Issue #2, 20 pg. at half-letter size
Issue #4, 40 pg. at half-letter size
$1 each from Fight Boredom Distro
I read these zines, which came highly recommended from Fight Boredom distro, in a Laundromat one Sunday afternoon. I was eating samosas and drinking soda and nuking a backpack full of clothes in the dryer because I just found out I’d slept somewhere that had bedbugs. I wanted to read something that’d make light of the travails of this world, and Broke Ass fit the bill perfectly.
I read a lot of zines about feelings and trauma and survival, and I love them, and I believe that writing about that stuff is tremendously important work. But I don’t want to read about that stuff all the time, by any means: sometimes I just want to read a bunch of funny anecdotes. Broke Ass’s tales of peeing in the sink of a supermarket bathroom, getting off of Facebook, and quitting or being fired from shitty jobs made me really happy, and that was just Issue #2.
Issue #4 is twice the size. In it, Steve writes about moving out of Newfoundland, interviews a friend who works the night shift selling Christmas trees in Harlem, offers tips on being a good houseguest, and shares some extremely endearing issues of the newsletter he and his roommate Hari (whose zine XXV I wrote about here) wrote about their apartment.
I realize that none of this is likely to make you think “I simply MUST read these compelling tales!” but you really should. Fight Boredom’s write-up for Issue #4 says it all:
“This zine is so funny that the first time I read it, I wound up reading entire pages out loud to my roomie. I was in the kitchen and she was in her bedroom, and I basically yelled these stories at her and she couldn’t even understand what I was saying because I was laughing so hard that I was crying and couldn’t finish a sentence anyway.”
At one dollar an issue, Broke Ass would brighten an hour of your life, would cheer up a pal who needs a laugh, and would make a magnificent addition to any bathroom library. A++!
- Lily Pepper