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Reading List More from Craig Mod — Writer + Photographer
Ridgeline subscribers — For the last ten days I’ve been walking around London. Mostly in a little corner of it in the northeast part of the city. But can you even call a part a “corner” when the city extends in every direction without stopping? Whatever you call it, I’ve been in my little northeast section (if not corner) spending mornings reading and writing until I’m cross-eyed and then afternoons walking the streets over and over again.
Roden Readers — There is sweat and then there is s-w-e-a-t and the out-of-doorsness in Japan is presently a natural machine that produces nothing but sweat and sweat and sweat and swelter. Dryness has been eradicated. Fire is impossible to start. Blowtorch any single thing and it will laugh in your face. The implicit ubiquity of moistness inspired Japanese dictionary publishers to excise “dry.” A useless word. The only sane response is to find a cool cave at the top of a mountain and hibernate until November. (Or go to Victoria, Canada, which I did; more on that below.)
Ridgeline subscribers — Man, it was fun talking with Kazunori Hamana back in January. He’s lived a bizarre life, seemingly one without a roadmap, though I suspect his laid-back, subtly-goatee’d vibes belie a cunning streak. He was welcoming and rough-edged in a disarming way. He lives out in the wilds of Chiba, in an area that feels like it may cease to exist without his presence in ten or fifteen years. Many lives ago, he lived in the wilds of Shibuya, running a select / used-clothing shop called “Blues” out of Ura-Harajuku (back when Ura-Hara was a place you’d catch whispers of on rogue Usenet forums, or in copies of TOKION snatched from Casa Magazines in the West Village, if anywhere; today it is splayed about TikTok like a glazed ham at Old Country Buffet) and driving around in a Ferrari. Now he drives a kei-truck and spends all the money he makes selling his incredible pottery on buying land and old homes on the Chiba coast, setting up artist residencies, creating space for artist communities to take root.
Ridgeline subscribers — Thanks for all the “Yo!“s last week. It looks like transmissions from mailbot2k are getting through. (Let me know if you see any “rendering errors” in your email clients; I think we fixed the Proton Mail issues.) FYI, because the last issue of Roden ended up in many a spam folder, let me also announce here a reading I’m doing next week: Wednesday, June 10, 2026, Malaprop’s Bookstore in Asheville, NC (RSVP at that link!) Hope to see you there!
Roden Readers — Hello from Crazy Weather Town. Is it spring? Some days it feels like it might be, for a few milliseconds. And then other days, no. No spring for you. The floor heating was on this morning and that felt good. Soon enough the sauna will be on over the entirety of the country. Tonight, 100 kilometer per hour winds. Also, Monday morning, more 100 km/hr winds combined with rain.
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If something feels wrong, it is useful to articulate very precisely why that is
Ridgeline subscribers — For the last ten days I’ve been walking around London. Mostly in a little corner of it in the northeast part of the city. But can you even call a part a “corner” when the city extends in every direction without stopping? Whatever you call it, I’ve been in my little northeast section (if not corner) spending mornings reading and writing until I’m cross-eyed and then afternoons walking the streets over and over again.
Jay St. Charles is a legendary bowyer based in Fall City, Washington. While he was born into the world of archery and grew up in his father’s archery shop, Jay eventually became a master bowyer, carving bows under the brand of Pacific Yew Longbows. He lives on a small homestead above the Snoqualmie River Valley, nestled in the foothills of the Cascades.
The antithesis of slop. It's been a few years since I'd attended the SF Zine Fest. Friend Scott Boms had a table with his Matter Editions wares, and it's a 10-minute walk from home, so Jen and I had to go. Held at The Hibernia, it was a treat to actually go into this historic building that I've wondered about for as long as we've lived here.[1] It's a beautiful venue inside, and lots of people were milling about outside, having just gone in or waiting to meet friends to head inside. Masks were required (which we already had), and they were giving out plenty of KN95 masks. Transmission is high at the moment, and I just recovered from my second bout with Covid two weeks ago. Bustling with people! Inside, the venue was delightfully packed. Good energy in the air, and it was pretty tight getting around to seeing makers and their wares. A huge variety of zines in all shapes, sizes, and styles were present, and it warmed my heart. Having made a few zines in the past, it really inspired me to pick up a long-gestating project of making some zines or book-shaped things with the photography and words from the Weightshifting newsletter overland archives. Scott's table, and a photo of the two of us taken by Jen. We found Scott downstairs, chatting with people, and interjected with hugs. I had just received his Lost Memories zine last week, so it was a delight to add his fresh-off-the-overnight-press spiral-bound release, The Tower That Ate People. More people kept coming by, and with the vibrant crowd continuing to grow, we started to make our way out. Matter Editions latest — The Tower That Ate People. (And C3P0's eyes are worked in here). As we passed more tables on the way out, Jen and I remarked to each other that this felt like “the antithesis of slop.” So many young people, getting zines, getting into art. So many hand-drawn, hand-made pieces of art all over the venue. That energy again present in the air, feeling like I was back in my own teenage years in the 90s, when technology was just a means to propel our own innate creativity rather than usurp it. Photocopiers, basic computer graphics for layouts, cut and paste collages. That felt liberating. Today's technology feels imprisoning. Good job, SF Zine Fest. I fucking loved it. That would be over 17 years now. ↩︎ → This looks better on the web → Reply via email Thanks for reading and using RSS!
