I'm about sick of this. Go out, hunt, come home, wallow in guilt for days...This is getting a bit boring.

Not to mention repetitive.

Considering what happened last week (I don't even want to think about it) I would think hunting mortals wouldn't be such a big deal...Maybe so, I haven't been out recently, and it's getting to be that time again...

Nope, nope, nope. Still wallowing...

Damn, this is annoying.

Never mind. "Life is pain, princess. Anyone who says otherwise is selling something."

On a more interesting note, I can make those neato lollipops now. They could come in very handy next time my fangs are itching.

I heard that Ajax got his while I was out of town. I'm not particularly sorry for him, it's not like he's been reduced to poverty or anything. I mean, what did he expect with the company he kept?

Yeh, like I 'm so much better with Cameron...And I owe him a favor, of sorts. I wonder if he'll take that painting - Fluorescent Frosting - as a payment?

Who am I kidding?

That reminds me, I've been meaning to ask him if he needs a sign painter for any of his multiple businesses. I wouldn't dare suggest that needs my help, but work is work, and there's satisfaction even in painting a wall, if it's done well.

Idea! Gotta go.


I'm back. I had to do some sketches. I've been listening to taped reading of The Iliad and there's a scene in Book 18 which is quite rousing...Achilles challenging the cowardly Trojans while being encouraged by Athena. I could probably paint this and sell it to some fan of great literature...Failing that, I could always give it to the English Lit. department at the university.



Ye gods, what a day. Lions and tigers and bears, oh shit.

And I'm so confused.

What do Ajax and John have against each other, aside from the obvious? I mean, just because Ajax shoots first (at me, no less. So what if I shot him first? He took it) and thinks a lot later is no reason for Jon to offer to waste him. I think that would have been a little extreme.

But if Ajax mouths off about my brother one more time, I'm going to make a point of learning a particularly nasty ritual just for him...That is, if I can find someone who'll teach it to me.

I could always be lazy and just burn his house down...

But that's only an 'if' situation. Getting shot hurts, a lot.

I see Red and Ajax don't get along so well, either. That doesn't make much sense, I thought the Brujah always stuck together. I guess not.

And: what the fuck are the Sabbat doing in town? I don't need some fucking "release the beast" advocate hanging around. I heard they were trying to recruit Ajax, but one look at my aura and they'll come after me. I don't want to have to say no to these guys, I think it might be fatal.


Oh, never mind. Sabbat gone, werewolves gone....fuck me.

"Oh sure, John, let's help the werewolves find one of their own. While we're at it, douse me in gasoline and drop a lighted match, huh?"

That wasn't nearly as bad as facing the Sabbat guys. They're gone, too, but I'm pretty sure they left pissed....

"Fluorescent Frosting" is drying nicely. The sketches for the Achilles painting are shaping up. I've got an inkling of an idea for a junk sculpture (moron mortal market) but where can I find a dozen broken tvs, a shopping cart, barbed wire and half a dozen brass doorknobs at nighttime?



Just painted a cityscape. Night time, nothing fancy, just this empty financial district type area, devoid of people and full of moonlight. Maybe just one person, walking away from the viewer. Crisp, clean air, trash blowing in the wind. Silver, black and grey.

I putting "Machismo 1 - Achilles" on hold for the time being. I think it's a little too ambitious and will take too much time. Maybe if things ever settle down for one damn minute.



An unnerving experience tonight. I decided to go to a bar, seeing as how I had such a blast with John the other night.

I hunted first, I didn't want any lingering hunger pangs to interfere, dug up my old make up box and some snazzy clothes and hit that yuppie wanna-be bar on Fourth St.

I stayed for about four hours, talking with whoever felt social and listening to whoever wanted to yap back.

After a while, I wasn't just bored, I was irritated, too. It struck me that all these people had no idea of the real world around them, or how fragile their constructed security blanket is. Oh, I understand that their lives are important to them, but they're no longer important to me. I still care about their fates, but it's the same kind of feeling one of them would have for a dog, a condescending love that derives from the fat that they know they're superior.

I've only been dead for a short time, especially in kindred terms, but I think that it's finally sunk it that I'm different from what I once was.

And you can't go home again, either. If I had the choice, I would choose to live a vampiric life rather than a mortal one. The stress of pretending to be unaware of the real world would be too much.

I still care for them, some more than others, and I certainly still need them, but I have so many other thins I have to do that just don't concern them.

Paradigm shifts are always so unsettling.



Time has brought wisdom, and I've realized that nailing Ajax would be a really dumb thing to do. Aside from the fact that he's stronger and faster than me, it would be fairly obvious who did it. Besides, if I fucked up, I would be in some extreme trouble, not to mention pain.

Besides, it's a tad petty. If I"m going to hold a grudge against another vampire, it should be for something more important than irritation.



God, I've been a morbid bitch lately. It seems that the dark brooding persona isn't for me, and it's far too melodramatic. Stupid.



Sudden frightening realization, I've taken Cameron's blood three times. Oh shit! What the fuck happens now?



Not only am I melodramatic, forgetful and occasionally very stupid, but I'm a lousy diary keeper, too.

Actually, very little has happened since my last entry, nothing important to anyone but me. Briefly put: I'm living in San Francisco, planning another exhibition and I seem to be caught up in one of those eternal feuds that I have hitherto only read about in really bad pulp novels.

Of course it involves Cameron, the kinder, gentler Cameron who I still don't trust further than I can throw him. If anything, he's even scarier now. And as for the other guy, oh boy. As long as I don't end up getting a sun tan, I"m going to try very hard not to care.

And Jack took being presented with a glass of vampire blood (mine!) very well. Some clubs have weird cover charges...



I've managed to narrow down the list of paintings I want to exhibit, eventually. I figure I'll do two showings - 3pm to 7pm for the moron mortal market and 7 to 11 for kindred - different paintings in each show, as some may be appreciated by one audience but not the others.

Both shows:

"Fluorescent Frosting 2" and "F.F. 5" - oil on canvas.

"Sunday Afternoon" - paintballs on canvas.

"Untitled Cityscape" - oil on canvas.

"Self portrait" - latex paint on butcher paper.

Mortal only:

"The Advantage of Foresight" - mixed media sculpture.

"MTV Future" - mixed media sculpture (found a use for the tvs et al)

"Machismo One (Achilles challenges Troy)" - oil on canvas.

"Blood" - oil on canvas.

Kindred only:

"Surfeit" - 'mixed media' (bloody sheet nailed to wall)

"Forgotten Days" - oil on canvas.

"Blood II" - 'mixed media' on canvas.


I don't know if I'll let any of them go up for sale, perhaps I'll accept bids.

Of course the post show party will not be in the gallery or my loft. I don't need something unmentionable spilled on my work...



The show went quite well. I got an offer I couldn't refuse for "Self Portrait" and "Surfeit" from a couple of Toreador...

I'm taking Jeremy's advice (imagine that!) and learning photography. Apparently female photographers are the hot new thing. They're more accesible or something...so I've been taking some very interesting pictures.


I may be considered as passing strange by some of my contemporaries -at least I hope so, I work so hard at it - but that Italian meglomaniac takes the cake.

Unfortunately, while this guy's plan makes my skin crawl, I can't find an exploitable flaw in it. Of course, I'm not the smart one around here. And I can see why young Anrachs and Sabbat wanna-be's are flocking to him, they figure they can't lose.

Maybe I'm old fashioned, but I've gotten used to the idea that everyone occupies a certain niche, and ours is in the dark.

Of course, I'm sure that those fools in the city will say that I'm just too scared to admit to our real power - like we don't have enough- and to walk wherever I want, that I have become some skulking darkness lover. To which I reply, hell yes! I've faced our "real power" before, most of us just call it The Beast and want to keep it locked up inside.


I guess some things do just quietly fade away, like the Italian. He was gotten rid of, eventually. Call in a pack of elders and wham, bam, etc... Not that convening elders is easy.

I've been focusing on my photography more than canvas lately. I don't have to worry about the dark leaking out of my darkroom, not needing any light and all. But so far I haven't come up with anything I really like. Mostly they've just been experiments with time lapse exposure, or juiced up kindred made to look slow.

One surprise, though. I found some old pix I took a few months ago, including some of a simply beautiful female - werewolf, we later discovered to our detriment - at some party of Cameron's he threw back in the old days. I'd quite forgotten about her, maybe she'll be a good subject for something. So back to the canvas.


I've taken to worrying about Jack, again/as usual. He's taken this whole blood sucking thing very calmly, and it's finally occurred to me that maybe this is bad...So I'm slow on the uptake. I mean, what's cooking? A breakdown, a hunt, what? We talk occasionally, and sometimes it's like nothing has changed, but then I catch him giving me that look like he wonders if I'm thinking about how he might taste. And that stinks, it really does. How can I explain to him that I still love him, just as much as I used to? He's the only mortal that I really, well, think about any more. Like I wrote before, their significance in my life has diminished - although I still fear the dangerous ones. I just hope that Jack doesn't become one of them.


I must be gettting lax. I haven't done anything outrageously stupid in ages. Of course, I've still got to explain to Jeremy how I got bonded to Cameron. Come to think of it, Cameron's been absent for a while. That's probably why I haven't bee too stupid recently. I don't know what it is about him, but he tends to bring out the worse in me. I always want to do stupid things when he's around, and he usually encourages me. I'm going to have to tie a bit of string to my common sense to stop it from wandering off so often.

Where is everybody? I feel like a goddamn recluse. Everyone's off saving the world or some shit, leaving me looking like a fool and smelling vaguely of photo fixer.


I think I'll go on a roadtrip, to alleviate the boredom. Load up a van, fix it just right and drive until I run out of ennui.


I'm not on the road just yet. I'm still planning my intinerary, and silver ammo is a lot harder to come by than I thought. I don't want to be taking too many risks. That, and I'm checking out the situation on my route.

I'm thinking about going to Chicago. I understand that it's a very interesting city from an kindred perspective, if a little Camirilla bound. Sure, I'm supposed to be a part of it (less and less, these days, it seems) but I try not to get too emotional about it. Of course, that puts me on a pretty dangerous fence.

Sometimes I get really sick of myself, I hate being a whining bitch half the time, but I'm not even aware that I'm doing it until later. And no matter what I resolve, it keeps on going. It pisses me off. I need some kind of change, something to broaden my persepective. Of course, I have no control over the nature of anything that may happen, but that's half the fun, right?

I can only throw so many parties, or exhibitions, or don the gothic vampire visage so many times. I'm bored!

Time to hit the road, I guess. Fuck my preparations.


Hell is not other people, hell is right here in Las Vegas. All these slack jawed glassy eyed people pumping their life's savings into rigged machines. Casinos smell terrible, there's too much light and noise, and everyone here is absolutely shallow.

Needless to say, I like this place. It's a break from the artsier than thou community of San Francisco. I think that the only Toreador that I'd meet here would be Elvis impersonators.

I'm trying to keep a low profile, as I don't feel any overwhelming need to introduce myself to whoever runs this madhouse. Why bother them? I'm only going to be here for a night or two. Fortunately sleazy behaviour abounds, so keeping myself fed is no problem.

I like walking up The Strip. Something in my improved senses makes it a hell of an experience. I feel like I'm teetering on the verge of an overload.


Ok, I can die happy now, I've seen the Grand Canyon. Of course, it had it's drawbacks, but I got away without getting myself hurt.

I can't describe how it looked...it was just wonderful. I must have stood there for hours. I even caught myself thinking that it wouldn't hurt that much to stay and watch the sunrise. I managed to snap out of that, obviously. I'm just damn lucky I didn't get myself eaten by a lupine in the meantime. I also ripped all the mirrors out of my van, I don't care if I get a ticket. I don't need a werewolf doing that crazy mirror step that they can do.

I had a blast, but I stuck around for as little time as possible. I've paid the clerk at this hotel a lot of money (plus a little polite threatening) to protect my privacy. If I get out of this alive, the rest of the trip will be a piece of cake.


I'm in Alburquerque now, still in one piece. It's much larger than the tourist villes around the Canyon, and I feel a little more secure...

I thought this city would be just another ugly mess of pseudo-Mexican adobe architure and tacky rugs sold by alcoholic Navajos. Well, that's all here, but there's other stuff that's pretty nice to look at. There is some good architecture, amongst the adobe crud, and an old Catholic mission that looks quite pretty, but I can't get very close to it. Interesting.

I saw a fellow kindred, he was sitting in a resteraunt, eating and talking with some guy at his table. I doubt he noticed me.

However, I'm staying in a hotel again this evening. I'm still feeling a little uneasy, I think I saw someone give me a very impolite look, earlier. Maybe they just didn't like my face.

I'm writing this in a plane on its way to Denver. Apparently I wasn't nearly as clever as I thought. Sometime during the day, my bus got burned down to the ground. Nothing left buy reeking slag and confused firemen. Very upsetting.

I think bullying the desk clerk may have saved my life. Not to mention sleeping elsewhere than the room assigned to me.

I'm bummed out now. Maybe this wasn't such a hot idea. But it's been so much fun until now.


I'm in Denver now. this is a much bigger city, and now I think I'm marginally safe.

I've considered just hopping the next plane to Chicago...I know I don't want to go back to San Francisco yet, that wouldn't be very interesting.

The loss of the bus didn't effect me much. I didn't have anything too important in there while I was asleep. My painting stuff and my camera is intact, and so is my cash, so what else do I need?


The Mile High City is just like any other urban sprawl. Just the air is thinner and the smog is surprisingly bad. You'd think the fabled Rocky Mountain air would be all crisp and clean. New Mexico was much prettier.

Found a good gallery, and tried to sell the owner one of my paintings ("Machismo 1") as it seemed to be in their style, but the owner wasn't going for it. Oh well, it's not my problem that he doesn't know a hot commodity when it bites him on the ass.

I would have left my card with him, but I noticed he was someone's ghoul and I really don't want to antagonize anyone with my uninvited presence.

Vampires are so territorial. It's childish really.


I brought another bus and now I'm in Rapid City. Yee-ha! Hicksville on an urban scale! Well, hardly urban, I think there's less than a quarter million people here.

There's not much going on, so I think I'll take a chance and hunt. I've rather missed it. Ironic, eh?

This city doesn't have any idea of how to have a good time. There is not one decent club in this dump, not one. The local theatre of the Grand Ole Opry school.

I may to have to resort to one of those dreadful hick bars. I'm quite hungry.


Whee! That was fun! This town isn't as stupid as I thought. Imagine, an Anarch in Dakota!

I was slinking through the streets, with my vampire-on-the-prowl expression, following some poor sod who was out far too late when some fool leaps out of the cracks in the pavement behind me and says hello. Of course, my quarry heard this and scurried off, leaving me to regard this twit.

He looked about fifteen, too tall, too skinny and, well, geeky. Of course, appearences don't mean much to me anymore, so I got cautious.

"Hi....is there something I can do for you?" Not the best way to start a conversation, I know, but I had to start it somehow. I had a hard look at him and learned he was kindred.

"No, no, no, no, no..." he blurted. "I was just wondering if there was anything I could do for you."

"It's a bit late for that, you just scared off my dinner."

He apologized for that, in a rather clumsy way. He said he didn't realize I was stalking the person. Right. I was sneaking around downtown Rapid City at two in the morning for the fresh air.

He went on to say that he just saw me (I suppose he takes 2am walks for the hell of it) and knew I had to be new in town and wanted to say hello.

So why didn't he introduce himself in the more conventional manner? I don't know.

He said his name was Alex, I told him I was Jen. I suspect we were both lying.

Anyway, we decided to go to some diner - he couldn't get into a bar - and talk for a while.

All I could discern is that he's older than me; he mentioned something about the sixties, and he believes he's alone in this city. Perhaps he's a Caitiff rather than an Anarch, but he doesn't seem to follow any established rules that I've heard of. He's just made his own, but they're obviously good enough for him, otherwise he'd be dead.

Perhaps he's a Ravnos, he had their sense of humor.

Anyway, we got fairly chummy in the diner, and I managed to arrange a 'date' with the waiter so the evening wouldn't be a total loss.

Later we painted the town red. Literally. I'm sure the local newspaper will have a field day with it. Whatever, I'll be slumbering in Alex's basement. I hope I'm not doing anything stupid, but it should be safer than the bus or a hotel. I may not know him very well, but, on the same note, I haven't known him long enough to piss him off. I hope.

Sleep today, Sioux Falls tommorow.