Prefrontal Paranoia meets Anal Vision
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credit to for @calmness_totem for the logo, @socializmus for photograph of Vladimir Lenin and painting of Helmsman.
WELL MET, HOMINTERN READERS!
This week's drop. Kirill Medvedev beats back against the prevailing racism of Russia's commentariat in the context of Black Lives Matter protests by revisiting Moscow's own internal history of Black struggle. Ivan Shogolev assesses the situation in Belarus from the standpoint of the worker. Alexander Opicho's poetry soars above Lodwar, as Z.H. Gill's prose shuts the blinds of a Santa Monica guest house. Still plugging these HOMINTERN LOGO FACE MASKS. We'll probably start sending invoices for those over the weekend.
For Soviet citizens, watching the popular film *Circus*—about a Black child finding acceptance in the USSR—and reading Samuel Marshak's poems on racial equality were one thing. But fully internalizing their message—’racism is bad’—was another.
An essay by KIRILL MEDVEDEV.
We think that life has taught you without our help that not everything that’s called a union is aimed at the protection of workers’ rights.
An article by IVAN SHOGOLEV.
If you cull, thin and thrust a Gay Marxist from your Communist party, from your Socialist party , from your bourgeoisie-populist party , from your people’s party, from your African Socialist party, from your inanely bourgeois-cynically bourgeoisie party, then bliss, knowledge and eternity will re-make you a multi-potent Gay in your re-birth.
A poem by ALEXANDER OPICHO.
I didn’t become rich because I wanted to rub my balls on people’s brains, but I didn’t not become rich because I wanted to rub my balls on people’s brains. I’m not alone in this.
Prose by Z.H. GILL.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HOMINTERN!
Not going to recap what's happened since the last update. You all know. Yes it's 9/12 in NYC. I don't care. We have 13 poems/essays/reviews/etc edited/translated and complete (and that amount in the pipeline), covering a range of topics from the situation in Belarus to the history of commercial capitalism. And Aunt Enid's column, of course. These will be uploaded over the coming weeks, in small batches (a model which we'll probably follow from now on). Think of it like a drop rate adjustment if your brain is broken in that way. Also check out these FACE MASKS in the merch store we have to hawk (we're in the red, as usual). "Enjoy" the comics by Mr. Chainlift for now. You'll have plenty to read soon.
Comics by HUNTER CHAINLIFT.
LONG TIME, HOMINTERN READERS!
Stuck inside with a bunch of fertilizer and no friends to share it with? Itching to turn your TrumpBux into BitCoin? HOMINTERN is here to postpone your bad shelter-in-place decisions. We thank you for your gofundme tribute, which have been disbursed to contributors, and in return present our entire poetry and prose log, two book reviews, and a second installment of our wildly popular advice column with Aunt Enid. You'll notice our long-delayed merchandising store has been updated with some designs for you to prcoclaim interest in, and the patreon contributors have finally received their just "rewards". Over the next few days, we'll be rolling out some corrections to the mobile view on our older releases as well.
If there exists a cornerstone for the album it's here, in this cheeky fatalism that wants you wondering where the bit ends and the despair begins.
An album debut from KING DOM CUMMIES.
So I say you should just try it out and go from there, sweetie.
The second edition of our recurring column with the undefeatable AUNT ENID.
I feel a mix of admiration and concern at Chu’s boldness at welcoming accusations of straightforward misogyny
A review by S NOWAK.
simply making sausage out of your old shit isn’t going to get the books moving off the shelves
A review by ANONYMOUS.
I reproduce my nausea at market—I call it inventive.
Prose by KAY GABRIEL.
I thought then what I know now: everyone masturbates but class makes for us separate methods.
Prose by PATRICK DURGIN.
They are talking as if you can talk in a helicopter. And I am telling you that you cannot talk in a helicopter.
A poem by VANESSA PLACE.
and the kids? where are they / they are playing in the disquiet
Poems by NASTYA DENISOVA.
вот суета / а дети где / они играют в суете
Стихотворение НАСТИ ДЕНИСОВОЙ.
they tear apart the road with their movement and drive desire / into a movement without a majority
Poems by GALINA RYMBU.
движением разрывают дорогу и желание вбивают / в движение без большинства
Стихи ГАЛИНЫ РЫМБУ.
Predatory and potent / erotic assimilations / stack in the sky
A poem by CASSANDRA TROYAN.
do you care more about sodomy as noun / or verb?
A poem by ROSIE STOCKTON.
gunpowder** / made out of boredom, / and retribution, / in that order.
A poem by NORA FULTON.
A propane streak in the otherwise Dismal grid has / Glands at the sides of her face to pump the aura
A poem by MATTHIAS KODAT.
they / call themselves “heterosexuals” / they / are just afraid to love
A poem by NIKITA SUNGATOV.
они / называют себя «гетеросексуалы» / они / просто боятся любить
Стихотворение НИКИТЫ СУНГАТОВА.
in the / last scene the strangled / and the strangler / have the same expression.
Poetry by YARROW YES WOODS.
Walking to the convenience store, seeing the sense organs of the dead on the sidewalk.
A poem by JAKE BROOKS.
WELCOME BACK, HOMINTERN READERS!
Here again, with more to give for time spent away. Three essays, one letter, more than enough poetry, two prose pieces, the premiere of our advice column (please email your queries here)... a little something for everyone. We've also made a gofundme so we can stop mailing IOUs to our essayists, illustrators, and translators.
Comrade Borodin pointed out to me that I should not attach too much significance to the article on homosexuality in the Great Soviet Encyclopaedia because (he said) its author was a homosexual himself
A letter to J.V. Stalin from concerned communist HARRY WHYTE.
The “hope” of finding one, or of finding love, any less alienated than “the heterosexual community” is a dim one, carrying with it inevitable disappointment as long as we seek it along these lines, with the assumption that our homo-ness is constructive of an imagined community rather than a condemnation of the whole fucking system of patriarchal relations upon which our current regime of alienation was built upon.
a recurring column with our loving AUNT ENID.
it is a community called Je suis ... - followed by a quantifier of its non-existence; a community of carriers of European supervalues shot through by ISIS.
An essay by ELENA KOSTYLEVA.
это общность под названием Je sui… — и дальше квантор не-существования; общность носителей европейских сверхценностей, расстрелянных ИГИЛ.
Tекст ЕЛЕНЫ КОСТЫЛЕВОЙ.
In defense of "paranoia". An essay by L.A. LEERE.
A Triptych of Essays Examining Anatomical Indeterminacy and Erotic Skillsets
By JULES JOANNE GLEESON.
I leave home. Outside my building I find twenties tucked between portraits of the chairman. I cry in my car and we never call each other again.
Prose by sung.
During the insurrection people set up these big cooperative kitchens and worked together around getting food and eating it together.
Guest prose by PINKO editor ME O'BRIEN.
let’s go!!! get up gayboy the crayon war is coming down on us
Poems by MANUEL TZOC BUCUP.
something for us to take with us in the quiet of our collective death
A poem by JOEY YEAROUS-ALGOZIN.
I do my hair and mod challenges lying ahead in not even the grave
Two poems by GORDON FAYLOR.
The absence of judgment and time’s forgetfulness absolve my conscience always already silent
Two poems by ANTON IVANOV.
APOLOGIES FOR THE WAIT, HOMINTERN READERS!
Probably due to the divine consequences of teasing a release (internet cables were cut, an editor narrowly avoided a tainted seafood assassination), this is late. And incomplete. And pretty gay! More soon...
I am speaking here about a long road traveled to get rid of homoseuxality. Or for it to take me away.
The newly translated preface to a book by GUY HOCQUENGHEM.
mounds of hewn beef shudder under the singing of birds
Poems by ILYA DANISHEVSKY.
куски мяса вздрагивают под пение птиц
стихи ИЛЬИ ДАНИШЕВСКОГО.
Men fucking outside, so it's not winter.
A poem by ANDREW J SMYTH.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY HOMINTERN READERS!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE GLOBAL WAR ON TERROR!
Old enough to drink in almost every country but its own. We've arrived, laden with no less than seven gifts, with more to come as we've come to stay. Over the next few weeks, we'll be giving out more details as to our plans for a print edition in the winter, and potentially some pre-order merchandise to entice you into subsidising the process and paying our writers and illustrators. Don't look the horse in the mouth.
HOMINTERN is not a good magazine.
A palate cleanser from THE EDITORS.
I don’t want to facilitate the flow of thousands of Keurig cups to people with more money than they can spend; I want them to fucking choke on it and leave me alone.
An essay by ELASTICO GOMEZ.
Periodizing “fictitious capital” in economic discourse.
An essay by FRA.
The past is useless and the future is stupid. “No worker who is fighting against a boss is going to ask, ‘And then what?’ The fight against the boss is everything”.
A review by KEVIN ROGAN.
I’m not joking. / I’m not playing this for laughs. / I’m not out here, making this stuff up.
A poem by JOSEF KAPLAN.
lesbian jihad begins with a faithful bitch
A poem by LOLITA AGAMALOVA.
лесбийский джихад или нежная нежная дружба / лесбийский джихад начинается с верной сучки
Стихотворение ЛОЛИТЫ АГАМАЛОВОЙ.
He killed her, is the thing. Of course he did.
Prose by Z.H. Gill.