The charging documents list his name as Vladimir Lestat Augustine, (alternative spelling, Augustin):
- pauldorpat.com
- Vladimir Augustin
If it is the same guy, as of last April, he was writing poems on the backs of business cards in exchange for a meal. My mind keeps returning to a line from the charging papers, where he said “he needed help.”
h/t Hanna Brooks Olsen
If it is the same guy, then I totally have a post-it with a poem on it from last Summer in front of Collins Pub. From a VAMPIRE.
If he’s not crazy, then he’s the world’s worst vampire.
When I saw the video I thought it might be him.
Here’s a poem he wrote for me.
Justice for the weak
over the atrocity and martyrdom of 10,000
hours. To control with power the
noble dream of a celestine destiny
and place the missed place
onto the misplaced yet posited
pole infinite good onto the
axis of the life meant for
glory.
He wrote me one on Christmas Eve. Too bad I didn’t keep it.
This is getting exploitative. I know the guy. He is very mentally ill, and is diagnosed as such. Would The Strangler [sic] make this much fun of him if his illness were AIDS or cancer? I would like to think not. Let it go. Other things are funny. This is not.
Shit, that poem sounds like the lyrics to a Hendrix song. Geez, you don’t suppose he was a vampire too?
My name is Vladimir Lestat De St. augustine, My true name at birth is indeed “Vladimir Augustin”, I am a musician and a poet, a psychology major student from Philadlephia, who ended up being stranded in Seattle for six years. I survived those hard times writting poems on the streets of seattle, Queen Anne, Pionneer Square, China Town, and Pike place market. I madeit in seattle with an art studio and my own apartment until one day someone from the Union Gospel Mission called the swat team on me and lied saying that I made a bomb threat. It was unfair because that was not the truth. I was indeed dressed weird because I am an artist, but I lost all that i worked for that year and spent a year in Jail. Now I am back in my Home town , Philadelphia, where I started over with a girl who loves me, Jamie Dougherty and her daughter, Still playing music and writting poems, just not on the streets anymore, my family is happy that i made it back… and the soulmate for whom i ended up in Seattle, Louise Osborne, doesn’t pick up the phone any more. State of love and trust, and thank you to everyone from whom i found support in Seattle.