Yesterday I copied issue two of functionally ill
. I'm very pleased with it, yet I've made so many zines lately that I don't have the energy to promote it, in the small ways I usually do, like posting about it on livejournal groups.
worker: Do you have a business?
worker: What are you making?
me: It's a... independent media project.
(ten minutes later)
worker: What kind of independent media project is it?
me: It's a zine? Are you familiar with?
me: It's like a home-made magazine.
worker: Huh. Is it just you?
me: Yeah, but there are a lot of people who do this. We trade. It's like a community.
worker: That's cool.
me: Maybe next time, I'll bring you a finished product.
worker: Yeah, that would be neat.
me: So you could see what it is I'm doing.
worker: You should.
This worker is the daughter of the owner of the place where they let me make three cent copies. She's smart and moving to Fair Oaks soon, where chickens run wild, and I got to telling her about Judy, the chicken I had when I was little. And the duck Tortilla.