ANTICHRIST SUPERSTAR
Bio
"A look around us at this moment shows what the regression of bourgeois society into barbarism means. This world war is a regression into barbarism. The triumph of imperialism leads to the annihilation of civilization." (Rosa Luxemburg)
Stories (122)
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The Neon Jaguar
The night smelled like gasoline and stolen perfume. Luca revved the engine of his '67 Mustang--not his, not yet, but it would be by dawn if he won the race. The dashboard lights painted his knuckles candy-apple red. Beside him, Carmen smirked, her sequined dress catching the flicker of streetlamps like a disco ball tossed into a hurricane.
By ANTICHRIST SUPERSTAR6 months ago in Fiction
We're All Going Home. Content Warning.
I want to destroy the whole wide world with nuclear weapons. I'm the worst writer in the whole wide world, but that's not why I want to destroy it. I'm tired of all the hatred, anger, hurt, and pain inside of me and outside of me. It's too much.
By ANTICHRIST SUPERSTAR7 months ago in Writers
Mars Opposes Pluto in Cancer (2025). Runner-Up in I Didn’t Say That Out Loud Challenge. Top Story - June 2025.
I pour myself a shot of spiced Ukrainian vodka, ice clinks like the gears of centrifuges spinning deep below Natanz-- beneath the salt flats, under the world.
By ANTICHRIST SUPERSTAR7 months ago in Poets
The Ancient Greeks Were Bisexual and Into Frottage!!. Honorable Mention in Pride Under Pressure Challenge.
By the late twentieth century, the American landscape of homosexual discourse had become a tableau of contradictions: paraded freedoms on one side, dogmatic restrictions on the other, both shackled by a curious prudery when it came to rethinking the sex act itself. Enter Bill Weintraub--a man possessed not by a sex drive but a corrective instinct. A Jewish-American classicist and activist, Weintraub sought to rehabilitate an ancient practice into modern gay consciousness--frottage, the art (and joy) of genital-to-genital contact between men.
By ANTICHRIST SUPERSTAR7 months ago in Pride
"Frotophobia" and (Internalized) Homophobia
The Jewish-American Bill Weintraub began the "Frot Movement" as an attempt to popularize frottage (genital-genital sex or genital rubbing between men) and help frottage compete (in the "free market" of sexualities) against the much more dangerous and injurious act of anal.
By ANTICHRIST SUPERSTAR7 months ago in Pride
INTP Mircea Cărtărescu's BLINDING (vol. 2): the body (translated from Romanian)
I no longer truly experience anything, even though I live with an intensity that simple sensations couldn't possibly convey. Even when I open my eyes, I still cannot see. To no avail, I linger rigid in front of my oval window, chasing echoes that slip away. As if my being extends beyond ordinary senses to myriad ways of knowing--each unique, each responsive to different stimuli: one sensitive only to my coffee cup's form, another receptive exclusively to the pattern of last night's dreaming. Another attuned to that terrifying whisper in my ears, heard distinctly a few years ago, as I was sitting, in a ragged pajama, with the soles of my feet on the radiator, in my room on Ștefan cel Mare Boulevard. I no longer register modifications of light, variations in the pitches of sound, the chemical composition of the carnation and the kitchen dishwater, but whole scenes swallowed instantly by a virtual sense, opened on the spot in the center of my mind solely for that glassy and transient scene like a wave of water, reacting with it, altering it, flattening it, invading it like an amoeba and forming together another reality, primordial and immediate, illuminated by desire and made obscure by peculiarity. It is as though it were the case that everything that happens to me, in order for it to be able to come to pass for me, surely it is something that must have happened to me already, as if all of it already exists inside me, but not fully formed or complete: rather, dormant, in shriveled little layers, rudimentary, coiled tightly within each other, somewhere in the brain's structures--but also in the glands, in the organs, in my twilight, and in my ruined houses--all waiting for confirmation and nourishment from the modulated flame of existence, which itself remains unfulfilled and embryonic. I no longer feel except what I have already felt once, I can no longer dream except dreams already dreamed. I open my eyes, although not to perceive color or contour--for light no longer refracts into corpuscles to traverse my crystalline lens and the translucent layers of my retina, no longer produces rhodopsin in my cone-shaped cells; instead, whole images manifest fully formed, sculpted directly in rhodopsin, and accompanied as if by an aura of sound's fringes and delicate strands of tastes and aromas, alternating icy cold and searing heat, of suffering and compassion, of a head turning to the right--an action simultaneously verified and questioned by my inner ear's cochlear knowledge. Entire neighborhoods materialize, each bearing their own time, their own space, and their own emotional weather, and especially their own degree of reality--because they can be actual or dreamed, or imagined, or transmitted via the ineffable filaments that connect our lives to those who came before us--lips and genitals arrive, and streetcars sliding along iron tracks during winters with filthy snow, my mother comes once in a while to bring me food, sometimes Herman comes. I wouldn't be able to understand any of this if it weren't being reconfigured, in another way, in my internal landscape (my world), if it weren't opening the ocular buds from there, unless I whispered to myself every moment: "I have experienced this before, I have already been in this place," just as you cannot perceive light if light hasn't already existed in the back of your mind's experience, cultivating the faculty for light within you. Hence, my life is but a life already lived, and my book one already written--for the past encompasses all, while the future is but a void.
By ANTICHRIST SUPERSTAR7 months ago in Psyche
Fortress Fantasies and the Sworded Self: A Psychoanalytic Glimpse into the Fantasy Lexicon of Mein Kampf
The fantasy terms extracted from the opening of Mein Kampf suggest a submerged narrative brimming with latent violence, wounded idealism, and compensatory grandiosity--what Freud might have identified as the language of a psyche still negotiating its earliest wounds. The imagery begins with "fortress imprisonment" and "relentless work," metaphors not merely of external circumstance but of inner structure--one imagines a child's psyche locked in a lonely keep, defending itself from an encroaching, perhaps chaotic world. Fortressness implies walls; imprisonment implies a crime, or at least a punishment. The author's symbolic self is simultaneously jailer and captive, judge and judged.
By ANTICHRIST SUPERSTAR9 months ago in Psyche
