Interview: by Kirsten Laulainen

I don’t have a coffin or sarcophagus, like the Hollywood vampires.
I don’t live in a fancy mansion, or pretend to carry on a human existence.
I’m not good looking either. I got news: Immortality doesn’t make you prettier.
If you’re ugly, you’re gonna stay that way.

As for becoming a vampire, there isn’t much to it:
Take me for example—I’m one, because some idiot didn’t bury me straight.
I know, not very exciting.
You were expecting something like a satanic ritual, with lots of blood, right?
Or some dramatic performance like that?
If you want my opinion, that crap belongs in the theater.
You’re lucky if your “birth” is something to write home about.

While I’m on the topic of “being made,” I feel like I need to clear something up—
Being a vampire doesn’t mean I’m gay. It doesn’t even mean that I have
“Homoerotic tendencies.”
I’m not into guys biting my neck.
I don’t care if they’re Anne Rice’s darlings—
I don’t fly that way.

Immortally doesn’t automatically give you lofty purposes.
And guess what:
Like everyone else, vampires have to find something to do.
You don’t have to lose your queen and want vengeance,
To move through the streets, night after night feeding.
Dracula might like sweeping eternity for a girl,
But I don’t.
Too much stress, you know? And what if the vamp doesn’t like you?
You’re screwed, man. That’s why I stay away from coffin chicks as much as
Possible.

With me,
My vampire identity came so quickly,
I didn’t have time to think about what I would spend my afterlife doing.
A word to the wise:
Whatever you think of, it’s gotta be good—forever’s a lot of time to kill.
Don’t be like Nosferatu – nobody knows what he does with his time.
(Unless it’s to make everyone watching him fall asleep)
All I ever see him do is wonder in silence, hands hanging before him,
While he fears the light.
I don’t know about you, but that’s not gonna get me out of my grave with energy
At the end of everyday.
People call him “Disease Bringer,” and I can see why:
Every time I have to sit next to him, I contract serious ennui.

You’re noticing the silver bullet around my neck,
I suppose?
You’re wondering about those things that are supposed to affect
Vampires:
Garlic, holy water, silver bullets, steaks, mirrors, and crucifixes?
Don’t worry. I don’t have the gift of telepathy. I’ve just seen enough movies to know
What you’re thinking.

First of all, garlic doesn’t repel me magically, or whatever—it just makes
Feeding a pain in the ass.

Holy water is good for removing splinters – especially if you happen to get a stake
Through your heart –
That doesn’t happen so much anymore, but I hear
It takes the thing right out.

As for silver bullets,
As long as they don’t pierce the skin directly,
They aren’t fatal.
On Saturday nights the guys and I use them in our Bloody Maries
For that extra buzz.

Why mirrors are supposed to work on us,
I couldn’t tell you.
Because I’m supposed to hate my damned reflection?
Your guess is as good as mine.

Crucifixes –
Come on. It’s just two pieces of wood nailed together.
Nothing to feel guilty about.
Got better things to do than
Fetishize a
Cross.

Do vampires have any obsessions?
Keeping secrets, probably.
But you’re not interested in that—not supernatural enough.
Do I have an obsession
With counting?
I don’t, but my uncle does.
He’s straight from the old country, counts anything –
Not just poppies –
Stars, apples, pencils—you name it, and he’ll count it.
The coven doesn’t like to talk about him, and most the time everybody pretends
He burned up.
I think the last straw was when he started calling himself the Count.
It’s sad, but there’s a guy who didn’t choose wisely.

You look a little disappointed.
I know you probably expected coffins, romance, revenge, and adventure.
But my life’s
Pretty dull. (Definitely not novel material)
Maybe I should’ve spiced it up
With a hunt or two,
But you said you wanted something authentic.
And not everything has a vampire hunter,
Or ends in a chase with a mob of angry villagers.

As I said, I’m not your Hollywood vampire.
I’m just a vampire, living in the city,
Trying to keep going.

Sometimes I dream that I put on a cape,
And become a beautiful devil in Transylvania. That
I
Take a girl to my castle,
And have the ultimate showdown with her jilted lover
And a priest.
In the end,
I lay impaled on my coffin, like some bleeding antichrist,
Bidding the
Vampires around me not to weep:
I’ve lived my life to the fullest.

Don’t get me wrong:
It’s a beautiful dream,
But that kind of stuff just doesn’t
Happen anymore.
If you want that, do what I
Do: go to a movie.

Copyright Kirsten Laulainen 2009