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Mark Hinjosa:  Keith Haring painting a Mural  (1987)

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aww hi I miss my little content dump

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QUARANZINE #40

QUARANZINE #40: Oswaldo García. The second zine of the day is also the first issue from Mexico. I met Oswaldo at the wonderful book fair and gathering Rrréplica in CDMX and we became fast publishing pals. It has been wonderful to watch his press Gold Rain evolve and create many new publications since then. We would have reunited at the L.A. Art Book Fair organized by Printed Matter earlier this month, but sadly you know why that didn’t happen. Here Oswaldo provides a melancholy report from the state of his studio’s location. The photo of playground equipment that cannot be used could have just as easily been taken a block from my home in Chicago. I should note that like a gringo fool, I missed the accent over the ‘i’ in Oswaldo’s last name, but he was extremely cool about it. I hate making those kinds of mistakes. 

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funny how when you have to write, when you’re on deadline, that you don’t want to stop typing yet you can’t write this assignment at all...cool yeah let me just start a new rambly chapbook of all my half finished poetry and favorite copypastes yes yes that’s what I’ll do at exactly this moment

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my tumblr turned 10 today!!!!!!! my tumblr is a scorpio!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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a short story where the main character tries to find out how their ex is doing by drawing too many conclusions from their cryptic venmo payments

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it’s that time of year where i dream of making a zine again

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A dream - we stopped at a rest area outside of Charlotte and met a group of older people looking to get into town. I was coming back towards the airport anyway and thought we could carpool then come back in time for our flights. Don’t remember who or why or how but I was with a guy - we were still in the honeymoon phase and the whole trip was a bit of a romantic getaway. We made it into town and ended up hanging out on a veranda - there was a bed there, TV set up, my new man climbs in naked and pressures me to join. The group of oldies come back just as my guys getting up to change the channel, flashes them all. They pretend to ignore. I worry about kissing in public. They ask if we can head back to the airport now. Guy and I are back in NYC, at an art opening - really a performance piece, seems to be inside of a high school gym but we’re standing outside in the lobby looking at the action from the doorway. People I don’t recognize greet me emphatically. All the lights are off except for a spot. Performance starts, out comes a Corgi shaking and running around. Flops onto a miniature bed. Gets out. Does some twirls. Turns on a TV that speaks for him. “Ladies and Gentlemen, please give it up for esteemed drummer” - my guy.

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halloween 2019?

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Elvia Wilk for T Magazine