I Am (Not) Scissors Shirt
Took a trip downtown to Queen West today for Canzine. Took me a little while to figure out where on Queen Street I had to go, but thanks to a handy map I had everything figured out by the time I actually left the apartment and found the place without any problem. It was far more crowded than I expected, and I think (upon blog reading) that I missed one of the downstairs rooms of zines (goddamn!), but I still spent about an hour and a half wandering through the crowds and tables, flipping through zines, looking, reading. The crowd was more of a political and/or underground music/art sort of group than I'd been hoping for, and I think I may have stuck out from the crowd a little (though I did get a few compliments on my Om shirt), though it was still fun.
I ended up paying the voluntary admission fee and getting a copy of Broken Pencil
at the door. I argued with myself over this fee. On one hand, I want to support the people and the event; on the other, the donation was actually more than I usually spend on lunches for myself all week at school. (I will say, though, that I am seriously cheap and at times choose hunger over shelling out for yet more York food.) No debate over the issue of Broken Pencil
. For someone trying to find new and interesting zines, it's perfect.
One of the first tables that I found was giving away absolutely everything for free. I did not realize this at first, letting some seriously interesting zines and magazines slip away. Once I figured out the deal (by asking, curiously enough), I, well, took:
1. Room of One's Own: Celebrating the Best in Women's Literature
2. The winter 2002 issue of The Malahat Review
3. An issue of This
magazine (their slogan: Because everything is political.)
4. And the summer 2003 issue of the Ryerson Review of Journalism
. Don't know what inspired me to pick this one up and keep it, but I did and here it is, on my desk.
I picked up samplers and free issues wherever I could. Upstairs, however, there were tons of things that I wanted to buy, and I had to keep myself under careful control. I ended up buying:
A hand-sewn zine called syn: desultory
. Oddly shaped, aforementioned sewing, illustrations--all cool, but what made me leap at the chance to buy it was that it's freewritten. Or at least it reads like freewriting to me. Fantastic!
A wacky cloth-covered collection of pages, complete with sewn-on magazine picture. It's a journal.
Issue #14 of Highest Population of Rock Stars
, which reads as part journal, part freewriting, part illustrated wackiness.
Also by the same author as HPRS
, Issue #1 of Pumpkin
. Small, purple and wrapped in a red ribbon.
A paprika button. Random loveliness and spice combined.
A sequin-and-bead bird on a small spring. It was 25 cents, and a totally understandable purchase from someone with a strange obsession with small birds.
I headed back downstairs for one last look around when I stumbled across something new on a table I'd already visited. It was a black T-shirt with a small white picture of an open pair of scissors. Lord only knows why I wanted this shirt so much, but I did. The scissors shirt somehow encompassed everything cool and quirky that I enjoyed and excluded everything that I did not. I was scissors shirt. Scissors shirt was $15. After a desperate search through my bag I discovered that I had $12 and some pennies. No go. And the only ATM that I could find was out of order. It was a sign.
"Damn," I said. "That's what I get for giving donations."