textfiles/magazines/WHATEVER/wr12.txt

Gentle Ben:WR #12

     Five days without a shower makes you feel a little grungy, and maybe a
little more irritable than necessary.  When you can smell yourself, then
you've gone about a week too long without a shower.  Anyway, we got a ride
with some boring-as-hell Marine guy named Ian Smith (go figure.)  One of
the many things Chris and I did when travelling out here to the East Bay
was to take a journal of the thins we experienced.  Here are a few small
excerpts from this journal...
     "Counting the lines on the road out of boredom..Winning the Florida
1000, go speed racer."
     "Cauhahee River, Black Creek, Ogeecheee river, Kingshead swamp,
Cathead river, Little Turtle river, Aah creek, Jeranimo creek, Woman
hollering creek, Salitrillo creek, Blanco river, Buck creek road, Stink
creek road.  (These are all signs we saw off of Route-10 in the south.)"
     Somewhere in Southern Florida: We've been surviving off of 2 pounds of
bologna and 2 loaves of bread for 2 days now.  Good deal, $2.59 at some
remote convenience store in the sticks.
12-29-92 (7pm)
     Chris and I finally got out of Arlington, TX.  I'm losing my
memory...Life is trippy..We're watching the semi's take over Route-30...I
can't see anything; pitch black, the sky is beautiful.  I'm in a state of
total confusion, yet peace.  Time seems a bit drawn out...What is time
after all, doesn't mean much when you're young and without plans...

     New Orleans - Ritzy hotels and tennis courts on the ninth floor. 
Steaming swimming pool on the sixth floor, rich girl named Erin (from Texas
no less), showed us a little glamour and flashed cold hard cash before our
poor eyes.

     Wallisville, TX - Pulled off the road (I almost crashed a few times
from dozing off), tried to find a campground (there was a sign, but it was
20 years old)..Ended up surrounded by a swamp...Mosquito nesting ground. 
Slept for a few hours until they came for our blood.  We threw our bags in
the car and tried to take off; got stuck in the mud..Mosquitoes were
getting fiercer...Things were bad...Lit a smokebomb..Now we're in a gooey
swamp off of I-10.  Now what?  We took some pictures and laughed it off...A
big hick in a hick truck with a Bud-Light T-shirt saved us...Right out of
Dukes of Hazzard, I swear.  He made us breakfast, SAM WALLIS.  Turns out
his great grandfather founded the place.  He played Hank Williams tunes on
his ES330.  Real nice...Gave us a bottle of Cuervo..He said when you give
away alcohol the giver takes the first swig.  And just when you thought
you've seen it all.  "TEXAS: It's like a whole other country."
     Palo Pinto, TX - Gas station attendant: "You all be careful out
there."  Totally foreboding.  More concern about not wanting to see us
killed then a bit of friendly advice.
     Big Spring, TX - "By the skin of our teeth" is the trend of late.  We
got the car out of impound barely in time to get out of good 'ol Arlington
before we'd get arrested AGAIN for vagrancy.  We ran out of cash but made
it to the only ATM for 200 square miles.  We filled up the tank with
warning light screaming past Big Spring, the last big town we'll see until
El Paso.  However, things could be worse.  Some truckers do wave, some even
HONK.

Pull Quotes:   "Coolest road in the whole country without question: NOODLE
DOME ROAD - Mile marker #264 - Route 20 in Trent, Texas."

Whatever
Ramblings
Issue #12
(November 93 to February 1994)
Or something like that...

Chances are that you've never ever ever EVER read this like tiny thing. 
The truth is that I've been writing this for nearly 4 years and I'm only on
issue #12 (don't figure it out).  I'm a slacker piece of shit, and I'm the
first to admit it.  I have chose the path of slack, the domain of the
overwhelmingly unknown magazine.  Nevertheless, I still crank out an issue
a year (maybe two if I'm working) and am still very into continuing it.

You know, 'Zines are so big these days, which I suppose is cool.  But then
again, a 'zine is half a MAGAzine which kind of insinuates a certain
insulting air.  There was this whole idea of a certain group of people
could reach a certain audience which was certainly small and specific. 
Today, or actually, last week, I found a big article on 'Zines in the L.A.
Times Calendar section, which also means a billion reprints from other
newspapers.  A one-minute piece on 'Zines was also aired on CNN several
million times.  Even the tv tabloid shows had a field day with 'Zine
editors.  This is all FAT exposure which some Zinemakers are probably
loving, but then there are some that would rather be hunted out and ordered
via mail only for the price of postage.  All the slickness of magazines,
with their 4-color glossy pages and their general similarity to all the
others is plain boring as fuck.  Not only BORING but probably FULL OF SHIT
too.  See, Zinemakers don't have to worry about anything.  They don't earn
anything and they don't owe anything.  They say what they want, they talk
shit, missspelll things, waste paper, scribble in the margins, leave the
crop marks, smudge, spill coffee on the whole thing and STILL PRINT IT.  To
me it's all about being just another random guy in a world full of
randomness, striving to be a little less random than everyone else (random,
huh?)  I'm just a random piece of shit that wants to do a 'zine (that makes
me one in an estimated 25 thousand).  I'll allow my egocentricities and
eccentricities to flow as you can read on or throw this away.  Wait, don't
throw this away.  Hm..I don't WANT