Robinson Crusoe

I read this to my children when they were young and I still love it. Forget them. I love it.

OK, I know you came here for vampire stuff. Blood, lust, gore, sex, more sex, adventure, wit, beauty, tits, more blood and lust…I get it. OK I really do get it. I’m into all of that too, but it’s been a long night and I’m drunk on fresh hunts (blood ok) so Juliette, vampire maman, just wants a little silly poetry charm. Work with me on this. You’ll thank me for it later.

Blood, lust, passion, desire, parenting advice, ghosts, vampires, werewolves and paranormal romance ALL to come next week. I promise. Really I do. Just read the poem. Let me share.

Robinson Crusoe’s Story

THE night was thick and hazy
When the ‘Piccadilly Daisy’
Carried down the crew and captain in the sea;
And I think the water drowned ’em;
For they never, never found ’em,
And I know they didn’t come ashore with me.

Oh! ’twas very sad and lonely
When I found myself the only
Population on this cultivated shore;
But I’ve made a little tavern
In a rocky little cavern,
And I sit and watch for people at the door.

I spent no time in looking
For a girl to do my cooking,
As I’m quite a clever hand at making stews;
But I had that fellow Friday,
Just to keep the tavern tidy,
And to put a Sunday polish on my shoes.

I have a little garden
That I’m cultivating lard in,
As the things I eat are rather tough and dry;
For I live on toasted lizards,
Prickly pears, and parrot gizzards,
And I’m really very fond of beetle-pie.

The clothes I had were furry,
And it made me fret and worry
When I found the moths were eating off the hair;
And I had to scrape and sand ’em,
And I boiled ’em and I tanned ’em,
Till I got the fine morocco suit I wear.

I sometimes seek diversion
In a family excursion
With the few domestic animals you see;
And we take along a carrot
As refreshment for the parrot,
And a little can of jungleberry tea.

Then we gather as we travel,
Bits of moss and dirty gravel,
And we chip off little specimens of stone;
And we carry home as prizes
Funny bugs, of handy sizes,
Just to give the day a scientific tone.

If the roads are wet and muddy
We remain at home and study,—
For the Goat is very clever at a sum,—
And the Dog, instead of fighting,
Studies ornamental writing,
While the Cat is taking lessons on the drum.

We retire at eleven,
And we rise again at seven;
And I wish to call attention, as I close,
To the fact that all the scholars
Are correct about their collars,
And particular in turning out their toes.

Charles Edward Carryl

Vampire Masquerade! Costume Sketches – round one!

As you all know the Vampire Masquerade Ball is coming up in August. I am so jazzed.

Teddy said he’d wear a suit and a plain black mask. That is what he SAID, but it isn’t what is going to happen.

In the meantime Garrett and his pals (age 15-17) are going as the Three Musketeers – Vampire Style. They’ve asked me to help them with their costumes. I told them to go see my mom. She was actually alive at the time, but they insisted I help.

So that leaves Clara and I. Clara will turn 13 in July so this is sort of like a coming out party to her. We decided on a fancy princes fantasy ball look for both of us. That may change. I did a few 5 minute sketches. We’re still looking through old books and photographs for ideas.

In the meantime I thought I’d share what we have so far. Just some quick stuff with a Sharpie on paper.

Let me know what you’re wearing. Of course if you want to keep it a secret I’ll understand.

~ Juliette

Blood as Food (this is really interseting, especially if you aren’t a vampire)

I’ve had some off line questions about the use of blood in food. It isn’t that unusual.

And thanks to our friends at wikipedia there is some brief but good information about it.


And remember wikipedia is always FREE and supports the free sharing of knowledge for all people.

Vampire Thoughts with Coffee and Blood

Even by vampire standards I don’t get enough sleep.

I was up a 5 a.m. this morning. I should have been sleeping but my dreams turned to visions of vampire hunters and car repairs and other fears.

After making coffee with a shot of blood I went to the back deck and listened to the birds. The cats came out to join me, along with the dogs. They are morning creatures, even the nocturnal cats.

The damned ghost appeared in the field with a smug grin and a wave. My lip started to go into a snarl, but I stopped and managed to lift my cup as if to say “Cheers to Friday you son of a bitch.”

It made me ponder all of us who are different – the vampires, werewolves and others who aren’t like the regular humans.

I thought of my husband Teddy who used to be a regular human. He is now a vampire but he can’t ever be a regular human again. I was born a vampire but I can’t ever become a regular human. Even with vast amounts of research nobody can figure it out. The werewolves thought they’d figured it out but in the end there was nothing of any merit.

My friend Adam was born a werewolf. Triplets. It should have been a clue. I don’t know many werewolves right now. There aren’t many of them. They were killed almost off in the last two centuries by bounty hunters. New werewolves (who were once regulars) take twice as much work as a new vampire.

Ghosts can go back because they don’t have bodies. I’m not sure I’d want them to come back.

There are others who come and go from our lives – those I can’t explain, but more on that later. It makes my brain hurt.

Friday is always a main feeding day. I have a lunch date with an attorney and later in the day an FBI agent (a nice normal regular guy – not like what you see in the movies).  Maybe that was my reason for not being able to sleep. The thrill of the hunt always gets me a little jumpy.

But I’m up. Another wave and a genuine smile to my sad ghost and I’m off to get ready for a new day.



Face Your Fears – in a refreshing sort of way…

I’ve had the pleasure to know a young woman who has a most unique way with words. It is play and poetry. It makes you think. It makes you think WTF? It makes you think “I like it! Wait, I love it”.

Welcome to a unique world of facing your phobias with Jamee.

12/ Fear gelotophobia BEING LAUGHED AT.

{(Improvised/ Non improvised)}

12a/To put back or establish again as in a former position or state a movie that is advertised to draw customer
PAST THE MOST DIFFICULT TIME CONSUMING, OR DANGEROUS PART OR PERIOD any place or object hallowed by its history or, associations because of prize money.

{(Registration of your choice.)}

To put back or establish again as in a former position or state Exclamation’s of delight or approval because of Money {(esp- paper money)} recovering property; titles; etc by virtue of superior LEGAL Title’s prominence; distinctiveness; or vividness, due to contrast.

{(put- out)}

Reinstated coming attraction over the hump shrine- from PEWTER.

Symptom of one’s SENSITIVITY.
{(Sometimes dumb is staying alive)}

Reinstated yowzer from cabbage EVICTING relief.

From Jamee:

“I can’t waste my time. I tell myself- Don’t ever say that again. An eyeball came out of the sun! Hero’s sit back sometimes, to concentrate on feeling large. I’m here: when asking, WHERE AM I? I’m not small. I can help when asking, where am I. Whether a reality or a fantasy. I can define good and bad times relating to fear, and spontaniousness. When an eyeball comes out of the sun. Here I am, Ratio Me Trying Vs Niave Me daring not to be objectified, but considerate. Its a state/ A choice.”


Symptom- THE PAST.
Follow your heart.

Reinstated mutable UNDER- JACKET preliminary.

Follow your brain.

Reinstated clay pigeon OZONE big- time.

The order of comfort.

To put back or establish again as in a former position or state changeable FOLDED PAPER, OR OPEN ENVELOPE CONTAINING AN OFFICIAL DOCUMENT preceding and leading up to the main part, matter, or business; introductory; preparatory.

Symptom- STRENGTH OF A MIND. The order of urgency.

To put back or establish again as in a former position or state a moving target for shooting CLEAN/ BRACING AIR AS FOUND AT THE SEASIDE the highest or most important level in any enterprise.

Check out Jamee’s Blog


Why Vampires Like Poetry


Oh my goodness Vampire Maman is so excited…it is FINALLY here!!!!! In fact I’m so excited my fangs hurt – it is THAT GOOD!!!!

A story by the oh so talented Nathan Tackett



Download the entire story at:


Yes, this story is about Morgan Freeman, but not the Morgan Freeman you’re probably thinking of. Although THAT Morgan Freeman would probably make this story a hell of a lot more interesting.  But, truth be told THIS Morgan Freeman went up and missing in the summer of 1959-which, if my research serves me correctly, would’ve made THAT Morgan Freeman roughly 22 years old.  THIS Morgan Freeman was much older…seventy four years to be exact. Hell, I suppose that’s all ironic and shit given that THAT Morgan Freeman-the rather popular actor-is 74 years old currently.

THIS Morgan Freeman, the one which I am going to tell you about, suffered from many curses that no ordinary man such as myself could ever understand.  He had a bum leg, was blind in one eye, had no children, and had a sickness for the drink.  Also, he was black.  Which, for the record, I shall say is most definitely NOT a curse. Fact, being that he was the only black man in the town of Flatrock, Nebraska should be considered quite the most robust victory in itself.

Sure, Flatrock had a mosquito’s fart of a population-453 every Sunday to be exact. But, if you’re the only man of the African persuasion placed in such a whitewashed environment you might as well have been up against thousands.

You’re already doing it aren’t you.  Since I’ve told you that THIS particular Morgan Freeman was black and old, you’re already picturing THIS Morgan Freeman as THAT Morgan Freeman.  Hell, go ahead. It’s not hurting anyone I suppose.  You might have already gone as far as to imagine THAT Morgan Freeman reading this story to you.  So be it.  I can’t stop you, and it’s probably going to keep you interested in this story a lot longer than any normal person should.  It most certainly is not my power of pristine narration holding you with intrigue.

Well, from now on I’m only going to refer to the Morgan Freeman that this story is about.  Any mental point of reference damage has already been done.  Just make sure that you’re only thinking about ONE Morgan Freeman while reading this story. It’ll make things a whole hell of a lot easier on you.

Read or download the entire story at…


Learn more about my friend NATHAN TACKETT From the official NATHAN TACKETT Amazon  Profile:

Nathan Tackett wrote some words once. He then wrote some more words. Wash, rinse,repeat, until the day he can make a living off this or he dies -whichever comes first. He is most comfortable in the realms of dark humor, science fiction, and booze soaked literature. You could call him a genre-hopper. He’s been called worse.

He is best known for his collections of short stories and poetry. This will change when his first novel is published this fall.

Tackett’s writing has been called “…the bastard child of Charles Bukowski and Chuck Palahniuk.” 

It has also been called pure crap.

Currently, he lives somewhere he doesn’t really want to. 

He would personally like to thank you for stopping by. 

Due to the length of the story (it clocks in at almost twenty pages)  it available for download in different formats. THE PDF IS HERETHE EPUB IS HERETHE KINDLE IS HERE. All files are virus free and free of cost.