Zinesters are something like poets. There may be more makers of zines than consumers of them, so as a service to all I attend the Portland Zine Symposium each year with cash in pocket. Admission is free and most everything is radically under-priced – the message is “will you be my friend?” I never know what I am looking for, so discovery is tentative. Art, I guess.

All day on August 23 – 24, Smith Ballroom at PSU.

The walk away hit last year, after I made two new friends just by wandering around for 20 minutes was, “this is what life would be like without the internet.”

Well, much of the same for 2008. Mid-afternoon a pleasant company of 300+ tablers, gawkers, boyfriends and small time impresarios crowded in for a mix of anarchy lessons, live journaling, black humor, doodles, up-against-the-wall-motherfucker politics, and vegan recipe hints; a riot of self-publishers. You would have liked it.

The archetype of both the tablers and gawkers middled toward a mid-twenties snaggle-toothed girl with big tattoos, like Elizabeth Rocket, 19 and from Seattle, with a giant snapshot of Tobi Vail on her right bicep.

Pretty sure Tobi would have liked the Portland Zine Symposium too.

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