The Vampire Priest and his Nemesis in "Thirst"

Vampires have historically been considered evil, but fictionally they are currently not considered 100% bad. If you add a bit of trendy perversity, perhaps even martyrdom, to the mix you might get an instant hero, or the 20th century equivalent – the antihero.

Antiheroes are the ultimate outcasts, and if they are self-loathing, that’s even better: the romantic, but evil, protagonist is born . . . or reborn. Who better to personify those attributes than the modern fictional vampire? In Korean filmmaker Park Chan-wook's "Thirst" the vampire hero is a priest whose intended martyrdom gets undone by an accidental transfusion of tainted blood.

There are no Van Helsings in this story, no tortured explanations of what could possibly be wrong with Father Sang-Hyeon, no stakes, crucifixes, or fangs. He knows he’s a vampire, and he also quickly figures out the disfiguring facial blisters which continue to plague him can only be cured by a fresh infusion of blood. So vanity, and self-preservation, inspires his thirst, which leads to the bloodsucking, and as a kind of afterthought, the sex.

Nemesis was the Greek goddess of indignation against evil deeds and undeserved good fortune, and the good priest’s nemesis is introduced in the form of Tae-ju (Kim Ok-vin), an innocent, possibly abused young wife. She walks and acts as if half-asleep, in a surly don’t-wake-me-up doze. She’s subservient, wounded, her lips pouting like a baby waiting to suckle. Only when Tae-ju runs barefoot in the night do we see a semblance of the quiescent strength roiling like lava inside her. The Father takes her in his arms and they take flight, hopping buildings like the superhero he is in her eyes. Who could resist such a savior? Certainly not Lois when Superman carried her aloft.

"Vampires are cuter than I thought," she says. This could have been uttered by the besotted teen in Twilight, but with this actress the action takes a decidedly adult turn. More Lilith than Eve, this isn’t about love, at least not in the beginning. She wants to consort with demons, and relishes her newfound freedom, strength, and ability to break the bonds and bounds of her marital, and human, slavery. Not since Claudia, the ancient child vampire in Interview with the Vampire have we been treated to such anger, brutality and guiltlessness. And we love her for it, as does the Father.

Hero and heroine cover their secrets . . . scarred and bruised thighs. Both are self-mutilators, his arrived at in an attempt to drive away his demon erections, and hers a deliberate attempt to manipulate the vampire into a bit of husband killing by making him believe her spouse is abusing her.

All it takes is the vampire’s blood to uncap the volcano within her.

He does not seduce like Dracula, turning virtuous Mina’s into tarts. The priest is seduced, but even then he seems more interested in biting her than in intercourse. A disconcerting slurpiness saturates the soundtrack where even kissing is treated to the same absurd sound effects as ravenous bloodsucking. This is part of the humor in the film, and pokes fun at not only the genre, but also the sexual fetishes that are part of it.

The underlying BDSM inherent in most vampire films is highly pronounced here. For me, this was relieved by the blood appearing too thin and watery, like the sweet syrup it probably is. Still, there’s plenty of it for you connoisseurs, and it’s often associated with sex.

The French title for the movie translates as the liturgically evocative "This Is My Blood." The body and blood, as well as the prayer for martyrdom recited throughout the film, (“pull out my nails, so that I may grasp nothing") strikes at the heart of this morality tale and the vampire/superhero mythos.

STUCK IN TIME: FORGIVENESS & FORGETTING

 Is it really possible to forgive and forget?

The Tree of Forgiveness Edward Coley Burne-Jones, 1885

Greek legends tell how Phyllis, queen of Thrace, fell in love with Demophoön, king of Melos, who visits her court en route for Athens after the Trojan War, where he had hidden inside the legendary Trojan Horse. He left the court, but when he failed to keep his promise to return within a month, she committed suicide, whereupon Athena, taking pity on her, turned her into an almond tree. Eventually, Demophoön returned to Thrace and, discovering what had happened, embraced the tree, which immediately burst into blossom.

Between you, me, and the almond tree, in the painting above, Demophoön looks as if he doesn't expect to be forgiven.

Memory is very important to me, but I've learned not to hold grudges. Grudges are all about keeping your pain, fear and anger alive. By doing this, you allow the grudge to control you. Your memory is not just a recollection, it's a reenactment. It initializes all your emotions just as if it were happening again, a recording in constant rotation shooting you back in time. In reality there is no time jump, but you are stuck in time.

Forgiving means that the memory no longer has the power to control you, to make you suffer in quite the same way. The blade of memory may make you wince, but you no longer bleed so profusely. You've taken the pain and anger and sorrow into you, but you've released the vilest portion of it, the part that made you feel less than, lowly, vulnerable.

©s. obriant

A lot of bad people did bad things around me and to me and to people I loved when I was a kid, so how did I manage to survive, much less forgive? Forgiveness wasn't this huge benediction bestowed on the evildoers in my life. It was the sure knowledge that I wasn't like those people and didn't want to be like them. This gave me hope.

Lack of forgiveness, grudges, and revenge arise from a lack of hope, a core belief that nothing changes. Change is my mantra.

I never forget, but I have discovered the capacity to forgive by letting go of my fear. Fear makes me sad and my childhood was overlain with fear and sadness which in my teens I camouflaged with anger. Fiery anger can be tinged with righteous purity, masking any true knowledge.

My camouflage worked so well that it took me years to realize that I was still letting fear rule me. Drat! I still had to deal with those memories and how stuck I was in the past. Writing helped me ferret out many of those emotions, examine them in detail, endow my characters with all the depth and nuance of being simultaneously good and bad.

This happened when I had a solid sense of who I am, and knew that the essential Sandra would persevere. The joy I feel in the world starts inside of me and radiates out.

I'm not a Pollyanna, a foolishly optimistic nutcase. I have felt both despair and hope. The memories of both states are not just in my brain. The feelings they generated are buried deep within the muscle tissue, sinews, veins and capillaries of my body. I can activate them. I know where they live.

Where to Get a Good Bite

Let’s start with vampire bats. These creatures are so cool in all their creeping stealth. In full frontal photos, they look like mini Nosferatu's caught by the paparazzi.

They nip the flesh, usually around the lower leg of an animal, and then lap it up. They are all about sneaking up on a sleeping animal, not disturbing it, having their meal, and getting away asap so they can return and feed another day, I mean night. Their method does not require a vein or an artery, which is where we enter the realm of the undead.

The classic vampire of fiction and film traditionally prefers the neck, and more specifically the jugular vein. Dracula just wouldn’t have the same cachet if after gazing deeply into Mina’s eyes he then bypassed her creamy neck and heaving bosom to lift her skirts and bite her on the ankle. Hmm, actually now that I think of it . . . . so many places to bite, so little time.

The undead are obsessed with the jugular, but their knowledge of human anatomy may be limited. The carotid is located on both sides of the neck and right next to the jugular. It’s the artery in the side of your neck where you take your pulse. Only a true artiste in bloodsucking could narrow their bite to pierce one and not the other.


Since the carotid is a part of the aorta, the usual six- foot stream of blood would be apparent, not all of which the vampire could swallow. A huge mess would be made. More than likely the vampire wouldn't drain a victim. They need to hide things a little better. How do you explain a corpse with no blood left in it? You don't. Assuming discretion is somewhat important in the vampire world, the undead might take a few lessons on tidiness from the vampire bat.

Folktales suggest vampires bite above the heart, or between the eyes (Ouch! On the temple, maybe. Very thin people sometimes have visible veins there, some even look knotted and throbby.)

Other places to get a bite:

The median cubital vein-- This vein is the one in the elbow where, if you've ever had blood drawn, that is where they stick you.

The ulner artery-- This is the artery in the wrist. After the neck it seems to be the second favorite place for vampires to bite.

The greater saphenous vein-- This vein runs along the inside of either thigh. The vein is large and deep; it would take a big bite to get down into it.

The femoral vein-- This vein is the one at the back of the knee. It lies close to the skin and is an easy bite if you have a victim face down and not kicking.

I think the big toe would be a good source. Earlobes are full of blood, and erect penises. The list goes on.

I've squeezed the bloody pulp out of bloodsucking, but please comment if you have some juice to add.

Dawn

The new light streaming through the windows at dawn colors my quiet time. Family still comatose, but I hear stirring, like static on the consciousness line. Alone, the world is as I imagine it. No other agendas. Made room for restless spirits when my children were young. Then, the moody years arrived and just as quickly were gone. My empty nest is filled with a resurgence of my senses and a recognition of blessings: a husband I love, adult children making their way, new friends saying what they mean and meaning what they say.

The Dark Good

Writing Blood Mother prompted me to visit a number of sites online dedicated to vampires. I’ve perused countless meanderings into the dark and tortured soul of this enduring archetype of humanity. You read me correctly: vampires underline all things human.

The vampire examines his prey the better to survive, and in the process provides us with a philosophy of good and bad, right and wrong, and dark and light. The juxtaposition of the undead with the living plays right into our shadow selves. The descendants of Dracula are capable of love, of thought, and of making choices. They have free will, and perhaps even a soul. They’ve retained some element of humanity, of their better selves even as they must drink blood to survive. Through them we learn not to automatically equate darkness with evil, or goodness with light. They possess a dark good.

The dark goddesses symbolized death (Medusa, Kali, Hecate, Nyx), which for the ancients was only one point in a spiral which began with life and continually renewed. Their role was neither good nor bad; their fearful aspect evolved later. This doesn't mean that evil people don’t exist. Some of them wear a mantle of goodness, barely embracing the turgid depths of their humanity. When a vampire struggles with her drive to survive, seeking balance with an equally intense fascination with all things human, we understand her turmoil. Undead and human intertwine. Vampires cannot exist without us, and we will never let them die.

Mortals and Vampires

Based on recent focus of vampire/human love affairs in both literature, movies, and television it seems normal for humans to fall in love with vampires and for the undead to rise heroically to their siren call.

Or is it the other way around?

Each one offers the other what no one of their own kind can. For the vampire, the human is a succulent swamp of scent, taste, warmth and fluid breath. But more than anything, the human is a test in restraint, a nostalgic foundering. For the human, the vampire is overlord, a master with a knowledgeable touch and cold genitals, perhaps the ultimate parent.

There's an element of the rescuer on both sides.

Nippled Irish Royalty and Their Less Fortunate, Usually Dead, Nippleless Relatives

My museum time today yielded the following:

Sucking a King's nipples was an ancient Irish form of submission. It rains a lot here (Dublin) and is rather chilly, so I would think the King would cover his chest. That means there must have been royal reception days when the King exposed his nipples in order to facilitate nipple sucking.

So much easier to just bow and kiss a ring.

As with all royalty, there were power games in the nipple hierarchy. Cutting off a royal descendant's nipples made him ineligible for kingship. Not as subtle as poison, but undeniable evidence of his unsuitability for a kingly role. No nips, game over.

A Celtic King was wedded to the Earth, and as her representative his nipples were important. His/her power is transferred to the grain. When it's harvested, his power is sacrificed. The Lord must die, Joseph Campbell said: "A God dies for his people so that they may live." The story repeats itself in multiple mythologies, legends and religions. But must the mortal king die in order to insure a successful harvest?

Human sacrifice was apparently a normal part of the Celtic rituals, especially of kings in hard times. "The king had great power but also great responsibility to ensure the prosperity of his people. Through his marriage on his inauguration to the goddess of the land, he was meant to guarantee her benevolence. He had to ensure the land was productive, so if the weather turned bad, or there was plague, cattle disease or losses in war, he was held personally responsible," said Ned Kelly, keeper of antiquities at the Irish National Museum.

His kingly role required him to keep nature and society in equilibrium. A little nipple sucking would surely increase his self-esteem and help him on his way.

Also at The Huffington Post