Jesus Christ, I'm 36 (A Zine)
Yes, the rumors are true! I made a Zine — a real, physical Zine you can hold in your hands!
Quite a bit of thought went into this project. After a lifetime of putting my writing out onto the internet, I found myself longing to have some of my work exist in physical form. In recent months I’d also found myself drawn to the communal, DIY aspect of making zines. This kind of project also felt like a way to take the skills I’ve been cultivating in my day job — project management, print, and fulfillment — and apply them to an area I really love. I just needed something to write about.
As often happens, my favorite band the Wonder Years appeared to me in my time of need. 2023 is the 10th anniversary of their fourth — and, arguably, best — record, The Greatest Generation. The band is celebrating the occasion with a cross-country tour playing the record from front-to-back, but most significantly, they kicked that tour off last week with an all-day outdoor festival in their hometown of Philadelphia, The Loneliest Place on Earth Fest.
LPOE Fest — at least in the online circles I frequent — was a pretty big deal. Not only were there kids flying in from all across the country, but they were arranging meet-ups, TWY sightseeing tours, and exchanging gifts, most notably friendship bracelets (in the vein of the Swifties). I thought it was a fun idea — I wasn’t interested in weaving friendship bracelets, but I could make and trade zines instead!
And thus, Jesus Christ, I’m 36: Celebrating 10 Years of The Greatest Generation (A Wonder Years Zine) was born! This Zine contains 13 essays — one about each song on The Greatest Generation — each by a different writer, along with art and design by friend of the newsletter Lewis Lenoble. It looks really fucking good, better than it has any right to for my first attempt at a Zine, and I’m so proud to have it out in the world.
If you would like a copy, please just click on this link to fill out the request form, and I’ll ship one out to you! I’m sending these out for free, but this is a labor of love, and if anyone would like to contribute a bit towards the printing and shipping costs, my Venmo is Spencer-Irwin.
As a sneak preview, I’ve included below my own essay from the Zine, about the song “Passing Through A Screen Door.” If you like it, you should order a copy of the Zine, cause there’s 12 more pieces I’m equally proud of in there.
Thanks, everyone!
Track 2. Passing Through a Screen Door
Dan Campbell seems to feel conflicted about his place in his fans’ lives. I don’t think he ever set out to be a role model or a father figure, but that’s exactly why he’s so damn good at being one. Dan doesn’t write with an ego; instead, he uses his music to lay bare his deepest faults and insecurities, in hope of finding something worthwhile in himself, some chance at redemption or some better path forward. As fans, we see our own fears reflected back at us in Dan’s writing and connect with him, and then suddenly, we can see a better path forward for ourselves, too.
I think that’s why “Passing Through a Screen Door” resonates as strongly as it does. The song is Dan at his most self-loathing — he’s a loser, a failure, someone who can only see trouble and can only run from it — but after a piercing moment of self-awareness in the bridge, it actually ends on a hopeful note (“I was kinda hoping you’d stay”). If a “fucked up kid” like Dan can ask for help and attempt to change and grow, then, goddammit, so can any of us. That’s been an invaluable lesson for me.
I vividly remember the first time I listened to “Screen Door” and reached its most famous lyric: “Jesus Christ, I'm 26 / All the people I graduated with / All have kids / All have wives / All have people who care if they come home at night / Well, Jesus Christ, did I fuck up?” Having just turned 26 myself a few months before The Greatest Generation released, those words knocked the wind out of me. But it wasn’t just my age. I grew up a closeted gay kid in a homophobic religious cult, and ten years ago I was still indoctrinated, still planning on being single and celibate the rest of my life so that God wouldn’t kill me. I would never be able to have those things Dan sang about, and I could no longer pretend that I wasn’t devastated about it. For the first time, I allowed myself to question. Had I made the right choice, or had I fucked up?
My favorite thing about the Wonder Years is that they’re a band that grows up with you. “Screen Door” is a song that has stood the test of time, but Dan is no longer the same man who wrote it. Last year I found myself in tears during my first listen of “Wyatt’s Song (Your Name)” when I realized the chorus was a reference to “Screen Door.” The man who never wanted his children to be anything like him had become a loving, attentive father. I found myself immensely proud of Dan, and that allowed me to look at how I had grown in the ten years since “Screen Door” as well. Since then I’ve left the cult, came out, found a job and friends who appreciate me for who I am, and have fallen in love with the most incredible boyfriend. I’m proud of my life now, and I’m so grateful that the Wonder Years have been here for every step of my journey, encouraging me to always be the best version of myself no matter how low I got.
ABOUT
“Do You Know What I Love the Most?” is a newsletter from Spencer Irwin about his relationship with the stories he loves. Spencer is an enthusiast and writer from Newark, Delaware, who likes punk rock, comic books, working out, breakfast, and most of all, stories. His previous work appeared on Retcon Punch, One Week One Band, and Crisis on Infinite Chords, and he can be found on Twitter at @ThatSpenceGuy. If you like this newsletter, please subscribe and share with your friends!