Pride Is The Parent Of

I Was A Newborn Vampire, Weeping At The Beauty Of The Night.

… In The Relentless And Meaningless Manner One Searches For Something In A Nightmare, Coming On Doors That Won’t Open Or Drawers That Won’t Shut, Struggling Over And Over Against The Same Meaningless Thing, Not Knowing Why The Effort Seems So Desperate, Why The Sudden Sight Of A Chair With A Shawl Thrown Over It Inspires The Mind With Horror.

The Fans, The Vampire Groupies, Love The Idea Of This Androgynous, Preternatural Figure Stalking The Night, And Craving Aesthetic Pleasure Just As He Craves Blood, Wearing Only The Best Velvet Clothes, And Savoring Red Roses.

I Have To Move Away From Organized Religion. The Toxic Confusion And Anger I Was Feeling In Church Had Become Too Great.

If You Want To Be A Writer, Write. Write And Write And Write. If You Stop, Start Again. Save Everything That You Write. If You Feel Blocked, Write Through It Until You Feel Your Creative Juices Flowing Again. Write. Writing Is What Makes A Writer, Nothing More And Nothing Less.