*cough* Hey. So, both my end of the blog and my guitar seem to be gathering dust these last few days. Only not really, because my end of the blog is a concept and I've been playing guitar, just not writing. But that ruins the metaphor, dammit!
As you may have guessed, I haven't written anything new. But instead of making excuses or apologies for this blog post... Well... Today's post is a guest post from a vampire. He types in blood red.
Let me tell you a story. It starts with a promising young boy named Jeffrey Beckle, a student at St. Victoria's Academy for Gifted Boys in Brightwell, Wisconsin. He was a bright kid, usually got solid Bs in even the most challenging classes. He was pretty well-known, but not exactly popular; he was always too quiet, too poorly-dressed, too something for the top of the food chain. Jeffrey had plans, though. He was going to go to an art school in Florida, major in film, and become a Hollywood foley artist- everything was all planned out. Enter Cassie Stark.
Cassie was promising, definitely, but she didn't seem quite young. She had a habit of out-debating her teachers and, when angry, would give the most menacing stare anyone had ever seen. She looked at you and it was like the whole universe was saying "Shame on you, you piece of garbage..."
Jeffrey and Cassie started dating in senior year of high school. That was when he found out why she always wore a hood or a wide-brimmed hat on sunny days, and why her eyes were so dominating, and why her teeth were so sharp, and why she bit into his neck that one time and drank his blood before slitting her wrist and forcing him to drink her own. Cassie was a vampire, and Jeffrey became one too. Cassie being his sire, she was required to rename him, and so Jeffrey Beckle became Blake Luthor.
Hello. I'm Blake Luthor, and I'm a bloodaholic. (Cue laughter and applause.) Noah asked me to write this post primarily because he had nothing he wanted to say himself, but also to... Yeah, he didn't have anything for me. So I was left to my own creativity to come up with a topic. Have you ever seen a dead person trying to be creative? It doesn't go well. Ke$ha's a vampire, if you need an example. Heyooo!
Although, interestingly enough, that doesn't stop dead people from enjoying art. Hell, we're half the indie film community. And the rave scene, the metal scene, a lot of rock. I'm friends with a couple of undead JoCo groupies, even. We've been severely misrepresented in your culture; always the romantic hero, always brooding, always stealing babies and feeding them to our wives. In reality we fall into two categories: the fun-loving eternal partier, and the asexual criminal mastermind. And we're not evil, either! It's a modern world. We take the sick if we're really jonesing for human, but only the sick. Other than that we mostly eat extremely rare steaks.
I'm still not sure where I'm going with this. Is there a point? If you saw a point, let me know. But this is more than he's ever written for one of his posts and I'll be damned (extra) if I stay sitting here typing at night.
