reporter raze "you know he lives on your street?" the photographer said. "just look for the drunk piece of shit sitting on his porch. that'll be him." he was supposed to interview me once. i was a vampire back then, so they farmed the job off to someone who didn't mind working after all the light had gone. i always wondered what he would have written. not that it matters now. 230201 what's it to you? who go blather from