I miss when vampires used to be cool.

I'm not sold on all this Twilight business.

I tried reading it. I really did. But somewhere in between the horribly awkward sentence structuring, the Hallmark card "romantic" dialogue, the bland characterization (even if there are entire paragraphs devoted to Hot Vampire Guy's appearance), and the throwback to 1950's female gender roles that only a Mormon stay-at-home mom could pull off, I lost the will to continue and couldn't finish the bloody thing.

I suppose it's the safe, traditional romance that draws in both teenage girls and those who wish they still were. Impossibly handsome and charming boy meets fragile damsel in distress, boy gallantly swears to never touch innocent, chaste lady, minor wrench (aka vampirism) is introduced to possibly harm the relationship, relationship survives against all odds, chastity still withstanding.

Therein lies the problem: what the hell does chastity and traditional courtship have to do with vampires? They're not supposed to be the perfect boyfriend, they're supposed to be dangerous, poetic, half-insane, sex-crazed gore fiends.

When I was the age the primary fanbase of Twilight are now, around 13 or so, this was what a vampire meant to me:

Good old Anne Rice vampire fare (yes, I was one of those goth 13 year olds who read Anne Rice. Oh, to be young again...). While they may not be literary masterpieces, they are classic vampire novels that sold millions of copies and broke through to the mainstream. This is exactly what Twilight has done, but compare my summary of Twilight above to the sorts of things that happen in Anne Rice's books. Lestat hates his blind dad, torments and feeds on hookers, turns a six year old kid into a vampire (six year old kid then proceeds to kill entire families), has his throat slit by the six year old vampire, is bitten by crocodiles, battles his way back from being half dead and turns into a rock star whose music wakes up a very sexy 7000 year old Egyptian vampire queen who can explode hearts and eyeballs with a single thought.

See? Not a second of wholesome morality or sweetness. Definitely out of a Mormon housewife's reach.

Mark Ryden and Natalie Shau

Another quick feature relating to my obsession with pretty doe-eyed creepy girls.

Mark Ryden has always been one of my favourite artists, back when I first caught a glance of his artwork for Clear Hearts, Grey Flowers, the last album by the great but now defunct band Jack Off Jill.





There is so way I can adequately express how much inspiration I've derived from his work for my own art. He incorporates everything that fascinates me into each of his paintings - surrealism, disturbing imagery, a skewed sense of what is traditionally beautiful, and little girls with those big, eerie eyes.

Also sharing Mark Ryden's penchant for twisting the beautiful, Natalie Shau, who I first encountered on DeviantArt way back when that site used to interest me, draws more heavily on fairy tales and a gothic influence in her work. But they still features haunting little ladies.

Angelique Houtkamp

The first time I ventured downtown with a certain someone who is currently instilling my life with all kinds of awesome, we ended up somewhere between Bloor and Bathurst and Bloor and Spadina. I am terrible with directions. Please do not ask me exactly where I was, but I did end up getting stuck in Honest Ed's, and spent a few brief minutes wondering if I was to be trapped between a display of Virgin Mary clocks and 99 cent peanuts for the rest of my life.

In addition to discovering that yes, there ARE other shops near Bloor and Yonge that don't involve creepy old men selling sex toys and PVC bondage gear, I also managed to come across a Dutch artist's book in a graphic novel store that indulged my love of pin-up girls and body modification. Her name is Angelique Hautkamp, and my god, I would kill just to have her design a tattoo for me.


According to her website, she learned to tattoo at the same time she learned how to paint, inspired by a friend's gallery show. The influence of traditional style tattoos on her work is very obvious, but this only adds to their charm. I've always been a fan of beautiful but strange doe-eyed girls as subjects in art, and Angelique's flapper skeletons and animal-human hybrids are enormously appealing. Plus, as the people who know me are aware, every single aspect of tattoo and piercing culture never ceases to fascinate me. Angelique's art represents both past and future for the body modification world, a throwback to the history of tattoo art and a message to modern naysayers that tattoos can certainly be fine art too.

I never know how to start these.

In retrospect, it probably would have been better if I had started this a few weeks ago, to sort of compliment my therapy (does every wannabe intellectual go to therapy? Or just pretend university therapy like me?). Generally, though, I always think "you know, now would be a good time to start a journal" when I don't have time to start a journal.

I suppose that means they aren't good times to start a journal after all.

However, although this still isn't an ideal time for me to start writing again (no time is really an ideal time for people with extremely short attention spans whose ideas tend to fizzle out over time), the current situation with my university, which can only be described as "full of fail and AIDs", has lead to me having quite a bit of time of my hands. But, it HAS lead to certain new developments in my life that are making things a lot less dull.

• I am attempting to better myself as a film student (surprise, surprise. No, I don't worship at Wes Anderson's altar, and yes, I am aware I will be making little to no money in future) by watching critically-acclaimed cinema. However, because of the aforementioned short attention span, I can't seem to bring myself to watch all of a Hitchcock film or a Nordic independent movie because there are no people asking metaphysical questions while blowing things up set to a pumping techno soundtrack. Coincidentally, I love Run Lola Run.

• Although I attempt to stray as far away from that irritating classification of person known as the "art fag", it is a constant fear that one day I will begin to casually namedrop obscure bands whose music consists of acoustic guitars and xylophones and become obsessed with studying German Expressionism while smoking clove cigarettes. However, I think that as long as I maintain my sense of humour and my love for Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy, I will be safe from this fatal disease.

• I have rediscovered Tetris. I fully expect it to be a serious adversary in my struggle to combat the evils of procrastination. But good god is it a fun adversary.