Serpants And The Moon

What is it that compels the best of us to become so enamored and enraptured by such random items? I go walking every evening, preferably after 10, so that I may enjoy the quiet pleasures the night brings me. The sweetness lingering in the air of honeysuckle, jasmine and various other flowers blooming in the wild fields and gardens of my neighbors. The silky blue-silver look the clouds have, their underbellies lit by the moon. the acidic orange white of the clouds draping her ivory crest, a rabbit. The soft glimmer of the fireflies calling to their lovers. the sweet screeches of the cicadas doing the same. The chortling hoots of the family of owls. The scamper of the rabbits as they gleefully consume the strawberries which are their favoritest of foods in the gardens.
Last night I failed to notice something though, and made a horrible error. I stepped on a snake. and this might have been bad on it's own, however I did not notice until he had bit me several times. Worry not about me, the bites did not break skin even. I am more than fine.
And I did not worry about myself either. Fearing only for the snake. Which most species are nocturnal. It's essentially prime pickings for them. And I feel awful. Normally I watch where I step every few yards, but I was enamored of the moon and intoxicated on wonderfully great conversation.

I do not feel excused, however. I am truly mortified. But then a rather lot I do is concerned more for animal welfare than my own. It has always been so. And will always continue to be. I find that the people who share my view of animals as childlike are most like myself.
We who become so enraged and angered at the abuse of such defenseless creatures. For what dog ever attacked the owner after eons of abuse? Wives kill their abusive husbands FAR FAR more often than dogs kill or even bite their masters.

And so, here I sit. Fully repentant and abhorred by my actions and yet unable to make amends, as I feel I should somehow. I can only hope that the snake is fine as he did escape into the wilderness. But somehow that does not seem enough...

I’ve heard of a Buddhist temple in the local area. Perhaps I shall try to find how local and go to visit and pray for the snake. Or maybe I’ll find some way to appease some snake god in some pantheon.


What is it that drives us to push some away, and pull some so close you drown them in yourself?

On Being A Vampire

I suppose I have been rather cantankerous of late... And-Or rather morose and encumbered with malaise. Stunted I lie lethargically recumbent. Bent on doing nothing - or rather sleeping the life I'm with away. Trapped in a memory, I'm sleeping with ghosts again. And maybe avoiding being my usual self.
It's almost like I'm hiding from something. But I have nothing to hide. However, maybe it is my lack of being so precociously blatent in my nature. Although it is something I find as natural to myself as breathing or taking a piss. Vampirism. The state of being and indulgence.

For some reason I'm drawn to memories of my coming out as wiccan. Declaring proudly with determination as I clutched that candle staring into the mirror in the middle of the night. "I Am A Witch." Stating:

I Am A Vampire

brings that rush back. That sweet symphony adrenaline ignites your body to humming. For some reason, as of late, I have been filled with a burning need to randomly meet people - shaking their hands the way those within the lifestyle have become accustomed to - and stating. "Hello. I'm a vampire. Nice to meet you." The want to climb fire-escapes to the rooftops of local buildings and shout it to the heavens.
I find it strange in that I have never denied I was. Nor have I ever not answered the questions about my consumption/desire/arousal around blood or biting. Quite forthcoming I generally tend to overwhelm. I come on strong.

You're thinking cup of coffee when it's more like Tsunami, a mile high and climbing.

I miss the shitty group of friends I had when still in the camarilla. When I still dealt with camarilla's. It was fun. And yes, we were kids and stupid. And we did a lot of things you REALLY should NOT do, or try, or even consider when you're high out of your mind on narcotics even hard core addicts avoid - but they were good times. They were fun. For all the wrong reasons - and a few right ones. We were like a family. Just as fucked up as your average, and less crazy than your Springer types.
The nights were wild and illegal. Sharing was especially casual, insanely so as not a one I know of practiced safe sex if they were getting any. And while not convinced of our mortality we were still smart enough to know better, and crazy enough not to give a damn anyway. Of all bodily fluids swapped, blood was probably the wisest choice we were making. It was definitely the one we traded on with most reverence.

And I do not advocate the young vampire scene we were living, it's not as though we had any role models. Or any real idea of what we were doing. Like most things at that stage, some of us lost touch with the scene while others went off the hairy edge into Crazy Town with it.
But as friends go, they were right fine and I miss them. And most of them weren't douchebags. I really only remember getting hurt over one or two. The rest just grew away. And maybe there were more bad times than good, but I cannot remember them. Only the hazy golden glow of a by-gone era and memories of being emboldened and content in my nature. In our nature. Celebrated as it was, if only for a little while.

I'm not too sure I want to attempt to enter the lifestyle given my current location. My metro is growing, but insofar as acceptance of differences, we're still living a Leave It To Beaver state-of-mind. The thoughts are crowding my mind, I'm just not sure I can swing the freight.
I'm not looking for a husband, a significant other, or lover.
But it would be nice to find a friend. To connect with others who's ideas of love and passion and romance run among the darker hues of the spectrum. Logically, I rationalize that given my position it is an unlikely and overly ideal dream.
Still, when the night is full and the moon is high I wish and dream...

Come out, come out - where ever you are.

Carpe Diem

I’m coming up only to hold you under
I’m coming up only to show you wrong
And to know you is hard and we wonder
To know you all wrong we were
Ooo Ooo

Really too late to call so we wait for
Morning to wake you is all we got
To know me as hardly golden
To know me all wrong they were

And every occasion I will be ready for the funeral
And every occasion once more is called the funeral
Every occasion I am ready for the funeral
And every occasion one brilliant day funeral

I am coming up only to show you down for it
I am coming up only to show you wrong
To the outside
The dead leaves, they are alive
For they don’t have trees to hang their hearts
Ooo Ooo

And every occasion I will be ready for the funeral
And every occasion once more is called the funeral
And every occasion I am ready for the funeral
And every occasion one brilliant day funeral

One must never wait
Seize each day as if it were your last
Never fear your mistakes, embrace them
The only regret you should carry is if you fail to learn something from each new experience
Painful or Sweet

The Brave May Not Live Forever
But The Cautious Do Not Live At All