Fresh food is healthy

I love dawn. The world shrouded in suspended mystery and the early morning breeze running cold fingers up my skin. I don’t get goose-bumps though. Slowly as the sun rises, the sky looks the colour of a young woman’s blushing cheeks. I do like young women with blushing cheeks.

A blush is caused by blood rushing to the face and neck. It’s also the reason dawn with its blushing sky makes me particularly hungry. Breakfast, after all, is the most important meal in a day. My breakfast is usually the previous night’s leftovers. I did mention yesterday that I needed to drink… and eat.

I find it extremely interesting that even in the fictional rendition of vampires, humans cannot help but juxtapose their morality on to us. Vampires drink blood but leave the human body intact and undefiled. Apparently an intact dead body means a human’s soul can rest in peace.

It’s ironic how humans’ soul concerns are only when they die. When alive, most humans will live soulless lives full of greed, deceit, rape and murder. Like Austrian Josef Fritzl who for 24 years, kept his daughter in a dungeon and raped her. Or the Australian man who raped his step-daughter… and took videos and photographs.

I’ve never hurt a child. Humans eat their own. And yet they call vampires vile?

I needed the warmth last night and went to this swanky restaurant for dinner. I was wearing a white tee shirt with Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride printed on it, the neckline reaching right between my breasts and low-waisted leather pants. I love leather, it is dead skin after all. The restaurant sits on the beach and looks out to the bay. The bay looked beautiful; like a bride in a black wedding gown with twinkling lights for embroidery. Each time the bride walked there was music as the waves crashed gently on the shore.
There was a couple kissing on the beach, the water lapping at their ankles. She had her eyes closed, her body moulded into his, her fingers entwined in his hair, pulling his head down, tasting life in his mouth. He was grabbing her arse and had a hard on. I can’t ‘hear’ thoughts like Edward Cullen, but I can bloody well read body language. She hoped for love, he wanted a lay.

I had ordered steak, rare, of course. I don’t enjoy the taste of cooked food but I do enjoy the aroma. I can smell a food and name all the ingredients that have gone into it. I had taken my ‘dinner’ out to the restaurant’s deck and was still looking at the kissing couple – he was squeezing her now, one hand on the arse the other on her left breast – when this dumb-wit decided to pick me up.

“Food is best when eaten hot luv,” he smiled at me. Five feet eight inches, steroid-pumped muscles rippling under a tee shirt too tight, sleeves rolled up (in a tee?) to show off the guns and skinny jeans. I am prejudiced against men in skinny jeans. If he hadn’t tried to hit on me, I would have thought he was gay. The most interesting feature though was his blood-flushed face.

“What do you suggest I do?” I asked.
“Go somewhere warmer? My place is close,” he suggested.
We drove to his place; a designer apartment pretending to be a ghetto. I still find it hard to empathise with rich people and their sensibilities.
He poured a glass of champagne for me – think it’s his modus operandi – and asked if I wanted to wear shorts or something.
“Do you want to wear something comfortable while we chill?”
“Chill? I thought food is best when eaten hot?” I smiled. He looked confused; I laughed and blamed it on the bubbly.
“You’re a funny girl. I do like your leather pants though. Leather makes me wicked; I could do things to you, you’d never even imagined,” he promised. I smiled.
“So can I,” I said and showed him. He didn’t survive the experience.

Last night I had thigh fillet for dinner. I’ve just finished breakfast; liver pâté.

Cold blooded

I also feel like a shag today. Nothing beats a hearty meal and heartier sex. To do or not to do my breakfast, that is the question...

Everything is marketable in the world. Disaster in one part of the globe means starting an aids-market somewhere else. People are dying of starvation in Zimbabwe but it's a marketing tool for the likes of rock band U2's Bono and other celebrities. If there was no suffering, who would they send their aid to? How would they become 'giving' human beings? While the rich do their 'good deed of the day' and contribute money ostensibly for the benefit of the underprivileged; Robert Mugabe's coffers grow everyday.

People have looked down upon vampires ever since our kind first surfaced. Rather ever since the news of our kind first surfaced. Despite the number of books and movies on vampires, no one has really "met" a real vampire. We are simply not that stupid. However, you've had people being killed, maimed and hounded because others thought they were vampires.

If 'blood sucking' was the true description of the vampire, Robert Mugabe would so fit into that category. I wonder if I should go pay him a visit. But just the idea of the cholesterol and other pollutants in his blood makes me sick. That's a joke though, I never fall sick.

I just feel sick. Like today. It is what human's would call a bleak day. There is a calm, cold breeze outside and I can see the trees and the shrubs shivering through my French windows. The birds that are hopping on my lawn don't seem really interested in searching for bugs. There is no sun; even if it peeks out from behind the clouds, it lacks in will to warm. And I feel really, really cold...

Despite popular myth, vampires do feel temperature changes. Only, we feel cold more than we feel hot. Even on the hottest days -- say at 48 degrees celcius -- I would feel warm and comfortable. However, my blood responds much more to a fall in temperature. The colder it is, the colder gets my blood. Like today, each time the wind rushes in with a fresh gust of cold, I can feel it ripple through my veins.

I love warmth and it's on a day like this that I seek it out. But fires don't warm me... The warmth has to come from within. I have to drink today. To feel warm, warm blood run through my veins. Another's blood, to feel it pulsing through is such a thrill. I could also have sex if only I can avoid eating the object of my desire.
Life of a vampire, what a quandary...

Vampires at Boston Latin School?

Bloody funny, these human beings. They make a complete mess of being human and yet now a whole lot of them want to be vampires.

Now a nearly-400-years-school -- Boston Latin School, established 1635 -- has its principal sending out official memos asking students and staff to calm down about vampires.

Apparently some students have been spreading a rumour that there's a vampire in their school. Both Boston.com and MTV.com 'reported' the news; MTV doing it with much more style. "And since it is a gloomy, overcast time of the year in Boston right now..." Hah.

Screw botox and cosmetic surgery, 'vampire' is the new answer for ever-lasting beauty. And youth. If vampires were portrayed as stinky and dirty -- you should see me after two night outs -- no one would be as enamoured.

Despite the fact that werewolves and vampires are mentioned in the same breath -- Twilight series, Skinwalkers etc -- no one wants to be a werewolf. In the age of meterosexuality, guess all that hair is unappealing.

I was born beautiful and born a vampire. It's a myth that vampires cannot reproduce. Like so many other fucking myths about us. But more on that some other day...

PS: Some had questions. I am female.

Frills get in the way, you idiot

I will concede to at least one improvement in how vampires have been portrayed over the ages. That would be the death of frills.

It's basic science that any flying/swimming Being will have a streamlined body. However, popular vampire fashion is absolutely anti-aerodynamics.

What makes more sense? It being easier to fly naked or wearing body-fitting clothes? Or when you are covered in reams of tulle, net, lace and other such delicate fabric.

Personally, I find vampire fashion in popular fiction and movies quite offensive to my sense of fashion. Over the years that I have seen womens' (under)garments change from corsettes to crotchless; I have NEVER worn anything as ridiculous as flimsy nightgown and gone hunting.

In the era before spandex -- uncomfortable despite the number of 'superheroes' who've worn them -- and then subsequently lycra (thumbs up) were invented; I hunted naked.

There's just something to be said about warm blood trickling down your breasts.

Sorry to disappoint you RH Smith, vampire brides is a myth.

Enough

It's really insulting.

Really insulting that insipid, girl-mouthed Edward Cullen should be taken as the epitome of vampiredom. A vampire who's skin "shines like diamonds" in sunlight.

If I had blood, it would curdle.

My name is Susie Bloodimir and I come from a time when Bellona was still a Roman goddess. Now Belladona is called a myth. Like earlier they called flying, walking on the moon, heart transplants and jet packs myths or impossibilities... Despite them being proven wrong time and again, human beings never seem to learn.

Humans also call vampires a myth. Yet here I am, a sentient being, someone you would call a vampire. I am one of the few of my kind left. The kind of vampire that you don't read about in books or see on television or in movies . Not the kind of vampire that is made.

I was born a vampire.

I am the last of my family... but I know there are other birth vampires. Those whose parents were vampires as well and those who were born after 12-months of gestation.

I am looking for Him. The one who can be my mate. The one who will help me bring another birth vampire to this world. As I chronicle my thoughts and desires in this space, I hope someday, He will read them and find me....