Issue #9, Spring 1997

What can I say?

I don't even know what to write any more.

I write for a living. Every day I go to work, and become an instant expert on whatever topic is thrown at me. I interview someone, I read up on the background, and then I write about it. Sometimes I read it on the radio, sometimes other people read it. Sometimes it gets out of date so fast that nobody reads it. Any way you shake it, I write a lot, about a lot of things.

So when a few months go by and I feel like it's time to write another zine, more and more I'm stuck for things to say. If something pisses me off enough, I do a story about it at work, of course putting a newsy spin on it. If a topic interests me enough, I do a story about it. I end up with little to talk about, it seems. It seems. Maybe it just seems that way. Maybe I have a lot to say but just don't know where in my head it is.

I'm just afraid of becoming like so many other zines I see -- reviews, the occasional interview, a lot of xeroxed shitty skateboard pictures, maybe a top ten list, fake horoscope, and a bunch of ads. Crap Crap Crap. My instant spell checker says Crap isn't a valid word, but that's what most zines I see are. And I want to put out something more substantial than that. I've done some damn fine stuff in the past, and I want to continue doing that.

This minor rant to myself is among the first things I've written for issue #9, so who knows, I might come through in a crunch and put together a really great zine. Who knows...