Yes, I am aware that it looks like the love child of a late 1970s punk zine and a malfunctioning teletype machine. This is on purpose. You are not looking at a transitional form. This was a choice. I am making a statement.
“What the mass media offers is not popular art, but entertainment which is intended to be consumed like food, forgotten, and replaced by a new dish. This is bad for everyone; the majority lose all genuine taste of their own, and the minority become cultural snobs.”
W.H. Auden, The Poet & The City
I am tired of placing form over function. Like magpies we chase what’s shiny, rather than engaging with what’s meaningful. It ought to be more important to get the information out there than to present it in a pretty wrapper. The need for me to express myself should be a far higher priority than any consumer’s need for production value.
That’s what the punks were trying to teach us. OG zine culture preached that ethos. Generations of writers scribbled their hearts out on scraps of paper and banged away on impoverished typewriters with crooked keys to create great works of literature and philosophy.
The goal is to be human, not to erect the fairest façade.
Now turn off the TV, get away from the internet, and go read a book. Preferably one without pictures. You’ll feel better for it. Trust me.