Sorrow Pants is the love child of four different zinesters who felt the need to join forces on their mission of world domination.
Tina Armstrong has considered Tacoma, WA to be her writing womb since she began to write at the tender age of eleven. What started out as romantic fiction about boys she had crushes on in her neighborhood turned into poetry in her teen years, creative non-fiction in her 20's, and a mishmash of micro-fiction, prose, and all the aforementioned in her 30's.She was the creative force behind such projects as The F-Bomb, Loco Pantaloons, and Kismet Said... Her greatest passions in life include writing, zine-making, cooking and baking, and raising her brood of four unruly and amazing children. She believes that day without laughter is a wasted day. You can contact her and tell her all about your problems at email@example.com
Keith Landrum writes and makes art inside of a beer can in Chattanooga, TN with his wife and two daughters. He can generally be found moving the earth in graveyards, thrift stores, and graffiti covered alleyways. Keith’s words have been published in Mad Swirl, Paraphernalia Quarterly, Poor Mojo’s Almanac(k), Electric Windmill Press, and the Desperanto poetry collection “Bound By The Secrets We Trust” among others. His ‘zine “Every Reason” can be found in bookstores, ‘zine libraries, bars, and mental wards all over the world.
Karley Bayer, from Baltimore (county, I mean I don’t want you to think that I’ve got some super hardcore mentality because I live in the city where they filmed “The Wire.”), is The Filth Zine Queen. She is handicapped and uses a wheelchair, so she lives a double life. She would much rather live in her short stories. She started the Filth (www.wix.com/the_filth/zine) a year and a half ago, and hopes to take it far into the future. Karley Marie has been published in numerous zines, wrote for her middle school (and college) newspaper, and wrote copy for her high school yearbook for four years. As raging Scorpio lunatic, she turned 35 last November. She could give a fuck about the American Dream, and hopes to die of a drug overdose in the street of some South American town, with no ID on her body. “She went off, and never came back.” Contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org
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