Only a week before the zine fair and I am still drafting the stupid thing. I don't why I thought I wanted to do this. Maybe the location of the fair has its appeal, on a pier under the shadow of the harbour bridge. Or maybe I just wanted to sell small pieces of my brain so that when mine fails there are fragments out there in the universe. I don't know. I am all tension and my brain is filled with the flapping of deadlines. I regret the decision to turn myself into an experiment, I have lost the ability to look into next week and see footstep by footstep where I will be and how I will feel about it. This is me being brave.
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