VAMPARIAH (copyrighted)04:52 Nov 15 2006
Times Read: 554
VAMPARIAH
The sum of all that is existing is God, like the sun in all, is us. Stardust in the sea horse, stardust in the living rock of our teeth from which we give life a taste. Just as in us is oxygen Newton breathed as he spoke, now we sweat it out through our pores, because of the complex world he did create. But refreshing that that water Jesus was baptized with we have drank quite a bit. We all come out with love, except for the discarded retarded babies who do not have the dream of Tolstoy, or even have but one toy, we have to watch out for them. The cycle of abuse that rots brains, and steals and stills souls in chains; but for the rest of us we do intake Jesus baptismal now and again, and breathe and speak clever like Newton. Though with all this power to fix life, we end up on the crucifix, around no one else’s neck, because we don’t know we are gods yet, but the ones who do, and act accordingly wear this albatross, even agnostics get put up on the cross. Trying to put back all the love that was put into us from one simple act, starting the cycle of love, that can forgive all this abuse. People can live with us dream stolen as them, they did not appreciate our splashing water on them, while we walked on water for even the Russian children.
It was fate with the Age of Aquarius dying, 800 years of group activity almost over, giving rise to individuals rising – even the New York Times says there is no such thing as normal anymore. Some how we are still connected in our honeycomb cubicles. Giant Jupiter orbiting absorbing apocalyptic asteroids through time (like people in our lives shielding us) gave rise to the dinosaur, that they could have reached such great size. In us too, when humans finally control what’s in our skull, and we have completed our social evolution, then the time will come when celestial space will smite us for reaching the hidden gods within us. For now though, I am but baby Mercury, messenger of the gods, the closest planet to the sun, throwing a small shadow upon all the other ones, protected by astrological intervention, like these giant jupiters in our lives. So close like Icarus, or the mythological Gemini twin satellite the moon of Vulcan, whipping round faster than even feet winged is a feat. This forge of the gods, Vulcan logic, burning twice as bright, burning twice as fast, the gift of death, urgency for life, with sweat on his brow, this blacksmith on rock hammers even closer to Sun than the planet I’m from. Jupiter’s gravity, tying down cyclones, that last for but one Age, which absorbs comets, turning us not into space dust once again, so we can avoid the doomsday asteroid of our time, giving man time to evolve a gargantuan dimension of the dinosaur in mind power and imagination, for that is the power of the mind, to grow and to never stop.
The weak force that pulls us back into big bang, imploding like a trailer park meth lab, then exploding googlely exponentially more powerfully outward than Moody Blues’ billion butterfly sneezes. Under this current atmosphere we wonder; which carnation of star are we, how many suns have our atoms revolved around, how long has the big bang been rubber banding? Though we cut through space fast as progress is slowing because of society stagnated evolution, our satellites orbit 30,000 miles per hour, just so they don’t crash in on us. And us at planet surface, feet forced to the ground centripetal force, by the horizon flying 3,000 miles per hour, pressed downward an inward by a motionless sky never falling, some three miles high, we never see the black vacuum of space. Yet at night, we imagine we steer by the same stars Egyptians did to fill their mummies with eternal numbing, leaving us wondering, if how and when did they cross Atlantis, to bring cocaine back from the Amazon? If they could build pyramids still standing and cross seas unimagined, then why not heaven reach out for us, or us reach out to space? Moving so fast, furious, our planet through space; (though the North star, Polaris, doth change from torque from time to time to Thuban and back again) back again will we guide a new kind of journey, in a new type of ship, not of papyrus, or reed, governed by those ancient astrological laws, still logical, to meet with our fate to divine a way off a planet we were destined to destroy.
THE COMPASS
I was taking a train back from my mom's
in Northport, and then the train died and we got put
on a bus with a driver that didn't know where to go.
He asked the group which way was north so, I waited
for the Long Islanders to inform the Haitian bus
driver, but when no one knew I whipped out my compass,
and got down on my knees by the white line that isn't
supposed to be crossed so he could see the red tip of
the needle himself. We got going again and made the
next connection. That train too got stuck, Halloween
was coming at midnight, the omens were interfering
with man's feeble attempts at keeping a train schedule
running. But after sitting on a dead train for 40
minutes, I passed the time with a young man who had
lost everything because of hurricane Katrina, and he
was working now in a movie theatre trying to put some
bucks together so he could become a chef someday. All
he had was the FEMA check for 2,000 $ to start his
life elsewhere than his flattened apartment complex. I
rifled through Picture Peace looking for the stories
where my father cooks for famous people, and since
this was what he desired to do in life, I gave him
various vignettes about people he had never heard of,
but the woman behind him, of course knew them all, and
I could tell she was eavesdropping. Anyways, then the
conductor comes on and he says: "There is no service
into Penn Station, you are on your own." I started
thinking aloud for the benefit of the passengers,
talking about how the E and the F trains split at the
end like the tip of Long Island, and from here we
could all find the subway system. I looked through my
wallet to see if I still had the map of the subway of
the city that could never in a million years accept
me, and which destroyed me, and lo and behold, there
was the map. I began to orient myself, and the
eavesdropper came by sensing that I could facilitate
her expedience into Manhattan, and of course the
answer being in the form of a question, she saw my
AIRBORNE MARINE SERGEANT Jacket and believed I could
divine the path through dangerous neighborhoods. All
the women flocked around me, and the men went out into
the darkness ashamed for want to let on they needed
direction. I was dressed poorly, because I was not
with a woman, and I knew you could never pick up
someone in a non social situation, so that night was
the first time I didn't care anymore, there was
nothing to gain dressing to the nines, but still,
somewhere in me there projected a man who they could
entrust in. I was going to get to where I was going,
that they knew, and they followed me, about 25 women,
not one man. I was disheveled, I was disgusting, I
didn't care I didn't care, traces of DNA were all over the
front of my pants, I didn’t cover up the fact of the rape.
That the bad boy image I modeled myself after was a paper
lion, and he had come on to me. We made it into Brooklyn,
and we were all in a tunnel, and I asked if anyone had a
Global Positioning device, and all the ones with the new cell
phones said they did, and I asked them all if they knew where
they were, and they were all lost because they could not
receive a signal in the tunnel. I whipped out the compass
which had brought me to them, and I told them this was
real technology, I bought this in a store for 4 $ 15 years ago,
and in it was the technology from 5,000 years ago, since man
picked up the first lodestone, this was something to believe
in. We kept going and I saw a train that said "To
FLATBUSH" and instantly, I don't know why but the
green 4 and the red 5 Lexington Avenue trains lit up
in my head though I only was there once, and I knew
this was the train to take them all home, because it
ran up the east side and stopped everywhere. In
between situations there was downtime, and the
original woman who was fascinated by her
eavesdropping, plied questions, and wanted to know
more, so I told the stories as the cars swayed, and
they saw my frontal was missing when I smiled, they
knew then that I really was there and that I was also
not, and they listened to my accumulation of
connections of an ignored mind shut out from the world
for more than a decade, and we all enjoyed being lost
together knowing something was at the helm, it was the
spirit of where we all had come from which was guiding
us, and we had to have faith in that, because that is
all we have, the ones in the past who have marked the
way. Well, the other men, they are all in a dark
tunnel somewhere still searching for a signal, because
they had too much pride to know the answer is in the
form of a question. .
.
Star Trek Klingons also say as the Indian: “It is a good day to die”. The point is to stay crucified, it is man's greatest honor to be a martyr, to have just cause, to be loved so much that it turns into hate. Righteousness is not arrogance, do not confuse the two. I was not let go from teaching because I did something wrong, what I did wrong was that I did everything right. Walking on water splashes water on the others, but again, we must walk on water because life is a miracle, and there is magic in every other moment. Like the long, long icicle behind the cacti and cruising fighting fish, and with the sun rising behind the steaming roofs, or the patterns of doily like ice upon my window when the temp was just right, from the sweat of my body, and the whip of the wind, it was better than stained glass, and nature was the great Master, not a monk that never disrobed. Asked a question of whether I was crazy or not… Well, I hope we all are, for that is what makes us different from the rest. If I went to a poetry slam at the Apollo and followed 4 poetessas that all sounded alike, and then I blew them away in the silence I created without a mike, then tell me who is crazy? Am I crazy for not wanting to be like all of them? If so, then I accept that honor wholeheartedly.
I grabbed a towel blind, reminded me of a time, before the trip that took me back to this launching pad, to recapture magic lost. I don’t know how to tell her, I was not man enough to lose all my hair. To be less and kill the Don Juan, so I could be with just one. But if the she-wolf-pack don’t desire, and the men don’t throw water on my fire because they think me a clown then, I wonder would she want me then? Living paradox, the pot bellied softball league where I was the ringer in a boardroom where I was the only one not to smoke in chains. Now I am not the one to make 40, when the tobacco I seek ain’t in my dugout or theirs. Now I am the one out in left field. They used to ask me to keep the minutes, because time ticking was a time bomb they feared, the sweat on the cigarette behind my ear, to smoke my DNA away, how does that taste? To inhale the mutagen each time, crossing fingers around sweaty thin paper, hoping no chain reaction begun, this time, this breath, or next?
I switched the fish, three in two tanks, killer fish separated by a barrier. The one with the most room to roam lays down with fin as proud sail down. Food uneaten above. Laying down to die like the roommate who doesn’t want to live. His god won’t let him kill himself, he is a megalomaniac who lost belief in himself. The insecurity finally won. He goes from rocken chair to his box spring creaks, he don’t do do’s and he don’t do don’ts. Back to the rocken chair with that squeak. When my ex called I never saw him erase a message as fast, trying to erase the fact that at half a century old he don’t know what love is, mother even left him, so it never came because he needed it so bad, worse than me, because mom came back, so I believed in life because they do return, women that is. Therein Love lay hope the ingredient to believe in life, but what of his faith? That is his one higher power, but for him that’s mute as his mutism, and he can’t hear talk about my life. I am dragged down myself too but he don’t hear their nailing his coffin, when that started I took some splinters and splintered the casing. Hadn’t combed my hair in days and the hat sufficed for a comb, and then wandering on Main knocking on doors, looking for life I couldn’t find, life opened up on it’s own, as if it were waiting for me like a date icebreaker first move. So at the photographer I was convinced to have a shot in a snap cheap, and I came home without ever having used a brush and lay the photo by the dead phone. Life called me out the door, again like a cluster bomb, and when I did return, I knew he was the same, the rocken chair head down, box spring moan, screaming at cars whooshing by, or school girls having fun too loud, his face was head down still, and he was empowering the melancholy, and I knew the photo was good, because he turned it face down. When the noise of my life disturbed his catatonia he went back to the bed spring creak, with sheets never been washed browned, the bed sore, the boil, the reek of death, the groan and little flies that emanate from out of his mouth, dry toothbrush, he screams orders in the sea of night as if he was still important. The blood clot on the way from leg stillness that will find his still heart and still it well, that fish at the bottom when switched it came alive in the tank, split with the other fighting fish, staring through that blue plastic, as if an internal wind filled it’s sails, that luminescence of fin cascading over and over again, the other transfixed too, new smell of fear in the tank the allure. But now a lonely one with all that room, going blind in a bowl that it can’t see out of and his enemies can’t see in, he mates with plastic algae. Nothing to fight for, nothing to mate for, nothing to live for, to lay down and die with no rooster comb, like my roommate that hides from me too, these days it has come to. Desiring a significant other to make a masterpiece out of us, and to give his self steam whom never came, now he can’t face the face that would put a face on his faceless face, of no identity, for fear his false mask would melt from their penetrating eyes, seeing through his guise. I can feel good, cuz, I have a chance better than him to make it to the end of this new year.
But then, it had happened. It broke me, to know that the man I modeled myself after was gay, and I heard laughter, it was his laughter, his madness invading my mind, and then his voice. I knew I was going crazy. It happened on Christmas, when the floodgates opened. I knew what had to be done, if I did lose my mind. I don’t expect anyone to understand. So I wrote to myself.
Doing a Hemmingway 12 25 2005
Went out to buy smokes
To hope they would kill me
So I wouldn’t have to do it
This Christmas morning
The twilight was beginning
I saw crows and heard
The last of the dinosaur
Fly to the sun
And cross the crescent moon
They would all out live me
For the power in them was not in me
I saw them fight to stray from their nature
As the crow flies straight
They waddled back and forth
With loping stride of wing
And some even soared the nearer they came
To the rising horizon sun
But all of them were surveyors
And kept in line
Except those that acted human
And chased away from the flock
The ones they wanted to be
What a lucky crow that outcaste to be.
…
and then I wrote my writing apprentice, and we had an IM chat, I copied it.
mistress_shadowfox: OK i read all three
blurrighter: give me a sec, formulate a question
mistress_shadowfox: ok
blurrighter: back, well, just remember that it is all true, you should never take 3rd
person account as your own, but you know I can't lie, and anyways the guiding philosophy
of what to believe, usually the more something is unbelievable the more truth is in it,
for who could ever even dream to pass off this wildness for fact and ever expect to be
believed? You will walk on a new planet now, unbreakable, protected by my self
destruction forever, it isn't so easy to love me now, you knowing I did all that to
myself
blurrighter: I am an animal, any questions?
mistress_shadowfox: well the most pertinient question i could think of the ask would be
why ? but it would be pointless because evidently you learned something from it all
mistress_shadowfox: I would love you regardless you know, people are strange.
blurrighter: I did it so I could be loved, so I could make myself accepted for becoming
less, I was getting rid of power, so I could belong
mistress_shadowfox: and now? do you feel that you belong?
blurrighter: more so than anybody
blurrighter: I know what it is to be human
blurrighter: the emotions that come with self destruction bind you to all the others
blurrighter: I can relate to anyone
mistress_shadowfox: well, knowledge of self is not exactly a bad thing
blurrighter: this is what a leader must do
blurrighter: only the strong can be weak for the entire planet
blurrighter: I was too strong to be loved
blurrighter: no one could accept me in my state of perfection
blurrighter: I will never be alone now
mistress_shadowfox: no you wont be alone
blurrighter: I did it all scienticfically, sin and wait, wait to see how I changed, then
a year or two later, sin again and see the effect on my body. It is all fact, I know
what effects what, I apllied science to the art of sinning. Do you take my word?
blurrighter: when your son turns 18 you can coat him in gold too
mistress_shadowfox: yes i have no reason to disbelieve you
blurrighter: there is no use in bringing in children into this earth to be destroyed,
he can save some woman sometime
blurrighter: I did all this so others wouldn't be destroyed
blurrighter: I can live with my own self destruction, but I can't live with others
blurrighter: they might not be strong enough to survive the game to win at life like
I have
mistress_shadowfox: so you did it for the good of all?
blurrighter: yes, if I wasn't allowed to be, I was going to make sure others could stand
a chance
mistress_shadowfox: self sacrifice
blurrighter: when I waited 14 years for love from 11 to 25, and even true love passed
me by, I didn't want it, I couldn't enjoy life, and if I couldn't then well, everyone
else will, it is the sacrifice of one life for many to be happy, this is why I jumped
on the hand grenade in the foxhole of life
mistress_shadowfox: and the wage of sin is?
blurrighter: consider you empowered, and everyone you care about too, they will all live
a charmed existence
blurrighter: this is a permanent wave into the future
blurrighter: the ghost in the machine, it is I, I died many deaths for this
mistress_shadowfox: and what of people like me?
blurrighter: don't let me down apprentice
blurrighter: you have to run the last lap of the race I can't run I will die soon, and
you will save people with this gift
mistress_shadowfox: why are you dying?
blurrighter: my DNA has changed, when the cell dies a new one is built, but since the
marker for the formation of a new cell is corrupted cancer is the only thing that come
out of me
mistress_shadowfox: so you have cancer?
blurrighter: I won't make 40
blurrighter: soon
blurrighter: maybe next summer
blurrighter: it will perhaps bloom everywhere in me
blurrighter: and then I'll have 6 months to live
blurrighter: so I will die when I am 39
mistress_shadowfox: and here i sat feeling sorry for myself.. at least i do have more time
than that if i am lucky
blurrighter: yeah
blurrighter: you are lucky
blurrighter: I have lived
blurrighter: I have no regrets
mistress_shadowfox: i will keep everything you have said AND spread your gift if i can
to those who will listen
blurrighter: all great young writers die before they hit 40
blurrighter: that is why they say life starts at 40
blurrighter: the gift comes at a price though
mistress_shadowfox: i see that
mistress_shadowfox: then it was indeed a gift to have known you at the right time
blurrighter: you must make sure the people you inject with the truth serum, can not be
turned into demons with the knowledge of the power of life, they must have intrinsic
humility, or they will destroy their self with heroin, fast cars, and never settle down
and have kids because they will never age, they will always be virile, and this power
is the ultimate drug
blurrighter: knowing where the limits of life are, only pushes them to exceed the envelope
in other ways
blurrighter: you must on one hand hand give the gift but warn them also of the power that
it can corrupt them
mistress_shadowfox: yes
mistress_shadowfox: the key to life is to live it... and then embrace it
mistress_shadowfox: not to use it all up
blurrighter: I have made the mistake with some young men, and I have created monsters,
but that is because I didn't give them the warning that comes with the package
mistress_shadowfox: You are a good man David.
blurrighter: I am glad you sense the gravity of all this
mistress_shadowfox: I hang on your every word
blurrighter: the knowledge has destroyed two men
blurrighter: maybe more
blurrighter: power comes with responsibility and restraint
mistress_shadowfox: then it should only be given to those who can understand it as a
gift and not a free ticket
blurrighter: at least your son will have the knowledge of the rock star, he can become
anything now
mistress_shadowfox: my son is willful, perhaps he will listen to me
mistress_shadowfox: but in the fact that he is willful, he is more apt to listen to me
than anyone else
blurrighter: wait until he is 18, when he becomes a man, if you do not make it there,
leave these notes in a safety deposit box for him in your will, to be seen when he turns
18, by then he will not be turned gay by this knowledge, he will like women and be godly
blurrighter: he will save some woman somewhere sometime, even women can change their DNA,
and need to be saved
blurrighter: he will be a patriarch because I couldn't
mistress_shadowfox: i will teach him and in that i will honor you and your memory
mistress_shadowfox: for you have given me much in such a short time
blurrighter: well, there is no other way for me. I have gone to hell to prove that this
is heaven, and that this life is worthwhile
blurrighter: It just doesn't make sense to omit the turth because we are insecure in
other's powers
blurrighter: to think if one person told me all this then I would have repopulated the
globe with beautiful, talented, athletic warrior poets, and saved this planet, but now
I save the world with the other side of my spine and not with what is in my loin
blurrighter: anyway I was too beautiful
blurrighter: all that came from me would have been destroyed by envy
blurrighter: even with the rules of the game they wouild not be allowed to live, it is
just the same I smited myself
mistress_shadowfox: perhaps it isnt too late? couldnt you have children now>?
blurrighter: man has to evolve socially to be able to be secure enough to accept their
savior who tries to fix and not tie him to the crusifix, that is the lesson that falls
upon deaf ears of the Christian, they do not even understand Christmas
blurrighter: all my genes are corrupt except my brain, but I will lose that soon too
blurrighter: I will lose the godhead and go mad, enlightenment is a temporary state
mistress_shadowfox: and when you go mad, will you know it?
blurrighter: Ever since my step father came on to me, that new demon with the change
in my brain, I heard his voice in my head, and now over the last three days twice I have
heard voices, and then laughter
blurrighter: that is not a good sign
mistress_shadowfox: no it isn't
blurrighter: I may go blind in one eye, go deaf as it takes over my head, I am but one
nightmare away from losing my grip on life
mistress_shadowfox: I cant lose you so soon David.. I still want you to be active in my
life
mistress_shadowfox: i know that is selfish
blurrighter: my spirit is strong it will always be there for you, even if my soul will be
lost
mistress_shadowfox: promise?
blurrighter: the soul is the projection of the mind when blood is pouring through it,
what I have done is taken my soul, sold it to make a permanent spirit. No my soul will
not be there for you, but my spirit will. I perhaps will even be funnier, but it will
be madness
blurrighter: you cannot trust me, the animal self will have taken over
blurrighter: I will be in an institution, or jailed for killing the one who
excommunicated me
blurrighter: I will not be able to stop myself, there will be no higher brain covering
my brain stem, stopping the urges
blurrighter: I will act out on all thoughts, the good man that once was will be no longer
mistress_shadowfox: I shall miss you dearly when you are gone
mistress_shadowfox: that is why i see you as the color you are.. because the madness is
present
blurrighter: well, it will be good I hope the cancer will take me away from my future
self and not let my madness reach full maturity, so that is why I don't stop smoking,
I have to die, I accept that
mistress_shadowfox: the color associated with those who have no conciensce, serial killers
and the like, but u have sooo much of the other color left
blurrighter: well, as you now suspect, colors can change
mistress_shadowfox: yes they can
mistress_shadowfox: and when you change i will know
blurrighter: I fear my future self
mistress_shadowfox: perhaps i do too
mistress_shadowfox: im glad to have been able to wake up to you on this Christmas
blurrighter: yeah, you will never see me, if the voices in my head have already started
playing upon my fears
mistress_shadowfox: perhaps it is just as well, i may not be able to let you go if i do
blurrighter: funny how the man that could svae the world can't save himself
mistress_shadowfox: i think its sad
blurrighter: but that was the risk, I have braved the madness because I knew I could,
I was strong in body, strong in mind and soul, but I didn't expect my brain chemistry
to change
mistress_shadowfox: what else has changed?
blurrighter: that was unpredictable
blurrighter: just my DNA
blurrighter: that looks weird: "Just my DNA." DNA is everything
mistress_shadowfox: yes it is everything
mistress_shadowfox: it is your very makeup
mistress_shadowfox: but not your essence
blurrighter: and some don't believe in evolution...
blurrighter: brb
mistress_shadowfox: ok
mistress_shadowfox: I have to go for a little while, my son is up and its time to open
presents.
mistress_shadowfox: I will return a little later
Actually, when she left, that was when I went out to buy some smokes and saw the crows, and then came back to write that poem, it was after that conversation that I knew I had to kill myself because I would be losing my mind.
Well, I must apologize for my silence. I thought my EQ (Emotional Quotient) could handle life, but I guess the cantilever under my high wire act came loose. It was many things. But one day I walked out of the bank and I looked down Main Street and it was like the bar I DJ at was no longer there. DJ 33 1/3 was put on hiatus until March because of slowness in the bar biz this time of year, us being so close to Canada and all. I still ride my bike, and people speed up to further emphasize their domination over me while they reach for another doughnut, and the 18 wheelers that I could have been driving now making good money that pass me by, kick up the slush and throw it fiercely into the back tires and then the front and then into my thighs, reminding me that I chose to continue to be like Hendrix and not have to succumb to the periodical urine tests. Then with my roommate comatose since May, unwilling to pay his bills any longer, and the lease being up, I just felt I was at a crossroads, this time as a bachelor, no way going back to my father, hell I am 38. But life is tough. I have figured out the "order of the sponge" how they walk the plank off the kitchen sink and end up under the bathroom sink before that emergency that can't even find them a place in the trash. It was just in time too, for I cooked something today, so good, it was like I never cooked anything before, and I am a pretty good cook. But to make sure there was no Sam and Ella on things, I had to have had the order of the sponge down pat, and it all came together just as the walls of this bachelor pad were dissolving.
I was too embarrassed to admit to anyone that I was put on hiatus, and I really feel bad about withholding the truth, because you guys all know that my main tenet of my philosophy is speaking the truth even if the only reward is having true friends from it. I will take that reward wholeheartedly.
I just haven't been able to listen to music lately. The radio especially, who wants to hear the same songs over and over again? The man with the power to save the world only can save one woman, and maybe all the goodness and beauty, like music for instance too, can only be given to one woman as well. Sid Barrett the Pink Floyd band leader that went crazy and was replaced by David Gilmore, well it was Gilmore that made Floyd "Floyd", and I was DJing that last time a song that Gilmore keeps repeating: "There is no way out of here" in a fairly recognizable solo effort of his after Pink Floyd broke up, and I had put on my father's Mexican vest to go out and smoke because I thought I had control of the place, with the essence of Floyd, very much so poignant, but yet never over played... but I don't know if it was the Aqua De Silva (Silver Water) cologne, or the song that was too strong, singing "There is no way out of here" in a beautiful way, but then all the girls left, with the guys taking their money with them out the door. The girls were confused I know, since when is Manhattan in Cortland, NY? They came back again in groups of three, but with no guys around, they took off no matter how good the music was. Maybe if I had played Hotel California instead, they wouldn't have taken offense to "You can check in but you can never leave"? because overplayed songs lose their message. Well, I got my fingers warm fending off some girls this morning. You know I was really disappointed last Wednesday night, and I internalized the failure of the bar with my performance. It was good it was a slow night though I was able to play things I hadn't played before, and see what works and what doesn't. I found that especially with song that people aren't familiar with, it doesn't mater if a Whitesnake blues song had the best rock n roll lyrics of all time was on, they can't hear it. So every now and then you have to put on a sing along song. But to tell you the truth, I went in cocky, because I am moving out of here, and so all I have been doing is listening to records constantly, and so armed to the teeth, I felt good about my spinning powers. I even had brought along a multi colored Mexican vest to put over a white shirt that I bought in Puerto Rico. My DJ assistant didn't show up, and Pat, the Bar Manager had a tough time setting up the sound board, so I had to start the night with two slow songs, that built up to a nice crescendo, just to get the levels right, and I had to learn how to set up the lights. Pat and I eventually figured everything out, but I think that may have affected the night. When I finally got things cooking, I put on the Mexican vest, to go smoke outside in, and it pretty much had the effect of wearing a cologne your date is allergic too. All the girls left, I was trying to be Manhattan real, but I guess I was intimidating, and then the guys followed, so I felt really bad for the bartender Nicole, and I was planning for you to give her my shift pay. The girls of course were curious, and they did come back, I am sure the realness of Luckies is pleasing, after wandering the pretentious shiny fake bars on Main, but without guys in the bar that followed them out the door when they left, they had a drink or two and then left again. It is good that I am not looking for Love here and now because I am not dressing up for it, I am just trying to be a professional and make the bar more authentic than it already is.
However, on being professional, I wanted to write something. Going in cocky, which drove the girls away, I am pretty sure it was me, we all run from what we want, we can't admit what we want to who we want, that is human nature, and I was disappointed in myself that I was vulnerable to it to, because I went on an emotional roller coaster ride, there was a point where the failure of the bar really got to me. It was my worst night ever, I began to get really insecure and delusional, thinking if I put on this song or that one, I could control whether someone stayed in the bar or not, and I could hardly think at one point, I didn't know what buttons to push, and even once I went through my albums, and I was like feeling like none of it could work. I had lost complete confidence in myself, which is pretty much the effect the women wanted to stamp onto me, that is their part in imparting the human nature onto us as men, to get us to question ourselves, to feel insecure so we need them.
I really felt like quitting, that is how badly I felt for the bartender Nicole, I was going to pack up my records and walk out the door without a word and never come back. I was sure I was going to be fired. Nicole and Patrick made excuses for me, that it was a Wednesday night and all bars are slow on Wed, but I asked them not to treat me like a child and withhold the truth (I didn't say that - I just wanted some real feedback) Patrick kind of dodged the question again, like any good musician, he admitted his distaste for playing recorded music in bars, and I made some joke about playing the hokey pokey at weddings, and that I understood him. I know DJs are fake, but I am trying to be a real one. That is why I play unheard of virtuoso songs from the great groups, it kind of mimics the mixed bag effect of live music. And Nicole, well she just shrugged her shoulders, young, unable to analyze the situation, I am sure she got insecure like me that her outfit was the reason, we all have the innate human ability to only see things from our perspective, or that somehow in the night before an incubus came along and she was no longer hot. If Nicole is able to analyze the situation, and thinks that it was me, then I will move to another night. I would only put on my African shirts and Mexican vest and DJ shirts when I move to a night that is more crowded, putting on a show in a situation where there is no pressure cooker atmosphere only reeks of desperation, it seems every night I learn something completely different at Luckies. At least that is what I felt standing outside the Bar on desolate Main, smoking in the vest, I was too much that night.
It was raining in early January, just after midnight. I decided to break in the leather jacket my Soulmate had given me. In 10 years I had never walked in the rain with it, there were some spots on it all ready from the dye stain being worn away, like the way a leather chair gets from the wear, but it had never been soaked. You can’t smoke a cigarette in the rain, so as I turned the corner East the Atlantic wind and rain in face made me chuck it. I was insecure, like the nights on the subway singing after my perfect pick up lines didn’t work and the sweet love I could have given those ladies was rejected. In reality no one was real, they wanted me to stop trying to bring heaven down here. They would rather have me feel their pain and insecurity than for me to find out that the latest look they got out of Cosmo was just the best disguise to hide the fact, that coming only from Adam’s rib cage, there was something wrong with each of them, because as a matter of fact, didn’t Adam turn out to be a sinner, after all, too? As the rain washed away Bowie’s Soullove, and weathered me and hardened me, I had to whistle like an old man because I had forgot the lyrics. I was basically whoring myself again. No I was not selling my body in the sex industry like I had before when I lost my ideals after adult heartbreak. When the heartbreak had destroyed my profession, and I swore to never work for anyone ever again because they could not deal with a man in love, I was a sellout, selling my soul, playing music that should only be heard in my room on my bed for some her, significant . The music was too good for strangers in a bar to take, they could not take my serenade for an absent woman, each note reeked of it, it was not that it was desperation, it was hope, it was a song of hope, that is what they could not withstand. They came to drink to forget about life, how miserable it was, the day away from their baby, to forget that they had her hollow body next to them only because it was better than Television, this fake love of theirs. No, no one wanted to hear anyone still had hope, they had to walk out on that dream, even if it made them feel good, it felt better to stomp on another dream and force the owner to can me. There are far more sadists than masochists, there is way too much more pain in life than there is bodies to willingly absorb. The 100 lb Army rucksack of records that would turn my back into permanent marble for that last one mile walk to my den, was kind of like the day my left calf was permanently revascularized and toned. Reffing 4 basketball games alone, running in a clockwise circle around the court continuously, following Ron Artest’s size 18 feet (he was yet to grow into) and his twin brother’s prowess around the court, when he was even so much better than Ron. The scouts found that he did not have the emotional intelligence to make it as a pro. Passed over by the NBA machine, this man without a name, Ron’s twin I did meet again. Barrel-chested now after the millennium, he dwarfed me - there is no Cooper in the world that could design a barrel as wide, or any oak tree’s girth that could contain his huge heart for the game, it was too humongus for other humans to encircle with their minds and fathom such passion for balling. They said he didn’t have the E.Q. to handle the arena, but the bear that was standing outside that bar, with the Hummer humming near by, had grown inside, and now he was a gentle giant. He had learned humility from being passed over, and perhaps learning what they were finding that his brother too, from the outburst that he had, going into the stands thrashing a fan for hitting him with a cup of ice, he was now all there evidenced in his silence, and palpable in his power of understatement. He was too big for the game and too big for life. Only his “hotness” sleeking by back to the SUV from out of the bar had the courage to accept all of him. He looked at me, without a word, if it was alright if he go back to her. When he saw the smile sans the frontal from those days we shared on the courts together, both knowing that only what you loved could destroy you, basketball, we understood each other when my tongue also did not move. I watched him look over his shoulder as he headed for the curb. Our Queensbridge bullets, and empty misused diamond bags with essence of mind sapper were too damn close, I too was realizing I had to return to those stomping grounds, this is was what was also reverberating back and forth in my mind, the whistling could not cover up, I had been 86ed from this town. I had come up on Route 17, (my lucky number) and I had seen they had decided to rename the route to Route 86. Going back exactly a year later, I knew the signs had changed. There was another sign in the sky, kind of ominous. The phosphorescence of the moon, the reflection of the sun and the night life and Hollywood searchlights from Icons, burned through the rain clouds, attempting to give the Vampires a Golden Earring Moontan, it was huge in the sky, as large as the Harvest moon. I knew I was going to meet Jeanie the Witch, for every time the moon was weird, I ran into her. As I walked by loaded down, turning into marble my back, as my leather weathered away, the few cars on the road were stopped, doors opened, wipers going frantic, passengers glaring incredulously at the giant moon, alone or in groups, I plowed on, I had seen it before. I had seen it all before. I was ready to die. Again.
David Marttir Vaccaro
VAMPARIAH part two by David Marttir Vaccaro
[b]
Jeanie must have rode up behind me on her broomstick, punctuated with a colon: "Oh, so you want to die… again?" She withdrew her hand from straight between my eyes having read my mind, and my current slate of philosophy and happenstance. This is where the story begins. "Enlightenment was not enough? Eh? To want the candy behind the glass no one can touch, to want it so bad that you become the candy behind the glass. Well, now that you are the candy, there is only one way for you to be consumed, that is by breaking the glass. Do you want this? Yes, of course you do… There is no sense having power if you cannot wield it. OK. Yes, hmmm, very nice, but of course, to get back to what you gave up to get the enlightenment, and to have the enlightenment also, you must become a vampire, you do know this, you do, do you? Hmmmm, yes of course…" She had the classic big nose long locks, and felt and velvet clothes that stayed dry even in the rain, as if the break in the clouds where the moon shone through was always above her. You know how witches hate and fear water.
"Well, of course you do know that I feed off other people's life force, I have always acted like a vampire. My neuritis had given me the habit of intaking all the fatty acids to increase white blood cell count and representation of all the different kinds of WBC, and because I have beefed up my WBC, I haven't had a cold in 8 years. So I have some of the superhuman physical powers when added on to my physique and what I can do with it. I like my steak medium rare, over cooked steak is a waste of time, we need that dizzying effect of fresh meat, good meat, and anyone who eats a fine steak in that form, I imagine, can feel what vamps feel when they drink to satisfy their blood lust. The victim I am sure gets a mind virus from the sampler of their energy, and they are no longer themselves, and the power is a wave, able to turn the trick turned on them. This state of existence is only metaphorical though, I am convinced, it is not actual. There are no such things as vampires, and the living forever thing only comes through the power intake that transforms their spirit into the only eternity that is possible, on this planet living in folklore though long dead, becoming a ghost in the machine. A vampire falsely seduces, no vampire is going to tell you the downside of becoming a vampire, and the sexually exotic, sexually overcharged attitude of sex towards sex is a great allure, not rose colored glasses, but jumping from one fetish to another. That is what attracted me to vampires, the bridge between life and death, a certain morbidity for ones existence, and gleaning from the power in death, the actualization and realization of dreams... when death is our friend, and we have been hit with a mortal blow, we get that rsuh of adrenaline to overturn one last stone for mankind and then go. The bridges crossed to get to these future avenues, time can become irrelevant, and the state of existence put into, people can get the feeling that they have lived forever, and are going to live forever, because of the state of existence seeming altered, and time being meaningless, we can get the feeling we will live forever. Am I mistaken?"
"Well, just as you believed there was no enlightenment and then you "received" it as you say, it is a state of receiving isn't it? Yes, why yes of course, hmmm…. Yes, well, when you become a vampire you will believe in them. I know why you want to become a vampire, you want to read minds, you want to control them, you want to enslave them with hypnotism to do your bidding, to think of nothing but you, to do anything for you, to even kill, is that right, mister Goodman? Are you tired of being good, huh? Is that it, you want evil in your blood, are you tired that no one around you can understand you that you can relate to all of them, you want to be understood without even speaking? Yes this is the crossroads, honey, I know you well, you want to leave your soul behind here, and make a deal with the devil, give you the forked tongue, the final fork so you can even like the great yogis suck back your tongue and clean out your nostrils, in some kind of mind and body harmony. To become the snake, and taste the air with forked tongue, to smell blood with tongue, to learn the scents from the nose thru forked tongue, to speak with forked tongue, to understand the bible, and to no longer have it babble, eh? Yes, to stop trying to hide the animal in you, that thing at the bottom of your brain that you could only control by doing good acts, well, the time is to give into your every impulse, without any conscience. You've proved you are more hedonist than scientist, give up the false front, you are an animal, aren't you? Man hasn't fully evolved yet, when all the good men get destroyed, and the evil procreate, man will never evolve, you want to take like the bad boy, go from port to port spreading disease with what has always been sleeved. Yes, I think you would agree a man is not a man if he doesn't spill his demon seed. Yeah, it is time to give up on the dream, the ideal, the world has won, hasn't it? The catch 22 of enlightenment, that you could not share your knowledge, that in fact you had to hide it, and obfuscate it, eh? Too bad the trip was not worth it. If you tried to save the world you would only have destroyed it, what a ridiculous outcome, who would have thought? Well we can restore your physical powers, and give you more powers, both of the light and the dark, and you will have to answer to no one. But first you will have to answer to me."
"What do you want?
"I want you to make love to me, and then you will receive your gift."
"But I don't know how to make love, I only did it once, and I am not sure if it was even love then, I only knew her one weekend."
"Well, take me back to your place and do with me what you do with women that you love, show me your world, the world you want to leave behind."
"Yes Jeanie, but I do not love you."
"Love is a verb Pariah, all you have to do is show me love and I can feel it. I want to experience the seduction of the most romantic man now alive, with his youth, and his mind, standing on the pyramid of his accomplishments. I want to taste all that you have aggrandized in your soul expression."
"I was not a born romantic. I was made. It took a long time to find real love so when it came, my desperation made me very pliable. If I did something for her to reveal displeasure on her face, or if she iced me for a month, even if she admitted it was an error of enthusiasm, and she kind of liked my disruption, that it internally hurt me that she lived wronged, it proved I cared enough for her to go into her life and try to fix things. People cannot sometimes see the connections in their own lives that just need a tug or word or two to rid their circumstance. But I learned to be very careful prowling around in her life, because I wanted to continually see her again, and sometimes what I did led to 6 months of despair. 5 or 6 times I think. 36 months of despair, but I could not live with her unhappy, so I would do what had to be done, even if it was taking a chance I would never see her again. In separation there is always Poe's boundless waves that have an opportunity to sever the indelible fact that you walk the same earth since the first glance. But I could do what I did, and believe in love, even in separation, because just as she was irreplaceable to me, I knew I had all the other gents lapped, and should she run her race, she would see the men chasing a plastic rabbit like greyhounds racing for money at a track, she would end up in my arms at the finish line, because love is what I was after, not money, not fame, just the power of love with which all could be attained. In essence this hyper romantic girl molded me into her ultra-romantic dream man. I had to be what she wanted, I had to do what she could not in so many words ask, I had to read her mind telekinesis of me to become what she desired most, so I would be indispensable to her. Remember. I am a man, and men are animals, but animals can be trained, and she was a good trainer. Women by nature are more romantic than men, so she fostered in me and cultivated me to act in that way. Her bell ringing for the Pavlov dog nature in me was the lure of love. It seems without rings, roses, documents and oaths, the things most men confuse with romance, we delivered onto each other what we required, love for me and romance for her. All romance is is pursuit, which is dynamic. Love on the other hand just is, and is static. Men need something solid out of the elusive feminine mystique, and women will give in from time to time, but only for a moment, they will never admit you had them at the end of the first sentence. For them love has to be a game, a dance, a walk through the seasons. For men love is something to believe in, someone to believe in us so we have the strength and sense of purpose love provides to conquer the world from the edge of her bed. A warrior needs someone to return to, someone to take care for, someone to keep them vigilant, someone to stay alive for. Men get complacent though, they want love, but it is not out of a woman's mind the need for romance, a woman knows male nature better than him, she will never give him solid footing in her life, because the love that he desired is unappealing when it becomes static. A dynamo puts life back into what you gave up to first put into it, it is a feedback loop, where no energy is lost, a completely circular system that is dual in nature. Romance is this dynamo of love, it is the engineering which guarantees love success, she will put him through perpetual paces, have him hop through hoops asking how high, and move the brass ring from him when he reaches for her because she has got it and him on a string. This is what romance is. Women can't be true with their mercurial nature, they don't even know where they stand. All those hormones men do not have fluctuating depending upon the day of the month, the mood swings, what she feels is fleeting, and who she is varies by the moment, so she hides her inner clockwork from him. Men would leave a woman if he ever saw through her web, this is why, a woman's etherial essence can never be bottled for further study. In a way all women are virgin virgos born in September, they come out as the Gemini in June, different with each passing moment. He will never find out what makes her happy, inside she is a shape shifter, changing desire. A man must continually adapt his love attack, in the form of romance, and only the man who reads her every sublte body mannerism for reaction to his presence, can he find a way, momentarily, in her heart. (pause) OK, we are almost there."
I opened the door on my life to the Witch that promised to make me into a vampire. I cooked with the ancient recipes fused with the melting pot of all the cultures, I showed her tapes of me doing great moves in sports, I told her incredible stories I never had time to write down, I played for her music that I recorded, lyrics that I wrote, songs no one heard me sing. She inched up my bed, putrefying it with her felt and velvet that she never washed or showered under. I asked her about herself, her stories. She had been a gym teacher also, real, so she was thrust out of the system's breast and had to try to find a way to make it on her own, her goodness corrupted she chose the dark side as well. The part where we both laughed was when the creditors tried getting their money back. I would tell them they could not get blood from stone, to try to get rid of them, and the thing in common was how some of the bill collectors were ex-teachers trying to collect money from ex-teachers, admitting the game on the real teachers, casting them out, ostracizing them all. That moment of laughter was interrupted by the multitude of students faced with fake teachers who didn't care, because they knew life was a game, it was just another day another dollar, that is all, come and go, leave the students as they were, let them fall off the cliff with no catcher in the rye. No one to erase the FUCK YOUs from the walls. To have that image of the word FUCK YOU on every wall, sticking it to you as the game gets played on you, to have it rubbed in and rubbed in until you go insane, just by losing your ideals. I began to play music for her I couldn't play in the bar. It kind of took the edge off things, we forgot that we were both evil now, and there was no balloon to take us back to Kansas, that one non-existent wizard in the sky looking down on us had won, everyone was miserable, there was no hope. The music was great. It was the food of love. I told her what woman reminded me of what song, and I spun further stories, stories of women I had forgot. Women I let love me one night, and because I remembered them, they had been loved in some way, because to love is to know and to know is to love, yes it may have been an insipid connection, but when she put the toothpaste in her mouth and reappeared at the door, when I thought she had not wanted to kiss my virgin lips, I had the best kiss of my life, to continue to taste the paste as her mint ass wriggled away in Jordache jean. It was alright, Sheila, it was as real as two 16 year olds can get, empty inside but filled with imaginings. Then I read her poetry until she fell asleep on my bed listening to Floyd. I closed the window and covered her with my blanket.
When she awoke, she said she wanted to shower, the giant moon was setting behind the knobby branches in the frame of the West window in my room. "Shower? I thought you were a witch, aren't you going to wash away, go down the drain?" – "Yes, yes of course." Then she made appear a bottle of something and told me how if she put on this stuff it would repel the water, and she could feel the hot water run all over her body, the only trouble was, it was highly flammable. "Yes of course, water and fire, opposites…" I rationalized. When she came out of my shower I gave her my battered and tattered robe I had had since I was sixteen, and I covered her withered body as if she was my lover, affectionately. We went back to my room. The record was skipping at the end where there is a hand written soder iron inscription of which pressing the LP was. We let it skip. Now was the time she was going to turn me. She took off the necklace around her neck. "Pariah, You have shown me love all night in your way, you have fulfilled your half of the bargain in serenade, but I see no reason why a man with such powers of seduction, would need to gain false powers of seduction as well. It just doesn't make sense, but you have blessed me with your world, and because I love you now, and because I have the power, I will give you the gift you want, so you can appreciate all the other gifts. This will unify all your powers and enable them to be fully employed and reap from the vulnerable exactly what you wish to extract." Jeanie put the necklace around my neck, it was made of leather and had silver and turquoise, my two favorite types of jewelry. Bejeweled, I didn't feel any different, but then she finalized the process with a spell: "You are now Vampariah. No one will see you are a vampire, and no one will see that you are a pariah." – "Let me walk you home Jeanie…"
I looked down at her feet, they had no laces. I knew she was going to take me to a field somewhere, as she called it a camp, and I knew I had to tie my laces up high to follow the woman without them. I always suspected she was homeless, it was not out of love that I wanted to walk her home, it was to see just in what shanty she dwelled. We walked in the high slush, I saw the discarded Christmas trees, Jesus had died again, I made some joke about celebrating a Ukrainian Christmas in January, so I would never have to buy a Christmas tree, but it just didn't come out right, it wasn't funny like everything I always said, and it failed to make it's point about the teaching aspect, about the Christmas of those peoples, I was losing one gift for a gift of another kind. I was no longer myself. I lost the hallmark of my charm, teaching people things in a funny way, I was darkened inside and out, this perhaps too was just the next step of enlightenment, the darkness of it, to want the dark because the light was not enough. Man always wants more, even a man who doesn't believe in money, or possessions, the acquiring of knowledge was an infinite lust as well. She fell but I caught her, having a sense of premonition, and a quickness to act accordingly. If I had always won at sports before, now I wondered what I could do with this new body of a 16 year old again, but with the mind of an ancient, all knowing and all seeing. But would I desire to play sports? I never cared about winning, and I never kept score, I played to make my body incredible, to be able to defend myself, and to be defenseless with women, to put meat upon my bones, but now with a body that required no upkeep, why would I play? Would my philosophy change? Would I just want to pummel the competition asunder? Just dominate with no heart? Yes, I knew in my non-existent heart, I was a changed man, why, I wasn't even a man anymore. It bemused me to be so evil. I wanted to dunk on them until they stopped trying to stop me, because they knew I was unstoppable, and if they didn't learn their lesson then, why, then I would rip their eye out with my long finger nails that never gave as I flew by and dunked on a whole team Dominique Wilkens' style. Again I was drugged by the power, it felt so wrong, but it was so right. Half my life over, goodness getting me nowhere, it was time for the other half of my life to commence.
It was dark, Jeanie's moon had set. I saw a black cat walking on where the cement had been plowed of snow. I could barely make out the cat, but it was blacker than black, blacker than the tar McAdam road, and so it stood out. I wasn't sure if I was seeing things, with these new eyes, but I understood she was taking me to a magical place so anything was possible. I focused on the cat like it was loping on the savannas of Africa, a kind of liquidity, fluidness; the rock of the hindquarters flowing with the floating collar bone that allowed them to survive any fall, giving them that 9th life, and then another mirage? "We are almost there."
Jeanie laughed. As the cement from the road ended, it was now dirt path unplowed, and as the black cat stepped onto the white of the snow it's fur turned white. "That is the mother of the 8 cats I have. She is a bit of a comedian, er, I mean chameleon…" As if knowing the source of my silence and consternation. "Here we are… it isn't much, but I call it home. You are my first visitor here in three years, since I got here. I stepped over the trip wire as if I knew it was there, stealth was at my dispense. "Oh, you saw that, hmmm, well, you are the first I've turned, I only have one locket you know, I had been saving it for a special man, a man that had passed all the tests, and was still alive to want to run another future obstacle course." She led me around a pine cloaked with snow, kittens scattered, on the other side of the evergreen, there was a wall of Rock formation 20 feet high, it kept out the sounds of the interstate on the city limits of Cortland. "It is a double coal bin. (metaphor for the DNA double helix - we are carbon based life forms, but Jeanie was a real person, and she did live in a double coal bin) The front is still full of coal, but the back is where I sleep and ruminate." – "You know, Jeanie, I knew you were a teacher, but I always thought you were an English teacher, your mastery of the language was not left out of my growing portrait of you, I had no idea you were a gym teacher too." – "The back coal bin is larger than the front one, but the roof collapsed in a fire that almost consumed me, the cats had knocked over a candle that lit a fire to my theatre costumes, but fortunately, coal burns slow, and the drug I was on was not complete as a veil, I was able to foretell of my coming misfortune. I put a tarp over it, but that came apart in a great torrent, so I really live between the two coal bins, under another tarp for the roof caved in there too in time, although it is not a house, it is my home." – "uh, huh, that's nice Jeanie." My curiosity was quenched with all this rabble, she was worse off than I ever imagined, living between two coal bins, who would have surmised? I just wanted to suck her blood until she was a lifeless rag doll and get the hell out of there; but I stayed because maybe she could teach me more and then when she wasn't looking I could rip open one of her kittens, and eat its tiny pure heart and save it from life's disappointments, the famine, the pestilence, the solitude broken by only the illusion of inclusion. "You know Vampariah, I didn't have to turn you into a vampire, from the way you have been living, you would have naturally turned into one anyway, but your patience wavering, I see you required immediacy of results. At least this way with the spell, the spell can be undone, you can taste the undead and see if you like it, for if you do find that woman that does give herself to you unconditionally you won't be able to love her in the form you are in, you might want to become human again and live life in love, the way it was meant to be. You know the Greeks were wrong, that love is the lowest condition. They are half right, the lovers are unawares of the conspiracy against true love, that when people see the gait with the glow, they will do all in their power to destroy the love, the people in power will withhold paychecks and put you in a double coal bin, if you don't commit suicide first, this is where the real end up. The real test is when they pass the tests of the best friends trying to pry their way in between, and if she loves you when you are poor, after life destroys the man in love, then that is real love, when she was after what was in bewteen your pockets and noy within, but there are other obstacles as well, considering the 4th Dimension, when time is taken into account. Time unravels everything, everything, except vampires of course. But should I die before you find true love, then I cannot reverse the spell, and you will live life with no love, ever, which is your deepest wish. You did not know vampires can't love, they attract with falsehood and misrepresentation, and love is all about being true with someone. The loophole is necessary you know, there has to be one, for my sake, otherwise you would outright kill me when you weaken. I know you have thought about killing me, isn't that right Vampariah?"
I didn't know if my silence was an acquiescence of response, or it shrugged off the question effectively, I simply couldn't lie to my maker, even though it had always been in my nature to not to lie, here, I was ambivalent, if not lying served an evil purpose, then I could also not lie as well. I was on unfamiliar ground with my new nature. We went inside and she called all her kitties to be with her, she had a surprise for them. She threw up all that I had cooked for her, like she was a cow that had three stomachs, and she could prevent the food from being digested like a chipmunk will store food in it's cheeks. The cats gathered around and began to eat bones and all. I had cooked her some chicken dish, and these kittens seemed to have an intelligence to consume the dangerous bones without choking as if they were plugged into wisdom of the eternal. No one feeds cats chicken bones. These were obviously not cats. What ever they were, they did need to eat, and it seemed they had not eaten in quite awhile, for they were ravenous. There was a kerosene lamp in the middle of the small enclosure. There were things of other people who had lived there before, for decades previous, perhaps a century, and her stuff was merely piled on top of it, like an archeological digging might uncover anthropologically. "Are you sure these cats won't knock down the lamp?" – "Oh I am not worried about these cats. They are not ordinary cats, in a way they are part of me, an extension of myself. They can act on their own, and I don't know what they are feeling, but they would never betray me, we are in symbiosis.". Coal and kerosene, not a good combination, and 9 stupid cats I wanted to rip the hearts out of who could destroy any chance I ever have at getting true love, should I find her. I still had that ideal, being a convict of that conviction for so long, it was the one desire recollected from the prison experience of poverty forced upon me by insecurity and envy of others in power. I need that, like I need blood know, for this is what I yearn. Now I couldn't even kill one of these damn kittens! I needed to feed… "Look, Jeanie, this has been nice and all, but ah, isn't the sun supposed to come up soon? I gotta scram, don't I?" – "You are so right Vampariah, Nosferatu, so taking to your new priorities in life, nocturum, and un vita sempre solo di sangue, (a life always only about blood) eh? Huh, yeah, you must have guessed you could not feed here, and now you use the excuse of avoiding the sun to what? Scram? As you say? Hmmmm, put as a true manipulator would, use someone for all you possibly can and then discard the husk when done, seems so natural now doesn't it, quite fetching for a being with a face of a good man, is this what you wanted? Huh Vampariah?" But he was gone in the dark, the cats assembled into one being and jumped on Jeanie, and they began to frolic. No one saw, no one ever saw what this woman did with her claymation creation.
Vampariah walked back following the footsteps to his abode. He passed the Christ trees feeling nothing, the custom of chopping down a perfectly good evergreen no longer incensed him. He then glared down at the footsteps in disbelief, he stood there peering this way and that. All of Jeanies footsteps were shaped like exclamation points, by dragging her heel and coming to a stop for each step, it was as if she was telling him he was now in hell. He thought all the observations he had from being a good man enlightened had been an injury to his mind screen, now how would he feel about his new sense of interpreting observations? He got closer and closer to the community come from the city limits, snow plows were flying by on a parking lot, hitting speed bumps, the plows were throwing up sparks as they removed the snow and ice from the cement. The juxtaposition of paradoxical elements did not faze him, he was hungry, he had to feed, and that last meal, last night, had indeed had been his last meal. It didn't matter if he had been a great cook, he could now throw out the recipe book, maybe he could stop one of the snow plow drivers and pretend to be lost. He put his game face on and waited like the barracuda do, for the prey to come to him, there was cloud cover, the community was rising, there was time for a kill.
End part two
.. VAMPARIAH part three
I lived in that town of the 30,000 crows for a long time, till the bodies began piling up. I forgot why I had loved Cortland in the first place. There was some connection with it in the past which I had to stay for because it reminded me of such fine hope, that once I had used it as a launching pad towards a successful life, so successful that others were envious of my success, to the point where I had to be destroyed. There were reasons for staying, they had fixed up the college radio station and moved it to the student union basement. I had always hoped that I could whip out my DJ license from the FCC and blow minds again, but I never went there to see the new set up, and I ceased wondering if the guy that built the original station while disco was popular had been the one to mastermind the move. The station had to be moved, it needed fresh karma, some idiots had tried to use the station as a way to make money for the college, by leasing time on the airwaves for pro shows, and the college students never had the chance to get behind the mike and transmit their love of music through the 7 valleys and beyond. I had come so far because of the free opportunity given at WSUC, I had become all that, rocking Manhattan bars for two years every weekend, until the 20's lined up 3 feet high in the managers office, but the true sign of success was she had found me in a DJ booth once, and maybe it could happen again. I knew no other way to attract a woman than with my music, and their insecurity, no matter how fantastic they were, they were still human and insecure as anyone else, they felt safe approaching a man who was stuck in a DJ booth, because she never had to make a date and risk rejection, when she knew he was in a cage for her. So I stuck around there hoping I would dominate the nightlife once again to attract love, but somehow, I really didn't care for it, my priorities had changed.
Like the discovery of sex made us forget our childhood, and marraige gave us amnesia for everything that happened before we married, death from life also had a way of skewing remembrance.
I believed in Love weakly now, on the outside of normal life, looking back at the way life once was, it was the same disbelief for things on the opposite side of a mirror. Crossing over, we forget our belief systems of the past. We remember the strong memory of the need for love, but I am sure I just didn't believe in it anymore. I lived in the City dump. The crows were relentless. It was safe to pile the bodies in there. I would dig and hide, but I came across my things, my garbage that I recognized from the year that I had lived there. I killed so much that I eventually had to dig deeper, and I found the layer of garbage from my launching pad days, the stuff I threw out when I left as a senior. I hardly recognized my items of hope, the couches that I had walked over my head from the free garage sales, the end tables whose polish had been worn away by beer, and I found a candle, that for me represented the hope for love. The fact that I never really lighted it because I never had the excuse to light the candle because it was only me, and my candle always waited for two to be lit. I saw the figure skaters on the sides of the broken glass that used to dance to the flicker of candle light, and the big rectangular cube of wax that some whale had to die for to produce from it's blubber, and which I threw out upon graduating because I lost hope in love. "Geez," I thought to myself, "if I had given up on love way back then, what the hell am I doing still believing in an outmoded concept, true love, hah!" I took the latest bodies and dug them deep into the un-biodegradable pile, human garbage was so filthy, nothing, no bacteria, no life forms could subsist on it, and break it down so it would eventually rot into earth once again. It was a time machine, so hermetically sealed the Constitution's Bill of Rights had a better chance of being preserved than behind bulletproof glass in the Smithsonian. Garbage consisted of more paper than metal, plastic or wood combined. Freedom of the press had run amok, the truth was never to be found in any book, and the written word was devalued as a result and discarded, worthless. The thing that we all should have feared, a nuclear holocaust, its radioactive half-life, of thousands of years had no concept of permanence when compared with all the bits of paper with scribbled emotions on them, the discarded love letters, the diaries scrapped because the author was so embarrassed by the contents of what she done to him, the roller coaster of bad love, which if you were lucky you would get the ride of your life on, ending up with a little bit of her still in you, as if the centripetal forced jammed her soul into yours, and you weren't even you anymore. Communicating with a woman that should have been by your side, the outpouring of emotions onto canvas, or onto manuscript, the fact that she never came back didn't change the fact you were now an artist, but embarrassed for feeling so strong for someone so long gone, it ended up in this dump, and dumps everywhere, preserved for an eternity, as it should; feasted on with the eyes of the undead that would never love again, who knew it's worth. The crows began to descend with their shrill KAAWS, and went after my latest victim like it was hot pizza. I hated crows. Perched on top the pile of bodies I took off the necklace and examined it for the first time. It was so itchy, and my neck was just as red as the red neck witch who never washed up. I guess with the melanin gone even the moon tan could lead to moon burn if I prowled too long at night being picky with the hunt looking for a victim I could have sex with as I drained her, fulfilling two needs at once. I killed so much eventually I had to leave this dump. With so many people missing they came after me.
There was no Van Helsing to chop off my head, or drive a stake through my dead heart. What came after me was the documentary crews, armed with the finest private detectives, and the latest technology to track a serial killer who got sloppy feeding on the drunk college students; leaving the pale bodies in the alleys behind the bars, too stupefied on their latest drug or Bacardi 151 to hide the bodies. They had figured there was a wannabe vampire out here, so they pointed their infra red cameras around while I flew above their scopes. I moved to a mausoleum in a cemetery when they tracked me down. Eventually I gave an expose for them. They promised not to turn me in, on the side the producer told me it was quite a scoop and the advertising revenue they could cash in on was too much to turn down. Rather have a live story than a dead one, so they let my dead bodies pile up. They took their probes and tried to pry off my canine's fangs, asked me what dentist did such handiwork. They took my blood, had it analyzed to see if I had AIDS since I was a bloodsucker. When they came back, and told me something must have been wrong with the latest equipment because the blood they took of me was from a person long since dead and which didn't even have human DNA anyway anymore. They said with certainty that AIDS couldn't even exist in this blood because AIDS was a virus, a living thing, and couldn't live inside dead blood. People couldn't believe the light of enlightenment or the pitch of the dark, or UFOs for that matter until they experienced it with their own eyes, they had to see a vampire to believe that it existed. If they wanted to be truly convinced well then, they had to become one, but I didn't get any volunteers, their skepticism wasn't full on; everyone had some premonition about the supernatural.
I got annoyed with the puny mortals and their simple minds, so on camera I just took off up and flew away from them, nobody really wanted to know the truth, to have their self-discovery snatched from them. People knew without thinking that he who feels it knows it, and wisdom could never be taught. The only person they wanted to believe things from was the person they would love, until then, they wanted their minds barren and virginal, to be impregnated only with the Soul of their lover. The osmosis of soul oozing back and forth between the two minds would be the binding, what would bond them together stronger. They didn't want that chemical addiction to be interfered with. It really didn't matter what mind virus they received from them, it wasn't about the search for truth, it was about making your significant other's fantasies dogma. This is what people wanted more than anything, to worship another, and make their superstition their religion. The dark side had a similar catch 22 as with the light, that the lessons could not be taught. I had to shaddup that I would feed on anything old or young, or even an animal for that matter, anything with a pulse. I was having nightmares about feeding on the innocents. I rationalized it that I was protecting them from the corruption that would inevitably fill their hearts, and so I was doing them a favor taking them off this planet in a pristine state. It was an act of grace, like the children sacrificed in the Andes, or all the virgin women sacrificed to appease a smoking volcano throughout time. Even the Gods or dying shaman knew the value of the innocents. What was in the young and innocent was the power of life they gave up to get to be the Mastermind, and momentarily feeding on them purified my imbalance, but only for a moment, and then they were gone and I was still evil, even more so. Because of the nightmares though, I would have to get my fill from the horse, or dog, anything that moved really, the bigger the better, and my conscience wouldn't be hit hard, and the nightmares wouldn't come. Animals didn't have a consciousness, they didn't even know they were alive, so it was alright to cull the unthinking. Eventually though it was more satisfying to go back to the human, a woman with a bod I spotted from my perch above the clock tower, to hope she ran out of money so I could do it to her when she went to clean out her bank account. Regardless of the sex, even to drain the blood out of the brain of a graduate student, or even better a Phd student, there was some transference of soul coming from the living; what I mean is, coming from the people that were on. The stuffy professors too, but they were harder to get at. I had to flip their cars over with them in it driving with classical music and smash in windows, just to feed on their minds like I was a zombie and knew nothing. They were all that with the game, and had the discipline to not bullshit their self with the corruption of the knowledge, and to continue to pump out a research paper every now and then. I could always learn from them. I was getting more and more powerful, but I made the mistake of feeding on a Theology professor who thought he was Jesus once, it felt like he set me back two thousand years. (this is a crack at myself, I have a little bit of a messiah complex)
I stood outside a bar off Main and watched footage of me flying away from the infra red cameras into the sky and I read the thoughts of the stool bound men. They were convinced that what they saw was just the latest development from Pixar and Disney's conglomerate, or some new Speilberg special effect. People were so confused about what was real and what was mumbo jumbo that they could not differentiate any longer. They knew better their girlfriend's panty brand name better than their grandfather's middle name. They didn't know if they were coming or going. So the FBI came and then the CIA too, when the documentary teams handed them the tape, and they saw it was unadulterated. I laughed as they pumped clips into me, the smoking barrels, spent cartridges at their feet, they could not even tell their wives the truth that I was out there, a monstrosity constructed Shelly like by the unchecked game of man. Normally the victims of the game do not survive, but I had too much power in the first place to be vanquished, and now they had to deal with my heightened powers. I really didn't know what a bazooka would do to me, so when I heard them speak of SWAT, I never saw that movie, but I pressed on, flying with the migratory bats above the clouds and worked my way south, where the warmer it got the more bodies per square mile on which to feed.
"The Encounter" by David Marttir Vaccaro
Eventually, I ended up in a Missouri cemetery, addicted to the thought some morbidity fascinated Goth chick could be the only one to love me in my current affair. There was a girl talking to her father's head stone. Between the talking and the mind reading I found out that he had killed himself for her, and she felt responsible, and she was going to do it tonight, razor equipped. I watched her. I was always good with psycho analysis, but with the mind reading I could cut through facades, the truth people don't even let on to themselves. As long as no one found out, they could live with their self lies, and they wouldn't even acknowledge it. She must have had some skills of premonition too, for she detected me without a sound on my part. When you get in someone's head, if they have an acuity for the supernatural, they are not an easy target as the unimaginative. I pretended I wasn't there, but she sought me out with no fear anyway. "Reveal yourself!" She stated with impatience. I walked out from behind a cypress. "I am getting a Déjà vu on this…" I said mockingly. "Well, it is better the second time around…" she said. This one was powerful, I had to control her mind: "Heather…" people like to hear the sound of their name. She stepped back as if struck with a drug hip check. "How do you know my name?" – "I will do you a favor. I will cut to the chase. I am a vampire." – "There is no such thing." – "Yeah, I know, I know all about you. You have Cerebral Palsy, and a car crash screwed you up even worse after that, and you always wished some vampire would take you and make you super human." – "Did Laura put you up to this?" – "Oh, Laura," shuffling thru the rolladex of her mind quickly. "No, I don't, I, I don don't…" – "What is the matter with you?" – "I dunno. I've never stuttered before, I am all knowing all powerful, I, I don don don't stu stut stutter!" This is ridiculous I thought, I had better kill her quickly she has some kind of power over me. "Vampires don't stutter. I told you they don't exist." – "But, bu But I do do exhhhhist!" – "No. You don't. I wanted to believe in vampires for so long to change me, to make me live forever and to be strong and to be young forever, but none came. You are a poser!" – "I, I, ammmmmnnnnottt apo po pos poser." – "Leave me alone, you are a waste of time, anyways if you are a vampire, you are a lowly one, just made prolly, doesn't even know what to do with himself, but you are kinda cute, I'll give you that." – "I need a cigarette." I muttered abashed: "Maybe that will will, will fuck it! Damn this girl!" – "Screw you too!" she had turned in the time I was searching for my stuff in my pockets: "Wait!" – "What is it?" tapping her foot, humming something. I had to try some reverse psychology, nothing else was working: "OK, go, I don't care, go slit your wrists." – "OK, bye, whoever you are." She turned to walk away. "Damnit Heather! Stop this, I am the one who is supposed to be in control, you have to listen to me." – "No, no I don't. By the way that reverse psychology you tried doesn't work on me. What a lame-O trick. What do you think I was born yesterday? I have felt like I have been alive since the beginning of time. I have always felt that way." She turned again to go muttering to herself: "Can't even find a peaceful place to kill myself" – "I heard that!" – "Heard what? I didn't say anything." – "Yeah you were pissed I rained on your parade, in essence." " "OK, so you hear good, put a notch in your plus column freako."
"You know, reality imposes suicide on us because our preconception of life was a misconception, and it is either adapt to reality or suicide. Suicide is a symbolic gesture of the willingness to change, to reach the next level. Only the ones most passionate about life want to kill themselves, the insipid sheep live for ever and inherit the Earth, the meek I mean. The ones convinced of their ideal of the real the most, do not really want to die, they merely want to reach the next form of existence to better cope with what is and what should never be to be in harmony with the imbalance, because who they were or who they are wasn't working. The walls we put up to keep out the world's corruption, is not there because we fear the corruption outright, it is there because we do not want to internalize the evil to cause a meltdown inside our walls and change us, for the corruption to take root within and grow. There are perhaps as many realities as there are people, but no one wants to learn of the one reality. Yes there is always the reality of the way a person sees the world, and that is beautiful and should be cherished, but that again is a misconception. They know 'their reality' is special and should be protected at all costs, to even reject the stark reality of enlightenment, they don't want to know. Nobody knows, because nobody wants to know, they like their rose colored glasses. Then there is the reality of the world towards them, just as they are unique, how the social bubble always reacts to them will be unique as well, but it will always be the same, this reaction. This resistance in the wire that makes them flow with soul electricity, it gives their will lean. The way the world is makes them who they are in the first place, their struggle, their outpouring of deeds, everything they do is because of the limitations of human nature accepting the individual within group dynamics. People are most afraid of change. The ones who do accept change are the ones willing to die, the courageous accept a new role, there is a compromise of soul. Only the most daring are willing to unconsciously kill themselves off and be reborn in a different form. At last count, there are probably more than 6 billion ways to die now, some of them immediate, some planned some not, some longer and some shorter. You do not really want to kill yourself, you just want your old self to die, to compromise and conform, so you can be accepted and be happy. Your father killed himself because he couldn't stop his girlfriend from abusing you mentally and physically, she called you "IT" am I right?"
– "Yes, Vampariah, and thank you for transmitting your name with each carefully planned thought, it has been the only brainwashing that you have been doing, you have not been doing any mind control tricks to falsely seduce me. I realize this. I am glad you have been very scholarly in trying to heal me after you got over the initial stuttering. I was kind of tickled to think I staggered a most powerful being, perhaps it was a reverse seduction. The reason why you were having such trouble expressing yourself is because, you think I am the one who is going to vanish into a cloud of mist."
–
– "Thanks, that is reassuring, I guess vampires even have a fear of rejection."
–
– "You know you should just take me, make me your slave. I am tired of working on relationships"
–
– "I, I don't want that. I want someone with a pulse, someone that enlivens my dead heart, I don't want a mindless submissive zombie puppet, I want whatever I do to you for you to be a willing recipient. I want you to retain your powers and attain new ones, and stand by my side…"
(Vampariah circles her, to further psycho analyze)
– "Of course I don't know what your father's girlfriend was thinking, but if he was willing to die for your sake, and you were just about to kill yourself for him, obviously there was some strong bond between the two of you she was insecure with and envied the father and daughter tie. That may have been the reason why she did what she did to you. To steal all the self-love your dad was packing into you." She was silent. "If you'll allow me to continue… You know… I know your dad killed himself so you could be free from her demonizing of you, he was unawares that he was going to possess your mind with other demons about feeling guilt for his suicide. When you told him off standing up for yourself, the night before he killed himself for never interceding in her mistreatment of you and you never saw him again, it had in fact been the first time you withheld your love from him, because he never stood up to her for you, it was the classic battle between sex and love, and he was tired of being in the crossfire, when you were the only one getting hit. Believe me he felt each bullet that struck you tenfold. Sex is mindless, love eternal."
–
– "You are a vampire with a heart, what a strange combination."
–
– "I have no heart. It is in the possession of an old witch thousands of miles away from here. I can't love you, you are right, I am an imposter, I am fake, I haven't even made love to a woman in all my life, because my self love is fake, and only real love can forgive. Things always go wrong in a relationship and only the man who can patch things up with forgiveness can have the prize, true love. I… am just a waste of your time, a poser as you said. This bridge is out."
–
– "How is a woman supposed to respond to such drivel? Are you a monster, or do you have a heart? Which is it? I'd take you either way, but I want to know."
–
– "Well, technically, I can get my heart back, it would be a fourteen day trip there and back, but I am a monster… now."
–
– "I know you are. Vampariah you have been all over the TV, I was just playing with you. I was not afraid to die, so I played a power game on you. There was nothing to risk, and maybe if I presented a challenge to your psyche, you might respect me and take me into your fold. But it was all instinct and instantaneous, I didn't think of these things, I just went with what felt right. But I do believe you are a vampire, unlike everyone else. Everyone in this town thinks you are a fraud."
Just then, he heard one of the voices in his head. He couldn't tell Heather that he was going insane, that he heard voices, and that he had nightmares and couldn't find peace because of the monster he had been turned into being to dominate a reality thrust upon him. "Heather, I have to tell you something. I am not all that. Just now I heard a voice. I thought they went away, but… and I assume the nightmares too, they will come back. I thought being turned into a vampire would battle my demons, but… I am going batty I think?"
"Whaat?"
(The voice spoke again in his mind)
"I shouldn't have told you that, there was nothing to gain from the truth. We could have had a couple of beautiful weeks together… shaddup stop it, god damn this!" (The vampire began to cry) (She approached) "Go away, I am dangerous, I have no heart, I have no mind, I have no soul. I am a monster, a serial killer hunted from state to state. I am tired of running, I just want to die, and end this. All I had was my mind, that is who I am, and now that it is going I just don't want to be, I really am not an animal. I just entered the darkness to master the light, that is all."
(The voice came again, it was relentless, it asked him to listen, the voice was dying it said, it told him she was the one, and that he should go pick up his heart before Jeanie died, otherwise he would never be able to love, and walk this earth forever, never able to act out his one wish, which was to make love to a woman.)
"Wait, Heather, it is the witch that turned me. Those crystal balls prove useful. She thinks you are the one, and that I should go get my heart from her. She had been ill, living in the cold for so long, decades, with poor food, and time too has taken its toll, and she hung on only because she believed I would find a woman unafraid to give herself to me unconditionally. That was why she stayed alive. She wanted to hear our beautiful music to(get)her."
"Go get your heart. Now. Go. Just go, now!"
"I can't.
"What?"
"I need to feed, I flew all night to get here, I am tired, everyone is sleeping, there is no one to get strength from."
"Take me."
"Are you sure?"
Yes, take me, take me now! Please… it is what I always wanted. I need to be healed in one embrace, to close my eyes and then open them healed. I need to be made whole. I have always been a cripple. And you are nothing without your heart, and you need me to get your heart back. So we must do this"
"Yes girl, we must. Come to me, take these steps to our future, you must willingly take this gift I can no longer bare. The power will do you good. I was perhaps too powerful to be a vampire, I have been out of control. You will fall asleep." (he grabbed her) "I will return to this spot in a fortnight, be here, because I don't know where to find you." (he bites her)
"My Gawd! You feel so good inside my mind, this is awesssssssssssome…" (she is gently laid down on her father's grave. Vampariah covers her now cold body with his cloak and raises his hand to summon her unconscious)
"You will forget that he killed himself because you told him you didn't love him anymore. All you will remember is he died so you can live."
(Vampariah flies away) stage direction to the North East.
... VAMPARIAH part 5
Everything was hunky dori I made it back in time to the witch, and she seemed fine, she seemed healthy, but she was tight lipped about her misgivings. She knew she was going to die very very soon, but didn't know from what machination of man she would fall prey to. We had a conversation in her double coal bin.
"I came to get my heart back."
"Are you in a rush? Why not relax awhile, you must be tired from your trip. You do know after that night you made love to me in your way, I had to create a being that was like you, because my old lover wasn't quite cutting it anymore. I took the heart you gave me and I put it into my new creation, but something was missing. I know I had the mind, I connected to you with my crystal ball, and I had the heart, but I screwed up with the soul, which is the thing that makes the heart and mind bind. It was like a recipe without the secret ingredient. Couldn't you stay awhile, and let me study your soul in depth, so in these last days of life I can know what love is? I mean fashioning men out of clothes and hair, and harvested hearts, it just isn't the same, not with the real McCoy standing in here at the moment" She had to hide her smile, a bit of drool was leaking out.
I was not taken aback by her admission of attraction to me. I kind of figured it to be the case, since everyone in my life except blood had come on to me, regardless of their sex, and she was human wasn't she? To live life without lust, when the power of lust was prerequisite for love, it was only natural she liked my cologne, so to speak. "Actually, Jeanie, I promised her that I would go back in 7 days, but I don't know how to get back without being a vampire. I had lived without money for about a year, and all I really have are my clothes."
"Uh huh, I see. After all I have done for you, you can't even cook a meal, or play some guitar and sing? I could conjure up a guitar, or I know what you really want, what you always wanted, a bass ukulele, am I right?"
"Well, yes, ok, I could cook for you, and play some guitar and sing. Would that satisfy you?" She had a pleased expression on her face.
"You know Vampariah. It is not true you haven't made love to a woman. You have made love to every woman that you ever met. You always had the power to enter minds, and all it takes is the way you speak your syrup in their ear, the way you are nice to all women, because of your philosophy that all women can be loved, as you walk away, they use their imagination on you, because you do know the best sex is in the mind."
"Well, I dunno, I thought becoming a vampire was going to break the candy store glass, and then I found without a heart I couldn't make love. I know I have always dwelled in the metaphysical realm of life and living thru the imagination, but you'd think there would be one woman somewhere who would actually want the real thing. It is too bad I needed security in order to take down my loins because I am a good man and I want the moment to be perfect; but a woman was only going to give you a relationship if you made love to her first, so there was no way into my pants for them or me into them. It was my fault to some degree, I was ashamed for being a good man with such ethics, maybe if I communicated my limitations, we could have risen above them together?"
"Yes it appears you are the next step in evolution, whether it is in the genes, your limitations, but something was repressing your animal side quite effectively, maybe it might have been your ideals, especially when you grew up and reached sexual maturity just as the AIDS epidemic hit full swing, and one encounter could kill you… it is probably a combination of things. Here… I had it tuned to your bass voice." She handed me the bass ukulele, and I began to play even though I hadn't played it in years. Musicians never got carpal tunnel, and since it was advancing up my wrists, I figured what she put into my hand would stay there. I began to sing like I always had done before, not a song that existed, or lyrics that I had worked on, but I just went with what I was feeling, and being poetic in nature it came out in song - but then it happened.
Of course I can write about it now, which is later, all writing is done afterwards, so I am going to go quite in depth with the total outcome of the apocalypse, and the steps man kind took to reverse it. The moon was hit by a large asteroid that was deflected by a comet outside Mars. It had happened so fast, and the unpredictability of it no mathematician could prevent, there was no time for any military scientist to plan a failsafe. No one knew it was coming, not even Hollywood which knew everything. The moon had been spun around so the dark side of the moon faced the Earth, the side only the Russians had seen. It was true what they had recorded, that there was a crater hundreds of miles wide and hundreds of miles deep in it, and it had not been magnetism that forced the face of the moon we always saw to face our eyes. It was gravity, that the side with the giant hole in it was less heavy and so the side with less mass faced away. Unfortunately, there had been a direct hit, the asteroid had filled the hole like an eagle hole in one, and it had driven the moon almost into the Earth's atmosphere. It was bound to happen sometime, that crater scarred moon, more crater than tranquil sea, that the hole no one ever saw got filled perfectly. Now that the moon was balanced it too began to spin, the torque provided by the initial hit imparting a slow ever so slow rotation. It was a stroke of luck that I was in upstate New York above the plains of Pennsylvania, and surrounded by the seven hills of Cortland, like the seven hills of Rome where I had auspiciously been born, the 7 that made me, and the 7 that preserved me, adding up to the magic number 14, because with the moon closer, much closer, looking even closer than even the harvest moon, the sea levels had risen because of the moon's gravity increasing and New York City was gone, the whole East coast was snug up to the Appalachians. There had been hope that with the gradual and eventual loss of the moon to the sun's gravity sea levels would be maintained for lack of tide, but that was now out of the question. The loss of coastline due to hundreds of years of rising ocean was nothing compared to an immediate loss of orbit; we would either head to the sun and burn, or drift into space and freeze. Then man would know in retrospect, this was indeed the best of all possible worlds. There was a virtual blackout of information, but even a novice could tell the moon had lost its orbit, and it was sinking ever so closer and closer to the Earth's surface, to crash into it at some point in the near future. Yeah, Einstein, didn't have to turn over in his grave, his mathematical formulas that gave rise to the atomic age saved the Earth, tools of destruction proved useful in survival. All the countries with nuclear arms faced them into the moon and obliterated it in one fell swoop. Yes moon rock eventually showered over the Earth, and that was horrid, but that didn't happen right away.
Jeanie's powers had been from the moon, and now that it's balance had been disturbed, her powers were fading. She had obviously been alive much longer than is normally possible in terms of human life times, so when the moon her source of power was dying in the sky, and changing the intricacy of the connection with her, she was fading away fast. Her face was leathering. Initially, it was as if she had been struck with a mortal blow mid song; maybe her magic power source had come from the fact that the crater on the dark side had never been filled and that was why she was dying, but, whatever be the case, she lingered on, fading away ever so gently into oblivion.
"David, take off the necklace, let me reverse the spell and give you back your heart." This one last act to make me whole again did not come from the adrenaline of dying, it came from that she did care for me, and she wanted me to live life with love. I began to take off the necklace. "No, not you Vampariah, I said David." A man stepped into the room, he had a blank stare and did just as instructed. "Now Vampariah, switch the necklaces and you get your heart back, but there is one thing you must, must… know… there is a provision, something you can only do, do, once or, and, you will die." Jeanie was dying fast, and though she tried to warn me, she ran out of ability to form speech with her lips. She slumped against her belongings, and I felt my life cursed by her premature death. David standing up looking down at me. There was two Davids in the room. I reclined from out of the attitude feeding off of her lips my ear. "Wait a moment." my twin said. Out of Jeanie's mouth came nine mice, and they shook them selves off momentarily, but then they started getting their bearings and decided to run towards the opening of the double coal bin. My copy told me not to worry, he thought he had a plan he pronounced kind of hollow-like. His body fell into a pile of 9 cats, all with different fur, and of different size, and they chased the mice out the opening. I wandered out and stared at the last sign of the apocalypse in the sky, the moon filling up with red, and when all Jeanie's mice had been caught by the cats, the cats ran over by my feet and formed a human once again. This time he was not hollow, my mind in him had been filled with the soul of a woman, he had no heart, yes, but in a way he had more completeness within. He had been completed by a woman, and maybe because of that maybe some day he would love again and give him a heart, even though he was only a voodoo construction, maybe we all had some magic in us? "Jeanie is alive in me. I have her last words. She says, if you make love to a woman you will die, that is the one loophole in the verbal agreement you agreed to." I told him good luck and I got the hell out of there.
The whole world was freaking out, but I kept my head while the whole world was losing theirs, and I grabbed a Quad motorcycle someone had abandoned, and I decided to head along the Appalachian wilderness trail, filling up along the way from the illegal moonshine stills for gas, since I had no money. I didn't know if Missouri was still there but I had to try to find real love, even if I could only make love to her once, I would die trying.
Missouri wasn't there. I could not find her, and in the interim I fucked strange women as much as I liked, it would not kill me, I didn't love them. Although there was no way of keeping track of time after the apocalypse, by the time they had the rockets pointed at the moon in unison, I had pretty much ended my search, so she found it easier to find me, with me not on the move. She too had wasted her time with other men, turning them so they could be more than a one night stand, but since there was no real love between them, they all went mad with her mind virus, and though they were true to her, it was more of an obsession, where they would alternate wanting to kill themselves because of their misery, or wanting to kill her because of the incomplete union. She met me in the Dakota's Black Hills. I figured when the moon would be completely destroyed the oceans would convulse more powerfully than a hundred tsunamis, so placing my self on the high ground in the middle of a continent was the best I could do. Sometimes it pays to read the Science Times.
VAMPARIAH part 6
Nose bleed seats on the Black Hills for the shoot the moon thang, I kinda sensed she was approaching. The extra wing in the mansion of my brain discovered with the powers I had as Vampariah were still cluttered with furniture, although I wasn’t a vampire anymore, I did have some ESP left over.
“Hey”
“Hey”
“It is better the second time around.” I said mockingly.
“Wait that is my line, you are supposed to say déjà vu.”
“Nah, what I say now is Déjà entendre.”
“Look I can read minds now, but that doesn’t help me, I still don’t get French.”
“Uh huh, well I thought, ever since my father was turned Chevalier, it was my duty to collect French colloquialisms.”
“Why do you always answer a question with a story that has nothing to do with the question?”
“To pique your interest… Oh you have arrived.”
(Heathers glides down)
“Well, déjà vu means already seen. I don’t have the feeling of having been here before, but I certainly have heard those phrases before out of our full lips, and déjà entendre means already heard.” I looked at her. She wasn’t a strong vampire being turned out of a physically challenged person, but what was stolen in her fetus formation had been restored, as if her mother had indeed popped in that vitamin B-6 pill religiously to prevent her C.P. She was just a normal young woman now, with strange appetites, who liked to fly once in a while. “Hey, and Heathers, do me a favor, I know I don’t read minds, but don’t use that line about having flown a long distance and needing to feed, personally that is weak, and it won’t work, I don’t want to be a vampire anyways, that Ferrari only came in red, and I couldn’t get it out of 5th gear.”
“OK honey that’s nice. You know you could have called.” She jested.
“Well, all joking aside, I tried to make it easier for you, I stayed on your side of the Mississippi, plus I always wanted to hear music from a radio station with call letters beginning with the letter K, it was really not that I wanted to kiss you now.”
“Is that all you wanted?”
“Maybe just that because I know a first kiss would be like christening a ship, my champagne bottle smashing into your vessel and starting a long journey.”
“Speaking of water, what do you think is going to happen Master Mind?”
“I have given it great thought, of course the moon will break up, some will land on land and some on water, the oceans will rise incredibly. The only hope for the earth would be is if all the different nations acted in synchronicity and blew the moon in a direction, that it’s trajectory would change the Earth’s tilt.”
“Vampirism has done nothing for my ADD dear and feasting on all the bad brains out there hasn’t helped either, what are you getting at?”
“The sea levels will rise even more, with moon in ocean, and only with the Northern hemisphere shielded from the sun, can water be converted to vertical ice, and cause the water levels to lower. Then maybe the Earth can return to as it once was. Believe you me, all those moon rocks in museums, they are going to hit the trash bins fast, even dumpster divers would chuck em. It is going to be bad, but not as worse if the moon actually hit the Earth’s surface. I couldn’t even imagine what would happen then, and I don’t think the scientists have a clue either, that is why we are pointing our toys into the sky.”
“I have been smiling a lot thinking about you, my lip’s been split to the point of blood I lick, and it is a lot worse with you, everything you say makes me smile, even the egg head shit, there is something funny about the seriousness about all of it, how after all the world pulled on you, you still want to think about ways to save the earth. It is charming. Inside you are still a child, as if what happened didn’t happen, and you are innocent ready to be scarred some more.”
“You know I think they call ships ‘she’ because there is never any woman on them. (pause, then glances at her) Can I christen your ship?”
“I don’t have to read minds to understand what you want. OK, we could take that long journey.” (They kiss for the first time)
Heathers: “It was cool for you to admit you thought you were going mad, and you did it without hesitation. For me, that proved I could trust you.”
David: “I can’t fathom madness, but I am pretty certain it is an untrustworthy state.”
Heather’s: “Well, a broke clock’s right twice a day, even if you never know what time it is.”
David: “Oh, I am certain I will always be right, that is probably the definition of insanity. The filter for determining what is uncouth and what essential for the moment will be broke, I bet I would become quite the blabbermouth. I mean people used to think I was crazy for always speaking the truth or acting correct. If that is crazy, then I don’t want to be normal. What kind of society is this if even stopping a mugging gets misconstrued? It didn’t matter if the girl I saved was cutting my class. I had the power to do it. Everyone deserves to be saved even if they really don’t. I was slim enough to slide between two poles designed to not let a grown man through. I had the speed to make the good samaritan look like he was running backwards, the quickness to knock the knife away, the know how to subdue a huge violent man 120lbs heavier than me with a half nelson and bar arm hold, the strength to walk the beast back three blocks when he fought for every step. Cortland taught me well. I was prepared even if no one can teach you how to teach, or ever really does. But I also had the fortitude to keep the mugger floored below me while the hood had me encircled and tore my clothes off in shreds and the exhaustion to have fortunately had to put up with the security and the cops that stood by and did nothing. I am not even going to get into the speech I gave at the end to make them all feel bad for trying to stop me. Powers are not powers if you do not use them. I guess that is why they got rid of me… Taking me out of the arena in which I could use my powers, was in essence stripping me of those powers. I always felt that but I never made the connection. The students though, they looked up to me for taking bullets for them for 5 years. Believe me they notice. It might be crazy, but if you prove you care about them, then they respect you, and they will listen. That is the foundation for teaching. If my actions were bold then they would hang on my every word. That is what they came to school to hear and see, to experience the way life should be, for school should be the one place in life where life should be ideal. I will never be convinced that is a delusion. Of course, the argument against that best case scenario, is with all that respect from the students, my colleagues turned to wall flowers – that is why the real got git ridden of. So, you do what every man in that position does, any sane man would do the same, you try to get rid of your powers, so you can be accepted. Is it crazy to want to belong? Maybe, maybe not. It might be crazy for destroying yourself to get to that point, but there is no sense being alive if the group can’t accept you because of your powers. There is no choice. I didn’t know the powers would come back stronger, and the only thing that would happen is that at the end of the trip is the chip inside your head that contains the ethical program to tell you when to display and unveil such powers is gone, just gone. That is what is scary. To not know right from wrong anymore. I am so far down the Maupassant path, that there is no way back, and I can’t retract my deepest wish and fear, to go mad like he did. I don’t care if I am a danger to myself, but to put others in peril with the misuse of power or nonfeasance of it, to withhold power because I begin to be concerned about what other people think – so I guess it wasn’t that I revered Maupassant for going mad, it was his full admission of it. The best writer I have ever read, to stay true to the reader and tell it like it is all the way to the last period. The whole trip. I hope I stay true. But you must be true to me as well, do you promise?”
“Yes David, I will be true to you.”
“You know we kill horses when they break but one leg when they still have three, for they do not understand the concept of the form they were always borne breaking. Have you ever seen a horse getting up on a shattered tibia? It is so horrid, that these glorious creatures have to be put down, for everyone’s benefit. The starting gun had two uses I guess, for the beginning of the race and the end. But what I fear in madness is that it is the good man that walks away from out of your soul. Tell me, just what is left? All these powers and to not know when to dispense of them? With all those powers I could be quite dangerous if I used my gifts for evil purposes. But as I said before, I really don’t know what madness is, I am only guessing. We only fear what we want. Having such straight spine is crippling, and to deviate from the burden I’ve shouldered for a lifetime is like Club Med, what is their catch phrase? “Leave yourself behind?’”
“A vacation far from the ordinary I think.” She said.
“Perhaps a permanent vacation at that, like Aerosmith sang. But getting back to books, to lose mind like Guy de Maupassant, or to never have had it like Baudelaire and to write through all the all encompassing madness… I mean I found Baudelaire late in life, he is so good you can only read page at a time because you never want the book to end, you know, but I read Guy as a teen. He was the only man I ever envied. I envied him because he could write the Horta, when syphilis climbed his spine and ate his mind and he didn’t take the pen out of his hand. I admired him for that, always. I never cared what people thought. I didn’t stop the mugging for the grapevine wild fire effect thru the school corridors. I heard the students: “That’s the gym teacher that fought off 20 guys holding down the mugger with one foot”. It was nice to hear, but I didn’t do it for that. In life I always was like the super hero that had to leave the scene. To do things for recognition isn’t right. I did things for they had to be done. Even the Karate teacher at the end of the day with the lights off in the office, I saw the windows reflect in his glasses, he even told me I was crazy. They thought me to be the loose cannon unmoored which broke hulls and sank ships by the rock of wave, when I was the only rook in the school to sweep hall. I have seen many things, Daytona pile ups are nothing, what is seen at the horse track is the worst I’ve witnessed, even little kids and mothers and old ladies want the horse, a being of such dignity, to be put down. We can’t see the future but we feel it. I always knew I would need help because hooves can’t pull triggers.”
“I understand David. I know you won’t know it is time to go and then that will be time for it, but you to me are irreplaceable, I can’t imagine living without you. You have healed me in but just one embrace, and your mind virus no one else can seem to take, but me, and without you I would be lost. If you went I would have to go too.”
“Everyone thinks Picasso was a great ladies man for all the mistresses he had, but that is not the way it really was. His wife was committed, and he did not have the heart to divorce her. To throw those papers in her face and to feel no connection to the world. To be in a cage with no one holding the key. I have given you the key to life in one 15 minute talk, it was not that I was a vampire that made you whole, the body is nothing, my mind healed you, and this talk now, Jeanie was right, I can love a woman in 5 minutes… whatever time we have left together, I will pack so much life into you, you will learn to function on your own and to have hope. No there will never be another Vampariah, but as I was made, and you were made, this wave thru us makes you a maker, and you will love again, not because you have an eternity to find true love again, but because the power I have empowered you with is contagious and addictive, it is an indestructible mind virus that will always survive, even if all the hosts are dead, just by cracking open a book in the future whatever possesses us now can invade their minds, like the wind that stills in the night, the heat from the sun to give rise to wind then white crests, the turn of the page to restart again this permanent wave. You will not want to die. Yes you may miss my physical embrace, the warmth of my velvet skin, but you know I will always be with you, in your blood, while I take that infinite journey around the circuitry of our mind in you. I don’t know where she got the gift, but she knew I could receive it, maybe she was an originator, or maybe someone likewise had made her, but whatever it is, it is special, and we must protect it, for there is an eternal invisible war waged daily against such magic.
VAMPARIAH part 7
“You know it is cool the moon is so close it blots out the sun, so I can be with you during the day time, this shadow on the Earth that illuminates, but I don’t understand why the moon is red.” Heathers spoke.
“I have been wondering that too, sitting on these dark Black Hills waiting for your arrival. I think, maybe, the dark side was always meant to be dark. The way light refracts in a medium like a pencil bends in water glass… because the sun is behind the earth, the moon catches only the red frequency of rays bending around the bubble of atmosphere acting like water, it is a selective harmonics not of sound but light, The eternal question of why the sky is blue is answered this way, or why sunsets are red. But the face of the moon lit up by our primeval fires for there is no electric grid down here, or it could just be something supernatural. To balance life and the supernatural Man gave word to something that doesn’t exist and called it God, to explain things that do exist but have no word, the supernatural. The thing that creates the supernatural is the imbalance that man creates on this planet. Life on earth without man, there would be no supernatural, but because it is human nature to balance life only in our favor and to out of our super hero neighbor turn into some supernatural monster by simply denying life. With the fear of God, the ones who believe in him are protected and all others die. The thing man never believed in, evidenced in his face up close, the supernatural, a red moon, as the last sign of the apocalypse. And we always thought we were going to destroy ourselves, no, it seems, the reverse is true, we are the only ones who can save ourselves from doomsday, by acknowledging the power of the supernatural, to not to turn caring leaders into monsters. Monsters do exist even in the best of us, I have found, just as I suspect, good people reside in the monsters who turn good people batty. The answer it may seem for life on this planet, is to foster the power of love that extends beyond our doors, instead of suppressing it, so the passion of the expression of it doesn’t get warped into evil, somehow. I really don’t understand the dynamics, Heathers, I have been a puppet throughout all this. When I was human I liked to think of myself as Master Peace, not Master Mind. Master Mind I think would be above Peace or chaos, whatever that entity might choose for us. I am but a knight that has been knocked from horse, just a page in the game with armor, hoping the participants decide to stop playing chess with us. Life is too beautiful for it to be on the operating level of a game. We don’t have to make it more exciting, more dramatic, we don’t need the perverse thrill of dominating a man that decides to lay his powers down for the good of the South Bronx burnt brick rubble blocks and blocks. If a simple man wants to reinvigorate a forgotten and trampled people with the vision of the beautiful world he came from let that vision catch on. Don’t shoot him down in front of the students and teach them not to be that way if they want to survive. Making an example out of the martyr makes no one want to lay their life down either for anyone else. It makes the martyr’s sacrifice worthless. Everyone’s life should add up to something, instead of the taking away from life and the Earth. With love, maybe even the Evil can be happy with themselves and to not live and let die, but instead to let it be, let it all be. Just as abuse is a cycle that rots brains, and changes genes of child still unborn in womb, I really believe with all my heart, that love is a cycle too. This is my interpretation of the red omen in the sky that is falling.” The moon then turned black for even the light rays could no longer bend red around atmosphere, the moon was too close for this, too close for us, and the time had come when we had to destroy what we always saw out there, Selene.
Heathers smiles began to wane. She wanted to hear me say just one thing, that I loved her. I couldn’t tell her the truth because it would lead to my death, I would have to prove that love, and I couldn’t because of the witches curse. 6 months had passed. The moon had been shot from out of sky, man had been saved by the god inside their minds. I had pondered long on this question. If I would die to prove love for her, it would not be just for sex sake, which is a fleeting feeling, but it would be to bring new life onto this Earth if I was not to be anymore. Something, someone had to take my place. She had never thought of having a child because the C.P. would not allow her to carry baby, and she would die too somewhere towards nine months down the road after I mysteriously vanished. I couldn’t tell her I was cursed. It wasn’t that I didn’t love her. I had to love her for she was the only woman who freely gave themselves to me, and let me be a man, but who can predict such plots and twists? Even a most powerful man cannot unbesmirch the unjust mark made upon his soul when his Fate was decided to prevent his destiny. A woman needed more than promises. I felt her like a succubus raping my mind at night while she paced above me vampire-like as I lay unguarded, but I kept those rooms with furniture locked in the mansion of my mind. Even with her mind reading abilities she could not get into the newly discovered wing. It took a toll on me. I was withering away, and the secret was eating my heart out. I had nightmares and the voices were beginning again. Just as before, the audible hallucinations had started with music and then laughter. Eventually, though, she surmised perhaps something was up, because my caring eyes had turned dark and drifted from her. She did not ask me for sex when she asked. The power of the vampire body had erased the fact that her potential of child birth and rearing had been stolen from her the moment she had been conceived, and so she could dream and ask me to give her a child. I was so engrossed in my own problems I did not have the imagination to see with my own eyes she was not a cripple anymore, physically or emotionally, and that in her was a mother. I put my cigarette out and asked her to follow me, there was a rock lip we could copulate under, soft earth too, she would not have to drag my body far, and being in such an unguarded posture together, it was better to be there and hide from the moon rock meteorites that fell constantly around us. She skipped like a happy girl behind me. I assumed she had bust her lip again, and was tasting the blood upon her full lips in glee. It had been a long time since she had smiled, and lips of course that were unaccustomed to such emotion were bound to burst open. Being the more powerful, I was surprised she lay down under me, but I had found in general the more powerful the woman, in life, the more they were submissive in bed, wanting to play the traditional role of the woman; it was only the heartless fakes that needed to dominate men. I don’t know what she was thinking looking over my shoulder at the natural fireworks of the sky, and then into my eyes, but eventually she opened up and began to talk. “What is the matter?” – I couldn’t talk, I never talked during sex, except to narrate the experience in a funny way, I had to deflect the awkwardness of bodies crashing together without love, with humor. I couldn’t be true with the one mean bone in my body and my mind at the same time, why, that would be making love; the union of the sex drive with Soul Love, and I had never done that before, but I couldn’t be funny knowing the next time she raked her fingers on my back I would die.
When in reality no one was allowed to be real, when a woman was attracted to a man for just one reason and one reason alone, it is better to not to know them, to go for the full on man illusion. You can’t be real and have appeal, no body, even Mother Theresa ever fantasized about awkwardly making love to the Pope, they’d prefer to fuck, unthinking, like animals. When the one night stand stays just one night, it is because the link is fraudulent, that is why the number tried once finds trash. A guy with the good man disease looks for a woman that can accept all of him, yes the sex act becomes sacred, and the layers of humanity peel off like a veil unzipped from scalp on down, and he can step out of his disguise, when she accepts the thrusting of the mean bone in her body, he is transformed into just what she wants him to be, something which no woman would allow him. To be able to step outside of himself and be what he has been covering up with good act all his life, this complex façade, for the jungle to momentarily recede and to stare at sacrosanct temple where they sever innocence, taking off the virgin gold necklace, to be able to walk this Earth from here on out with that extra degree of tilt that juts out a naked man’s bronzed chest pectoral out, baptized by her secret ointment, that unique ph of her internal combustion, his soul salvaged by her giving in to him, for one woman to accept his darkness he could never on his own do, for her to coax it out of him, and smooth his angel hair, to nip in the bud what was eating his mind and making him blind – to see finally what others see, that clothes were not meant to keep us warm directly, or dry, and the cologne was not put on to sting the nick of time.
(When on train; after writing this vampire story last night until I lost track of time and went blind in one eye because I had to finish these reader’s mind fucks, and I turned into a vampire and felt becoming number 9. For to feel months ago the night I lost my son in me, and to know then full well he was gone, and then to know the ballerina had tripped on the trip wire of my sins never to get up again, I felt her looking up at me with the eye that was left, dumfounded. “Why did you let me die?” I thought of wanting to have one last catch with my brother before it caught on and I would have no depth perception to see, to be a great athlete no more, or to see the photo of her son that could have been mine, before I would not be able to witness with loving eyes how the magic of life is packed into face. I hid my face in the front of the front car, near the window looking out and she brought her body to me, because she knows vampires exist and this is where they come to stand to be amongst the living reluctant to show face for I couldn’t see clearly my reflection what blind eyes look like from the outside, she wanted to show me something one last time. As the train rocked, she did her best pulling on her belt loop, out with thumb, hip out thrust, to see her red panty with white dots like Braille all over, she beckoned me to look for cop if I could feel these raised dots framing her tummy and pastel pants. I felt dizzy and could not look away, she looked away so I could take her in with my eye, the way I always looked away when I was something to look at, women have eyes too you know, and for the first time and maybe the last, she did it for me, this blonde stranger let me steal glances at her body talk, asking him with sweaty palm do you like how my clothes make you warm? Would you be her comforter draped all over her tonight? The doors opened, and I escaped her turning on.)
“Heathers, I have to tell you something.” She kind of murmured and adjusted her hips so that her quim began to get ready to oscillate to receive my love. I knew we had both been whores, life had made us into that, and I knew that in essence this was a first for her too. I explained to her lovingly about how I always lived for this moment, that every building that was ever erected was for love, how every word written was to attract love, that every action was made to be worthy of this moment, but in this culmination of all these good acts of a lifetime, I told her the truth that the one provision of becoming human again, the witch had told me after the fact, that once I got my heart back, I could only make love to a woman once, and then be killed by the curse. She, being the Goth chick that she was, received some kind of wonderfully perverse thrill gleaning that her pleasure was siphoning the life out of me vampire-like, to unify the sex act with death, in some kind of supernatural voodoo tabu, to feel the ultimate love that I would die for her pleasure, it was thrilling I imagine for her. Only she knew whether an egg was dropping from out of her once busted reproductive pipes, and the stark contrast of an act of death bringing new life into this world rocked her with joy in Goth fashion, and this disturbed my level headedness, and I just lost it. She saw an unfamiliar look upon my face, like a man that died and went to heaven, and recognized that I had been telling the truth and that I had maybe ten seconds of sputtering life left. She thought fast, with instinct, and sank her fangs into the blood leading to my brain as she came, I did my primal scream I had been holding in since 13. As a result of her loving act I am here to write this now. With the love of a woman standing beside me, maybe there was a good chance I could handle Vampire power again, for her to balance me for an eternity, and to never again be a monster.
That first sentence from a teacher that put belief into us, and put us on “our path with the bull’s eye on our backs”, the sentence scrapped for too much truth was put into it to print that a whole book or series of books can from erupt, or the first sentence you said to her that made her hang onto your every word hereafter, it is perhaps the same sentence throughout time, different words disguising the fact that you feel powerful love for someone, and they are requited for all time. “Heathers, when I didn’t have a heart and you said I was a strange combination, a vampire with a heart, maybe I did have a heart after all, because maybe the will you gave in me to desire my heart back was enough for love.” – “Why do you always have to analyze everything Vampariah?” – “Um, it is beyond analysis, breaking down of things, it is beyond synthesis, the putting together of things once broken to understand their composition, it is the highest level of human thought, actually, I think it is called judgement, but I am not sure….”
THE END
by David Marttir Vaccaro
2/14/06 - 2:19 am
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