what we hoped to make when we made our zines so many years ago.
I send this column out weekly, using the Internet and this website, and I do so with the understanding that I do not know who reads it and how they react. It is one of many ways to get your creative work out there, and I am privileged to have your time and attention. But there are other ways, off the Internet, that live on and remain important. What I needed to do, especially right now, is to remember that.
