Free Joe Vampire by Steven Luna Page A

have probably been snatched up by other dudes who ended up with happiness that could have been mine if I’d just crawled out from under the coffee table a little sooner. So I think it’s time to try a different approach. A better approach. 
    Any approach.
    And none of this baby games shit of giving her my phone number and waiting for her to make a move. The move is mine to make, and make it I will. Haven't quite nailed down the where or the when of it all yet, but I’m definitely stepping things up. Maybe her situation with the Tool is in a downward spiral, anyway. Maybe all this time she’s been waiting for me to make the first move, and I’ve been too lame to just do it. Maybe it's time to grab my junk and drive the fucking car already, vampire or not. Whenever I think about this, I can feel that primal sort of impulse spark to life again, like my inner vampire is getting his dick stroked a little. It definitely didn’t exist before the change. It’s a lot like when I cornered Buttons in the dumpster and tried to chow down on him. Whatever it is, I get the feeling it’s going to push me in the same way to jump in and try for something big with Chloe. Only this time, I won’t be diving for a cat and ending up with a mouthful of fur. Unless she wants me to, that is.
    That was crude.
    I hope she isn’t reading this.
    Anyway, it may take me a minute, as the hip kids say, but I think I’m ready to take the chance I couldn’t bring myself to take before all of this happened. I don’t see that I have much to lose at this point. What, if she shoots me down am I gonna die?
    Been there.
    Done that.

POST 14
     
    Tuning In and Tuning Out
     

    Music has always been a big thing for me – listening, playing, collecting. Everything, really. I’m never without tunes, even if it’s just sounds running through my head. After I discovered telepathy in my bag of vampire tricks, earbuds became a sure way to block the thought-noise I was picking up. Imagine listening to the inane stream-of-consciousness ramblings of everyone you pass, from their to-do list to their love troubles to how they like their frappuccino. Sure, it’s a fun little game to freak people out by speaking their minds for them, but the rest of the time, it’s better if you can be selective about what you hear coming out of their heads. So I keep my iPod handy at all times. I’m not trying to be rude by tuning everyone out or anything. Strange as it sounds, it’s just easier to hear my own thoughts with a little Nine Inch Nails piped into my ears, or Sinatra, maybe. Even Tchaikovsky or Bach. Yeah, I know who those dudes are, too. My playlist is diverse by design. I’ll listen to just about anything if it thumps right, or shreds raucously, or the melody is sweet enough. But rarely ever do I listen to my own band’s stuff. 
    The music of Vomiting Nonsense is not among my favorite.
    I wish I liked our tunes more, and maybe I would if I had a little more input on the direction the music was taking. Things were much more even when we started out, when we all had a common vision for what the sound would be. We’re a laptop band making electronic music; there are a million possibilities for something like that. So I know I didn’t vote for Instrumental Industrial Sleaze Trance when it came up on the ballot. Not to sound snobbish, but my playing tends toward a more free-flowing melodic sensibility. I don’t try for it; it just comes out when my fingers hit the keys. But that doesn’t serve any purpose in Vomiting Nonsense, because our songs have no melody.  And almost no structure. 
    They can only be considered “music” by the most marginal definition of the word.
    I am so down with modern electronic music and atmospheric dream worlds that creative folk everywhere are coming up with. But our music is not anything like that. And it’s not for lack of talent… for two of us, at least. Hube has a nifty flair for smashing together multiple opposing