Gigi, The Mature Sex Worker

By Ben Wolinsky, 2012

I wrote this article back in 2012, and so far no magazine or newspaper wants to print it, so I’ve published it myself.

Here’s how I’ll describe Gigi: five foot nine, blonde hair (natural, not dyed), looks to be about 60. Gigi is a mature prostitute who sees her clients at her apartment on the Upper West Side. She agreed to an interview on the condition that her professional name not be used. We spoke while she sunbathed by Strawberry Fields in Central Park.

Does your job mess up your sex life?

No, because I don’t have an alternative sex life. I’m satisfied with my work, I have orgasms, and I don’t think about sex that much, and I haven’t had that many boyfriends. I never married either.

Do your friends and family know about what you do?

Certainly. I have two kids, 25 and 19, and they were the first to know. I raised them differently, according The Continuum Concept by Jean Liedloff (better known as attachment parenting.) It includes home birth, extended breastfeeding, carrying the child with you at all times until age two and a half. It also encourages “family bed,” so the kids slept with me, and I breastfed one of my children until age three. The method allows breastfeeding until age eight, in public if they like. But neither of my children nursed after age three.

How did you start out in this business?

I left the USA in 1973 to travel, and I’d already been doing sex work already for two years, starting at age 20. I left the USA at 23, did portraits in pastels and colored pencils, supported myself that way. So far, I’ve been to 54 countries.

How come you left the USA?

I was in a college in the Midwest in the early 70’s, dating a black man, and my parents broke it up. Keep in mind this was 1969, and it was unconventional at the time, because interracial dating had only been legal for a few years. Anyway, I couldn’t take it; I grieved, got into drugs, crime, and prostitution, spent three days in a county jail in Missouri. But then I had an epiphany; my dad bailed me out for $10,000, and I accepted a new kind of respect for them, threw all my negativities over a bridge, carried on with a new purpose in life. My folks invited me and my brothers to Europe. While my parents and I were having dinner at a private club, I met a Swiss maître-d who said he’d met this Hindu holy man and asked him “are all people different” and the holy man said “because you asked, you already know the answer.”

I went to California, and joined several spiritual groups for a while. I wrote to the Swiss maître-d, who was now working at a hotel in Haiti, he told me to come down there and try doing portraits. I said to myself “if I can make it in the poorest country, I can make it anywhere else.” A girlfriend asked me where I’d like to live more than any place, and I said “South Pacific.” Australia would be too much like the USA, but New Zealand? I looked that one up in National Geographic. I lived in Haiti for a while, then I joined the merchant marine, and five years later I was in New Zealand.

You were in the merchant marine? What do the guys on the ship do for ass, do they jerk off?

Yes! That’s what the sailors do. Then of course they flood the port cities’ red light districts. The father of my kids took me to Pusan in South Korea, introduced me to his favorite girl. She was cute, but she giggled too much, and it was annoying. All the girls ran out to me when I came to the Pusan brothels. I guess they’d never seen too many white women. The sailors all save their stuff for the red light tour, so I was fine on the ship. One of the old timers told me “pick one guy on the ship, and the rest will leave you alone.” Merchant sailors, they’re all loners, their wives accept that they’ll be gone all year and having sex with other women. I was a waiter for the officers, and we got equal pay to the men.

Do your neighbors know and/or object?

They have no idea, the customers don’t hang out, and I dress normal. Most think I’m a teacher-I wear dresses, glasses, comfortable shoes.

Any threat of violence from your customers?

No, someone negative comes to the door, he usually turns around and leaves, he’ll be uncomfortable. I’m always smiling, and it’ll scare some of them off. If someone’s dark they won’t want to stay. I also refuse anything from a restricted number. The cops, I know when they’re calling. If someone says “is this Gigi?” I’ll answer yes, and when they say “how much do you charge?” I say “have you seen the advertisement?” and they hang up. I had several different people call, always the same question, always they hang up. One client, he was an ex-cop, he told me what to say.

What about health & hygiene?

There’s Planned Parenthood. Back in New Zealand, this is legal, and there are free health clinics, but prostitution isn’t unionized.

What kind of clients do you have?

My clients’ average age is early 40’s, mostly professionals. Here in Manhattan you get all these guys in the finance business, but a few tradesmen and construction workers too. They don’t get too weird, most of them want me to be their mother or teacher. After all, I am 61!

Some customers have difficulty reaching orgasm, one had shrapnel damage from Iraq. I’m very patient, so they usually feel comfortable with me.

Do you find your job demeaning or empowering?

Empowering, definitely, empowering! I get all kinds of people, I learn a lot, talk to them, find out their concerns-I am extremely curious, it satisfies my sexual needs. I feel like I’m doing a service to society and nature. It’s a very vital part of society; every man needs the touch of a woman, and they come to me because they’re not getting it anywhere else. They need comfort and love, and I give them what they need. I also believe that when a person has an orgasm, he/she releases healing energy for the planet. I feel like I’m doing something great.

Do you have any advice for a younger woman getting into this business?

You need a certain attitude that you’re doing this as a service to society, not just for the money. No alcohol, drugs, or cigarettes; you can’t have any addictions. If I were a madam, I would say no to addicts. She should be educated and worldly, which is why younger women don’t do as well in this business. They tend to be less patient, they rush things and try to get the man out the door as fast as they can. If the men are paying for your time, they might as well cum three or four times. You can’t try to speed things up; you need foreplay, get him relaxed, you don’t want him to feel any more guilty than he already feels. Know his sensitive parts, give good head, look him in the eyes.

My youngest customer was 19, wanted me to be his “mommy.” Their first time is often with an older woman, so they’ll want to have sex with me. When I was in New Zealand, the population was half that of NY, so I’d get few customers. I take women clients too, and yes, I’m bisexual and I eat pussy.

What’s the difference between peoples’ sexual habits here and abroad?

In the USA it’s more religious. The Pilgrims and the Mayflower are our heroes, and we inherited their prudish attitudes. In some countries, there’s no disdain for sex, breasts, penises, vaginas. Here, men get horny, they have one woman, it doesn’t satisfy them, they get hornier. They can’t always be satisfied by one woman. They jerk off, but the hand won’t do you any good after a while. A lot of it has to do with porno.

So porno wrecks your sex life?

I find a lot of guys who are sexually dysfunctional. The internet numbs them by making it too easy to get instant nudity, and when they get aroused, a signal in the brain sends them running for the computer. If you have the urge, these things are in place. You get less of an incentive to seek out a woman to fulfill your needs when you can just log onto the internet and masturbate. Whatever you get from having an orgasm by masturbating to internet porn won’t last long.

What’s the most luxurious thing about your career?

I have an apartment that’s just a stroll from Central Park. Talk about a dream come true!

What’s your opinion on Elliot Spitzer’s prostitution scandal?

He was in a position where he could’ve had it legalized. He should have spoken outwardly that he’s just a man, and men do this for sex all the time. This isn’t something you can stamp out, so you might as well run with it. It’s as normal as eating and breathing.

Marriage; now that’s something that’s really just for the financial and emotional stability of the women, not much else. For companionship, you can have marriage, sex, or both. But if you don’t fulfill your sexual needs in your marriage, then it’s perfectly normal to come see me. Every man has had a mother, and the touch of a woman is the first thing he’ll experience.

When my children were growing up, I had an open door policy with regards to my body. I let them see me clothed and naked, and had sex in front of them.

You had sex in front of the kids?

Yes, I was very open about my body. But they stopped watching me have sex after age 5, because they were bored by it.

Would you have had sex with your kids?

Yes, but it would have to be their choice, I never make the first move. Anyone who wants to have sex with me, I’ll let them in, but it must be their choice. When my son was 18, I said to him “now you’re legal, would you like to experience sex?” He answered “Mom, I don’t think of you that way,” and that was the last time we spoke about it.

I raised my kids with a tolerance for nudity, and it didn’t damage them in any way. Public nudity won’t change anything, but porno numbs desire. My generation had no internet; we had to be able to talk, dance, learn the social graces. Talk to a 23 year old these days, he can’t carry on a normal conversation. There was a 23 year old that came to me once, and he couldn’t get it up. Ten years of masturbating to internet porno made it impossible for him to get started, let alone finish.

A man needs to go out, ogle at women, and get an erection, just like when you were 14. You should not masturbate after the age of 18. Learn to proposition women, you might get lucky. Guys these days, they’re stuck behind a computer all day, and that’s no good. Learn to flirt, and for goodness sake, learn how to dress! Women are attracted to money; it’s a biological instinct, the same way that men are attracted to beautiful women. Everything boils down to the laws of nature.

How do the men in the USA compare to the men in New Zealand?

New Zealand guys grow up in an agricultural environment, lots sheep and cattle, and chocks (chickens.) They’re more manly, and satisfied with life, not that attitude that you have to reach the top. They just work eight hours, go home, and enjoy themselves. NZ men have workshops, they go pig hunting, lots of activities. There’re no theme parks, just nature. You’re never more than two hours from the sea and you can run around barefoot.

I spent one and a half years in Haiti, three months in the UK, three months in Israel, and another three in Morocco. 85% of Haiti’s men are pure-blood African peasants, while the Mulattos had the better jobs. In Creole there were these terms called granmoun (adult) and timoun (child). A timoun is what they call a peasant, while granmoun means money and business. On the street, the men would ask if I had a boyfriend, and I’d say granmoun, because I wanted a guy with a car and some money.

Haiti was the safest country in the world in the 1970’s, and this was back in the days when Jean –Claude Duvalier was in power. They still had the Tonton Macoute, you could recognize them by their black clothes and sunglasses. But I could walk to the taxi and the guys would be sitting on the sidewalk and say “bon-soir mademoiselle.” I never had any problem there.

I’m going to call you Gigi in this article.

Gigi? Okay, I thought you said “chichi” for a second. I think chichi means butt or tits in Spanish. Then again, I do have nice big nipples.

City Son

city-sonI’d never heard of Andrew Cooper until I read this book. He was an executive at a beer company, started a newspaper in 1984, lost it in 1996. When I say “lost,” I mean they were locked out for unpaid rent and seized for unpaid tax. It wasn’t one of those takeover buyouts that wreck a big business, it just wasn’t making any profit. Ever the anti-establishment radical, he refused to go “big business” with new management, and that led to the end of his newspaper. But he did end up training a whole lot of black journalists.

Cooper’s first brush with politics was a lawsuit in ’65 to change the voting district lines, and give black voters in Brooklyn a greater majority. Before that, Bed-Stuy and other dominantly black areas were fringes of other districts, so the minority vote really was a “minority.” Once that changed, Shirley Chisolm came in, and you had a new era of black politicians all over America. But this effort (like many of his) wouldn’t come without criticism. If he ended one Gerrymandered district, was he simply replacing it with another? If he had the district lines to make blacks the majority, wasn’t that like segregation? After watching Chisolm ’72, Unbought and Unbossed, I realized why the radical era didn’t accomplish that much. The saying “power to the people” means nothing if the people don’t know what to do with the power. As far as “power” goes for Brooklyn, there were plenty of things to fix-abandoned buildings, teenage pregnancy, Vietnam vets coming home hooked on heroin-but no plan on what to fix first. Did these people think that a politician of their color could work miracles? Did they think Shirley Chisolm could wave her magic wand and make everything great? Sometimes I wonder if the 60’s were a decade of the dummy.

As far as business goes, The City Sun tried to save Brooklyn, and it sort of worked. Andrew Cooper set out to train young black journalists and send them off to integrate the other papers. Name one other editor who did that! As far as writing goes, Cooper had written for the Amsterdam News, and the new paper was competing both with the Amsterdam News (an African-American paper) and the Daily News and New York Post (papers with a working class readership of both races) but in the end it couldn’t compete with either. The Post and Daily News often changed editors to keep up to date, and Cooper was too stubborn to step down or sell. Don’t forget that those papers came close to bankruptcy a few times, and they had greater backing than The City Sun.

Politically, Cooper was, like Shirley Chisolm, “unbought and unbossed.” It was his paper, and he did it his way. He criticized politicians of his own color (he called David Dinkins a wimp) but made a fool of himself in others. He took the side of Al Sharpton in the Tawana Brawley case, then dug himself a hole when Tawana’s story unraveled. Perhaps his desperate run for cover on that case was a smart move; Sharpton’s lawyer was disbarred for his behavior in the Tawana Brawley case, and Cooper would probably have been sued for defamation of character if he’d stayed on it.

City Son is a well-written study on a great entrepreneur, a man who tried to fix the community by giving people jobs. In the end he just couldn’t win the business war on his terms, and maybe that’s how things happen naturally in this country? Mom & pop stores close all the time, and small newspaper can go the same way. Even The Village Voice isn’t fail-proof; they’ve the biggest base for sex ads after Hustler, and there’s no other way for a paper like that to stay free when nobody will pay for it. Cooper may have been radical when he started his own newspaper, and he was enough of a radical to have standards.


Today’s entrepreneurs in Brooklyn should read this book, because Andrew Cooper kept his business going for 12 years despite having none of the resources we have today.

Why Do Only White People Get Abducted by Aliens?

Image result for why do only white people get abducted by aliensIlana Garon is clear about one thing; this book is not going to be the “nice white lady” skit from MadTV. She’s not going to sail into the classroom and cure these kids of their hateful outlook the way you see in Freedom Writers and Dangerous Minds. Oh no, nothing here is cured, and there are no triumphant endings. But despite the lack of happy endings, it’s still a lot more upbeat than Death At An Early Age. Therefore, it’s actually a fun read.

Garon’s been teaching since the early 2000’s, right around the time that Bloomberg started chopping up school buildings into “smaller schools” and making a mess of things. She’s in a Bronx high school with all the usual troubles; absenteeism, fights, teen pregnancy, drug use, family violence, emphasis on sports above all else, and worst of all, an incompetent principal. The principal rarely figures into the book, and the cops make constant visits, disturbing the classroom. Life here stinks.

One of the reasons things aren’t worse is that she doesn’t take disobedience as an insult. Too many authority figures get hooked on the idea of everybody doing what they say, without looking for results. She doesn’t take it personally when kids monkey around, jump on desks, eat in class, or use cell phones in class. She also doesn’t accept the “reputations” that precede the kids. If the dean says “there’s a boy coming into your class with a reputation for trouble” she doesn’t turn it into a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I would recommend this book to anyone who’s read the Jonothan Kozol books, or any of the more depressing “Blackboard Jungle” type of stuff. I would also recommend it to anyone fooled by those “miracle honky” movies where some great teacher changes the kids. These kids don’t all become great, but a lot of them get into CUNY, some get into upstate colleges on scholarship.

From Our Springtime

Image result for from our springtimeYiddish literature in the USA is an irony. It was written by men and women who wanted to preserve the language, but at the same time they raised their children to speak English first. They put great effort into their writing, but they encouraged their children to not be writers. My grandmother, for instance, spoke Yiddish and loved all the stories and plays that came with it, but she didn’t pass it on to her kids. Few Ashkenazi Jews today speak Yiddish anymore, and the Yiddish theatre companies of the Lower East Side are all gone too. The Satmar Hasids speak Yiddish, but it’s totally different from the kind you’d see in plays. I remember the part in Unorthodox, where the author sees the old Yiddish for the first time and gets a shock. She says “boy was I surprised, the Yiddish we spoke was not the Shalom Aleichem Yiddish, that stuff was really naughty compared to what we had.” Come to think of it, Shalom Aleichem raised his children to speak only Russian. Yiddish seems to stop at the next generation.

From Our Springtime is a journal written by Reuben Iceland (died in the 1950’s) and translated by Gerald Marcus. Some of the essays are bit on the mournful side, like the one where he and I.J. Schwartz meet in Miami and talk about the death of Opotashu. He clearly accepts that Yiddish as he knows it will die out soon, as the next generation of Jewish Americans moves on. His entry on Anna Margolin says that her son became a politician in Israel in 1948, and that says quite a lot about the end of Yiddish; first generation Israelis never, ever, spoke Yiddish. They regarded it as a remnant of the Golah, a relic of their weakling past. There’s a famous Israeli story by Aaron Megged called The Name (aka Yad Vashem) where an old man goes to war with his granddaughter because she won’t name her son Mendel. He’s like “what do you mean the name is embarrassing?” and she says “you can’t give an Israeli kid a Yiddish name, he might as well be born with a hump!”

It’s a shame that Yiddish didn’t last the way other languages did, but then again, it didn’t have the strength to survive. Back in the Shtetls, the Jews didn’t write lots of plays and stories in Yiddish, and by the time Shalom Aleichem started archiving them, Jews were struggling to integrate. The Yiddish theatre in New York was prominent, but the children of the actors and writers had to learn in English if they wanted to succeed here.

The same thing has happened with lots of other languages worldwide. Gaelic is rarely spoken by young people in Ireland or Scotland, and the Breton language might cease to be spoken in France. Basque might disappear in one or two generations, along with Native American languages. In Cape Town, the Malay language has been lost, and in Louisiana the Cajun language might die out too. Perhaps the life and death of Yiddish in the USA is like that of other minor languages. Once the next generation integrates, the strands of the older language become lost.

Goodbye To All That: Writers on Loving and Leaving New York

goodbye-to-all-thatStart spreading the news, I’m leaving today, and unlike the song New York, New York, I don’t mean leaving for the city, but leaving the city! Goodbye to All That is a rare treat; writers who pull up the stakes and leave New York. We all love the “bright lights, big city” theme of The Devil Wears Prada, where a starry-eyed yokel gets swamped by the arts-food-fashion culture of the place. But here it’s the other way around; the hip New York writers get sick of the city, pack their bags, and leave. They abandon the Big Apple for cute small towns, hip college towns, New England fishing towns, and sad to say, some boring subdivisions too. But all is not lost. A lot of them move back.

Mira Ptacin is one example; she and her husband leave because it’s too expensive and they can’t stand the crowds, or the noise, or bureaucracy, or the high rents, or the rudeness, or the distractions. If your list of gripes is that big, well then you’re not cut out to live here. The part where she says “you shouldn’t interpret direct and efficient communication as rudeness,” reminds me of the last time I was in Vermont. I got weird looks from everyone, but hey, New Yorkers talk fast, what can I do? If you think my speech sounds terse, you should see the Italians in the East Bronx.

But seriously, folks, this woman’s from Maine, which isn’t known for lightning-fast speech and the “come on, move” attitude of the New York sidewalk.  It’s no surprise that after five years she calls it quits, moves back to Maine, and loves it there.  But that doesn’t mean they all leave permanently. Melissa Febos (author of Whip Smart) moves to a college town for her job, but it doesn’t have all the excitement of the city. In her case, breaking up with her girlfriend is the spur to move back, because she has no other connection to the town. Living in the city can also distract you from personal troubles; you don’t think about your problems as much while walking down a noisy street. Since most New Yorkers have tiny apartments, we’re less likely to stay indoors much, and without cars, we have no choice but to walk.

There’s always been this feeling in the USA, that to be a writer you have to move to New York, and only New York, not Boston, Philadelphia, or San Francisco, they just don’t seem to have the writer’s reputation (though Chicago does, sort of.)  Then again, maybe that’s not true; Stephen King didn’t write in New York, neither did Hunter Thompson, Robert. E. Howard, H.P. Lovecraft (except a stint in Brooklyn which he didn’t like), Pat Conroy, William Falkner or John Grisham (hey, this list is getting long) and none of their works have anything to do with New York (with the exception of Lovecraft’s Red Hook Horror.) Oh, and don’t forget M.R. Kingston, author of The Yearling, because somehow I don’t think she could’ve written about the Florida swamps if she lived in Greenwich Village!  Maybe leaving the city isn’t so bad for a writer?

But this collection of essays, it’s something that we don’t see often. Few would write about leaving the city, because it doesn’t happen much. Traditionally, New Yorkers left the city if they felt they couldn’t raise kids here, which is exactly what happened to my parents in the late 1970’s. But the writers who contributed to this book don’t all have kids, so there are other reasons for the moves. Like I mentioned before, some left because of high rents, others left because they just weren’t meant for city life.

Maybe this book is indicative of the average American. Unlike the English nobility, with their “family estates,” Americans change addresses all the time, therefore leaving the city may not be such a radical step. So have a go at this hip collection of essays from Seal Press, and watch these women writers bid a tearful farewell to the city that never sleeps.

Like the song goes, if you can make it there, you’ll make it anywhere.

Secret New York: An Unusual Guide

The cover of Secret New York shows the Blessing of the Bicycles at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. It’s not a secret to me, I know all about it because I ride a bike. But the average tourist doesn’t know about it, because it’s not really a tourist attraction. You won’t see it in the guidebooks, except for this one!

New York, like Paris, London, and Rome, has a history. It’s one of the oldest cities in the USA, so unlike LA or Miami, it’s been built over and over again in the last two hundred years. Take the intersection of Leonard and Centre Streets; there’s a banal-looking cement park where the only people visiting are homeless (pigeons don’t count as people) and the average New Yorker barely notices. Before it was a park, it was a slum called the Five Points (the same one you saw in Gangs of New York.) Before it was a slum, guess what it was? A pond! It used to be the Collect Pond, which the local industries turned into an early version of Love Canal. So it was paved over, and became a big nuisance for the city ever since (note the frequent cave-ins that have to be filled.)

Secret New York is one of many wonderful books on the lesser-known parts of the city. Underground streams, hidden old cemeteries, the original bears from Winnie the Pooh, they’re all here in the city. We have relics from when neighborhoods were sailors’ hostels, tanneries, shipyards, and junkie havens. We even have painting in the New York Historical Society of an “unidentified woman.” Big deal, you might say, but look closely; the woman has a double chin and a five o’clock shadow. Why? Because it’s a man! Lord Cornbury, the governor of NY at the time, was a transvestite! Our very first (and only) transvestite governor.

Just one of many naughty secrets in this book. Unfortunately, the dirty shops from Taxi Driver are all gone now, but there are others to keep the armchair historian busy.

In Love With Art: Francoise Mouly’s Adventures in Comics With Art Spiegelman

Image result for in love with artArt Spiegelman and Francoise Mouly were just like the artists of the “Belle Epoch.” They lived in a run-down neighborhood, subsisted on odd jobs, and their apartment was a studio, factory, gallery, and performance space all rolled into one. Rather than deal with the printers, they bought their own mini-press and printed their magazine on their own. This may not seem like much to you, but the 1970’s were the days before cheap xerox machines, Quark Xpress, or InDesign (does anybody even use Quark anymore?)

Those of you that read MAUS are probably familiar with Art Spiegelman’s life, but Francoise Mouly’s life is equally interesting. Her father was a rich doctor, a Legion D’Honor medal winning plastic surgeon, and by all accounts, the chief snot of the snot league. If you think his daughter would somehow disappoint, you’re right, she did, but unlike most kids who break their parents’ heart, this girl did it from birth! Her father was desperate for a son, and ended up with girls. If having several daughter wasn’t bad enough, Francoise ruined her father’s life again by choosing architecture over medicine. Then to depress her parents even more, she quit school to travel, moved to the USA, and there you go. All along she preferred to work with her hands (a skill badly-needed in 1970’s Soho) and became the neighborhood handyman. Even in the USA, this kind of disgusting behavior would’ve been enough to scandalize the family of a rich doctor; I can just imagine a Jewish plastic surgeon having to tell everyone at the Schul fundraiser “my daughter quit college to be a carpenter, married a French artist, and lives in an old textile factory!”

I think this book is a statement on what it takes to be a start-up. This was an era when people did their own repairs, never threw anything away, reused equipment and furniture, didn’t use credit cards; in short, it was “austere” (Occupy Movement take note!) and you had to take care of yourself. The Success of Mouly and Spiegelman’s RAW magazine was as much to do with own hard work as was the content. There was no shortage of underground comix artist-Crumb, Burns, Griffin, Moscoso, Pekar-but you needed business sense to make a magazine for them. These people weren’t hobbyists or profit-seekers; they were artists who worked hard. Today’s startups in Brooklyn, they’re always surprised at how much work they have to do and how little money they make. In the 1970’s, the new magazines, stores, and restaurants were not a place to make mountains of money, and you knew it and accepted it. Soho in that time wasn’t “arty,” it was just affordable. You could get a large space for the price of an Upper West Side studio, and from the description in the book, it was relatively safe; nobody got burgled because there was nothing there to steal. A more apt title for this book would be They Had to Live For Their Art.

The book is short and not well promoted, which is a shame. It has all the things that make New York’s history interesting; artist communities, Soho lofts, weird publications, do-it-yourself startups. Like most famous New Yorkers (uh-oh, get ready for a repeat of every other New York book I ever reviewed) they were from outside the city; Paris, France, and Rego Park, Queens. It’s a great book, but somehow I doubt that many will read it. Some more photos from the era would’ve been welcome, along with artwork from RAW magazine. I would also have like to learn a little more about Spiegelman’s early career, and maybe have some photos of their old neighborhoods in Paris and Queens. But I’ll forgive any shortfall in this book. After all, it’s a low-budget book from a small press, and those of us who love zines and small presses appreciate the roughness, don’t we?