I’ve never been sure what all the fuss is about, really, but
when Aaron Cometbus publishes a title, it rockets around the zine world like a
meteorite over Siberia , all brightness &
vapor trails. Cometbus 55: Pen Pals takes a while to get going, but when it
does, the narrative reveals itself like a drunkard staggering out to surprise
you from a piss scented alley. Perhaps it is the second coming of Charles
Bukowski.
Ok, I’ll dispense with the metaphors. If you have ever been
touched by someone who simultaneously saw through your bullshit defenses and
still connected with you deeply, this zine is a captivating journey. Whether
you are from Berkeley or Boston , Cometbus 55 reads like a personal
history of a specific time and place, one that we've either have remembered,
half dreamt, or glimpsed from a distance. The postcards, letters, and
philosophical ramblings are just a bonus.
No comments:
Post a Comment