Tag Archives: Hitchhiking

It’s All Happening

hey kids,

it’s all happening. if you haven’t seen almost famous, you’ve missed the ref. (and what’s up with you anyway? go see almost famous!) this past weekend i made a TON of headway in the Zine World and should be done this week, but y’all know i’ve been making that promise since december (major thanks to all the folks who’ve ordered and been super patient.)

basically, and this’ll make sense to other (newbie) zine writers out there, it took me so long to get the layout in order ’cause i’m shitty with numbers and all that stuff, and when i finally had the cash to get the base mother copy copied, the dude flipped the pages around and messed up the layout. also, part of my typewriter was melted in a house fire, so using it became an EXTREME pain in the ass, and that’s in addition to all the other analog issues it already has. again, other typewriter users will know what i’m sayin’.

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so, started from scratch, using my photocopied images, some new ones, vellum, contact paper, graph paper and copies of sketches. i made (er, am making) the mother copy as it would appear in it’s final form, then will lay it out on pages for photocopy time. either zinemaking is more difficult than others seem to lead on or, i’m a dumbass.

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i’ve taken out a lot of stuff, added in new stories and am trying to make it a good looking read overall. so if you haven’t ordered, please do! you can skim the Freestyle section of this site to get a feel for the kinda stories the zine carries. if $10 is too much for you, we can work out a reduced rate with trade, or just a reduced rate. i’m into all sorts of exchanges. free shipping to anywhere in the world!

it’s very exciting to see this thing finally being born, like for reals this time.

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Crazy Talk in Venezuela

 

I haven’t slept at night for over a week. Films, fancy cocktail parties, gay men everywhere and house music, dancing. A beautiful candlelit house sits at the top of a hill a professor with two dogs and a big kitchen inside. Candles because of Venezuela’s rolling power outages. This happened the other day when I was riding the elevator in Ninoska’s building; there was nothing to do but sit inside the pitch black box alone and wait. We’ve been hanging out with Miss Universe 2009 a few days now, we see her at everything. Music falling from the sky.

-Some old crap I dug up. I go on and on about how drunk I got, it’s stupid, so I’ll spare you. Did anyone else see On The Road? How much worse could it have been? I finished my book and will actually publish that zine I mentioned that one time especially since I’m moving away from my stoner household and in with my family on the coast because it’s free and I’ve convinced myself it will magically disable this procrastination mode I’m in.

Actually, I’ve never written so much in my life, but I convince myself I’m lame if I don’t put in ten hours a day, seven days a week #glamorouslifeofthetriverwriter #myopia

Anti-Travel Writing: A Thing

“Tourism is about the consumption of place. Like every other form of consumption, it is dependent upon brands. As Naomi Klein has pointed out, we live in the golden age of branding, and Majorca and Amsterdam and Hawaii and New Zealand are brands, as much as Levis or Calvin Klein.”
“Tourism today may be widespread, but it is subject to certain constraints. We may be able fly to a distant location for a holiday, but we are often able to spend only a brief period – a few days or a couple of weeks – there, before returning to dreary jobs and mechanical day to day routines. Travel has become the ‘other’ of work. Because we are often so busy at work, we choose to be indolent on holiday – to switch off cell phones and brains and lie on a beach. If we are obsequious at work, trying to impress or placate workmates or customers, then we can be selfish and demanding on holiday. Our interactions with the people and places we are visiting are often carefully mediated and commercialised. The inhabitants of the places we visit are more likely to be pouring us drinks than sitting talking to us over a drink. Life on a typical package holiday is as unbalanced, in its own way, as life in a modern workplace often is.”
– Scott Hamilton. Read the whole thing here

Making of a Zine

Organized chaos?

Everywhere All The Time #1 is a radical travel zine featuring tons of color photos, sketches and writings from all ova the place, wrapped in a vellum cover and completely typewritten on my Remington Streamliner. Click on the ‘read the zine’ button to pre-order for $5 now and get free shipping; remember I’m sending this shit from Ecuador!

More on what the heck ‘radical travel’ is…to come!

Bus Terminal Freestyle

I stood guard over Rocio’s pack and stared at the stuff being sold at the stands across the phone booths: long plastic bags stacked with small apples hanging from mysterious corners like appendages, lollipops of every color, fresh empanadas, bread wrapped in brown paper bags stained with margarine. An indigenous woman with two long braids sat on a stool between the stands and stared nowhere. Rocio said the call didn’t go through and I played with a tiny white puppy for a few minutes, I think. Who knows? Time flies when you’re playing with tiny white puppies at the bus terminal.
To the West, dark clouds hung low over the peaks, full of storm. To the East, the sun shown in a light blue sky and fluffy white clouds stuck onto it like balls of cotton. How could the sky fit all this contrasting madness? I hurt my neck checking it all out. This is Quito.
New York, NY by bani amor
So, an eleven hour bus ride. Rocio took the window seat and fell asleep. It took awhile escaping the city for it to transform into country – cows grazing on steep mountains, indigenous women sitting on stoops with green or black fedora hats, flowing blue velvet skirts and their faces in their palms. A deaf black man got on the bus and handed out little pieces of paper that read “there is no work for people like me.” I gave him fifty cents and he gave me tons of tamarind favored candy – hard on the outside with a soft, chewy center. I felt like they were the symbol of something foul. I felt guilty. I ate them all.