CARRIER PRESS: HISTORY
Destroy The Internet: Zine One
 LETTER FROM THE EDITOR: It died. We were just young kids trying to be seen. A project driven by blind passion head on into a wall. The team scattered. I slipped off to Montreal to drink. Sprawled across a strangers floor my phone rang. “What have you been doing?” “Writing.” A simple reply. “ When you get back I got something for us.” He hung up. I went about losing myself.
When I got back, he sat me down. We weren’t sure what it was going to be. He grew up listening to hip-hop. Me to punk. He was a viscous photographer and a mad men drawer. I just kept writing a means to hold of destruction. The only thing clear was we were tired of feeling alone. We could no longer stand that isolating glow of a Steve Jobs computing machine. So we started to make a zine.
The idea was simple. Feel something real. Smash out the digital loneliness. Destroy The Internet. We settled into the basement. Pulling black coffee by the liter. Filling the air with nicotine smog. A stack of journals, old magazine and scattered rolls of film. A Devo album flipping back and forth. Pasting up layouts to the sound of type writer keys and that’s how it began.
The sun came was creeping up. Our brains had turned to mush. He asked out the last cigaret. Lazily finished a sketch. “20% more ham. Fucking capitalist pig.” It’s done. We fell back. Exhausted.
A week later He come over with a bundle of ten, fresh from the printer. We stuffed them into envelopes ran our tongues along the seal. We walked down the street and slipped them into the red tin can. “Now what?” “We make another.”