zerstören: to destroy.

Or: How I'm Not-Coping This Evening, by julia eff.

This zine is a dispatch from the last big night of the crumbling orange empire, written on an Election Night different from all the others--something like a State Of The Union (if "the Union" is my broken shitty body & increasing anxiety over political uncertainty) & a plea for clemency & a cry of desperation all at the same time. Unrest, restlessness, fear of how far we've slipped & everything we've already lost, and choosing to look back when looking forward is just too goddamn frightening.

It's also a document of life as a disabled person on the other side of COVID infection with no choice but to keep working til my bones dissolve, with a side helping of how essential workers are getting shafted after eight solid months of pandemic; a love letter to my friends; a story about Halloween; a reflection on metal fandom & trauma survival & all the fear the last four years has bottled up in me; all the different weird ways we cope & me trying to sort my shit out in realtime cuz I didn't sign up for this, none of us signed up for this, but we're still out here sticking together with bonds thicker than water & just trying to make it through another day, one bootleg at a time.

I know it's false hope but I truly hope I never have to write one of these ever again.

stay safe out there. take care of yourself. x

This zine is 36 pages, eighth legal size (3.5 x 4.25), handwritten, and fully collaged.