One of the many aspects of vampirism that authors have been ignoring for about 150 years in order to write the same damn Byronic asshole moaning about his immortality is how it would presumably facilitate slapstick. In my novel the vampires are throwing each other down flights of stairs and stabbing each other in the abdomen all the time, because it doesn't matter. To me that's both hilarious and depressing, like all my favorite things. I got a taste for that kind of futility watching Looney Tunes on Saturday mornings, of course. Similarly, I imagine Jeremy is always just about to do something unspeakable to me but keeps being averted. He gets distracted or hungry or for some reason listens to me when I say that this week's cartoon is going to be about something else. I've been writing about him for about twenty years now, and it is through him that I first learned that writing around violence, like writing around sex, is more interesting than writing about it. I guess I was first taught that on Saturday mornings too, but it was through Jeremy that I really got a handle on it.
I finished my novel and sent it to some people to read and now I don't know what to do with myself. I think that's why I feel anxious recently. Anxiety is my go-to reaction to anything I'm unfamiliar with, and I'm not familiar with finishing a novel, having never done it before. Speaking of writing around instead of about violence, I know that Zeppo and Friends is standing behind the novel I just finished, tapping its foot and waiting to be reified, and maybe I'd feel better if I got around to that, but I'm not done with the vampires yet, you know? And in a perverse way I want to force myself to derive meaning from something that's not crouching over some kind of writing implement. Which is why I'm going to drink beer and watch a horror movie in Brooklyn tonight. It's The Descent, an all-female monster movie with spelunking. The world needs more of those.