The Complete "Infinizine"
An update and a gesture to my younger self.
Update
I’ve been writing Juxtaposition for about six months now. At first, I was afraid.1 I had the imposter syndrome that everyone does, but I’m pretty good at ignoring that by now. I was more afraid of…it’s hard to explain exactly. I guess, I was afraid of how I would react to how other people reacted to what I wrote. So I minimized the opportunity for other people’s reactions to reach me, defeating much of the purpose of an exercise like this. But I was highly motivated to try something, and I had a vision! A VISION, I tell you!
I’ve stuck with my vision long enough now to cycle through a lot of feelings about a lot of things, and I’ve realized that the vision I was trying to achieve via this newsletter is actually way bigger than I could ever achieve through only this newsletter. I won’t say more about that now, other than I’m starting to move in the right manner and I’ve seen the shape of my adversary—Juxtaposition has helped reveal these parameters by being the wrong tool for the job.
As a consequence, my expectations for this newsletter (and for myself via it) are shrinking back down to reality-sized. I’m not going to tell you what comes next, you’ll discover it with me as I go and you will be free to leave or continue the journey with me at any point.
For now all I can say is that I plan to continue publishing Juxtaposition, on an ad hoc basis. And right now my ad hoc is to present, for the first time in its entirety, Infinizine.
But first, a few more words, if you’ll indulge me…
Preamble
I was a prolific writer as a youth. In my pre-teen years, I mainly wrote Phantom of the Opera fan-fiction. As I entered high school, I wrote poetry and elaborate vampire role playing scenarios on the nascent internet. As I progressed through adolescence I began keeping journals. At some point I discovered philosophy, which felt like a lifesaving tank of oxygen as I struggled toward the surface of adulthood. I was (still am) intense and ignorant of my ignorance, and I wrote a lot of embarrassing things down. That’s what automatically comes to mind when I think of myself as a youth: embarrassing, and a lot.
But that’s who I had to be so I could become who I am, and this project, Infinizine, is neither embarrassing, nor particularly ‘a lot.’
This is something I created c. 2007 when I was 17 years old and had no confidence or knowledge or experience or supporters that I listened to. That version of me created Infinizine out of (probably) raw spite and nothing else, and never shared it with anyone. But it’s beautiful, and earnest.
I want that 17 year old version-of-me to know that this 33 year old version-of-me thinks what she made back then is beautiful. I’ve kept it all this time. I want her to know that I’m proud of the person she was, and I’m sharing her work with strangers on the internet, confident on her behalf that it’s worth their time.
-A
“Infinizine”
This is a ‘zine I made c. 2007, when I was 17 years old. I called it Infinizine. It had only one issue and was never distributed—I never even took it to Kinko’s. But, in many ways, Juxtaposition is, now, what I couldn’t make Infinizine be, then.
Editorial note: Infinizine was my own personal creative endeavor but I solicited art-work and a couple poems from friends with whom I no longer have any contact. I don’t feel right posting those sections without permission or credit, so I will black out any content that was not created by me, except for the cover photo, which I found on the 2007 internet.
I was petrified.
What a treat to see your zine from ‘07. As someone who was never a talented writer in school, I am amazed at your fluidity and ability to express your thoughts in your own beautiful voice. It’s like magic. I feel this when I read your substack, but the paper form is especially treasured.