As to the vampling that was afoot in the eve of nighttime last, forecasts were few and far between as to the arrival of this event-scene. In review: Vamplers themselves assumed the heterotopian familiar of the reflection—a site of resistance or contestational camoflage that boggles the brain of old-school vampires and their ilk as much as it contends with would be captors!
It is a sad state of affairs, a “sign of the times,” that even our most intrepid augurs, divination rods, omens, oracles and forecasts were hushed. And so we offer, albeit with much reddening of our facial regions, a retrograde prophecy: Amidst a dionysian videodrome populated by those attuned and within the Portland Metro Area of the local group, an unfettered unfurling of free-floating pixels. Of beams brought on one’s own to inhabit in spectral pallor the parlor known as New American Art Union.
To humanoids fumbling for a suitable reference, the event-scene was whispered as something of a “photo booth.” Emphasis, mine, then, on “john wilkes,” and the assassinations of character inflicted in textbook vampler tradition—-sweet talking the vampling in waiting, then subjecting said vampling to the process of any old vampire’s scheme: vidsonic nutrients ripped out of context and left adrift—like derelict data bodies who then wander the walls of this and that establishment.
In ficto-quizzical quarters, vampladelia, or, vampling used to engender a psychedelic affect, is metaphorically speaking, a black box device, system or object which can be viewed solely in terms of its input, output and transfer characteristics without any knowledge of its internal workings. Being liminal has also been– of late– the favored geo-political posture of interactors found lurking in the outer regions of mankind’s information ecosystems.
Call it interactive decay —-a process by which an unstable liminoid loses energy by emitting compromising articles. The emission is spontaneous, in that the decay is emergent even without collision with another article. Post collision and collusion: The mental maw of many netizens is lockjawed: nibbling news where once there was gluttony, haphazardly patching up leaks with Pentagon Papers. Factoids protruding from these neutered networks much like parts of a corpse will protrude from an ill-made grave.
In the 19th c., proto-noir was more or less identifiable in the mode of gloom–the intrinsically murky. It was when Claude Chappe’s 
frequent collisions with fogginess and subsequent bouts of interference. Organized crimes would soon follow.
As Quagczar’s very hideous existence reminds us daily, there are marshlands amidst this info-dimensional vortex, too. Embrace the murk, friends. You can carry a gun and a rope to scare off snakes and avoid quicksand if you please, but marvel at the info-marsh before it dries up!