I Want a Real Vampire Weekend
I have not been in New York City very long. i moved here in 1996, a time when Smash Mouth was still popular, I believe.
I know, i know. I got here after NYC was "cool".
or the 90s,
depending on who you ask.
I don't care. FUCK YOU. i got here when i got here.
This is what i know:
A "vampire weekend" used to mean at least two nights spent at the Bank and/or the Limelight, and some kind of afterparty with chicks who wore fake fangs.
It meant nights spent bumping off the walls of dive bars until -- and past -- sunrise.
It did NOT involve wholesome, Paul Simon-worshiping dweebs from Columbia University.
This is what i want:
I want people who drink copious amounts of alcohol.
I want people who do drugs. i don't do drugs myself, but i want to HANG OUT WITH YOU DRUG-TAKING MOTHERFUCKERS who stay up all night listening to IGGY POP, MOTORHEAD, THE RAMONES, UNDERWORLD, DAFT PUNK, or fucking MADONNA. yes, MADONNA.
I want to be in the same room with people that are SO FUCKED UP that they could never hold down regular jobs. i want to feel like i'm in the presence of lifers.
Do you know what i mean by that? LIFERS. not some shiny-shirt-wearing posers who will ultimately retreat to their pussy-ass dayjobs. LIFERS. people who live like ACTUAL vampires, not people who live off of their parents' weekly allowances.
This is not nostalgia. yesterday is dead. the memories are fine for whatever they're worth but i could not care less for the past. the TIME IS NOW.
Where are you real vampires? i don't want to know the tenants of the new luxury condos that sully the horizon in Williamsburg. i do not want to know you slumming rich kids in the Lower East Side University Campus, with your $200 haircuts. you'll be back in the suburbs before long, fat from child birth and lazy with routine.
I want to know the VAMPIRES. i want to know you. wherever you are.