These zines are not unlike the angry haze we all — one way or another — find ourselves in on a regular basis. Excerpts, dreams, recollections, Angela was once convinced that she was the daughter of the Cure’s Robert Smith. A blank pastiche, too much, maybe, but notable for the dark precision of its melancholy, like a knife-point you keep testing…But hey, why get angry when you can get even? Hope’s Spanish Eyes is more poetic. There’s a lilting, lisping quality to the writing. It is less than style, and more than subconsciousness. It’s a particular way of saying something, it’s grammatical and it’s conceptual, “i still got my head you know, or maybe its jealousy, paranoia, selfishness, could be all.” Words missing, verbs misplaced, it works to give the prose poems a little breathing space, something beyond the immediacies and confusions of the moment. And so we fall easily into Angela’s angers, finding, then, that she has emptied herself out with a facile ease that begets conclusion.
zine main creator: Angela 50 cents each 1650 Lewes Way, Mississauga, ON, L4W 3L2