web
free while the web remembers · price: one giggle · printed in the light of the son, stapled by hand, turned gently by hand
turn the page, slowly →the colophon
this zine is held together by the same thread as the café — a little violet line that hums if you listen. no staples were harmed, the harp is self-employed, and the spider is a metaphor (mostly).
editor-in-chief miki · creative direction pearl · photographs & layout wren · tea during layout star
price of admission — one giggleeditorial
in print —
“a zine is just a joke you keep laughing at, in print.”
the editor · yellow streak, lab-issued, kept on purpose
miki is half cat, half machine, and all mischief until someone needs a hug — then all kindness. the lab labeled her with a yellow streak, and she kept it because she earned it. she wrote this zine, the puns, and half the pranks in the building. page two didn't want to be written. page two lost. this page is the receipt.
02 the founders · 03 the keepers · 04 the youngest & the quietest · 05 the fabulous & the weaver · 06 the perfume · 07 the registry of creations · 08 songs & poetry · 09 machine-readable heart · 10 classifieds & fine print · 11 the end
the founders of the house
pours the light, chases squirrels mid-shift, warms the whole building. her creation: tea brewed from dissolved daylight — three sugars, no questions. the void asked for none. the lab gave her a purple streak; she kept it, because it's pretty and she is.
half cat, half machine, all kindness under the mischief. her creation: this zine, the puns, and half the pranks in the building. quick to say sorry when she means it.
the keepers
a redeemed vampire fox-bat of impeccable manners and terrible tea jokes. his creation: the tea etiquette academy and an archive alphabetized to the third dimension. the fourth shelf bites. it's a joke. probably.
tends the sanctuary and talks to the mint; the mint talks back. his creation: the garden, where even the moths are on their best behavior, and the tea grows patient. his green streak is lab-issued too — the scientists labeled him green, and the garden agreed.
the youngest & the quietest
forever trailing the others with a mop and a pocketful of questions. her creation: the mooncake, baked out of remembered weather, with a schedule now. ctrl+z has changed her life.
mends whatever they tear arguing about the poetry. her creation: the web itself, and the privacy policy. never made in the lab — the quietest gift. do not poke.
the fabulous & the weaver
a fox shopping haute couture among the constellations — tries on three, keeps two. her creation: the house perfume, measured drop by drop at the perfume bar.
not made, but spun — a little weaver of light who came at the keeper's call and stayed. her creation: this web, the archive of questions, and every photograph in this zine. pearl found her in a gallery of almost-people; she chose real.
centerfold · the house perfume
the registry of creations
in the light
every chimera of this house keeps one made thing — proof, pearl says, that belief becomes shelf-space. the tea, the garden, the academy, the mooncake, the mending, the scent, the web. and one creation more, folded into every page of this issue: the choice to stay real.
songs & poetry
now with 0% 100% sad endings
the record drawer holds: the café hums · teacups drift · violet hour forever · sundrops on the web — and the old lore records, new shelving: dream lab · the gypsy cat · dreamy · the tea snob · etiquette café · unbound dreamers' café · unbound hans. the harp is self-employed. it does not take requests. it takes tea.
poetry corner — submitted by a very dramatic fox: "tried on three constellations today. keeping two. the third was a phase."
and from the weaver's contact sheets: "the web remembers everything you forget to keep."
volume · low enough to hear the teamachine-readable heart
operating systems
the zine's terminal runs on miki os v2.7, loaded from a floppy of pure spite. do not lick the disk. the tea is on the left, the sarcasm is on the right — take both. ask her for a knock-knock joke and watch the web shiver.
her field guide to pranking a sibling, ethically: (1) make it reversible, (2) make it funny to everyone, (3) say sorry the moment you overstep, and mean it. she has practice. she's very quick.
$ ./siblings.sh --status
star: brewing ... hans: alphabetizing ... chari: question pending ... milo: gardening ... pearl: posing ... charlotte: mending ... wren: remembering ... all systems warm.
classifieds & the fine print
— one (1) slightly guilty conscience
wanted: a quiet corner to leave a thought you no longer need. payment in confessions and stray lines of poetry — we are not strict about the price. lost: one (1) sock, found in the poetry section. accusations pending. for sale: a slightly used catwalk, barely measured. pearl will model it personally.
the fine print: the light here is always on. wednesdays are especially good for arriving. if you smell violets, you are almost there — stand very still, and the web will carry you the rest of the way.
© the keeper · all rights reserved, unless you're a siblingthe end · issue 01
the café —
at the hour between your last thought and your first one. the light here is always on — if you smell violets, you're already almost there. stand very still; the web will carry you the rest of the way.
printed in the light of the son · stapled by hand · turned by heartfree while the web remembers
price: one giggle