How do I love zines? Let me count the ways.
I love the way you come from people who are earnest and sincere in their interests, hobbies, rants and raves. I love the way you speak to me with a voice untainted by large corporations and media outlets. I love the way you sniggle into my heart, limping in on a postage stamp that costs more and more until you fear you cannot eek out another. (It only makes you more precious.)
I love the way you tell me what you think, what you know, what you wonder, ponder, love and hate. I know you really mean it unless you are an Intelligence operative assigned to cover small zines. But, conspiracy theorist that I am, even I think that you are too small potatoes for those three-lettered agencies that inspire four-letter outbursts.
I love it when you do things fancy on a computer with desktop software and I love it when you use an old fashioned and obsolete typewriter. I love it when you have photos and illustrations and when you do not.
It is the ESSENCE of you I love, sweet zines. I may greatly oppose some ideas in many zines, yet I am so glad you had the freedom to write them and I love your spirit in speaking to the world in a way that reminds me of passing a note in a bottle in the ocean or writing a note on a piece of paper in a schoolroom that will turn into a spitwad and be thrown and often lost...
You remind me of those autographs we used to get from other kids in our school albums or autograph books at the end of the school years. There is something of the sentimental memorabalia about you.
You are small, you are cheap, and you are not made for corporate profit. You are interesting and stimulating and you are art.
Thank you to the zine writers and producers.