You never know where or when you will have a revelation. I went to Montreal's annual fair for independent art, literature and esoterica - officially, it is MONTREAL'S EIGHTH ANNUAL SMALL PRESS, COMIC AND ZINE FAIR! - and nearly collapsed. This was partly my fault (I overdressed for the weather), but I feel that I can also blame the building itself. It was held, once again, in Eglise Saint-Enfant Jesus's basement, a conference room with a stage, a bar/restaurant and too many vendors. It was the first time that I ever felt close to fainting, and to do so among so much bad art did not seem like a professional thing to do. I only managed to speak to one friend, grab a bottle of water, and then rush out for some fresh air.
Listen: I don't think that I am any more cynical than the next goatee-sporting, indie-music loving fan. But I have to wonder now why I have devoted so much time to this particular festival. I always end up with the same free merchandise and find myself attacked by ads for anarchism (sorry, I don't have the time or the money for it), bad scribbles passed off as art and books that are incredibly limited in scope (why can't indie publishers write about things not covered by the big labels; they just seem to present the same material in a new package).
This is my last Expozine; not that anyone should care. I do regret this, but I think that I can be honest and admit that I was given a sign that forced me to take a really hard look - and sniff (another sense memory to burn away) - and say that it is no longer for me.
My best to these dreamers.
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Yeah, I can take it...