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Reader, I think I might owe you an apology. You probably picked up this zine thinking it was going to be another installment of the Livingproof perzine, a series engages in the dissecting of failures in romance and the place of underground music in such a narrative. This zine doesn’t exactly follow that format. Indeed, upon first read, you may feel like I hoodwinked you into reading a paean to my favorite band, whom you likely don’t care about and may be disinclined entirely to check out after finishing the last page and closing this zine (or throwing it down in disgust partway through). For this misunderstanding, I can only apologize in advance. Look, don’t buy this zine if you’re not interested in music or the ways that music affects people’s lives. That’s all there is to it. But, on the off chance that you do, indeed, enjoy music—and I can only imagine that someone likely to pick up a zine in this day and age is probably into a lot of anachronistic stuff, including having an emotional connection to music, which apparently doesn’t happen so much anymore now that we have Myspace, iTunes, corporately-formatted radio, and any number of different modern conveniences that sever the individual’s relationship with increasingly commoditized art—on the off chance that you enjoy music, I think that you’ll find a lot to enjoy here. Sure, there are sections that may not appeal to those of you who are unfamiliar with Rainer Maria, but I think most everyone can appreciate the kind of love for a band that results in this type of self-flagellation on display in these pages. So please, do your best to read beyond the words: think about your favorite band, the lessons you learned from them, the ways in which you’ve built your life around those lessons, and how it felt when they broke up. I always thought I wanted to write a memoir organized chronologically by the shows that I’ve seen, kind of like a concert version of the organization behind Nick Hornby’s football memoir Fever Pitch, which is structured according to the football games he attended and watched while growing up and growing old. This, here, may be the closest I’ll ever get: a narrative of certain parts of my life organized relatively chronologically according to the Rainer Maria concerts I’ve seen—or, in some cases, missed. There are details and tangential relations to other issues of Livingproof, both past and future, so this issue definitely has a part in the greater narrative I’ve been exploring. But I think there’s a larger lesson in these pages: a lesson of hope and reclamation brought about by shared experiences and a coming together. I’d be interested in hearing what lessons you have for me, as well. This whole piece, plus many more, available only in livingproof #5. Order now.
Issues: #1: Crisis. [samples] #2: Rebound. [samples] #3: Genesis. [samples] #4: Rehearsal. [samples] #5: Rapprochement. [samples] Available for $3 each. Ordering info. Sanitary and Ship is free.	Reader, I think I might owe you an apology. You probably picked up this zine thinking it was going to be another installment of the Livingproof perzine, a series engages in the dissecting of failures in romance and the place of underground music in such a narrative. This zine doesn’t exactly follow that format. Indeed, upon first read, you may feel like I hoodwinked you into reading a paean to my favorite band, whom you likely don’t care about and may be disinclined entirely to check out after finishing the last page and closing this zine (or throwing it down in disgust partway through).... Read more.
Email list: Join the livingproof_announce email list. Enter your email address in the box below. Email:	It wasn’t hard to find a place to stay when I first moved to Chicago: my freshman year roommate Brad had an extra bedroom in his Lincoln Park apartment because his roommate had abandoned him for the summer. I could only afford to pay half of my share, but that was better than Brad paying for the whole thing himself. We shook hands and I moved in two days later. I spent that first Chicago summer exploring the city, both formally—I had a job canvassing pedestrians around the city for Greenpeace—and informally, as I learned my way around the CTA, started meeting people, and hung out at bars and rock clubs... Read more.
Semi-Related Links: Fall of Autumn Punk Planet Sanitary and Ship Splendid WLUW Zine World	Sometimes, when the end comes, it’s right on time. But very rarely do things end when it feels right. Too often the end is a surprise, it catches you off guard, and you’re left in the dust struggling to make sense in your grief. Not as often, but just as difficult, is the end that drags on, milking your patience and sympathy until you’re actually happy the end has come when it finally does arrive. It’s a relief, in those cases... Read more.