This House is Not a Landmark
This House is Not a Landmark is a zine about punkhouses, about ruined kitchens and basement shows and the deep summer blues. A split between Rust Belt Jessie of the Pioneers Press favorite Reckless Chants and Jesse Grease of Windmill zine, this rowdy and compassionate 24-pager brings a lot to the table: clean, engaging writing and great stories, under-surface American history (in the making) and characters you'll love (or in the case of the latex sex dude really not like). Here you'll get the true-life stories of the girl who hangs out on top the fridge 24/7, relationships racing/slouching toward their end, life and love in sick rooms and glory haircuts that take a village. This piece of modern life-living is full of hot-mess clutter and righteous noise and cheap beer. A damn good read.
I stare at the setting sun staining the clouds cotton candy colors, I sit here so long that the dirty tar roof stains the back of my pants. Just, just sit here with me for a minute. Look at those clouds. Sometimes I pretend they’re mountains. I pretend they’re the punk rock candy mountains - mountains I can easily climb, and on the other side, there are no parents who get upset about your queerness, there are no suicidal feelings, your favorite bands never break up and your favorite places never close down. There’s only punk rock records and cute zinesters and free beer forever. --RBJ
We drank to Cocaine Blues and told stories about the first song of Johnny’s we remembered hearing. Anne used to dance around the living to Boy Named Sue as a five year old. Different people came through all night sharing stories and laughs as we held this impromptu wake for the Man. Johnny Cash felt like one of us. Down in the mud with us. On the run from the cops with us. The next morning I emerged back onto the front porch with a Sunday Morning Coming Down sized hangover. -JG
24 pages, 5.5"x8.5", Saddle-stitched