Letter from the Editors
Our world is filled with erotic energy.
The word erotic is loaded and, at best, ambiguous; yet, for most of us, it’s also excitatory. It elicits
sensations, memories, fantasies, an entire world that is most often submerged below the surface of our
everyday selves. But what, exactly, is erotic and what does it mean to publish a magazine dedicated to
the erotic in arts and literature?
Perhaps in contemplating the erotic, we should gaze backwards toward ancient Greece where the
concept was borne from the flutter of Eros’s wings. The word erotic comes from the Greek myth of Eros.
Eros, once a primordial force within the universe and then, in later myths, the offspring of Aphrodite and
Ares, Eros came to represent those forces of love and fertility. In part, the early myths have endured and
even transmutated from culture to culture because they capture the complexity of the human experience and distill it into simple archetypes and stories. Eros is no different. Though Eros’s origins evolved over time, he has remained a force active in the lives of all of us, igniting within us our own carnality and desire.
With this in mind, I like to think of Eros as the seat of our soul from which the most primal and sexual
parts of our natures emerge. The erotic, then, is the form in which our carnality takes shape.
When contemplating the themes of Pink Disco, I thought hard about what it means to feel that energy.
On the one hand, we could easily look at what has become commodified as sex in our society and point
to that as erotic. To some extent, this works. But I also firmly believe some of the most potent sex we
encounter is found in the sublime and secret whispers of our everyday lives.
Don’t get me wrong. Pink Disco welcomes latex, leather, nipple clamps, and feathers. We want to see your O face. But we also believe the most explicit sex is not an isolated act but the apex of the totality of our experience; it is a celebration of what it means to be human, to have a body, and to experience sensation.
Pink Disco, then, is a celebration of the erotic, our carnality, our bodies, and ultimately our humanness.
Come play with us.
Pink
AFTERCARE
December 21, 2025
Letter from the Editor-in-Chief
Here be dragons.
In 2022, I was scouring the literary and artistic landscape in search of some sort of refuge, a landing place for artists and their works that illustrated a serious and playful interest in sex and the human body. What I found was a schism in the publishing world. On the map were these little beacons of light, publications, both big and small, corporate and independently-run, where work was being showcased. There were cathedrals honoring the titans among us, as well as playgrounds where fledgling artists could showcase their own voices among the many. And, sure, some of these places were in back alleys, tucked away, reserved for the deviant and curious. Yet, these beautiful, little repositories of smut were, well, just that. All of this was great, but what I was looking for was that mythical Shangri-La where artists danced with the raw, naked profundity of human emotion, while at the same time unabashedly roused our sexual appetites from their slumber. Sure, these works have always existed, there have always been artists who’ve laid both their souls and their flesh bare, but where oh where might their be a safe haven for these artists to land?
Okay. Okay. Maybe this cartomancy metaphor is getting a little thin by this point, but what I want to illustrate is that Pink Disco was an idea that emerged from the recognition that there lacked a literary and artistic avenue exclusively dedicated to the serious examination of the carnal, the sometimes grotesque, but always sacred meanings of what it is to have a body.
That was the vision. That was the intention. Sex and bodies are not uniform and exact replicas of each other, thank the dogs, but are expressed in a myriad of diverse and beautiful forms. The human experience is a prism, radiant, reflective, and intense. For all of us involved in those early stages, it was important that Pink Disco was a refuge for any and all artists who courageously let it all hang out.
This year’s theme was Play Party, each issue reflecting different experiences one may have on a night of debauched play. And now, we’ve arrived at After Care, when the intensity of the scene has cooled, its glow now lapping against our exhausted flesh. We are tired and still wet with the fresh spent of so many beautiful bodies. Oh, what a feeling!
Corey and I are proud of what Pink Disco has become. We’ve been able to grow and evolve, as well as meet so many talented artists through their work. For that, we continue to be eternally grateful. But winter is now here and we’ve grown tired. For this reason, we’ve made the decision to take a temporary hiatus to allow our creativity to regenerate. So, with that said, we do not anticipate a new issue this coming spring. That, of course, saddens us a little, but we also recognize the need to take care of ourselves.
Until we see you again, we hope you all remain beacons of light for the weird, the kinky, the compassionate, and the entirely human.
___
This issue’s playlist can be found here.
In 2022, I was scouring the literary and artistic landscape in search of some sort of refuge, a landing place for artists and their works that illustrated a serious and playful interest in sex and the human body. What I found was a schism in the publishing world. On the map were these little beacons of light, publications, both big and small, corporate and independently-run, where work was being showcased. There were cathedrals honoring the titans among us, as well as playgrounds where fledgling artists could showcase their own voices among the many. And, sure, some of these places were in back alleys, tucked away, reserved for the deviant and curious. Yet, these beautiful, little repositories of smut were, well, just that. All of this was great, but what I was looking for was that mythical Shangri-La where artists danced with the raw, naked profundity of human emotion, while at the same time unabashedly roused our sexual appetites from their slumber. Sure, these works have always existed, there have always been artists who’ve laid both their souls and their flesh bare, but where oh where might their be a safe haven for these artists to land?
Okay. Okay. Maybe this cartomancy metaphor is getting a little thin by this point, but what I want to illustrate is that Pink Disco was an idea that emerged from the recognition that there lacked a literary and artistic avenue exclusively dedicated to the serious examination of the carnal, the sometimes grotesque, but always sacred meanings of what it is to have a body.
That was the vision. That was the intention. Sex and bodies are not uniform and exact replicas of each other, thank the dogs, but are expressed in a myriad of diverse and beautiful forms. The human experience is a prism, radiant, reflective, and intense. For all of us involved in those early stages, it was important that Pink Disco was a refuge for any and all artists who courageously let it all hang out.
This year’s theme was Play Party, each issue reflecting different experiences one may have on a night of debauched play. And now, we’ve arrived at After Care, when the intensity of the scene has cooled, its glow now lapping against our exhausted flesh. We are tired and still wet with the fresh spent of so many beautiful bodies. Oh, what a feeling!
Corey and I are proud of what Pink Disco has become. We’ve been able to grow and evolve, as well as meet so many talented artists through their work. For that, we continue to be eternally grateful. But winter is now here and we’ve grown tired. For this reason, we’ve made the decision to take a temporary hiatus to allow our creativity to regenerate. So, with that said, we do not anticipate a new issue this coming spring. That, of course, saddens us a little, but we also recognize the need to take care of ourselves.
Until we see you again, we hope you all remain beacons of light for the weird, the kinky, the compassionate, and the entirely human.
___
This issue’s playlist can be found here.
Poetry
Shanty for Pretty-Fingered Boys
Why Are We at The Drive-In; Why Are You Shirtless?
And By The Way Brian?
Slight Yearning Off of Julius Avenue
When You Cut Your Locs Off For The Third Time And I Finally Asked “Why?” You Told
Me It Was To Get Better
SONNET FOR TEQUILA SUNRISES
THE INVITATION
Fiction
Bicycle Guy
Jay
Silence Under the Tongue
Things I Feel Guilty About During Sex
Nonfiction
The Joy of Lemon Curd
