Twilight Invented Good Vampires?

I was looking through the local newspaper the other day, and I ran across this article, that quite literally made me want to vomit. It was such utter refuse I wanted to find the author and beat them to death with several hundred copies of the article. “The de-evilution of the vampire” indicated that Stephanie Meyer is the creator of heuristic philanthropic vampires who can be good beings and maybe hate who they are.

To the author of that article:
Oh hell no, you didn’t. Obviously, you haven’t read a book published before 2003. If you had, maybe you would know any of DOZENS of stories. For instance, the tale of Bunnicula – which I read in the THIRD GRADE, likely long before you could spell your own name let alone read it. This story is a lovable book about a VEGETARIAN vampire RABBIT. That’s right, a cute cuddly friendly little bunny THAT NEVER EVER BIT A HUMAN BEING – Suck on that Bella. The only people that have any right to be even slightly worried about Bunnicula are vegetable gardeners; and even then, what will you lose, one or two carrots a night? Oh the horror!

And why didn’t your mother love you – because if she had you would have grown up on Sesame Street with THE COUNT!! Who what, ran around counting and laughing. Oh, gee, what a horrible guy. And if you did find the time to crawl out from under your fucking rock and watch it – was he seriously that terrifying? Oh my god, he’s counting!! With *gasp* NUMBERS!! Noooooo! Get the fuck out of here.

As for vampires who “hate who they are” or “want to change” I have quite literally read dozens of books. If you look to ONE AUTHOR by the name of Anne Rice you will find her series FULL of vampires who at one time or another HATE THAT THEY ARE “DAMNED”. I swear to god every book in that series included one vampire or another who was pissing and moaning about having “no soul”. Even R.L. Stine had a vampire who hated being one.

And where the hell were you when Blade came out? I’m referring to the movies since it’s very doubtful you’re even aware they were ever graphic novels in the first place. Isn’t that entire series about a vampire who hates himself? ZOMFG, I’M TOTALLY RIGHT! *GASP* No Way! Not only that but several characters are self-loathers: Whistler, Hannibal Kane, even Dracula.

This only reminds one of Buffy the Vampire Slayer: the movie, the series, the graphic novels. It’s got its own franchise and a god damned spin off ALL ABOUT A SELF LOATHING FRACKIN’ VAMPIRE Angel. Hello! And there was also Spike. Both of them with more depth in their left ass cheek than Edward’s whole frickin’ family.

What’s infinitely worse is that the Twilight series is nothing but a rip-off of L.J. Smiths The Vampire Diaries. And a HORRIBLE one at that. First, no character has real depth and the only soul searching moments revolve around TEENAGE ANGST. Isn’t this why everyone is so glad they get out of high school and into the real world? The ability to look back and see that it was all MUNDANE BULLSHIT? That all the drama you were swept up in or watched was as fucking ridiculous as you thought it was or were told by your elders it was?

Second, all the violence is toned down or completely elimnated. What is this – preschool? I don’t know about you but most teenagers I know are aware that people die and that violence except in self-defense is bad. And do you honestly expect anyone to believe that all issues can be talked out? Yeah sure, tell that to everyone right after they just got assaulted. Go ahead, you tell them to talk it out with that douche bag that just robbed them. No. If you are going to lead someone up to an awesome battle, the point then is not to kill the climax by having them all talk it out. That’s just shitty writing, and a super doucher move.

Third, good authors do not preach anything, let alone abstinence. If you read any kind of scientific study you would know that preaching abstinence is WORSE than teaching sex education. Don’t believe me? READ A STUDY BY THE GOVERNMENT. Every study done by the government, and every other legitimate agency, has PROVEN that it is better to explain everything it correct terms and provide as much information as possible than to tell horror stories and lies. Not just evil boys want to have sex and not just whore girls either.

And since when do vampires automatically have no souls? I have read quite a few stories where the creatures of the night in question are as human in that respect as you or I. Besides the fact, that when was it proven that souls actually existed. This is not to state for or against, but how can you argue such a REGLIGIOUS point. Granted, it may be something the author believes in and thusly it is inserted almost unconsciously as though it would be absurd for the author not to have them. But then, how can you discount such a being simply because it’s different from you.

What then? Do pets not have souls, I mean they’re animals. They eat dead things and poop. Those are some pretty strange things. So then do they not have souls? What about owls, they live only by night, move silently and can turn their heads almost 180° – so then do they not have souls? Which then, I would argue that’s sort of egotistical, very Christian in that “conquer the world because it’s mine all mine”, but egotistical nonetheless.

Lastly, since freakin’ when did Edward and Bella make the best vampire love story? NO. I’m sorry, but it just isn’t happening. It can’t even compete with the lamest vampire-human love stories I’ve read or watched.

Take for instance Francis Ford Coppola’s 1992 Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Now everyone with two brain cells in their head that rub together will tell you the book is a far cry from the movie, so we’ll look at the movie for just its own sake. It tells the story of a guy who goes against his RELIGION AND COUNTRY for the girl he loves. Then he hangs around for centuries looking for her and finally DIES TO SAVE HER IMMORTAL SOUL. Hello Edward, you have accepted the short end of the stick, now please go take it to Buffy that she may properly end you.

And on another note, in the real world: EDWARD IS FUCKING GAY. He likes the sausage. No vajj for Mister Cullen, he prefers to stick with wood. If he really did exist, a character with his composition would be flat out fucking homosexual. He’d probably be a flamer, to be sure. Face it ladies, in real life Edward Cullen would be FAAAAAAAAAABULOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUS!!d

I am more than sure there are hundreds of books and stories and poems about good vampires that I’m missing. Why don’t you pull your head out of your ass and try and find some of them? Maybe my readers will be their super awesome selves and provide some examples.

And I know this was a tirade, but I am sick and fucking tired of all these whiny yappy bitches who don’t even read a single book a year all hopped up on this series who can’t even be bothered to read anything else with a monster in it.

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.

REFUSE

i've got it all on my mind exploding in a million different directions at once i felt that all things should perish, little deaths, for their little lives. twitchy keys twitch fingers, they itch and scamper silly little whispers of words stuck in my mind they keep me up at night and i'm afraid to sleep or sleep alone and sometimes these things are idle in their moods - tiny torrents of great gasping floods and it is all too much to bear. brr. bera. burrow. burn. bark. parka. you won't get it you refuse to understand. and THAT IS NOT FINE. i'm tired of explaining and aggravated with you and i want to run away because i am aggravated with myself. and i want to tell you what i mean but sometimes i don't know it. there is so much in here is another brick. this prison gets higher every time i turn around around around the way. some sorrow filled nights and the loneliness is creeping in. i want to strangle her with those satin laces. the ones i keep hidden from myself in the tiny crevices of places i dare not go for fear of loss of self control. ov. of. oven. burn. fires fires all around and here's the cross to put me on, i made sure those nails were rusty. god give me tetnus. lock jaw. wired shut. these rules of yours have already bound me. made me a wicked beast - one you'd sooner fear than love. and i want to rip your fucking heart out for it. i hate your slackjawed nature. your flippance. your lack of humanity. i am staring at you again. but it's only to see if you have a soul. or to memorize the lines you make. but it's not because i care, you're too frustrating. you suck the life out of everything. god damned leeches. human - people is the same as vampire - leeches. not that you'd know. you wouldn't know anything - but oh how you know everything. i'm lost again. but happier for it. but lost from what i want and need. i know the difference between your empty food and am hungry for actual fare. stuck stuck stuck. cannot find the shovel to dig myself out of this hole. DIG ME OUT. i'm shouting. screaming. calling. screeching. howling. I NEED MORE WORDS!! there is not enough of this. and where are you when i need you. in these late hours, these hours, the only time i am __insert whatever word you'd like here__. not that you'd know any good ones. ones. once. bitter. i am bitter here. and cold. and lost and stuck. i cannot - i do not - i am unable - i am

nothing Nothing NOTHING just not good enough just not well well welcome over and come inside i have some dreams and they're selling cheap trick clever trick you almost YOU'RE AN ALMOST and i i laugh hysterical hyster womb shredded home all is lost and long forgotten burn wander these empty hallways adn there is no punctuation, doesn't that just drive you mad MAD mad mad mad mad angry i shall strive strike stick street steam stream stem lest lost love never meant to make you wonderful bastard and how these things they come together right now olly olly oxenfree spelling, we don't need your grammar you nazi sucking the life out. suck vacuum YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE? hahahahaha i want to shread snarl sharp furious claws raking down carving paths through flesh one scar two scar three scar MEMORY

i'm going to break them these damn fingers but first i'll rip the nails out slowly one bed at a time and sleep is too far gone and i will never lie down again i am a liar i am a theif and i want to steal every moment you are awake i want to climb inside that head of yours cover myself in your mind i want to know what you think inside there behind those eyes i see in i drown in i want those eyes i want what they're hiding I WANT YOU to know what i'm thinking to see how i see the world to find an interesting thought in me to inspire me to comfort me to strangle me to drive me and i am tracking you, keeping careful observance of your moves you wicked deeds those shadows you spin when no one is looking, i see how you think but not what it is i want to breathe you in INHALE suppression, supressed super supper drown down watership suffocate you fucking rabbits and i'm drowning in these thoughts of you and without you how lost can we be

CAN'T YOU HEAR ME

how hard do i have to cry how loud how long ever notice how easy it is to skin yourself do you know what you look like beneath i do i have found exactly how my muscles move flesh free to be me and i am secure and i know no matter how hard this gets i am stronger but i am tired of putting up with you ever have a conversation with numerous people but you are only making a single statement running out of time running running running you should be running

it's all coming down

Hunter When The Moon Is High

Some things are hard to understand…understand if you really understood me I wouldn’t be so alone. Or rather feel this way… arbor mist zinfandel sangria sucks ass – it’s like drinking lime wine [NOT REALLY IT’S LIKE DRINKING FRUITLOOPS]; what a pervasive and degrading idea. I see him sitting there and wonder what he’s thinking…or if he thinks of me while I think of him…though the answer is more than likely not. He has his own life, and his own thoughts - though I wish he would have me on is mind I am not delusional enough to think he does…

A mind’s eye is a Minds Eye and though I may seem impotent in certain facilities I am coherent enough to understand a concept as base as this. Why others do not seems to boggle and vex me in ways not understandable to myself…as though I am above the evolution of the others. Though not all, I do have a few who fallow suit. But not enough and this it’s self seems to vex me even more…like I’m waiting for the remainder of humanity to catch up with myself...

My heart beats a rhythm I wait for someone to hear and understand so that they may love me. It beats wine at the current moment and maybe Lady Sovereign as it right…because some love me and some hate me but they are all obsessed in some way. I’m the Rubik’s Cube everyone wants to finish. Not bragging as I do not understand this myself. Find myself giving them sideways glances as they reach and paw for my attention – labs after the approval of masters proving to be false gods...

The tangy sweetness cascades along the tongue and down the throat reaching in due process the organ it’s fixated upon, and teasing in its sweetness, delicate flavors prance upon budded muscle. How sweet and ingratiating the scent of blood… I wish for it even as none comes. Nothing ever tasted as sweet and delicate as life’s liquid, whispering the sweet sins of the owner upon the tongue and losing itself deep inside uncovering angles to the soul itself that even the carrier knows not. Magick is potent in these silent touches. Burning and hot, an alluring combination, to one so hungry and deprived. I’m pawing at that source, though I know nothing will come from it; pumping in vein from a well that as long since run dry. In agony I howl for one who will let me lap at the blood pool their heart creates for me. Lone a millennium, this queer wolf-cat hybrid – emulsions of vampire spun throughout bright and cascading in an eternal symphony as potent as the pull of the poles to migrating animals… Silently she waits, in utter agonizing anticipation of what may be — what could be if only one were there to be white to her black, angel to her demon, god to her lucifer… She waits hungrily starved for the one who will come, fangs bared in a snarl cruel enough to terrorize the monsters in the darkest minds of the soulless – the one who comes will find an aphrodisiac in them and happily plunge into the maw of razored wolvesteeth.

Running silently over snow crusted hills she hunted, searching for that elusive one who consistently evaded her. She would prevail – even her prey knew this, and its heart beat thirty to the dozen, a sharp gallop in comparison to her own. She knew the time was nearing and her fangs elongated in her mouth cutting her pouty human lips until she kneeled to her fours and sifted to the form the moon compelled her into…