Imposter is

A dirty woman blowing her nose into the collective sweaty belly button of other creepy faggots then taking the snot like a shot of fire cider for a syphilitic throat and spitting it back and forth with the other faggots before figuring that by now the gunk has enough cross-sex hormones in it to draw up and inject.

We are one of many blends of DIY HRT and full of neuroses. Don’t ask, don’t tell; let’s figure it out in a backroom, together.

We are probably less edgy and more interested in practical love than this statement is prepared to admit.

The magazine is the love child of two sisters working warehouse jobs who wanted a reason to keep in touch after one of them decided to move away to be closer to the Gilmore Girls. We are both so tired of clawing at the intangible.

We are famished and blood-hungry and sure that we do not exist. But we think you could prove us wrong.