excerpt from a letter about the fest

I'm still exhausted from yesterday. Being so
social for so long took everything out of me.

The guy tabling next to me was great. He wore a top hat and
drew things. He wasn't selling anything--he was just promoting his
web comics and his lit zine. He was enthusiastic and nice, but I
heard his spiels to fest visitors over and over. He drew me a picture
to give to a friend, and I hugged him.

I made $4. I sold a medium mini-journal and a small mini-journal.
Then someone wanted functionally ill 7 but didn't want to draw
something, so she offered a dollar and I accepted.

I got some zines and bought a beautiful book of fifty 50-word stories. I
met a guy named J who I liked. I bonded with the people I
went there with.

It was hard carrying things around--I brought a camping chair for
M to sit, but there wasn't room at the table.

I was writing a letter to my friend J the whole time, so it was nice
to have her to talk to.

Very few people took even the free zines. I don't know what it is.
Many fest visitors, their eyes just passed over my zines like they
didn't exist. I don't know why. I tried not to take it personally.
Maybe they were only there for books? But I would think readers would
like zines too. I'm glad I had a description of functionally ill on
the table, just a sentence. If I hadn't, even less people would have
been interested.

All in all, I don't think I'll ever do it again, but there were nice
things about it.

I didn't get many drawings. H drew two things, and M drew
two things. My friend K who lives in Berkeley paid a visit, and
she drew Underwater Piano. The drawings are good and funny. Maybe
I'll scan them.