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Monday, September 29, 2014

המוסיקה היהודית האנדלוסית يهود الأندلس Jewish Sephardic music 500 year old SPANISH SONGS THAT TOMAS REMEMBERS ... 9/30/14

He left Marianne's dark refuge and went abroad in the world. Certain streets were clean and orderly, cleared of refuse and undesirables by the warlords, so they and their clients might have respite from the madness. Influential oligarchs strolled through with their retinues. Well dressed ladies, some wives, some demi-wives drank rare and costly coffees at sidewalk cafes. Fire jugglers and conjurers regaled crowds at intersections. Electronic entertainment, save for sporadic, scratchy radio broadcasts, did not exist anymore, so they played out on the streets for lesser grades of fame.

Tomas breathed it all in, savoring the menu available to him that night. How like the mercados and souks of his boyhood in Old Al Andalus. And in his soul he heard the music of that place, ancient cantorials and Sephardic love songs, sung 'round fires in courtyards and caravanserai. He went into a small establishment, a perfumery in what used to be a chocolate shop. In a way, to a scent intoxicated vampire, it still was. The woman behind the counter, an olive skinned

beauty, bewitched him. Not that she meant to, but her form and mien was so like the ladies he remembered from his youth. She smiled, sold him sandalwood and laughed. He politely bowed his head, forever the well bred, Spanish courtier and paid her in the accepted currency of these times, cut up bits of silver from salvaged tableware.... one teaspoon bowl and a fork tine. Then he put the small bottle, once home to aspirin, in his pocket and left, but he came back later, just before dawn, and took her as she tidied up. A scared, girl, her daughter, watched through a barely opened store room door. Tomas pitied her, all alone in such a place, so he took her too. Then he sauntered off to rest among the crypts and bone safes of the great Laurel Hill Cemetery. 

Like a passenger in a speeding train, he was. Like a slave, deep within the hold of a rancid, creaking ship... along for the ride, though unable to change the course. And in a sense this saved him, absolved him of all guilt. He had no choice. He was compelled. Any resistance would be futile. Besides, it all tasted so damned good and there was so much of it. 

Not my fault - he told himself. This new body makes me do it. The morals and the appetites and the 'need' are not natural to me..... Maybe he was right? And maybe he wasn't. 

But he had an excuse... And an excuse is a dangerous thing for a vampire to have.

Now if you'd like to peek into his mind and share his memories, listen to the music up above, sung in medieval, Ladino, an old Sephardic Castillian dialect.

Memories can be quite overpowering...

<more next time>


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Saturday, September 27, 2014

VAMPIRINO TOMAS encounters his friend the ELFERINA MARIANNE .. 9/27/14

She took him to this place, a cellar, or maybe a deeper, second cellar like they used to have generations ago. He sat down on an old bean bag chair. It was ripped, but most of the beans were still in the bag. Place didn't have any electric hook up. Regular electrical service didn't exist anymore. Some had generator. Stealing generators was a big thing. 'Motor hopping,' they called it. But Marianne didn't even have that. She made due with a few cartons of batteries in assorted sizes and a whole mess of battery powered candles. Flickering light... She had flickering light and an old 'camp' radio that also used batteries. You could crank it up too. But that didn't really work.

Then she collapsed onto a broken up, dirty mattress and rattled away in Flemish, or Walloon French, or whatever it was. Tomas put his hand up and said,'I know you don't know Spanish and your Vahmperigo (Mediterranean, Romance, vampire dialect) is abysmal, so stick to English. OK?

The animated, elferina bit into the back of her hand, sucking up the blood... a vampire 'cutter,' if you will... took a few deep breaths and began again... 'When did you wake up?' she said.... He didn't answer. Marianne didn't care. Tomas didn't have to answer. He knew what she meant. She could tell. 

'You know I killed an eight year old little boy tonight?' she said. The mother tried to make it real nice for them. Just him and her. Just the two of them. Covered everything up with sheets. Tucked them in real tight. Pinned them in place and all. Don't know where the flowers came from. Maybe they were weeds that looked like flowers. He had board games and army guys. High up in an attic they were. Thought it was safe. The people in her building grow potatoes in the back yard. Well, now there's one less mouth to feed. Got him while he slept. The mother was sleeping too. She never knew. Twelve feet away and she never knew. Stink woke her up. Smelled the blue flames. Saw him burning and saw me standing there. Started screaming. Threw herself right on top of him. But she can't put him out. Blue flame's not like that. Keeps coming back til he's gone. Like trick birthday candles. You know what I mean? (eyes him) Who cares if you know what I mean... (eyes him again) So, you are not crazy anymore. How many years were you like that? Since you came here?

He just plays with a little mouse crawling through her crap.

'Albion (a male elferino) says we should kill you. But I say you are too powerful. Only now I'm not so sure. You got all your talents back, but something is  not right. They say the body is switchboard to the soul and you have a different switchboard. One eye goes twitch-twitch-twitch. I can see. You got to kill. You got to drink. You know that?

He nodded. After more than two hundred and fifty years she still had that accent... like the girl in AFTER MIDNIGHT. Tomas liked that.... Now it's not like vampires don't have to be careful in this new, almost apocalyptic landscape. They do. Warlords run everything. Oh, the National Government still exists, but at street level it's all the warlords. Washington just takes a cut and keeps the foreign low lifes away. Most vampires have been domesticated. They help the warlords... enforcers and all. Afraid of The Lead House. You go by there late at night, hell anytime, you'll hear them screaming... vibrates right through the metal.

Rogue vampires, like the elferinos and Tomas and whoever else is out there have to watch themselves. Sleep somewhere else every day. Marianne has maybe twelve 'nests.' Tomas gotta start finding twigs.

She let him spend the day there. But he couldn't sleep much... too self conscious 'bout that eye twitch and all. You know how vain that Tomas is.

Kept petting that little mouse. Blew on its fur. Poor thing died of fright, but he just kept petting it...

<more next time>


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Thursday, September 25, 2014

Philip Glass - The Kiss (HD) ... como suenos de vampiros locos... Tomas in THE CITY... 9/26/14

They assembled in an old auditorium. I believe it was once  the Theater of The Living Arts, on South Street, where they used to have midnight showings of cult films, like Rocky Horror. But 'Apres Le Deluge,' with the death of civilization and all, the place was definitely not what it was. Though it retained a certain tattered ambiance, like a ruined manor house in Dickens. 

There was a stake on the stage... a thick, tall, upright log, minus the bed of kindling usually found 'round the base, since an open flame in these surroundings was a no-no. Though a ritual of death would take place just the same.  And the witnesses quietly mumbled to each other waiting for it to start.

Tomas slid in, taking a seat near the back. Just another almost-post-apocalyptic hipster abroad in the town. His hair was long, black and wavy and the requisite fine, soft, black, leather bootkins were also in evidence. The man in black was back. And in this second body, gleaned from a twenty eight year old victim, he had a certain worldly air missing from the eighteen year old original. But everything else was the same. They really searched hard for a duplicate.

The lights, already low, grey and smoky, fluttered and dimmed. Everyone stopped talking, a monotone congregation (black was the new black) waiting for the spectacle to begin..... 

Seconds later, a chamber ensemble in the pit began to play... something by Philip Glass. I believe we have an illustrative video up above. Then they brought her out, a naked, young woman. How white she looked in the pin lights from above, an alabaster statue with long, dark, glossy hair. I believe she was drugged. 'Snake bite,' they called it. Her attendants, dressed as nuns, or some type of female, medieval pilgrims, bound her to the rough, wood pillar with grey duct tape. Then they bowed their heads and hurried off. That's when the real fun began. 

I don't know where they got them. Philadelphia's 'cherubs' were never like that. Benign, innocent things they were. But these were different, twisted, vampire babies, with keen, sharp appetites and dark shining eyes.  They flew onto stage, darting about like insects. Beautiful things, resembling Renaissance angels, or juvenile godlings. 

The naked girl flinched. She knew their purpose. Warlords and street bosses had used them before. Brought in from Europe, people said, or from remote fincas along the Amazon. How feral and determined they were, armed with sharp-tipped, whip-like tongues, since at the time of their transformation they were much too young for teeth. Like hornets they were, diving in, taking a drink and zipping off, only to circle back and do it again. The girl screamed. An eye was gone... an ear... a nipple. She oozed and dripped blood like a fountain. With each pass the pace quickened. She writhed and strained against her bindings. A few in the audience groaned in sympathy, but only a few.  Tomas watched, transfixed by it all. Soon bone began to appear... on the knees... the scalp... the clavicles. Not that the tiny vampirinas craved flesh, but they had to rip through it to free the blood.And the boards became covered in gore and meat. Some sat with eyes closed, listening to the music.

Tomas watched til just before the end. He left when the ribs were exposed, returning to the street in order to search out his own food. Gone the reverent rationalizations of his former self. Now he was insane, if that's even the right word. Perhaps vampire nature is hard to fight? Perhaps after all those years it just asserts itself? 

He killed two victims before midnight. What did they mean to him? Such transient, short lived creatures they were. My God, in five hundred years even their distant descendants would be gone. Like flash paper they were.

After midnight he killed some more.

Marianne, the pubescent, elferina, saw him. She saw him take a victim in a narrow, alley-like thoroughfare in Queen's Village. And she watched his blank expression in the glow from the cool, blue flames, as the corpse he'd just drained disappeared.

Then she silently approached and put her hand on his shoulder. He turned. She smiled. Tomas smiled too.

But these were evil smiles, for these were evil times.

She led him 'round the corner and all was quiet.

When the flames were gone some crows came down to pick at all the scraps.

<more next time>


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Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: TRADING OTHER PEOPLES LINKS TO RAISE PAGE RANK FOR...

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: TRADING OTHER PEOPLES LINKS TO RAISE PAGE RANK FOR...: Our narrative story continues later tonight. This is something else. I happened to see a post that said sharing easily clickable links to o... HERE IT IS! easy way to spread links around the internet and, as a result, your link too. Quickest way is to hit that little BLOGGER.COM icon at the bottom of your blog posts (if you have it and are on BLOGGER). 

Or just browse the list and chose some you like. Start including them on your sites. At bottom of posts you might say - Here are some other people you might like...

If you have your own sites and would like to be listed here, please tweet me on twitter. Just click TWITTER and tweet the link/links you want featured. Might take a couple nights but they'll go up. 

Links are not in alphabetical order BUT any one link CAN be SEARCHED and found immediately.

When your link/links start appearing all over the web, your PAGE RANK rises. That means if you write about food/recipes and somebody Googles food or recipes, YOUR link/links appears near the top of the list, NOT dozens of pages down.

And PLEASE...all these big red letters aren't the post. You have to click on where it says 'Trading other people's links to raise page ranks' up at the top of all this to go there.

Try it. Might work for you. 

I'm not an expert, but I HAVE discovered certain things. This seems to work. Google Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz, you'll see.

If YOU have any good promo ideas, spread them around. share on Twitter. A rising tide raises all boats.

Sincere thanks,




He found an old harmonica... a toy really, crumpled up in a faded plastic sack, all mixed up with the remnants of a little boy's lunch... ball of tin foil... old juice box. Kids used to come here on school trips. Guide took them through the more or less 'explored' and opened part of The Pines. Showed them snapping turtles, frogs, beaver dams. Kid probably bought the harmonica at some souvenir-snack bar. Then he lost it. Now a vampire has it.

Tomas found the snack bar.... a dried up fake cabin with rustic toilets. No food now, 'cept maybe for the termites.  He went in and stretched out on one of the tables, a regular picnic table. You know, with attached benches and all. Moonbeams tickled their way in through desiccated shingles. Tomas liked the moon. Moon like a god to some vampires. Yeah, they got the religions they were born with, but moon's special... the sun for the sunless. Guess second hand, reflected light don't count.

He held the harmonica over his face, examining it like an artifact. Made him think about music. Tomas (also known as Jonathon) likes music. Remembers it from his boyhood in Al Andaluz. Played the oud back then... guitar too. If you gave him one he'd still know what to do with it. But the way things are now, who's gonna give him one? ... Civilization is on a vacation. You remember how it is in the city. You know.

Then he blew in it. Reeds still worked. 'Mouth organs' are simple. You can't ruin them. Found the scale. That's not hard to do. Sure, not the Judeo-Arab scale he knew from centuries ago. But, you have to remember, he's lived in 'the west' a long time too. Played 'Teddy Bears' Picnic.' That was his theme song. Used to quietly whistle it when he prowled the streets looking for prey on cold winter nights. 

Vampires like the winter. Nights are long. Sixteen hours of darkness. So many shadows to explore. So many lives to devour. Some never saw him coming. But he had this thing he'd do... fall in behind a victim, maybe ten or fifteen yards behind. He'd match his steps to theirs. Then, after a bit, to up the ante, he'd whistle --- When you go out in the woods tonight, you're in for a big surprise.

They'd stop and turn around. Maybe some mortals like the darktime too? Some would look, see him there, a stylish 'eighteen' year old boy and go on their way. If he felt like it, he let them live. But only if he felt like it. Lots of places to kill a person in the city. Philadelphia had these park-like squares... Washington Square... Rittenhouse Square... Fitler Square... trees, bushes, benches, small fountains, statues.  Tomas liked doing it near the goat, a stalwart, life size bronze, billy goat. I don't know why. He just did. Some deserved to be 'culled.' That was his word for it. Tomas tried to be a responsible vampire. And most of the time he was. But sometimes he'd forget... Bite through the trachea, scoop out the voice box. They'd go into shock, but they were still alive. How wide-eyed and trembling they'd be. He loved that. Like kittens about to be drowned. Sometimes he'd eat the eyes... suck them right out of the sockets. Optic nerves were a bit grisly, but night-folk teeth are sharp. Quite a watch collection he had too... gold ones... diamond bezels. Who knows where they are today.

Tomas puts down the harmonica, thinks about those nights and smiles. The first full night of fall this is... the autumnal equinox.... aahhhh.

How nice to be deranged. Maybe latter the pain would come. Maybe later he'd realize. But now he didn't care, or at least he pretended he didn't care. That's almost as good. Civilization is on vacation and he is too.

So he got up, left that desiccated ersatz cabin and made for the city. 

Vampires always know the way. 

What a hunting ground the ruined, or almost ruined Philadelphia would be. A free agent. Lord Death... Like Charon on The River Styx, ferrying souls from this world to the next...

Too bad you don't have eyes in back of your head.
Too bad you can't see him coming.

Well, too bad for you...

And he whistled his special song, as he soundlessly made his way through the night.

<the tale goes on>


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Monday, September 22, 2014

NIGHT WRAITH ........ 9/22/14

He never went back. But Edith knew. She knows lots of things. She feels the sky and tastes the ether. And she made sure the books, La Ciencia Vampirismo and The Journal , were safe, hidden deep within The Pines, wrapped in an old suede hide made from human skin.

Vampires don't need much. Cold can't kill them. Microbes dine elsewhere. Any weapons they might use are, shall we say, built in. And darkness is easy  to find. There's always a cave, or cellar, or trash heap, or something. Tomas never lived that way before, but now he don't care.  Ain't no big thing.  'Papa' made sure of that.

So he walked and he killed. No, 'killed' is to clean a word. He destroyed. He ripped. He devoured. 

Found a couple holed up in a little shack. Refugees from the city. Had a truck, or what was left of a truck. Had some tuna fish too. Those cans are gold in town. People trade them like bullion. But guy was a real dope... lowlife too. Combination's lethal. So Tomas crouched down, peered through a window and waited for the show to start.

Dope says - You shit, bitch, pig you, grabbed your f%$kin' makeup, but couldn't take no goddamn can opener!?... Girl goes - I didn't know! I didn't know. I thought you had one...... Dope slaps her. She cries... Dope goes - Shut the hell up, you goddamn lazy whore, you!... She cries some more and sobs - I wanna go back! Take me back! I mean it! I mean it!.... Dope looks for a rock and mumbles - Screw you.... Sees one in the dirt next to the ruins of a fireplace. Hefts it. Runs his dirty hand all over it, looking for an edge. Starts pounding that can of chunk light albacore like a baboon cracking clams. Only it don't work. Can dents. Lid bends, but won't break open. Metal too soft. But she got stuff. He knows it... in her makeup kit. He grabs it off the table. Rips it open. Girl goes - No! No! That's the only nice thing I got. The only thing. Look what you did, you goddamn, ape bastid. Look what you did. (sobs) My sister gimme that from Canada.......

But he don't care. There's a file in there, like a nail file, a metal thing. Got a point. He takes it  and starts punchin' holes in the lid... POW! POW! POW! POW! POW!... Water flies out, tuna fish water. Smell makes him crazy. Tiny, little flies start conin' 'round. Girl sobs some more. She looks, but she don't do nothing. He finds her scissors. Hairdresser scissors they are. Barber scissors. Do-it-yourself times now, even haircuts. He gives her a look. She wants to say something. He knows it. But she don't. So he jams a point through one of the file slits and starts cutting. Takes time. Gets a blister. She just sits there. But he can see. Sees her eyes in the light from that Sterno can. Used to be only homeless bastids and mole people used Sterno cans. Now everybody got 'em. Like tattoos or scabies. 

Gets it open. Sloppy job, like a jagged football shaped gash. Looks like can's makin' a face. Digs a finger in. Gets some fish. Eats it. Takes some more, only this time he cuts himself real bad. Yells 'SHIT!'.... Wings the can. Hits her right on the side of her head. Now she's bleeding too. Hand flies up. She feels the blood and starts crying.

Dope goes - Shut your f$#kin' mouth before I shut it for you, you goddamn bitch!... But she curls up on the dead, mildew sofa and cries some more. So he gets up from the table, goes over and smacks her... real hard... more like a punch... She don't make a sound, just folds up real tight. He hits her again. She's helpless. She takes it.

And that's when he does it. That's when he jumps in. Tomas flies through the window. Glass explodes everywhere. Sash breaks. Shade snaps up. Vampire grabs that dope and SLAMS him into the wall. Dope jumps up (he's a fighter), grabs the scissors and goes for him, like he don't know what he's up against. Look, maybe he does, but what else can he do?

Tomas gets him by the wrist and crushes it. Sounds like gravel. Little crackin' and poppin' noises. Dope moans. Girl don't say nothing. Just looks. And she sees it all when he takes the rough, jagged lid from the tuna can, pins the lowlife to the wall and saws off one whole cheek.... just where the gums meet the flesh. Makes like a little, boneless, breast of chicken, it does. After the other side, makes two breasts.... Blood pours from the wounds, as he slumps to the floor. Tomas kneels before him, cradles what's left of the ruined face and goes in for the kill... How good it tastes... How rich... How satisfying... How right.

Then he just stays there on his knees, as the dead guy falls in on himself and ignites with a cool, blue flame, like all victims do. Nothing else burns... just the copse, til that's left is an ashy, greasy mess.

The girl makes a noise, like a chirp, or a gasp. Tomas turns 'round, covered in gore..... Girl sniffs and goes - Are you gonna kill me now too?..... But he quietly says - No.

Only later, when she falls asleep, bathed in the glow from the Sterno can,  as much from shock as anything else... he does.

Tomas is crazy now, you know.  What did you expect?

<the tale continues>


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Sunday, September 21, 2014


Our narrative story continues later tonight. This is something else. I happened to see a post that said sharing easily clickable links to other people's sites on our blogs and websites increases Google Page Ranking, a very important variable, for both, provided the other people retweet YOU as well.

Some of these links are to blogs/websites, some are to Twitter. All are interesting. Actually, most that go up tonight will probably be Twitter links, because they're easier to remember and every time I struggle too remember stuff the tips of my ears catch fire. Good party stunt. They laugh. I scream.

OK, here goes. Check them out. Share a few. Hopefully the whole list. If this works, by next week, we all gonna be on <~~ and that's the first one. naughty, crime Brit books by Andrew Harding an assortment of cool PICKET FENCES type stuff by John L. Harmon wit and wisdom from Lita Ann and she knows everybody the NEXT BIG THING in graphic novels and comics. You gotta see this Vicki helms one of the most popular media salons (events with celebrity guests) in L.A... Everybody goes. Make contacts. L.A. and NYC filmmaker with REAL CREDITS! look for curtisimages... really cool photographer.. highly collectible. ...popular historical fiction. 19th century America and more. maximize your visibility... they know all the cozy stuff you like to buy for your house. Barb knows... quantum sci-fi and related fantasy of the highest order. intriguing material... naughty but nice, romance, paranormal and more. lots to see... lot a good stuff. Tara knows everybody. you should know her ...also look for her at TaraLConklin/, but I don't know why. My PC won't let me put up links to tumblr (they do to Twitter though?) horror fans will want to hook up with this Eli Roth endorsed site, especially creative horror fans and what goes for the entry right above this goes for this one two music, comedy, film and more. a secret Lord of The theater. Go and TALK! knows a lot, into the arts, creative and communicates. Go see~> lots of useful, information packed books helpful to artists and business people. Go interact with him. And check out his site at he REALLY lived this adventure. it HAPPENED. Go see~~> Ms Kaye is up on everything and very wise too. strike up a conversation! Go see what the WELL KNOWN Rob Thomas has to say. Communicate! Talk back! musician, commentator, industry journalist & writer...REAL CREDS. Go see~> writes rock and roll romances and mature YA paranormal, which means ppl of all ages love her stuff. stellar book promotion site. get to know it and maybe use it for yourself too Glasgow born author of very well received horror and sci-fi. Explore...go see~~>

more links later...

I got others I want to put up too, but can't remember all of them. Gonna go back to Twitter and gather some more. 

PLEASE share a few. If you want to take over the media, you got to.

COMMENT <down below> with your link so we can highlight that too.

This is how 'external link' chains are born... (whispers)... this is how CITIZEN KANE started (I forget his first name)


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Thank you. I'm trying and I WILL put up more links.