Glue Sticks Rule!

Freedom of the press, the old joke goes, is only free for people who own presses. At some point in the 1980s, though, advances in photocopy technology made text reproduction very, very inexpensive. This, along with copy shops' habit of staying open all night, spiked a sort of publishing frenzy: the zine revolution. For those not in the know, a "zine" is a lot like a magazine, only smaller, scrappier, and above all made by a person, not a company. The form was notably embraced by a group not famous for erudition: punk rockers. Angry teens cut-and-pasted their own visions into tiny, messy, chapbook-type "fanzines." Record reviews, scene reports, and snapshots of bands in action were rampant; in fact, one of the longest-lived zines, MaximumRocknRoll, is still mostly made up of these. The appeal of MRR is as it was at its start in 1982 -- writing by the punks, for the punks, and answering to no one but the punks. In a word, democratic.

Meanwhile, however, zine culture has branched out -- way out. Oddballs of all stripes have chimed in, with personal manifestoes, chronicles of obsessions, and travel stories abundant at places like Needles & Pens, the "Zine and DIY shop" on 14th Street, whose tiny space is packed with the ingenious, the funny, and the completely incomprehensible.

Zine Festcelebrates this almost-perfect freedom of the copy machine, featuring publications like Bedwetter, electricfemme, and Morbid Curiosity. The event's organizers say they started it last year to create a sense of community among scribblers and to foster diversity: "Zines create accessibility," says Jenn Star of zine distribution company Starfiend Distro via e-mail. "It's a medium through which writers can get their work out. ... It's a medium through which readers can be exposed to a much wider range of thoughts." Just imagine the thoughts, for example, contained in post apocalyptic funhouse, The Adventures of Blue Hoodie, or quagga. Maximum rock 'n' roll.