Given that my death will be the last chance I have to savour my one, strange life, I hope to approach it with curiosity...
Vampire lore in Russia (like seemingly everything in Russia) is intense, twisted, and utterly fascinating!
“Vampire Cocktail” (Pinterest).
How long would it take for you to be trapped in the freezing cold earth before you went insane and would do anything to escape?
In the lore of ancient Russia, the souls of all people–not just vampires–are trapped in their graves, going mad with the weight of the earth on them and the cold of the winter. There is a Russian Folk Funeral Song which laments that “Dark and joyless is our prison-house…” When folklorists would ask about this, or where the souls of the dead lived people would answer: “Stone and earth lie heavy on our hearts, our eyes are fast closed, our hands and feet are frozen by the cold.”
Before We Get to Our Vampire Tale…Here is Some Russian Vampire Lore…
“Especially during the winters do the dead suffer; when the spring returns the peasants say, “Our fathers enjoy repose,” and in Little-Russia…
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I’ve been sitting down thinking “I need to write the best science fiction novel of the 21st century!” or “I need to write something that will sell a million copies!” or just “I need to write well.” These are all useless mindsets.
Australian prices being what they are, shopping to a budget isn't easy, so I steal. Because I'm white, this is easy for me.
Consume a lot of good art to remind yourself why you’re doing this, and escape to your happy place to recharge, whatever that might mean for you.
I eagerly await the Pope’s encyclical and public announcements outlining his fluid views of gender and removing gender restrictions from the priesthood!
The night time is the right time! The time of firelight and mystery and delicious sins.
Being a writer and musician, I am poor. Scraping by on occasional factory work, freelance writing gigs, and welfare payments for years trained me to become a blackbeltbudgetmaster. I find it a little disgusting.
One of the true greats has left us: Ursula K Le Guin is dead. But she leave the world a much more beautiful, more hopeful, place.
I managed to salvage two poems I consider worth sharing with the world, and then only after the editing equivalent of blitzkrieg. The rest I shall consign to the memory hole.