Monday, December 30, 2002 A
"Still Not Famous"

I really have nicer things to share with you. I really do and I will, soon, but I'm not so cheery this evening. I'm in a mood to be self-absorbed and moody. So those 'nicer things' will wait. I've paused in my reading of the current Vamp Chronicle. Lestat is rather moody at the moment. He's going to fly over the Gobi desert to await sunrise. Of course, he does admit this action is contemplated, having so much of the ancient Queen's potent blood in him, while doubting the sun can do him any real harm.

I probably shouldn't have eaten those five bricks of dark chocolate. I shall BE self-absorbed and moody. I'm not really as angelic as I often seem in these pages. I don't know. The house is cold. The winter's been a cold one, OKAY, not by any other standard than the low desert standard. But it's been too cold for ME.

The heat's turned up and I shiver and can't keep warm. If I let all the 'nasty me' out, would people still like me? I'm thinking of the funny diaries Cassandra Claire has 'obtained', the Secret Diaries of those in the Fellowship of The Ring. Aragorn son of Arathorn whines in every entry ''Not King yet . . ; Still not King . . ; Still not King, goddammit.''

What if I let all my hideous egotistical whining out, would those few of you who are so patient with me start fleeing for sites elsewhere? ''Not Famous yet . . ; Still not Famous . . ; Still not Famous, goddammit.'' After all, I AM so witty and wise, and WHY can't MORE of you SEE that? I really deserve FAME and the adulation of millions. Well, THOUSANDS, at least??? I'm not asking for riches.

SEE! I'm not a total pig. But I'd really like to be famous. Why can't I be?'' After all, every famous divine author was once a nobody herself. Have all the truly 'famous and divine' dreamt of it long before they ever obtained it? Or were they saints who never thought of their ego, but only of patiently refining their craft? I know Emily Dickenson was one of the patient saintly. She kept most of her efforts private.

Were she writing in the days of the web, or the web long ago began in HER day, would she be putting her poems out for public perusal, hoping the legions stop by? No, she would have crafted her small, perfect items and leave it to God to determine the fate of such things. And even to HIM, the knowledge of the true quality of such things.

But I am not such a saint. I know I like for people to think I'm angelic and sweet. Ah, it still could be possible. But is that hope, TOO, an aspect of EGO? Right at this moment, I really don't care. I want to curl up in my self absorption and dream, ''Someday, SOME day . . .''

Monday, December 30, 2002 B
"Armand Begs"

All over the web, young women from all over the world, Russia, Japan, France, USA, are drawing fascinating fan art devoted to the various members of Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles.

I've decided to toss my 'artistic' hat into the ring as well:

(pardon the anachronism of the song. . .)

''All I Want For Christmas Are My Two Front Fangs . . .'''

FIVE DAYS LATER:
''All I Wanted For Christmas Were My Two Front Fangs,My Two Front Fangs,
(okay, there are really FOUR!)

But You wouldn't even give me TWO, MARIUS!
You were off busy, doing OTHER THINGS!

Now what possibly could have been MORE IMPORTANT than ME!
ME! ME!! ME!!!

Meanwhile MARIUS . . .
is not aware how impatiently his 'Amadeo' waits
for time moves quite differently for a 1500 year old vampire
than it does for a 17 year old mortal boy.

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