Finally! Since I’ve been back I’ve checked my mail box multiple times a day; looking for manila envelopes that should have arrived while I was away. Sometimes I think Canada Post holds on to my desirable mail till they can deliver several at once. They did open the packages, maybe someone was reading these zines on break.
I grew up playing in the nearby graveyard, feel butterflies when I see a local cemetery and get disgruntled when no one else in the car wants to pull over and explore; left to my own devices I will always make time for a graveyard no matter how big or small. When MissMuffcake released her Cemetery Gates zine I also ordered a couple from her long running series; The Stay at Home Girlfriend and even though it’s spring, I can’t resist anything themed after the spookiest time of the year and picked her Easy Vegan Fall Issue recipe zine. She also put in a rad little Graveyard Girl booklet and a Taphophile button. I will wear it with pride to work tomorrow. Thanks Kendy -this is awesome- I’ll be back for more!
Jessie Lynn McMains aka Rust Belt Jessie is working on a book of nostalgia called What We Talk About When We Talk About Punk. I dig Jessie’s writing and supported her fundraiser towards getting it published. She sent two short stories she had cut from the book: Treehouse and Insect Summer.
I feel like I’ve had no brakes, going full throttle all week. I had one day off then started back at the shop which was busy being the long weekend. I called one customer a misogynist and as a passive aggressive reaction to another customer I side hucked a book across the counter. As the book projected from my hand, my brain went ‘Ohhh fuck Lysette control your temper!’ At least he didn’t see me do it and my friend, who was behind the counter with me and was almost hit by the flying book, helped talk me out of my overwhelmed state. I am so grateful for his infinite patience. With only a month til my next contract at the farm for the summer, I’m trying to tackle house stuff too. I spent yesterday mixing and pouring concrete in the unfinished basement and parging gaps where small chunks of wood have long rotted out of the hundred year old walls. Today it’s stucco patching and as many landscaping dump runs as I can fit in before returning my brother’s truck. At the end of the day when my spirit is beat and body battered nothing is better than reading a personal and resonant journey, handcrafted, photocopied, folded and stapled. Long live the zine!