In the Name of Love

A terrible month. I sat at the end of the hall, waiting for something I didn't know. Pulchritudinous silver pours through the window, onto the walls, dripping onto my lap, encasing me in a sheen of impenetrable gray. The LED light above me flickers for a second. At this point, I was considering writing a series of essays and descriptions of rooms and experiences entitled collectively as Moth, though I never went through with this. Not because I don't find the idea of it interesting, but rather because my month of misery was cut short. Something happened to me — I died, even! My former miserable self need not apply. That special thing occurred that I would often formerly doubt as lust, or as symptoms of my latent borderline, or as some pathologic desire for affection — and it is all these things! But it is also love. This is one of its many products.

This edition of #FF0000 is broken up into three sections, Guilt, Power, and Love. Showcased in Guilt is two different types of confessions, though equal indictments in the eyes of different groups. In Power: a small defense of grifting written by a gay French findom, as well as the only thing of substance I produced for my composition class last semester. An air of insecurity runs through both of them. And finally, in Love: an article recently written by Sam Kriss so precise in truth that it speaks for itself and stands alone, and at its end, a love letter, written by yours truly.

I'm incredibly thankful to all who submitted their works or gave suggestions in direction for this issue, whether it be text or image. A full accreditation can be found at the end. I'm frankly somewhat shocked at how well this issue came out, and I hope all included can feel, at the least, not slighted by some of the more edgy or racy content. It comes with the territory.

Now, put your hand to the monitor. Feel the blood flowing behind its polarized glass. Feel its beating heart as it struggles to pulse through its veins each pixel of text and rgb(255,0,0). Enjoy.