SchreckNET

It is with great pleasure that I am inviting all Kindred of New York to witness the rebirth of the Circulatory System as we know it. A timely change, in view of the increasingly dangerous times that we currently live in.

There will be a formal tasting session on the 28th of this month, held at the Blue Velvet, courtesy of our lovely Keeper. We hope to see you there!

I'm starting to wonder if it wouldn't be a good idea to have a ghoul. The air in the city is becoming decidedly darker. Murders and executions? What's next?

I feel like I've been in a rut ever since lately. I think I need a change.

Would anyone be willing to model for me? [...] I can't pay much. But I can trade a favor for a favor!

[Viva]

[...] You can go out in the daylight right?

On a note completely unrelated to anything previously mentioned: attention all landlord(s) and fellow stray(s), please schedule your last shower/wash/rinse/bathroom escapade in the apartment 24 hours in advance. For reasons.

Also please ignore the sack of doorknobs and faucets by the door. It won't bother you if you won't bother it.

[Julian & Viva]
We're moving into the penthouse in a couple of days, so prepare your bags.

I'll be back by then.

Maybe this is an old ghoul’s tender sensibilities but — that?

That was an excessive dose of vaudeville.

Does anyone know if they said why they destroyed the gallery? Before

[......]

I guess it doesn't matter.

[...]

But. It matters.

[Posted about 2-hours from dawn.]

Some fucking rats have chewed through my T1 line and I am not happy about it. Living off the good graces of cellular data until I can fix this shit.

[Daddy (Amadeus)]

I lie. No, they didn't.

[Attachment including decrypted emails.]

That was a lot a lot a lot a lot of layers to go through but I've been working on it nonstop except for forced sleep. Now I'm very hungry. send me some take out as a pressie.

At the bus station, the first sober words I heard were: "Don't touch my dick, don't touch my knife."

Ah, New York.

Too much of you still smells like someone's washing yesterday's socks in last week's soup, but bless you for never trying. It's hard not to admire the brutal optimism of a city that houses 500 architects who've never built a building. Then there's the New York Time's Twitter-tale about the ailanthus tree that was fifteen feet long growing from the corner of a garage roof in the lower Bronx. It's rooted in and, apparently, living on "dust and roofing cinders."

Now there's a diet tip worth considering.


[Leo]

I Ate'nt Dead.

~Your Favorite(?) Darling