Who you calling old?

One of the characters in the novel I’m working on, Blood on the Water, (the sequel to Blood Justice) had herself turned into a vampire to seek revenge. That got me thinking…

If there are such things as vampires, I hope before one changes me into a ravaging blood-thirsty beast I have time to get hair plugs, a face lift, a tummy tuck, a bit-o-liposuction, and a little tightening of the neck. My nose is good. Even though I’ll be lurking in back alleys and dark parks looking for cute, blonde teenage girls (I didn’t add smart because a smart girl wouldn’t be in those places) to slake my maddening thirst for fresh young blood, I want to look good for the rest of my immortal life.

I just celebrated (?) one of those milestone birthdays no one looks forward to. If I’m destined to be changed into an immortal beast monster gentelman this isn’t the one I’d have chosen to be changed at.

What  would be the best age to be upgraded to immortal? “Go Young” you might say. But how young? Certainly not less than 18. It might sound fun to be a teenager for ever, but after 30 or 40 years you might want to go into a bar and have more than a Shirley Temple. They card vampires too, you know. Not to mention that as a teenager you might think you know it all, but you don’t. Unlike Rodney Dangerfield, if you want some respect, you should wait until at least 21 before allowing that charming bad boy/girl vamp to give you the bite that lasts. Even at 21 you’ll still get carded everywhere, and after 20 or 30 years nobody is going to look at your ID and believe you’re 40 or 50 years old. You don’t want people looking into your birth records then bugging you for the secret of how you’ve stayed so young looking, do you?

If you want to flow through the centuries with a certain level of gravitas, you might wait until 50, or even 60. Maybe 62 if you’re big on Senior Discounts. Who knows, if us mortals continue to live longer on our own 60 might be the perfect time to get that sporty convertible to scratch that mid-life crises itch. However, if you’re going to choose that option I suggest you go vegan and to the gym, starting now.

30ish would seem to be the ideal age to receive the gift, or curse, of immortality. Old enough to leave some, not all, of that youthful wildness behind you and still have your body, good looks, and hair.  If male pattern baldness is already creeping up on you, you might consider going younger, or learn how to shave your head. Bald is beautiful, Baby! You’ll also be young enough to be envied by all those old folks over 40. A plus for sure.  At 30, with experience and youthful indiscretions behind you, you’ll be ready to start building the fortune that will sustain you for the coming millennium or two; houses, cars, boats, travel, spouses.

Speaking of hair, make sure you have your hair cut in a classic style for the ages that you like. Because I’m not sure the hair of vampiric immortals will grow out to fix a bad haircut.

IDEAS

What if you were young and down on your luck, maybe living in your car, with few prospects, and a stranger, say 65-70 years old, offers you $100,000 dollars for your youth.  You would still be you, just 65-70 years old. Maybe some grey hair and some sagging here and there, but still you with the same mind as now, just older. You agree. Abra Cadabra you’re old, but not without some intelligence. You look into this age swap thing, find out the stranger’s secret, reverse engineer it, offer some not too bright drunk 25-year-old $5000 for his youth. “Sure. Why not?” he says. You swap, and then you find someone else with $100,000 and make them an offer. And you do this swap again and a again, a nice lucrative business. Except there are some bad guys who want a piece (all of it) of your action. And then there’s the father of a woman whose youth you sort of stole. And a cop who knows more about youth stealing than he should and he’s looking for you.

What if some kids are telling their Grandpa how proud they are of him that he’s such a hero, and he says, “Ain’t nothin’ to be proud of here.” And the kids say, “But everybody says you saved the town, village, city, country, world, galaxy.” “Humph,” he says. “Maybe at the end I did somethin’ good. But that ain’t how it started. They don’t tell ya that, do they?” “What do you mean, Grandpa?” He sips his whiskey and tells them, “Once upon a time….”

What if  you were a retired criminal well into your 60s, but still vital, living nicely with your wife on your ill-gotten gains. Then you had a visit from a some of your old crew. One of the old crew is dying of cancer, because a particular doctor misdiagnosed him, possibly on purpose. He has a family that depends on him. So you agree to look into it and find a criminal enterprise way beyond what you used to do. So you all decide to go against the doctor and all the other white collars who are letting people die for their own gain. The old street-smart tough guys against  the new ruthless, boardroom smart guys.

What if there was a planet where the sentient inhabitants grew old in the usual way, but at a certain time they grew younger, Benjamin Button style. As the unaged they brought all their experience of growing and being old to their government, business and culture. How would that make said government, business and culture different from ours?

What ever your age, be nice to the oldsters. Because sooner than you think you’ll be one of them bitchin that them youngsters don’t give any respect, just like you.

Happy Birthday, Again?

So next month is the event you’ve been waiting for. I know you’ve been checking your New Word a Day calendar every day, ripping off  the page with that new word you’ve either known since you were three, or know you’ll never use at any time for the rest of your life even if you’re immortal, with great glee, knowing you are one day closer to my __ birthday. I know, it gives you a warm and fuzzy feeling just thinking about it.

It doesn’t really matter what number is assigned to this event. You’re only as old as you feel, you’re not getter older you’re getting better, blah, blah, blah. Just remember  that 65 is the new 60, maybe even the new 57. I’ll have to check with my doctor on that one.

Now I know you’ve been planning for months what to get me for my birthday present. Well, I’m here to set your worried mind at ease. Although, I do realize that some of you feel you aren’t really living unless you have something to worry about. Even when all is cool, all is fine, the bills are paid, you still have a job, you’re pretty sure your kids aren’t on drugs and if they are everybody’s kids ought to be on whatever they’re on,  your spouse isn’t cheating on you, or doesn’t know you’re cheating on them, and there is no logical reason to worry about anything, you worry that everything is going too well and that OH MY GOD something terrible is going to happen and I need to be PREPARED! This is how survivalists are made.

So don’t worry about the two-week cruise, or that little bungalow on the beach, or that very fast red car, or that motorcycle that was in that movie, or the high-end computer/entertainment system, or unlimited movie or book store gift certificates that you were thinking of giving me as a small token of celebration. I have something else I you can give me, though I wouldn’t turn down a 35 foot bluewater cruising sailboat.  All I want for my birthday is for you to read my latest e-book, Ancient Mariners, and write a review of it to post on Amazon, Smashwords, KOBO, Goodreads or any place else that prospective readers might stumble on it and shout “Eureka!” and fall on the floor in a fit of expectant literary extacy. Cheap and simple. Why worry? And, as a bonus, you’ll be able to answer the question way below.

Speaking of birthdays, what I’m wondering is – How does somebody who believes in reincarnation number their birthdays? Instead of a mundane, “Oh, I’m 46 today,”  do they say, “All told I’m 378 today, plus those two weeks I spent as a mosquito in Africa. I wasn’t carrying any diseases so I got a small bump up  to a banker in my next life. Or, do they only count the number of past lives? And if so, how do they know when to start counting?

As far as I know, most people who believe don’t remember their past lives. Which brings up the question – if you don’t remember your past lives, what good is it? What does it matter? If you don’t remember, how can you learn from your mistakes and better yourself so that next life you will be the next Warren Buffet, Michael Jordan, Elizabeth Taylor, or, OMG, Justin Bieber.

Of course when have humans as a whole ever learned from their mistakes? Wars still happen, politics still happen, religious extremism still happens, hate and evil and intolerance and greed and selfishness and plain old stupidity still happen. So whether you’ve only had two lives or a hundred,  put your memory cap on and learn something to help us poor one-lifers.

IDEAS

What if you could remember your past lives, really remember, and throughout them you knew you would remember everything going into future lives.  How long would it take for you to own the world if throughout those lives you stashed away money, gold, jewels, art, made long-term investments relying on compound interest and the like? And what would all those lives be like, knowing what you knew? If nothing else you’d be a hell of a history teacher.

What if you remembered from birth? What would your life be like being fully aware of hundreds of  years of history at birth. Talk about your child prodigies. Who knows, maybe that’s where they come from.

What If you were from a family of wizards and witches. On your birthday you were allowed one wish for yourself. The thing is on this particular birthday you are afflicted with a debilitating disease that will leave you incapacitated for the rest of your life, which may not last until your next birthday. Wish yourself cured, a no-brainer. But the other thing is the one you love most in the world has suffered an accident and is dying. So do you save her/him with your wish, knowing you may not live until your next birthday wish, or cure yourself? How much do you love them? How much do they love you? Is there a way around the decision?

What if you were immortal and enjoying it, living large, not giving death a thought. Then you find out they forgot to tell you your immortality only lasts 1000 years. However, there is a way, exactly on your 1000th birthday, to extend your life another 1000 years. The thing is, after 990 plus years, you’ve lost track of your birthdays so now you have to figure out when it is, exactly, or the immortality you have become used to, and like, will end and you will be a mortal, living out your short life to the end. Of course there is that person you’ve fallen in love with. And the niggling question of is she/he immortal, too?

In any case, whether it’s today or a 1000 years from now, Happy Birthday wishes to you. And a light blue hull on my sailboat would be perfect.

The question – Is Beth Portman the new Lisbeth Salander, Katniss Everdeen, or Vanessa Michael Munroe? https://davidburtonwriting.wordpress.com/ancient-mariners

Desire plus Six

It’s Christmas time, the time for Desire – of things. Letters to Santa, hints to anybody who’ll listen, visions of video games wreaking havoc  in our heads. Rapid heartbeats as we survey the presents and wonder is what I want in there? Will my greatest Desire be fulfilled and make me eternally happy? Maybe. It’s Christmas, the time for miracles.

It’s always time for that other kind of desire. The kind that can drive you crazy. The kind you don’t need Valentine’s day to gear up for. The kind that gets you right in the crotch when that one special, to your eyes, one walks by. The one that makes you do crazy things, like go up to him/her and try to be hip and cool to impress, but instead stumble and sweat and make a complete fool of yourself. Which could take your desire in two directions.

The Sandman’s sister, Desire, might lead you to obsession. “So what if there’s a boy or girlfriend, a husband or wife,” you might say. “We are meant to be together, (meant by who is never questioned) so whatever dark place I have to go to to bring us together is right and necessary. ” This is the Desire of nightmares, sleeping and waking. The Desire that eats you up inside, alienates you, eats your brain and replaces it it with evil thoughts,  makes you a stalker, a killer. A fool.

It also may lead you to the Desire of Achievement. “So what if I made an ass of myself  in front of my  Object Of Desire (OOD), and they think I’m some lowlife scum stalker who should not be allowed in polite society. I’ll show him/her.” So you turn your obsession to yourself. You claw your way to success in business, money and society just to impress your OOD. And there you are at a huge dinner thrown to honor your success and good works and your OOD is introduced and they fall for you and you live happily ever after. Don’t laugh. It could happen that way. Or… see below.

I haven’t seen the movie Young Adult yet, but it sounds as if it might be an addendum to this blog.

But this is Christmas. Your desire may lean to video games, or clothes (lame) or a CD or books (Ha! Bet you thought you’d get away without a sneaky promo stuck in) or get togethers with family and friends (isn’t F and Fs getting to be a tad overused?) or “Please please don’t make me go to that party if Uncle  Todd and Cousin It are going to be there and Drinking!”

Good or bad, Desire makes the world go round, up to the pinnacle of success and happiness, or  down to the depths of Hell.  Without Desire there would be no stories –  no movies, books or fairy tales. No civilization. Where would we be if the first caveman (or woman) with the first faint spark of intelligence hadn’t desired to cross a river or eat everyday or get that stalker dude/dudette away from me? Nowhere. On the other side of the river ignoring the greener pastures just over there.

IDEAS

What if you did make a fool of yourself, more than once, and were rebuffed each time? Fortunately for you and OOD, you took the success route. There you were, finally good enough for OOD, and you didn’t want them anymore. But they wanted you, bad. Suddenly you were the stalkee. Would you be understanding? “I know how it feels, darling. But it’s not going to work out.” Would you tell them to piss off, because you’re too good for them now? How far would you go to protect your new success. Would you let your Desire to be free of your OOD lead you to the dark side, ending back where you began, on the bleak bottom side of want?

What if you were that first caveperson? What if by some deux ex machina event you had more than a spark of intelligence, it was like an explosion in your head. Suddenly, you got it, knew it all, could figure it all out. Along with that explosion came an equal amount of ambition – Desire by another name. Where would it lead you, what could you hope to accomplish back then? What if you found out you didn’t age, but you could die? What would your Desire to live do to your ambition? What if, knowing what you know now, you were transported back to the cave? Do you think your Desires would be different?

What if you were a kid and you really really really wanted something for Christmas, but your parents didn’t have much money and told you that if you could save half the cost they’d match you and get your OOD. What antics and clever ideas that just didn’t quite work could you and a friend or two come up with? What hilarity might ensue? What lessons learned? What good feeling might be spread. There is a dark side to this What If?, but it’s Christmas so I’ll leave it alone. But it’s still there.

What if, aliens bent of conquest released a gas in the atmosphere that curbed all human desire. Not just for sex or love, but everything. This lack of Desire slowly evolved into apathy. Soon people were too apathetic to eat or drink and they weakened and died. Just what the aliens wanted. But nothing affects everybody. Some will survive and they will fight. In this case a drug cartel kingpin, an advertising executive, a spammer, an auto production line worker, and a biochemist.  How would these people restore human desires and save the world?

Desire is necessary for human civilization and survival. Just don’t let them kill you. Besides, without them, Santa would be out of a job.  Happy Holidays.

Death plus Six

First, A Shameless Promotional moment! (Except for Mitch)If you are getting or giving a Kindle or Nook or any other E-Reader for Christmas, don’t forget the e-books to go with it.  www.smashwords.com/profile/view/davidburton can help.

I am just now reading the last volume in the Sandman series of graphic novels created by Neil Gaimin. The Sandman is Dream, one of the Endless along with his brothers and sisters – Death, Desire, Despair, Delirium, Destruction and Destiny. (6, get it?)

Death is the oldest. This is perhaps a practical matter. Without Death making way for the new, where would we put all of them? Immortality may be an interesting idea, but practically speaking, except for me and you, it’s a no go. Unless, and you’ve no doubt already figured this out you smarty you, you develop space travel early on and send the Newbies, or maybe the bored Oldies, off to another planet, and then another and another – but that’s a different blog. (Oh great, another immortality post) Death is the oldest because all things, bugs, animals, people, planets, stars, galaxies and the like all end up in her arms eventually.

When Death takes you in her arms is up to Destiny. That, too, is a future blog.

What if Death gets bored? He/she/it is always busy, as most people know too well.  A million times a day she (He or it – your choice) scoops up souls on Destiny’s timetable.  In the book I’m working on,  Ancient Mariners, Death is  represented by, wait for it, a large black Albatross. I think the Death in my story decided for whatever reason, to go off book.  Maybe the bad guy was scheduled to die at a certain time – heart attack, a fall down stairs, a random bullet. But Death, to relieve the tedium of embracing the dead since Time began, (or maybe just to screw with her Endless brother, Destiny) picked my two protagonists and created a mission for them. They were trained, prepared, nudged to be at the proper place at the proper time so that the bad guy’s death was not  random. But unlike so many meaningless, stupid, untimely deaths, had some meaning for those present at the time.

Death isn’t a bad guy (person or being,  if you need to be PC.)  Though it might seem she is pursuing you, she isn’t really. She’s just making sure that when the time comes, she’s there to catch you.

IDEAS

What if Death wrote a book? What would she (see above) have to say? I read a novel a few years ago, that I unfortunately can’t remember the name of, narrated by Death as she followed a girl/woman throughout her life.  In your book, maybe there’d be a day in the life, so to speak. Maybe interesting stories of particular people and how they came to be in her arms.

What if (oh damn, here’s those immortals again) your novel followed the cat and mouse existence between an Immortal and Death. Both aware of each other, maybe they have a coffee or a drink together sometimes.  Oh the stories they could tell, the comments of the past, present and future. Maybe the Immortal sneaks in to Destiny’s den and almost sees the date of his/her death. Or maybe it’s open-ended, a mystery to all.

Many people would do anything to prolong their lives. What would you do? Make a deal, your life for someone else’s? Offer to be her apprentice, then stab her in the back? Best be careful, she’s been around a long time and knows all the tricks. If money can’t buy a longer life, what can? What does Death want to  jigger the books for you, or push you back when you fall into her arms? Maybe there are two Deaths and you could play one against the other.

What if Death fell in love?  What if without his/her knowledge Death did jigger the books? Then they met, and the object of Death’s affection fell in love, too. Then they were found out – What would they do, where could they run, who would be chasing them, besides love, what else did they have to lose?

Unless you know something I don’t, you can run, but you can’t hide. So don’t worry about it and do your best to enjoy the time you have. Then you’ll have some stories to tell.

Immortal Love

I’m reading the Sandman series of graphic novels by Neil Gaiman. The series is mostly about “beings” who existed before humanity and will exist after humanity exits the Universal stage.  The Sandman is Dream. His brothers and sisters are Destiny, Death, Destruction, Desire, Despair and Delirium. They are immortal. Though they exist in their own “spaces” they do interact with other “beings” and humans.

Humans die.  Immortals don’t. That’s a problem.

Suppose you were immortal. Not an immortal like a member of a team or a club, not a vampire, or a zombie, or a God/Goddess, or an alien who could go into stasis every once in a while to freshen up their  wrinkles, or a superhero, or a demon, or a regular person with superpowers from being bitten by a mosquito cursed by an African witch doctor.  You are a regular person who at a certain age (you pick) was shunned by Death and Aging. You could not die by any means, including your own hand, someone else’s hand, or any hand associated with nature, fate, religion or the supernatural. You did not age.

And you fell in love. With a mortal.

Not just a regular – Oh this person’s hot and sexy I love you let’s have sex – kind of love. A deep soul cleansing, soul mate kind of love. Someone you could say, “I’ll love you forever,” to, and mean it.  Someone you would happily give your life to save, if you could.

It has to end,  you know it does.  At some point your loved one (spouse or whatever) will figure out that you’re not getting any older and they are. Awkward. How do you handle it?  You could tell them the truth, if you trust them. Loving them does not mean you trust them to keep their mouth shut, especially if they think you’re a creep.  Because even though you are just a regular law-abiding (except for the false IDs and offshore bank accounts) citizen with only that one little secret to hide,  doesn’t mean you want it blabbed about that you can’t die.

Especially if you’re concerned (which you should be) that the “Government” might (they will) find out. Law abiding citizen that you are,  if you’ve been alive any length of time you must have acquired a rather strong skepticism about what the “Government” might do to you if they get their military/scientific mitts on you. Think disappearing into a secret lab in the middle of the desert where they’ll poke and probe you, then, for purely scientific purposes of course, try to kill you to figure you out, then, because they’re scared of you, really try hard to kill you. Failing that, it’s an underground apartment in Area 51 on a very long lease. But, there are two silver linings.  1. If you’ve been clever enough to hide all your money gained over the decades/centuries in interest bearing accounts, you’ll be making money, man.  2. You’ll eventually outlive them. So there, Mr. Soldier Scientist.  BTW, by government I’m not talking about any particular administration (though if it’s Republican at the time you’re really screwed.) I’m talking about all flavors of “Government,” with a big G.

So back to your problem. What to do? Disappear before the question comes up? Disappear after the question comes up? Just go and leave him/her a nice nest egg to  help them get over you? If they love you as much as you love them, maybe they won’t ask and you don’t tell and you go along as if nothing weird is happening. Maybe on their death-bed you can explain? How many times would you have to have that conversation over the years before your tears didn’t get in the way?

On the dark side, there’s always a dark side, especially if your true love doesn’t reciprocate like you think they should, the bitch/bastard. The simplest expedient is murder. By accident, of course. You don’t want some hotshot detective (your love child?) looking into their murder, do you? If you can’t manage murder there’s always solitary confinement in a remodeled basement in a house in the country. Best make sure they’re secure, though. If they escape they could easily make it so you dearly wished you were dead. After all, just because you can’t die, doesn’t mean you can’t hurt. Besides heartbreak, that is.

IDEAS

See above– You have time.

Know All, See All

I am now working on the sequel to my novel Blood Justice (which I know you’ve read and are therefore jonesing for the sequel.) As Justine, Simone and Teresa begin their search for Antonia they came upon some unexpected creatures called Oracles. Now Oracles look and act just like people. They are long lived, but not immortal (There are maybe 500 in the world.) As the name implies they can see the future, as well as the past. Some can only see a day or two ahead, maybe only a few hours. A few can see further, much further. All can see their own death, whether it’s coming tomorrow or in a couple hundred years.

Like Justine, I struggle with what my answer would be if one of those powerful, I’d hope it wasn’t a weak one, Oracles asked me if I wanted to know when I was going to die. For free-gratis, no obligation. If I wanted to know, they’d tell me, and walk on by. Decisions decisions.  What would you choose?

There’s upsides and downsides to knowing: Did I mention that they only see what WILL happen, such as your death? No A Christmas Carol sentimentality here. What they see,  an hour or a century ahead, CAN NOT BE CHANGED.

Upside –  You can plan your own funeral. Make sure you get the rousing send off you deserve. Or make sure you don’t get any sendoff.

You can plan for success. If you knew you had 35 years left, wouldn’t you live a bit differently than if next month you’re out. 35 years is plenty of time to start another career. Or that business, or family  you’ve been thinking about.  That’s plenty of time to start taking care of yourself so those last years will be good ones. The Oracles can’t give you the details of what happens just before or after you die. They might say, “You’ll die at 9:30 p.m. on June 23, 2028, but what your life was like leading up to that time they can’t, or won’t,  tell you.  So you’d better start taking care of yourself now.

On the other hand, more upside. If you’re time’s up next month, why bother, indulge, Baby. Eat, Drink and make Mary. You can easily plan to spend your last dollar a minute before you go. You can’t take it with you!

So much for yourself, (you selfish twit you) what about seeing what will happen to other people? Their deaths, births, successes, who they really married. You could make a fortune working for life insurance companies or…(see IDEAS below.) If you could focus on celebrities you’d be king or queen of the gossip set. A little side bet on the Oscar winners anyone?

If you were a good (non greedy) person like we all (well, most of us) are, or an especially  good friend, knowing when something bad was going to happen you could be there to ease the hurt. What would you do with a little real clairvoyance? Good or evil? Helpful or hurtful? Resist the temptation to do bad things, or give in, or give in and use the ill-gotten gains to do good.  St. Peter will buy that, don’t you think?

Who knew there so many upsides to knowing when the Reaper was coming to touch you with those long boney fingers?

IDEAS

What if you knew when the Grim reaper was coming and you set a trap? And you caught him. No more death! Everybody’s immortal. And unlike vampires (though there is some debate on this in the think tanks and the higher intellectual circles) everybody could breed as they do now. What would that do to the Earth? How long before it’s, “Stop the world I want to get off!” (Hasn’t that been done?) Put your own twist on it? Maybe you trapped the Reaper and sent him, or her, into space on a ship traveling an out-of-galaxy course.  That would get us into space. The Great Reaper Hunt. Maybe they could only send vampires? Of course then they’d have to send something for them to eat. Oh well, that might diminish the surplus population.  Though the Earth might be so crowded they’d have to have a lottery to choose who got to go as Vamp food. It might be worth it!

What if you worked for a Life Insurance company? If you knew when a person was going to die you could tell if they were a good risk. On the other hand, if you knew when a person was going to die, why not buy a life insurance policy on them? Wait a few months and bam, collect.  A million dollar policy a year and you’d be set. Unless some hot insurance investigator figured out what you were up to and bought a policy on you, and made you look ahead to your own death, at his hand.

 What if  you were say 30 years old and you knew with certainty that the earth would be destroyed on your 65th birthday? Unless, you sacrificed at the maximum, your life, or at minimum, you had to leave the planet and never return without even being able to say goodbye.   Nobody would ever know of your sacrifice. Which would you choose? How would your life so far affect your decision? What if you  had had a shitty life, unhappy, unappreciated, unloved with little prospect of it turning around? What if you were totally happy, successful, loved by one and all? What other things in your life would affect your decision?

What if you could see in the future some great calamity happening to the woman/man you loved from afar, though they were oblivious to you? You didn’t know if you could change that future.  Would you try? What sort of abuse would you take from him/her before you said the hell with it,  you didn’t care anymore?

If I had  consulted an Oracle and known how hard this topic would be I might not have taken it on. I’d love to see your story ideas for this topic.

Honestly now…not

Hurry up! Win a copy of Blood Justice. Use your right of free speech, and clicking, and Go to:  http://suburbanvampire.blogspot.com/2010/11/contest-for-blood-justice-by-david.html

I’ve recently been informed that nobody reads my blog. This of course is disheartening, but also liberating. I can write whatever I want without worrying that I might offend someone, not that I do. I think it’s also not true that NOBODY reads it. Maybe 20-25 people visit whenever I post a new one. Surely one or two actually read it. Don’t they? Readers or not, and even though I grumble to myself when I’m actually writing it, I love doing the ideas part. Ask any writer, isn’t the funnest part that initial rush when that new IDEA is exploding in your head and new scenes and dialogue and characters tumble around like clothes in a dryer with new pieces magically appearing,  all screaming for attention? I want to write every idea. Alas, I am not a vampire and immortal, like the characters in Blood Justice. Ha, I bet you thought you were going to get away without another mention of Blood Justice. Fat chance.

Telling me that nobody reads my blog may or may not be true, and the right to say it may be protected by our country’s Right of Free Speech, but honestly now, wouldn’t a little white lie have been better? From your perspective it probably would have been, because I probably wouldn’t have written this slightly snarky blog post that you’re not reading. 

White lies are good. I mean what if there’s a gorgeous hunky guy at work who’s been making eyes at you and when he’s not looking you’re making eyes at him, though you know nothing will ever happen, and then one day you’re in the supply room and he shows up and somehow the door closes and his eye and body language make totally inappropriate suggestions, since you’re happily married to a very nice guy, and your head is outraged that he smells so good and his smile weakens your knees and warms your body fluids, but your body is overruling your brain by preparing itself for his big, strong hands to unzip and unbutton and grab you who cares where and lift you up and…. So you go home and your husband has a glass of wine ready and dinner in the oven and he asks, “How was your day, Hon. Anything exciting happen?” Now which is better, the TRUTH, or, “Oh, nothing. What’s for dinner?”

IDEAS

What if  you told a lie. Not a big one, a little white lie to save somebody’s feelings, which is a good reason to tell one, except this time that innocuous lie leads to one more and one more and then a bigger (but still white) lie, and then you’re done. Everything is cool as far as you’re concerned. But the person you lied to, not so good, and big trouble comes their way and it’s your fault and you love this person so you’d better fix it  because that first lie was one of those kill-a-butterfly-in-the-jungle-and-the world-will-end-(maybe literally)-chaos theory ones. So, feelings shmeelings, think of the universal consequences before telling someone a lie, like – “Nobody reads your blog, you hack.”

What if you spent your whole life making someone happy, lying, stroking the ego, anything to make that person happy at the expense of your own dreams and desires. Then they die. Sad, because now you’re too old, sick, tired, beaten down or wasted to seek your dream, but at least you know the other person appreciated your efforts. Well done, Joe.  Then you die, and you go to Hell. What? Why? you ask. Because that person you gave your life to bad-mouthed you at the Pearly Gates and so now you’re in Hell. And now, though you may be in Hell and they may be in Heaven, you have a new dream, and it’s called,  REVENGE, YOU UNGRATFUL BITCH! Or SON-OF-A-BITCH, as the case may be.

What if you could always tell when anyone lied, and, knew the truth they were lying about. What would you do with that gift? Do good, do bad, a little of both? Good on the outside, bad on the inside? Would you tell the government? Keep it a secret? Would anybody ever trust you if they knew your secret? How rich would get? What if bad guys got hold of you to use your gift (If you still thought of it as a gift)? How would you oh so cleverly defeat them? Honestly now, what would you do?

Freedom of speech compels me to honestly say, I want you to buy a copy of Blood Justice for a gift to a vampire lover you love.  And that ain’t no little white lie.

Oh Great Immortal One

Immortality, most people want it. None get it. I’m talking bodywise not publicitywise. Assuming you could have immortality, what kind would you want?

God-like immortality may be your choice. You can not die, period. Blown to smithereens, eaten by  sharks, burned to a crisp, eating the barrel of that handgun you keep next to your bed, you will survive intact. You will not die, ever, whether you want to or not. No take-backs, no do-overs, no escape clauses, no secret backdoor exits. Immortal forever. Only you, no one else. How lonely would you get? Could you handle that?

Vampire-like immortality may be more you. Gunshots, sword thrusts, diseases, long falls mean nothing to you. Shake them off and keep on keeping on.  You don’t get to bite people and share your long life, though. Again, you’ll suffer or enjoy your immortality alone. But, vampires can die and so could you. Your body injured, but intact, you’re golden. Your body destroyed, so is your life. C’est la vie.

Basic immortality is most likely to be available to you from other than supernatural forces. You won’t  age, that’s what most people want from immortality anyway. Most diseases won’t kill you. Injuries will heal quickly.  You’ll be healthy and energetic, ready for that great adventure you always wanted to take. But, your life  will be  vulnerable to natural causes, swords, bullets, buses, a car crash, a statuette ( the one you received for being such an upstanding citizen)  up side the head when your spouse catches you cheating. Or,will you become afraid to risk going outside because any simple accident might take away your gift of long life? You  might become a bit obsessive about it. But what happens when you find out that most accidents occur at home? What’s a paranoid obsessive compulsive agoraphobic to do? Or, you might believe a bit too much in what your immortality covers, go out and risk a little too much and kill yourself. A waste of a perfectly good long life. Moderation should be your watchword if the opportunity presents itself.

Immortality for you is one thing. But what if everybody could be immortal? How would that affect the social structure of the world? If nobody dies and babies keep being born, where will all those people go? How long until the demand outstrips the  resources? (Immortality aside, how close are we to that scenario now?) Would you want to live forever and never be able to eat? Would immortal Zombiefied cannibals roam the land searching for other immortal Zombiefied cannibals? Wither goest society, humanity and table manners then? On the other hand, what if the price for immortality was infertility? How would that play out?

If everybody was immortal, what would happen to human evolution? Would those who lived long enough evolve into pure thought or energy with no use for their bodies? Or would they become a collective mind working on the problem of how to commit mass suicide? The centuries and millenia might wear on a person after a while.

The bottom line, check the fine print before you take that pill or sign that parchment in blood.

IDEAS

What if, knowing what you know now, you were suddenly at  your 21st birthday and you were given a pill that would give you immortality (you pick the level). You could take the pill any time during your life and you would not age from that point. At what age would you take it –  considering family, friends, career, lovers and that you could not have kids afterwards? Are you sure? What if you didn’t know what you know now? Do you think your answer would change?

What if , starting from right NOW, you were full on God level immortal? What would you do? Nothing? Everything? Who would you tell? Would you help the world, or take advantage of it? How long do you think before you began hoping for death?

What if you fell in love? Then you found out your new love was immortal and you would grow old and die while they stayed the same. But this person loved you madly. They had spent decades, centuries trying to make the ones they loved immortal, too. With no luck. But what about going the other way? They love you so much they want to give up their long life to live and die with you. Taking on this journey with them, where would you go to find the key to their mortality? Some secret sanctuary in the mountains,  the end of an underground (underworld?) labyrinth, into space, maybe to (beyond?) a black hole’s event horizon, or track down a particular individual and using the power of your love  convince him/her to relieve them of  their immortality? Ahh, romance.

What if you spent your whole life searching for the fountain of youth, thinking it would make you young again, only to find it as an old man or woman, crippled, helpless in a wheelchair.  Maybe you had an assistant who told you to not drink until he’d translated an inscription on the fountain. But you couldn’t wait and drank, just before the assistant told you that the fountain would give you immortality, but not youth or health, and then he drank and walked away because you were such a driven bastard to work for.  Ahh irony.

What if  you were immortal. Do you think that eventually you could own the world?

“Live long and prosper.” Speaking of prosper, are you saving you dimes and quarters for a copy or six of Blood Justice in October?