The Kip Farmer.
Random observations, day two: people are much less likely to buy zines from someone in a seersucker suit, judging from a modestly decent sample size of Zine Symposiumeers, and comparing with the previous day’s outfit of black jeans, black T-shirt, and porkpie hat. That’s it; tomorrow I’m wearing the fez.
It was wonderful seeing Chris Baldwin again, and Bethanne, who broke her ankle skydiving with some kickboxing swing-dancing villains. I think. Also, Kevin, and Owen, who did not mind at all that I kept trying to impede his progress with my walking stick. And even though dinner with Indy and Jesse and everyone else was more about Stumptown than the Symposium, still, Stumptown this year is going to rock, so that was all to the good. And Ivan Bilibin at Vera’s after was icing on the cake. Or metaphors to that effect.
It was cool meeting the 24-Hour Church of Elvis, and even though she doesn’t have physical space yet she’s looking. I might just give in and put her in her old building downtown, just off Broadway, there near Mary’s. It’s the least I can do.
I got a cool print with a tiny city in it for eight dollars and you didn’t, because it was the last one. I also picked up a(nother) copy of Applicant. But trade of the day has to go to Mykle Hansen’s Eyeheart Everything. I gave up all four chapbooks for it, and I definitely got the sweet end of the deal.
Final bonus email, from Kevin, quoted in toto:
Jenn: Did you like playing with Kip?
Owen: I like Kip’s hat. He’s a farmer!
He now refers to you as The Kip Farmer.
Pictures to follow.
—posted 6470 days ago
