Personal demons aside, I am now impressed by how deftly you’ve turned this whole thing into a vampire story. Plus, you credit it as my suggestion! I’m touched. Truly. Your physical ailments dovetail nicely with symptoms of visits from a folkloric vampire. Hey, that’s me! Yes, I’m coming to fictional terms with my role, even warming up to the idea. I’m still waiting for some sort of reveal or nod to my/Mercy’s real name.

Your self-destruction and regular destruction of my property aside, I liked the big scene in my basement. Ah, the vampire’s crypt, yes? I also dug the callback of my “Do you need a lift?” line from earlier in the book.

There’s a lot going on in this chapter. I won’t detail all my my questions/issues because overall I think it works well enough as-is. But, thoughts:

—Your recounting of the Providence music scene: There’s no way you were in that many bands, even over a fifteen-year period. Plus, the rules and behavior of some of them were over-the-top, though that in and of itself doesn’t necessarily mean it wasn’t true. No shade to Providence, but it isn’t exactly New York or LA or even Seattle. I suppose Boston is close enough geographically to create a co-scene. Still, would there have been that many bands, that many talented or angry or lost or bored young people kicking around the city at that time? Maybe. Did you exaggerate the number of bands—and subsequent firings and dismissals—to externalize and emphasize your self-loathing, or to satirize your idealized punk scene and what it had become? Either way, it’s entertaining. The danger is that it can read as less authentic, like the fantasy of someone who hasn’t played in bands.