Thursday, May 13, 2010
Your Pretty Face is Going Straight to Hell #9/Telegram Ma’am #18
By Miss Tukru and Maranda Elizabeth
I went to the Brighton Zine Fest earlier this year and on the second night there was a dinner with bands and stuff performing. It was pretty fun. I drank rather a lot because I am terrible at social situations. I had multiple cans of cider, and when I finished those I still didn’t feel drunk enough, so I asked the goth girl sitting next to me if I could have some of her red wine.
Now if sober I would know not to drink red wine, and in fact had said I shouldn’t earlier in the evening, but by this point I was drunk enough to think it was a great idea. Soon my memories turned into a haze. The show ended, everyone went to a nearby pub. I flitted about talking to lots of people I don’t remember. Then I’m outside walking back to the house I’m staying at and I’m cold. Then I’m waking up the next morning hung over, still in my trousers, and lacking my hoodie.
I got up and examined my stuff to see if I’d lost anything. I still had my wallet and ID, but all of my zines were gone. I must have given them to other people while drunk. I also had candy wrappers in one pocket, and a copy of this zine in the other, presumably things people had given me in return for my zines. I stumbled around for the rest of the day terribly hungover and even worse at social situations, but I did at least manage to get my hoodie back by going back to the pub (where the girl tending bar asked if I was okay after the night before, what had I done?).
This is a split/flip perzine, and isn’t really the sort of thing that I usually go for, though I do really like the cover of Your Pretty Face is Going Straight to Hell. It’s full of social anxiety, depression, and other fun things like that (and which I am experiencing right now, drat), but none of it is really written in a style that appeals to me that much. At one point one of the authors writes “i don’t re-read what i’ve written.” (yes, with that capitalization), and I can’t really imagine doing that with any of my zines.
At least I’ve learnt (hopefully for the last time), to stop drinking red wine.