What it Means to Feel a Zine
Pop Quiz: Do you know what punks during 1970s Britain and Thomas Paine have in common?
They were all zinesters.
Long before bloggers, long before the internet, there was an invention that would revolutionize communication forever. It was the printing press, and it allowed individuals to easily mass-produce literature.
Today, most of us take print media for granted. It’s been here since before we were born, and we assume it will be here long after our deaths. Books and pamphlets litter many of our homes. There are libraries dotting the world. People even hand fliers to us as we walk by the local sushi bar.
We’re surrounded by print.
Once, however, inked restaurant menus and international passports just didn’t exist. Once (and as bizarre as this may sound to the younger crowd), the internet didn’t exist. We couldn’t click on websites to get a phone number, we couldn’t MySpace or Facebook one another, and we definitely couldn’t send mail in less time than it takes to clip our toenails. We couldn’t blog.
However, we could communicate, and zines were just one of the many ways people shared their ideas, opinions, and art. At times, zines even served as cultural booms, igniting change and spreading hope.
For years, I’ve been a zinester, I’ve bought zines, and I’ve peeled through hundreds of pages of independent art, poetry, and manifesto. There’s a romance about the printed word, about the time and dedication embedded into the pages of hand-forged mini-magazines.
There’s a voice hidden deep within society. A pulsing crush of logical want and illogical fancy. A human voice.
Sometimes I fear that blogs can’t capture that essence. That roar. But then, perhaps I’m just craving the caress of my old lover, a selfish one that demands time and sacrifice, but offers the gentlest kiss I’ve ever known.
Nestled somewhere between a plethora of entangled weeds and a shallow pond, swirling with a kaleidoscope of graceful guppies, I have resided for some twenty-one years. During the evenings, when the moon has splotched the earth with translucent paint, you may be able to find me dining on danish and sipping sour-apple tea.
The La La Theory is a zine about language. It's written by Katie Haegele, and Issue #2 is about the word "widow."
