I AM the danger
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About: Caitlin, sometimes Cat. 23. Allergic to cats.

“When you are dancing with your partner, for that two and a half minutes, you are in love with each other. You’re corresponding with each other by the moves that you make. It’s a love affair, between you and your partner and the music. You feel the music, you feel your partner, she feels you and she feels the music. So there the three of you are together. You’ve got a triangle, you know. Which one do you love best?”

I know a lot about a lot of things that don't matter. I am attracted to good grammar and talent.

Don't follow me on twitter.



"Spin Madly On" theme by Margarette Bacani. Powered by Tumblr.

One night, children wearing necklaces of garlic bulbs arrived giggling at our door. it was Halloween; they were vampire hunters. The smell of garlic blasted through the mail slot, along with their voices: “Trick or Treat!” In the old days, I would have cowered from these children. I would have run downstairs to barricade myself in my coffin. But that night, I pulled on an undershirt and opened the door. I stood in a square of green light in my boxer shorts hefting a bag of Tootsie Pops, a small victory over the old fear.

"Mister, you okay?"

I blinked down at a little blond child and then saw that my two hands were shaking violently, soundlessly, like old friends wishing not to burden me with their troubles. I dropped the candies into the children’s bags, thinking:

You small mortals don’t realize the power of your stories.

Karen Russell, Vampires in the Lemon Grove

From her short story collection named for the excerpt above. The narrator of the first story in her collection is a vampire, yes, but one that speaks of a life quite unlike the lusty demons we see in Twilight. One that lived a huge deal of his life possessed and immobilized by cliches that in Russell’s short, are simply not true. Blood actually does nothing, holy water gives you a light rash, and the sun is just blinding and makes your eyes water a bit.

Russell is the kind of author whose work I read, I smile and giggle, I think to myself, “shit, I can’t write like this,” and then I cry when this moment happens.

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