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I came to VO back in 1995.  Right before all the chats and became the Cyber Nun and general menace of disapline. *l*

I watched the site grow and change until it shut down in 2001 Vlad? After that time I took a brief sabbatical from moderation and wrote a little bit. Visited a few sites here and there, Adminned a few, played general janitor and all that. I did some more writing and soon two of my articles will be published in an Anthology this Fall. 

 

I met a lot of people out there in cyber vamp land and learned a lot. My heart has always remained here though. *s* I'm cursed.  I have known you all the longest and I feel like even if we were not together, we grew up together in this thing called the Internet. What a long crazy trip it has been. I'm glad you are all around and how we always seem to drift back to eachother.




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Also at VO:

 


May 15, 2007 (NBC11.com / San Jose, CA) -- An essay fictionalizing murder has a San Jose State University professor no longer conducting his writing class. English professor Mitch Berman said Tuesday that in light of the tragedy at Virginia Tech, he did not feel safe teaching the course, NBC11's Daniel Garza reported.

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The lunatic inside my soul reaches out and touching you gently brings forth the blood from your multiple wounds.
Like a cat licking cream off its paw, I taste you and you are ever so sweet.
Like sin melting on the tongue, and the smell of jasmine in the air to cover the scent of you.
That powerful aphrodisiac that leaves me weak and wet.
The kaleidoscope of images from one single dream one single touch.
And I can feel you under my claws and the pain is so exquisite, I want to bleed with you.

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In America today, we are surrounded by borrowed images. People from all over the world flock here, and bring with them a background of cultures and beliefs, filled with imagery reflecting those ideas. Often times, these elements take on a life of there own in the cauldron known as the American "melting pot," and through interaction with their new surroundings, evolve into something quite different from their original form, becoming an integral part of our culture.

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Bow me down to you
Bend my legs beneath me
Pull my head to the floor.


I have lower status than you.


Or so I chose.


Pull my hands out in front of me
Position me just right
Just how you want me.
Want me.


Claudia Lake

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Pricked by the thorn
from a dusky red rose.
Blood drips from my fingertips
and falls...
onto the rain-washed sidewalk.
Waiting for my lover
who will not return.
Waiting for my lover
who is in the arms of another.
My tears stain the rose
standing there in the rain.
Sorrow is my companion.
The rose falls to the ground
as a painful reminder
to a love that did not last.


Rhiannon
May 8, 2001

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