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Among my cohort — RGV art scenesters — I am generally associated with zines. That is an understandable thing, because it’s what I publicly spent my 20’s doing, and Ante Books did me a real favor distributing these works when the place was still around (RIP).

In 2026, the word “zine” has many contradictory meanings. Traditionalist that I am, the process entails this (stuff I have formally studied in bold):

• Transcribing information, thoughts, and essays (writing)
• Making drawings and relevant photos (visual arts)
• Putting all the elements together (graphic design)
• Creating the print layout (graphic design)
• Printing the masters (is that the correct word?) as cheap as possible
• Xeroxing as many copies as I need
• Cutting the pages
• Stapling it all together
• Distributing it to the community

As an art form, it is rooted in the 90’s punk scene, so how it looks is not really the important part. Which is good, because once I hit the xeroxing stage, things get very warped and slightly ugly.

I like that though…I think it’s cute and charming.

However, that’s a hard sell in the age of relatively cheap, professionally printed self-published goods.

Besides, selling them is not really the point.

90’s punks understandably had a lot to be angry about, and the only way they could express and disseminate very vital, very frowned upon ideas was through zines. Yet, with the way things are now…the 90’s seem like a kind of paradise.

I wish I lived in a world that was right, but in order to get there, I must exist in the here and now.

As Dee Valdes, I really don’t want to sell things I myself cut and copy, but that impulse towards self-publishing is fundamental to how I see things. The form introduced itself to me when I was high school, and it felt like a revelation — you can just do things. I would buy random zines online, then make some to encase my screaming spirit. I had always felt painfully, singularly alone, but through the mediation of a copy machine, my essence would instantly multiply…just like magic.

Hello! It’s hot out, isn’t it?

The San Antonio Spurs lost on the feast day of Saint Anthony, which I think is very funny. I wish I could experience Knicks summer in NYC a little bit, but the reality is, I don’t want even want to leave the block I live on most days.

My sincere belief is expecting people to be productive when it’s hot like this is morally wrong. When this kind of sun touches your skin, you’re going to get stupid and sweaty no matter what. While I can think of many things to do in that state, work is not one of them.

That said, I’ve actually been pretty productive lately. Since I’ve last posted, I’ve finished writing up two notebooks I keep in my purses and transcribed another (which felt like a great relief, since I’ve been working on that since last September). Most importantly, I submitted a short fictional story to a contest.

Like I have said before, the difficulty is not in making stuff. I have a lot of stuff. For me, the difficulty is in publishing. How to I share something that is true to myself and sustains my everyday living without being subsumed by what others want from me?

Ultimately, I can only find out through my own instincts, my own pace.

Anyway, this is the epic conclusion of my kiss print series! Thank you for witnessing. While I had fun making and sharing, after a while I felt compelled to keep buying products (inadvertently in the same shades), so that’s that. Through this work, I have learned that I actually don’t want to go back to analog painting at this time, as I would have to either wear gloves or wash my hands constantly to prevent my nails from staining. That’s fine once in a while, but sounds unbearable as a consistent, everyday practice. While I do enjoy the physical act of painting, what attracts me most to oil painting is the prestige it holds, how it is undeniably considered “art.”

Is that really love?

I would say not.

When I was younger, I was motivated by one thing, and one thing only — to become good at art.

But I think saying it like that comes off more positive than it was in reality. When I reminisce on those days, the feeling that comes up is more grotesque and off-putting than anything. So to be more accurate, it would be better to say that my being was animated by an all-encompassing desire to not suck.

It wasn’t pleasant!

Thankfully, I’m a lot more chill about that now. I’ve reached a better point of esteem of my life, and therefore my art as well. But you know…studying, learning, and building skill is not the hard part. And I find myself driven by another negative motivation…not getting stuck.

What is the positive version of that?

I guess it would be, being able to freely move around as I need to. Physically, socially, behaviorally, etc etc.

Maybe this can be seen as deviant and disruptive, but when I am able to move around as I need and want to, I am more happy, and this makes others around me more happy too.

Anyway, I uploaded a new work onto the site, a study of Michelangelo’s David paired with a personal essay. I wrote it because there was the prospect of winning a thousand bucks. Well, I didn’t win a thousand bucks, but it actually ended up being a very good capsule of who I am as a person, and what I’m aiming for with my writing..

As always, I hope you are well, and thank you for reading!

Have you been keeping up with the Artemis II mission? I’m so happy the crew made it safely back home! It’s been heartening to watch smart, gentle people get along well this past week.

Incredible things can happen when knowledge and understanding is given the time, patience, and resources it needs to bloom. While there are many reasons why ignorance and cruelty seem to reign, I feel this mission proves it doesn’t have to be that way. People can get along, people can learn, and people can work towards a common goal.

Life can be good!

Being an artist and being an astronaut sounds equally crazy to people, especially in this economy. But how can you put a price on what nourishes the soul?

Hey! It took a while, but I finally learned how to make coffee!

You see, I am primarily a green tea drinker. Making tea is very simple — just heat up a kettle, then adjust the water temperature! Some people wait a while, but I think it’s easiest to just pour the boiling water into one mug, then into another mug, then finally into the mug with the tea bag inside.

Coffee is…different. I don’t trust coffee machines because they seem complicated and hard to clean. I thought a moka pot would be analogous to a tea kettle, but it isn’t at all. So for the past year, I’ve been either using coffee packets or creating experimental monstrosities.

Then I saw this video on making Hong Kong Coffee Tea and realized…I could just boil water in a kettle, then pour it over ground beans in a filter over a strainer! It works perfectly and I don’t have to wait.

How wonderful it is, that we all have our different ways and rhythms! The diversity of life is the most precious thing.

Isn’t this cute??? I’d look so good in it!

This is one of those places I always see while walking, but never go inside (why would I?), so this place’s story was totally unknown to me until I read this Texas Monthly article about McAllen’s cultural scene. They made the wedding dress in this Bad Bunny video! Wow! That’s so neat.

It’s a little surreal to read this article because it’s like insight into a parallel world I’m adjacent to, but never around. Some places I go to, some places I don’t. Some reasons are pretty serious, actually, and some are just, when I’m in the area, I feel too sweaty/thirsty/broke. The distinction is important, but it ends in fundamentally the same result — that’s not somewhere I go.

I feel very grateful for places I can just go and space out and be. Not coincidentally, they are spaces that embrace ambiguity.

Anyway, I have a fantasy of staying at Casa De Palmas for a week, sitting at the balcony, enjoying the good air with a nice iced coffee. Doesn’t that sound nice?

My sincere belief is that people start out knowing who they are, and what they want to do, but throughout the course of life, this knowledge gets beaten out of them. Afraid of getting hurt again, we conform to the shapes and patterns imposed onto us. However, for as long as we are alive, we have the chance to step into ourselves again! It’s a glorious thing.

My other sincere belief is that the sign of a healthy culture and civilization is the presence of art. If art and creativity has the chance to flourish, so do we! It’s not an easy process, and it takes a long time to perfect, but it’s the closest thing we have to immortality.

While I’m not quite ready for summer to end, nobody can stop the flow of time. As the equinox approaches, the weather gets wetter, and from time to time, there’s a hint of chill.

Speaking of chill, the AC in my car is now fixed! I truly believe temperature control is one of man’s greatest inventions, if not the greatest.

Overall, I had a good summer, with rich experiences.

I think it would be fun to pursue analog painting again, but since I’m not sure where I could work– I need a lot of space for movement and a place that can accommodate the inevitable mess– I’ve decided to start small with the painting that I do everyday.

In regards to writing, I’ve transcribed one of the journals I carry around in my purses and publicly write in, and have recently finished writing another one. I’m not sure what I’ll do with those, but it feels like something practiced publicly should be shared publicly. Before I was content to fully DIY (buy my zines at Ante Books🩷) and throw works into the void, but now I would like something more. But in most contexts, DIY translates into control freak, so…that will be a long journey.

But that’s what it’s all about, right? To grow and learn is the essence of being alive.

For approximately 2/3rds of my life, I have had the privilege of living in a small thorn forest that skirted city limits. When I felt ousted from the world of people, I could go to the back of land and be surrounded by nopales and mesquite, and if turned my head a certain way, I wouldn’t have to see cars or buildings or anything like that. It was a strange, isolated place, but also a kind of paradise. While I would say that averages out to normal, it’s a context most people don’t have, understandably.

There is currently a Southwestern themed exhibit at the museum that has landscapes and imagery that look similar to the Valley’s natural features. I’m glad I saw it.

For about a week, it has now officially been summer. In reality, it’s felt like summer for quite some time.

I had the idea that once it started feeling like summer, I would start hunkering down at home and start fleshing out one of the many of story outlines I’ve written. However, the moment it got hotter, all I’ve really wanted to do is go out. How grateful I am for cafés with outdoor seating!

When it’s like this, it’s crucial to know what materials you’re wearing, so you can feel cool despite it all. As I write this, I am enjoying the silken feel of satin pajamas. It’s enjoyable at home, indoors, but this would sort of thing would create a damp nightmare the moment I stepped inside my AC-less car. Conversely, while I love pearls, to expose them to the unceasing glare of the sun and torrents of sweat would make them lose their luster…and that would be missing the point.

So, when I feel a certain way at a certain time, I call upon the power of my fake pearls. They have a good heft to them, can take wear and tear, and even feel cooling when I put them on. And they’re cute! This was the sort of thing esoteric scholars dreamed of so long ago, and now it’s just part of my ordinary everyday.

Everyday life is made up of such miracles.

While obviously I don’t think the exploitation of the Earth is good, the fact is, even if it were all shut down tomorrow, all of these plastic goods and trinkets would already exist. Since it’s difficult to exist, we should appreciate what we have for what it is.