Weird Confession: I once was so overcome by reading a particular novel, that when my eyes took in the last line on the last page…
tears fell from my eyes and splotted the paper
and some weird thing came over me.
I pressed my face to the book and licked the author’s name,
so I could hold the story inside me for a little bit longer.
It was instinctual.
Physical and real.

I’m an analog girl in a digital world.
I want to touch it.
I want to hold it in my hands.
Fuck your Kindles, I want hard bound books
I want to feel the pages with my fingers.
I want the sound of a Poloroid whirl and a picture I shake to watch it all develop before my eyes.
I want to pin that picture on my wall with a thumbtack.
A fucking real thing. Not a .jpg to be lost in some vastness of iPhoto.
And here…..
on Danger Diary….
I use the power of the internet
to try and touch your soul…
but you can’t hold me in your hands,
and you know I want you to.

KIM BOEKBINDER AND I ARE MAKING A ZINE, PEOPLE!

This is the 3rd edition of Kim’s brilliant Boek Book zine, and she asked me to collaborate with her on this one.
We are cutting things up and pasting them down.
We are taking Poloroids and scrawling messages on them in our own hands.
We are click clacking our fingers on typewriters with ink and hum and lust.
We are cutting those things up and photocoping it all.
So you can hold us.
Wherever in the world you are….
A thing we made every inch of.

I feel alive making this right now.
It feels good to be on a floor littered with scraps of paper
as orange handled scissors fit into the curve of my hands.

As I write things in my shaky cursive script on a page
it feels more intimate than writing on a keyboard that produces my thoughts neatly in Times New Roman font.

I exist in the world.
YOU exist in the world.
We are not just fucking icons and emoticons and filtered down selfies.
I want more of you than that.
And in those moments when we can physically march outside in the streets in peaceful protest of fucked up things,
the moments when I can press a hand-written letter you wrote to my heart,
the moments when I tack a Poloroid of us by my front door that I can kiss when I walk by and smile.
How can we gain more of those moments?
How can we push ourselves out there in the wilds of the physical world
and “do” with our actions
and “create” with our hands
and speak out to make an impact with our voices in the physical world?
I love the internet and I love being able to connect with you here….
but it needs to be more than that.
We can marry the analog and the digital for a powerful world.
We cannot leave one or the other behind.

Tonight, my 2 broken toes and 8 good ones
will wander to the East Village
by a certain magical fire escape
in a place where wolves howl in a dead fireplace…
and Kim and I will make a song to go with the zine.
You will be able to hold us in your hands
and hear our voices sing to you in your ears
and we
can be
together.

Tomorrow – December 3rd.
Come back here and we will tell you all.
A limited secret treasure
in a little span of human time
that disappears.
But we will be here always
smiling into the bright light of the Poloroid flash
alive
real
on a hardwood floor in an East Village apartment
cutting up a dream and pasting it into the physical world.

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