From Liz Mason

Things in this issue have to do with reaching out and connections: people, technology, print, conclusions. There are pieces about my experience with virtual dance parties, the ludicrous revisitation of my college radio show recordings, a discussion with Eamon Daly of Pop Up Karaoke (who developed online karaoke software), my grade school adventures in building a media empire and more. I'd like to think it's funny at parts and also thoughtful. It's a a fat perzine with a fuchsia pink card stock cover, and it's beautiful, if I don't so say myself.

The theme of this issue emerged after I worked on a bunch of these pieces, at a weird time, seeing as how I wrote this issue during a pandemic, a time so alienating -- and yet I spend a great deal of time thinking about connection. We all crave some kind of connection but sometimes we forget how to socially interact with people, and that’s assuming we were ever any good at it in the first place. Now we are forced to connect socially in a different way, interrupted by barriers: a computer screen, a mask that inhibits facial recognition and nonverbal cues, a physical barrier of plastic or glass -- so many things are conspiring against us to socially connect. These challenges are made all the more poetic by a virus that can be spread by things that accompany communication. And yet interestingly, if you’re like me, sometimes the connection we seek isn’t with people in a social way -- it’s through music, the written word, film or any kind of art. Artists and writers make things that nourish the inner life, and they often do so alone in a studio, at a desk, or in front of a computer. The truths and nuances we enjoy through these art forms create a connection that can sometimes feel deeper than what we get from socializing in person. It may be taking the long road to connection that way, but sometimes you see into the soul deeper and differently. Let’s connect by making stuff.

8.5"x5.5", 48p, fuchsia pink card stock cover, b+w on white paper inside, photocopied