Going back to my roots...and by roots, I mean one-sheet zines of dubious quality.

Toxic nostalgia, the sort of pining about small-town adolescence I only ever get up to when the weather's like this, coffee, and my awesomely brilliant/stupid idea to hold a zine fest in the middle of fuck-nowhere.

This zine is 8 pages, tiny size, photocopied, and comes with a super surprise fold-out middle!

"[A] plea for smallness, for rural zine fests and connectivity that goes beyond the numbing web of social media lameness. It's about friendship and ... the beauty and joy in digging for culture in a cultureless town." --Adam Gnade, of The DIY Guide To Fighting the Big Motherfuckin' Sad