Julia Fuckin’ Eff! (drops bullhorn, storms out of stuffy art symposium)
This zine is raw. I really liked it. I don’t know a lot of writers with the range to come up with poems as varied as ‘Rib of Adam’ ‘XXX’ and ‘Stomach Ache’, but damn you read Wastelands and it’s impressive how these moods and feelings and smart observations and toughness and tenderness can come out of the same person. And the words are wasps. In a plastic bag. In your dreams. Like you’ll dream these bags of words, and they’ll chase you, they’ll sting.
**Sidenote* can you believe bees killed MacCauley Culkin in that movie My Girl? That was sad as fuck**
If you can’t tell from this batch of write-ups, I mostly like zines where someone is going through an experience, living it; correspondence from the front line. Wastelands is no exception even though it’s poems, especially because it’s poems, It shows life on the road, trucker life, truckstop life, anxiety, mind-numbing american landscape travel, missing someone at home, missing something in someone. What I liked the most about this zine is how it opens with a poem called ‘Archetypes’ about ex lovers that I think people can relate to (archetypes, duh), but then later on there will be poems like ‘Coweredly Lyin’ and ‘Little/Big’ that are like inside jokes, that I don’t fully understand, that the reader can’t really fully understand because they are the author’s, and those 2 are my favorite.
I look forward to reading more. Order through Julia Eff’s online store