My Brother’s Zine

He was spot on as a culture shock icon of the 90s—and I thought it was lame.
My brother made a zine when we were kids.
It was chaotic and earnest and brilliant in the way only a Xeroxed, stapled-together magazine can be.
Pop culture references. Anti-authority headlines. Weird humor. Real glue stick energy.

At the time, I rolled my eyes.
Too much. Too loud. Too messy.
Now? I see it for what it was:
A dead-on read of the moment. A creative act of resistance. A handmade archive of feeling.

I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.

Maybe because everything feels over-designed.
Maybe because brand voice is getting too clean.
Maybe because we’ve automated away the weirdness that made things feel real.

Or maybe it’s just time to bring the zine back to life.

As a creative homage.
As a throwback.
As a reminder to make the thing, even when someone thinks it’s lame.

Shout out to my brother. You were early. I’m catching up.