alt.vampyres fiction title

 

Getting there is half the fun.

1998-2000 Leslie

 

Well yes I do spend a lot of time in my car. I like to drive with the stereo cranked. One of the rare occasions I can listen to what I want, played as loud as I want.

"You cannot go against nature, because when you do, to go against nature is part of nature too."

Plus, I figure on the road I can be places where things can't find me. Or sometimes, where they can.

"Our little lives get complicated, it's a simple thing. Simple as a flower, and that's a complicated thing."

I was grooving on Love and Rockets so much that I missed my exit. Ended up downtown in the area we here call The Ditch, a maze of overpasses that slices the city in two.

"When you're down, it's a long way up. When you're up, it's a long way down."

Why does dirty concrete attract the sourness of our lives? Or do we simply distinguish desperation more easily when it flickers there against a cold grey surface, the boundaries between light and dark plain at last.

"It's all the same thing, no new tale to tell."

I pulled over into the shadow of rumbling semitrailers and logging trucks, glyph-like tags and discarded works, and into still more shadows, and the thing that whispered there . I left the motor running. After a while I couldn't tell the difference between the abrading grit of the wall and of his eternally unshavened chin.

"It's all the same thing..."

When I wanted it to taste like strawberries, it did. When I wanted it to taste like wine, it did.

I must have wanted vinegar, because in fact, it was.

"No new tale to tell."





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