I’ve had bloodsuckers on the mind lately, which is better than having them on the neck. But that’s a different story altogether, and not one I want to contemplate on this windswept Brooklyn evening with the moon hanging low and the faintest quiver of mid-Fall chill sending all little creatures scrurrying for the shelter of their urban brick palaces. Why should I be thinking of such lecherous beings? Maybe it was watching The Lost Boys the other night. Or perhaps it’s just that time of month again (no, no, not that time). Whatever. I’m just going to ignore the thoughts, close my eyes and mentally project myself into lazy reruns of I Dream of Jeanie.