Hello, it's me again, the Vampire Santiago. Yes, the real deal, as they say in common vernacular. I am quite fond of the word vernacular since it rhymes so deliciously with spectacular, and inevitably sends me on a nostalgic trip through the old dance halls of turn of the century Paris.

I haven't been to Paris in so long. Maybe I'll go back next year for a while, pay homage to Jim Morrison at Pere Lachaise and feast on the lost souls who are waiting for him to return from the dead, after all, they would get about half of what they expected.

By the way, I'm aware that Santiago is a common name, and that there are a great many vampires who use it. Be careful who you talk to. People with less imagination like to plagiarize. Of course, I'm not completely innocent in that arena myself, but I like to think I put a personal spin on any little bit of history I make my own, and I do it with much more flair and panache than anyone else you're likely to encounter.

In any event, I'm not writing this piece to castigate others. Or maybe I am. The ones who have used me, abused me, and rightfully earned my loathing know who they are, and my feelings towards you haven't changed, you pitiful bitches -- I know you're reading this. Damn it, maybe I shouldn't have killed my shrink after all.

She was tasty, though.

But let the confusion over my identity reign. I only care peripherally -- the annoyance is a phantom throbbing of a severed, useless limb. Those of you who know me or who want to badly enough can find me the same place I have always been, at the only real e-mail address I have ever had.

Occasionally I swear here and there never to visit another message board again, but eventually I always do. If you see my name, do a little digging. It probably is me. I'll leave clues. I promise. After all, I could never bring myself to hide from someone who truly wanted me.

I've lost my train of thought again, when my original intent was to tell you a good, rousing adventure story of what I've been doing all these lost months. I've seen the complaints that I never update Theatre de la Mort... Tant pis, mes amis! Like any immortal creature, I only ever really do what suits and amuses me, when I damn well feel like it.

So tonight I feel like it.

If you want more of me than this, come see me in Hell. That's the fastest way to find me. I check the message board there almost every night. It may not be serious, but I'm just not that damn gothic. I can't bemoan my fate all the time. I'm a vampire, not a high school student who never grew up. I'm not slamming the goth tradition -- I think they are among the most beautiful people who walk this earth. I live for fashion, darling... dress has always been my strongest suit.

I'm just a different sort of creature...and I can spin reality out of your dreams and nightmares. I'm like you. I write poetry to express my passing manias. I thrive on words of love, live to craft them, pour passion into everything I do and everyone I love. I suffer, I bleed, I drown, I fall, I am brought low, but I always, always rise again, eventually...

As I've said many times, mostly because it amuses me, also because it fits, and not without acknowledging that it is a quote from Indiana Jones, I'm like a bad penny -- I always turn up.

I am a true immortal. I could spend a good portion of eternity explaining just what makes that so, but eventually you'd become bored and doze off and I'd have to kill you. Let's just say it wasn't easy, and it hurt a lot.

But I won, as eventually, I always do. It's the war, not the battle, cheri.

There's really not much consistency to this piece any more, and I know you're just looking for the dirt on who I'm sleeping with anyway. I used to pass that sort of information out like candy, but I don't really feel the urge to do so anymore. Maybe because this time, love is happening for me in a way that goes beyond electricity. I'm sorry for all the people I've wounded in learning to tell reality from fiction. In my defense, I never meant to frighten anyone with my passion and its your fault as much as mine if you couldn't handle it.

There is no reality, anyway. Is that a contradiction? Then let it be so.

Do you believe in faeries? I was taken in by faerie vampires once. What about elves? I know a Doctor who is the very act of falling in love with an Elf, though he doesn't know it yet. Of course, his vision of love generally involves an oven, so lets say a little prayer for the elf.

We're all mad, here... Alice, Alice, come back through my looking glass.

Read my old stories. They're just as good as when I wrote them, even if they don't fit my current lifestyle. Eventually I'll write something new, and if you still care about it, you'll run into it.

Hmm, not much of an update, is this? Well, there you have it. I won't make any excuses for it.