Sometimes I miss the days of being a hunter. Lurking for your prey. Seeking out fresh blood. As of late I have been tempted to slip back into those old habits. Prowl the streets. Pick out that perfect personality, that one sweet innocent soul, that charm, that brilliance behind a pretty smile. As I recall it's always the younger women. The ones who try their hardest to be older. They do these silly little things to make them seem so mature. Get tattoos, smoke cigarettes, drink a glass of wine, and even cuss entirely too much.

It's always those that turn out to be the sweetest when you get beneath those layers. And when you finally pluck out that brilliance, and blow out that light that is their soul, and consume the liquid from their bodies, death never seems to taste so sweeter. Because in the end it's not just the blood you sacor. It's the charm, the innocence, the charisma of such a young beauty, and that final bit of fear and anticipation as you suck the life from them.

Perhaps I may find that perfect young woman tonight. Perhaps I'll seek out that old hunters cloak and see if I still have those charms. See if I can still seduce for my supper. See if I still got it in me to take a life for my own pleasure and consumption.






Or maybe I'll just go to the movies. Shrek 3 starts in a bit.

For mortals time is either too slow or too fast. For immortals it is neither. It's an extreme middle ground or an extreme at either end. It's all to do with perspective I suppose. I swear I blinked just a second ago and it was the 1920's. But there were decades that seem to go on for centuries, like the 60's. I hated the 60's. Peace and love and tranquility. Crap! And it has nothing to do with me being against any of those things, but the manner in which people tried to achieve them back then was horridly insipid and uninspired. It's not like back in the days of Davinci. A man who was awesomely inspired by peace and love so much so that it made him stand up for something and fired him up to create so much.

The 60's were filled with wannabe lovers, and peacemakers, and tranquil souls. Now there were a few passionate souls. Dr. Martin Luther King of course. Cesar Chavez. The Kennedys. The decade did have it's leaders, but the rest of the nation was filled with spiritless soft love makers. And I mean soft as in borderline faggy. Even homosexuals back then were like, "Damn these fuckers are down right faggy." For alot of these idiots they thought that peace meant smoking pot, doing nothing all day, and then holding up two fingers that was supposed to symbolize peace. Lemme tell you something about the 2 finger peace sign. I invented that back in the early 12th century.

You know what it really means to hold up two fingers like that. It means you have to take a shit. I was doing gaurd duty with another knight (this was the early formation of the Knights Templar) and I was on the otherside of the temple fort. I waved furiously at him to let him know I had to do a "number 2". I indicated this by using 2 fingers. Later it spread to King Coloman who would use it often refering to unity of the two countries of Hungary and Croatia. And then it just went from there. Alot of people feel it's just the hand signal for the actual peace sign, ya know the one in the circle. Which is also incorrect because the peace symbol which was picked up in 1958 by Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament took it from the original sign from the Futhark Runic Alphabet. It also means "I have to take a shit."

Wanna know how I know. Because I established the orignal Runic Alphabet. And unlike our alphabet, each symbol didn't represent a letter that would form a word. Each symbol actually symbolized a word. This one in particular means bomb. As in shit bomb. We use to post it on cave walls near the areas we'd have to do the stinky. Some people believe that it's satanic because it looks like a broken cross, with christs arms dropping down. Well there's nothing satanic about it, it just simply means that you had to take a shit that was so bad that Christ would just break his cross. HAHAHAA! I'm joking. Look at the peace symbol closely and you'll see it. It's leg's opening up to an anus. And the circle that surrounds the peace symbol? Some people think it means earth. Nope. It's a toilet seat. Yup an early runic toilet seat. So in reality the peace symbol is the inside view of someone in the toilet looking up to see a ring like toilet seat and a pair of legs ready to drop a bomb on you from the anus. And if you toss me the peace sign with those two fingers, I'll just laugh at you.

That was my main entertainment through the 60's, was watching people throw eachother the "peace" sign. I would just laugh to myself and imagine that they were just telling eachother they had to shit. I had to distract myself away from the horrid lameness that was the 60's. I finally had enough by 1968. After Kennedy was shot. I slept til 72.

But aside from the 60's time seemed to just float on. Not fast or slow, just pacing itself. It's hard to describe from the point of view of a vampire. I guess the way humans view a month within a year. That's how I tend to view a year within a decade. For what is 365 days to you only really feels like 30 days to me. Months feel like days. Days feel like minutes. Hourse feel like seconds. And the seconds mean nothing to me. But it's not too fast and not too slow. Other than the 60's everything seems to go at a proper pace. Sometimes it feels like time doesn't really exist. That's why it takes so long between posts. I looked and realize that it was early last year that I had posted. But to me it only seems like it was just days ago. Within that time I'd seen Paris once more. Ate in Japan. Had a drink in London. And here I am again. Blogging. Can you believe it? A vampire that blogs.

I don't even know why I do it. I guess it's something to document and pass the proper pace of time. In some ways it makes me feel real. And by real, I mean human.

I think I'm going to sleep now. Maybe I'll wake up in a couple of days. And I really mean months. Maybe it'll be summer when I awake.

I don't even know if anyone is reading this.


Ya know. I just realized that there was one thing that makes time feel really fuckin slow.

The mother fuckin DMV.


Peace. HAHAHAHA!!!!

- D

I met Pope John Paul the Second years ago. Really when I say years I actually may mean decades. Seems like decades run together all to much. The 90's were very much that way. The 80's I remember very well. The 70's seemed to fly by like nothing up until 75. And the 60's I actually do remember. The 50's really flew. The 40's, now there was a great time. The music was just amazing. This is back when Sinatra decided to try and reinvent himself as a movie star, which if you ask him he'll say was his idea, nevermind the fact that I was the one who said give the voice a break for a bit, you should give this acting thing shot. Ass.

Anyways ...

Back in the day I knew Pope John Paul as Jozef. His actual name was Karol Józef Wojtyła. Everyone called him Karol, but I called him Jozef. This was back when I was a languages teacher at Krakow. I coached him on 7 of the eventual 12 languages he would master. Smart kid. Had a body odor problem, but honestly who didn't back then. This was around the time that I had discovered that by keeping a steady diet of greens and sticking strictly to the blood of healthier humans, which was extremely hard to do seeing as how pierogi was such a popular dish and not exactly healthy. I invented that dish back in Lithuania years before. It's a variation on a dish I took from a monk from Inner Mongolia just 10 years before. I don't normally justify killing especially monks, but I have to say he had it coming. Turns out he was stealing gold from the charitable donations given to the poor by the Emperor. As I remeber it, he had a body odor problem as well.

Anyways ...

By keeping a steady diet of greens and sticking strictly to the blood of healthier humans, I could sustain myself in the day time. Sometimes in direct sunlight. To be honest I've gotten pretty strong. And it's true I'm not gonna die in driect sunlight after all these years, but it still burns sometimes. Actually it doens't burn. I'll be the first to admit it's purely psychological, but nonetheless, it's annoying. So thank god for Benjamin Greene. He invented the first form of sunblock. It was a red substance he initially created for soldiers in WWII, which he called RED VET PET. Sounds like a gay house band from France, I know. Now that I look back on it, Red Vet Pet really didn't work all that well, but it really did help me psychologically. Also it just felt so soothing on the skin. And it left me feeling all silky and smooth, AND it really improved my acne problem at the time. Yes, acne. You eat a pierogi the way they were made back then and you tell me if you don't get a pimple or two, I don't care how immortal you are.

Anyways ...

I was addicted to Red Vet Pet. It became my crutch although I knew I was strong enough to withstand sunlight, I didn't REALLY know it. Understand for a Vampire, even for an ancient like me, it's hard to let go of certain fears. Like crosses. Honestly, if we reall tried we could take it. But that drama, that fear sets in and we have to cling to our routines. you show me a cross, and I'll back away and hiss. Same with sunlight. Sure if I worry about it I'll burn. But if I really thought positively, if I really put my mind to it, the sun becomes just the sun. But NOOOOOO, I was too much of a pussy. And there I went, every Sunrise, straight from my coffin to the bathroom smearing that red vet crap all over me. Did it work? After 4 hours, no. But just the ritual of having to put it on, made me feel better psychologically. And I would do so every 4 hours. Good thing no one ever caught on. Not that they would think that I was a Vamp, but how good would it look if I was caught in the bathroom smearing my naked body with red goop. Later of course I would move on to the more improved versions which would later be known as sunblock.

My point is, I went through alot of trouble to try to get to class everyday, in the daylight. Mainly because I wanted to teach Jozef. You see I'm really good at spotting bright kids with bright futures, and lemme tell you, this kid Jozef was a bright one. Not just smart like book smart, but bright as in, he got it. And that's what I think the world needs more of, people who GET IT.

Of course he did move on to become Pope. And although I may not agree with some of his stances, I do agree that he was a great leader, and that he was the right man for the job. I mean so many people look up to the Pope. So many people look to him as a symbol of guidance in a religion full of hopeful spirituals. Now I myself am not exclusive to anyone religion. Being a Vampire it's pretty hard to. But I will say that if the Pope needs to be someone who's smart, someone who's wise, someone who's caring, someone who's compassionate, and someone who gets it. Then the Pope should have been Mother Teresa.

But since women don't exactly get a higher ranking then Nun. I guess we'll have to settle for a bright kid from Poland with body odor. But look at those pics of him as Pope. He got some stuff done. He was really workin it. And I'd like to think I had somethin to do with that. Even if I was just the languages teacher. I wanted to instill in that kid hope and love and freedom and compassion. Something I was lacking for a good quarter of a century. I guess this was my way of trying to make amends and quelling my own demons. And I guess in some way it worked. The kid became Pope for cryin outloud.

And I'll never forget the day he became Pope. I teared up a bit. what can I say, I was proud. One of my students succeeded. And to see that changed something in me. Like I finally got to beat one of those demons in me. His success became a victory for me as well. It inspired me to change my life a bit. October 16th. Now there's a date that much has happened on historically. October 16th, 1995 was The Million Man March. October 16th, 1793, Marie Antoinette was beheaded. October 16th, 1969, The Met's win the World Series. And on October 16th, 1978 was the day I got to see young Jozef become Pope John Paul The Second.

Whaddya know, it was also the day I stopped using sunblock.

So on this anniversary of your death. We celebrate the life of a kid named Jozef who had body odor. Good job kiddo. Thank you for Getting it. And thank you for making the sun not so scary.

- D

Some bridges were meant to be burned.

The art of chaos is quite interesting and quite actually easy to learn.

There isn't much you have to do. All it takes is a single action and the plan is set into motion. Confusion and drama ensue. Your plan is working even if you didn't think it would or even if you really didn't plan for it to work so damn well.

What most people don't understand is that there is no outcome. There is nothing to do or to respond to. And always actions will speak louder than words. Living your life is one great action. It is the ultlimate response to immaturity and confusion. It is the greatest action you can take against those who are "disallusioned". ;)

( the secret to life )

In reference to a previous situation, I found myself biting my nails. I don't know why I do it. I simply start to ponder certain things and then I bite my nails. At Red Square during the first coup I was biting my nails. At the Gettysburg Address I was biting my nails. At THE Crucifixtion I was biting my nails. At The Weezer Concert I was biting my nails.

I can't help it. It's a nasty habit I picked up in the early days of Pompei before all the ash and lava and hubub. Maybe it's because Ceaser was doing it. Not the first Ceaser mind you but the 9th one. Yes there was a 9th Ceaser. If you can't figure out who it was or if you know nothing of Roman history then don't worry about it. He was an ass and a weenie and History deserves to ignore him. Incidentally I knew 5 Ceasers quite well and then later became friends with Ceaser Romero, by some strange coincidence they all had a penchant for young boys and grape wine. But that's neither here nor there.

In the case of me biting my nails, I realize that it has become a nasty habit. For older Vampires (and I mean older) your teeth become rather sharp. When your a youngun, you have one pair of sharp teeth, later you may grow an extra pair (tee hee, "extra pair" that made me giggle) but when you start getting closer to the 1000 year mark ALL of your teeth start to get sharp. Which in my case is the case (does taht even make sense?).

So NOW when I bite my nails it gets kinda .... hmmm ... gorey. Not that it hurts mind you. I am a very fast healer. Timed myself just the other day. Cigarette burn on the arm lasted all of 3 seconds. And lemme tell ya that's not bad for an old coot nosferatu like myself. It's just that the blood starts to stain a little more and when I'm deep in thought or into a good movie I really get into the whole nail biting thing. Yesterday I saw Red Eye. I caught the matinee.

I really hated this movie but I was so into it. And despite all of it's flaws there is just something about a Wes Craven film I just can't get enough of. Scream and my personal fav, A Nightmare On Elm Street. I love Feddy Krueger. I don't know if it's his charm or the fact that there is another monster on lunch boxes out there more popular then moi. I love it when something else takes the heat off me.

anyhoo.

I'm sitting in the theatre. I go from munching on popcorn to munching on my nails and then slowly (and without realizing) biting my finger tips. So now I've got blood on my lips.

I LOVE RACHEL MCADAMS (sp?) There is something charismatic about her. Something I haven't sensed since the days of Elizabeth Bathory. And lemme tell ya Elizabeth was a HOOT! She was a smart talkin smart shooter with a good head on her shoulders. Her only draw back was that whole bathing in blood bit, which honestly kinda ooked me out. YEAH YEAH I drink blood. But lemme tell ya! I would never soak in it. I mean humans suck up a good brown gravy but they ain't gonna shower in it. But that's neither here nor there.

anyhoo.

There was one thrilling moment that made me jump. And by jump I don't mean physically. I mean emotionally. I mean like something inside me was so into this movie I just ... well ... jumped. And lemme tell ya when a Vampire jumps emotionally, it is not a pretty site. So I vamped out a little. AND I had blood on my lips. AND there was a young asian boy sitting in front of me that decided to look behind him at the emotionally engaged vamped out fangy and bloody vampire sitting behind him. He freaked out and screamed. Then the guy next to him saw me and screamed. Next thing you know the entire theater was frickin out.

Suffice it to say I'm not welcome at that theater anymore. People so sensitive. I jumped emotionally at the crucifixtion and when Christ saw me he thought I was the devil.

The devil .... PUH-LEEZE!

He's so much shorter than me .... and his complexion is nowhere near my perfect tone.



16.1. 16,18,5,10,21,19,1

To be quite honest, it's been a century since I've kept a journal.



hmmmm



I honestly don't know what to write.



hohummmm



ok, perhaps I'll have thought of something after I've eaten.

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