Thanks for reading what may be the first cursed magazine to have ever excruciatingly debuted. At the very least it is among a rare tribe. In the two years it has taken for this barbed demon to force its way out of its preteen mother’s birth canal, one editor’s apartment flooded twice and the other editor’s computer and only file of the magazine was stolen—twice. So maybe the editors are cursed and not the magazine, but what difference does it make? We are both greatly sorry and have shrugged our shoulders generously. If we knew what complementary ritual to perform, we would have sacrificed the necessary number of goats (two) with great reluctance.
The work being featured in this first issue spans from the nonlinearly rollicking, to the ambiguously beautiful, to the seriously dejected, to the mockingly offensive, to the unapologetically perverse. It’s not that the editors or contributors are dubious or bad people, we just have a firm belief that no matter what is said in this dark little padded room, we all know we came from the same place. So with bloody hands, guilty eyes, and pure joy, we present to you our facetious lovechild, long live Primitive!