Near Dark is perhaps the most underrated genre film of all time, let alone in vampire canon. I've watched it in back-to-back weekends now, enamored with the sinister '80s score, the pure bloody violence that makes you wince, the almost lovingly way in which Kathryn Bigelow caresses vampire mythology and the American Western. In short, the film rocks. I bring this up because I realize that I failed to mention it on this blog before. My only gripe is the Deus Ex Machina ending, but it was the 1980s, so I can forgive it. A film this gritty just couldn't be produced today. The way that Mae listens to the night, accepting her immortality as she looks at the stars wistfully inspires cold chills. Subtle scenes like this build upon one another to make it a quintessential vampire film. When it was released in 1987, it was overshadowed by the more popular The Lost Boys, which was to be expected. But these two films coerced Hollywood to make more serious vampire flicks. I could write...

Seven sleepless nights, tossing and turning, had become unbearable. I figured I had had this thing beat, but today I gave into the pull of desperation, and now, at this moment, I feel great - not a hint of shame, just numb acceptance and finally the ability to sleep, to relax. To stop thinking about it for a few hours, at least. White pills are keeping me up at night. Hopefully it will be only the vampires tonight.

I have always wanted to visit Portland. I've been to Seattle, and it was a beautiful welcome to the Pacific Northwest. So visiting the areas second largest city - which is somehow no less artistic - would obviously be a pleasure, as well. Having no real inclination to attend this Vampire Masquerade Ball, I nonetheless wanted to mention it, in case I do in fact manage to attend this thing. Though the masquerade masks and such make me remember Eyes Wide Shut and the potential sex party this ball could break out to be... The web site is beautiful. Check it out: Vampire Masquerade Ball

I may have found the breaking point. Everyone has one, and mine may have been slowly eating away at me for years, but I fear - nay, I rejoice! - that I may have found mine! I have been patient enough, I believe. I have took every punch, every broken bone, and every set-back and rolled with it, absorbed it, and I hope become a better man for it. Sometimes it's hard to keep getting up. However, that doesn't mean I won't get up again. I need a fantasy factory. I need my own place to absorb inspiration, instead of calamity. Losing my job was potentially one of the best things to happen to me, but if I fail to make the best of it, it will have been for nothing. But I need a new avenue for finding an literary agent, or an editor. I, I, I, I, I, iaiaiaiaii ! I have lacked academic and employment success. I am once again at the very bottom struggling my way back to something with a little more optimism. I am like the undead, crawling my way through six feet of dark, pliant earth re...

No, dear online diary and blog, I am not dead, nor have I given up on you or my book, for that matter. I have only taken an extended absence while I figured out what the hell I will do for a living now. Well no, I didn't figure that out yet. Time will tell if I ever do or not. Finally I have gotten out of the latest in a long line of dead-end jobs, and have been given the ability to stay at home, with pay no less, and write and polish and write some more. And polish some more. 2010 is off to a fantastic start, I would say. My education, not so much. But that's for another post...

The Big Easy eventually became quite magical, but at first I was far from impressed. Perhaps it was the white pill that helped, or maybe I just needed to get out from behind the wheel, but I was immediately disappointed with NOLA while getting lost on her elevated highways. Once we settled our things into our hotel room, we walked around outside and I found the city to be exactly what I was hoping for. Once the sun dipped below the skyline, we took the St. Charles Ave streetcar onto Canal and crossed over onto Bourbon St. From street corner one there were folks playing zydeco and jazz, and the smell of cigar smoke and alcohol flooded my senses further. We found ourselves on a second story latticed balcony eating an oyster po’boy and puffin on a cigar while watching the magnificent spectacle that is the inebriated human being. A couple of blocks away from our hotel is the Garden District. These homes are mind-boggling brilliance of early colonial American architecture that’s a nice comp...

Last Halloween I picked my favorite three vampire films. Today I figured I should pick my fave three vampire books. These are in order, but can be changed from emotion to emotion, or night to night. In lieu of my upcoming trip to New Orleans, Anne Rice’s brat prince comes in at numero uno vampiro. #3 is Bram Stoker’s Dracula . He is, after all, the king of vampires, the “Sacred Ancestor”. While werewolves and zombies have been trying to take a bite out of his omnipresent undead ass as the king of pop culture horror for years now, it’s still his and the children of the night’s party, this holiday we call Halloween. And no single book or character has been as influential in the deluge of Hollywood films and literature the past several decades as the daddy of them all. Dracula is absolutely as iconic as Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, or perhaps more appropriate, the Devil himself. #2 Vampire Hunter D Volume 2: Raiser of Gales is my Lord of the Rings, my Star Wars and Harry Potter all ro...