Joe Vampire

Joe Vampire - By Steven Luna

POST 1

My Name is Joe, and I'm a Vampire…

NOTE TO THE READER: If you are female, between the ages of thirteen and forty-two, and you've stumbled onto my blog thinking we'd be chatting about those bitchin' vampire kids from the Nightfall novels, back away very slowly and refresh your Google search. You're in exactly the wrong place for that kind of crap, my friend.

And I make no apologies for it.

This blog is not a fan site; it's an attempt to clear up several untruths about what it means to be a vampire – a REAL vampire, not the glittery make-believe kind you’ve come to know and pine for. Before you roll your eyes and flip over to Facebook to check your farm, let me say this: I'm not asking for cash, not representing anyone's cause, and I’m way too cynical to be a poster child for anything. That’s not what this is. I just think the truth about vampires would surprise people, given all the folklore we've been fed about the subject. It sure surprised me when I found out… on a first-hand basis.

Turns out it’s not all satin capes and naked ladies throwing themselves at you… none of it is, actually. At least not so far. One naked lady would be nice. As a relative newcomer to this altered existence, it’s quite possible I don’t have all the facts; maybe being inducted into the undead improves over time and I haven't been in it long enough to reap the benefits. Or maybe I’m just slogging through some sort of deep-seated regret about what’s happening to me without having to pay a therapist, kind of a mid-life crisis for someone with no chance of having a mid-life anymore. And who has mother issues.

But that's for a different blog.

I’m guessing I’m not the only one afflicted with this condition, and like most of you out there I get the gist of the whole vampire thing. But while it may be a rocking good time for some, I have to assume that it’s really just a huge freaking pain for the majority of us. It is for me, anyway. And before any of you vampire-rights activist types get your Team Fredward panties stuck up your ass, let me assure you of something that seems to be an issue these days for a lot of folks about a lot of situations: I did NOT choose this. Knowing now how it feels, I'm pretty sure you’d have to be some sort of masochist to bring something as confusing and alienating as this into your life on purpose (no offense to the masochists out there). That being said, I don't want to portray myself as a victim, either. Just sort of an unlucky dude who got stuck in a situation he didn't see coming, and who can maybe enlighten someone out there to how it really is. Granted, there are plenty of people who have based their opinions on schlocky pop literature and movie house glam, who think something like this would be an exciting step up from the daily grind and have no interest in hearing the real deal. But you are being sold a crock of shit, my friends – pure and simple.

Crock. Of. Shit.

It’s not hard to see where the confusion comes from: modern marketing has mind-f*cked us into believing that there is some inner beauty, some fiery dick-lengthening confidence that comes from being transformed in this way. I’m not immune; I drank the Kool-Aid, too. But it's just not true. If anything, being saddled with this unrealistic circumstance is likely to rob you of what little confidence you might have had prior and give you a sad, final kick backward into the realm of skeezy freakdom, just when you were coming into your own. No one really ever shows you that side of the story, though; they push the opposite instead. And to the extreme. Every work of fiction, from print to film to television, does its best to make the case for vampirism as the direct and effortless path to an extensive Hollister wardrobe and some mad sway over horny high school girls. If that were the case, I’d have a hell of a lot more to do on a Friday night than sitting around my house with one hand in my underwear, starting a blog with the other.

Whoa. That was more pervy than I meant it to be.

Sorry. Still kind of new to this blogging thing.

Please be patient with the noob.

This is what life is for me at the moment, now that I've unwittingly become somewhat less than fully alive. It's still sinking in, but I'm seeing more and more how this vampire shit really goes down, and the truth bears exposing. I may not succeed in getting it all to make sense, but at least I’ll be able to say I wasn’t one of the opportunistic marketing geniuses who keep promoting the idea of vampirism as a lifestyle choice for profit. AdSense hits notwithstanding.

But whatever.

I’m not a hater; my intention in all of this isn’t to slam the pretty boys and girls of pop-lit and sub-network TV, and no doubt this phenomenon can probably turn out to be something rad for people who were already swimming in the Hollywood end of the human gene pool prior to changing. But I’m from somewhere closer to the other end of the pool, the one that needs a tad more chlorine – you know, where people head when they have to pee but don’t feel like getting out of the water. Yeah… that’s my pool: peed in and getting greener every second.

Okay. So maybe that’s a slight exaggeration.

And way more pathetic than it needs to be.

I know the deal; I accept my lot. I didn’t choose it, but it’s mine and I’m ready to face it head-on. I’m just trying to provide a counterbalance to the renewed romantic slant that 21st century corporate media has given to being a vampire by shedding some long-overdue light on the facts. I'd like nothing more than to use this blog to expose the reality behind the myth, and straighten out the perception of how it really is being some pathetic, half-living creature with one foot in the grave. And also, what it’s like to be a vampire. Truth be told, it sucks big-time.

And yes, the crappy pun was absolutely intended.

But I’ll keep that in check from here on out.