Editorial

Preparing this new issue, a memory kept popping up in my mind. Back in the mid-90s, when the Internet was only beginning to be well-known, it was often said that "The net has no memory". It was a concern that came when people first started to see dead links. "It's here one day, gone the next," they said; unlike books, which last for centuries and have many copies, webpages can be erased in a second and gone for ever.

The Usenet began in 1979 and is practically the same since 1986. The world wide web began at 1991, and internet was completely open to commerce by 1994. While there is some truth in "The net has no memory," (take the disappearance of dejanews, for instance, and other sites whose death had a big impact) it is an exaggeration. Sites from the 90s are still around, webarchive.org saved many others, Google restored a large part of the usenet archives; but small people helped a lot too, be they organizations like asstr.org itself or single people like Eli the Bearded. So don't fret, anything stupid you do on the internet will probably live long enough to haunt you for ever. And these days anything stupid that you do will find its way online. Hell, people put it themselves.

But there was some other truth in that phrase, however, that I think wasn't on the minds of anybody who uttered those words: it was not the net that had no memory; netizens have no memory. The sheer amount of information available just a click away, for free, which we take for granted; the pace of modern world and our short attention span; the general disregard for culture or knowledge—we only care for the latest news, the latest gossip, the latest gadget—make us ignore the past, even the recent past. It is a pity. How many good stories are forgotten? How many stories that you would love to read, posted five years ago, are out of your reach because you don't know that they are there? But it is just the fate of mankind, never to have learned anything from history.

Keeping up with the last issue, which presented two very interesting interviews, this issue brings another bunch of them. I think it's a pity that so few interviews have been made in a.s.s.*. My research has unearthed only two: Nicholas Urfe interviewed by Mat Twassel for the Dulcinea Memorial Festival and oosh interviewed by PleaseCain about Pavlova's Bitches. PleaseCain offered his interview, and it's reprinted in this issue. In my opinion, interviews give a good insight into the writer's mind and interesting reading. This issue is filled with them.

Franz Kafka selected two of the writers that have been active the longest in a.s.s.m., Elf Sternberg and Ann Douglas for his column, and I interviewed them. H. Jekyll wrote a short story of sex and the internet, and Bradley Stoke an essay about what makes stories popular.

Stasya T. Canine organized another edition of the Foursome Moresome Challenge. The idea is to have four authors writing a story from the same starting point. The four stories—by myself, Esu Migabe, Evil Nigel and Zen Master—are in this issue, with a review by Yotna El'Toub. You should also read the first (one, two, three, four stories) and second editions.

I have also the great pleasure of saying that this issue is illustrated. John Nemeth has kindly offered his beautiful photographs. I can't thank him enough for his generosity. His photos brought life to this issue, making it colorful and refreshing. A million thanks to Yotna El'Toub too, for hosting the images.

There are other stories as well, by Rajah Dodger, Stasya, Crimson Dragon, H. Jekyll and a poem by Kenny Gamera.

Bringing another issue of the Journal of Desire to you (though late) has been a great pleasure (and quite a work, too). Thank you, H. Jekyll, for your help, and everybody who's contributed. I hope to see you, reader, again in the next issue, and remember to tell the authors when you like their stories.

Antheros - antheros a t gmail . com