Wednesday, July 6, 2011


Renate lay with the resurrected John Lennon in a suite in an unnamed Jerusalem hotel. They weren't exactly lovers, but they were 'sexers,' if you know what I mean. Sure, he plans to reunite with Yoko one of these days. But he's still about forty years old and she has aged a few decades since his death. Not that he doesn't still appreciate foreign, exotic types. But I'd say an everlasting, immortal, mother of humanity (which is what Renate actually is) has that foreign, exotic thing goin' in spades.

Anyway, Renate says they need something. They need a theme song, something anthem... What's that thing the French people sing? You know, something like that. Lennon says whenever somebody tries to create contemporary, uplifting hymns, they always come off sounding like cola commercials. The ageless, vampire goddess lights a cigarette and tells him to use some of his old stuff. He says the only thing that comes close is Imagine and that was a hymn to the abscence of religion. But he is quick to add that he had not yet made the acquaintance of any bonifide spiritual beings back then (though a few gurus and high powered recording company executives came close)  and is more than willing to rework the material, in view of recent developements. She nods, blows a smoke ring and asks him for a little bite...Just a little one.....He sighs, offers her his naked arm and stares up at the ceiling.

Meanwhile, in another part of the City of David, Jonathon and Sarah (plus a few other sufferers of 'Jerusalem Fever') argue over just how to save humanity. Some loud-mouthed vampire from Chicago wants to stage a 'mass blood-letting.' He wants to have every vampire in town  slash open their wrists and contaminate the water supply with the miraculous elixir....In effect, make 'familiars' out of all humans (pets too, I suppose) partaking of this heady cocktail. Jonathon tells him what happened when they 'staged' miracles in Philadelphia. He tries to explain how easy it can be to drum up followers. Yet followers often see things their own way. And even the best intentionns of the French Revolution gave birth to the Reign of Terror. The Chicago life-eater tells him he can't understand a word of his 'fine Corinthian leather' Spanish accent and just keeps babbling away. Two rather new age, Hasidic type rabbis continue their unending string of chants and an Orthodox Christian priest (from some obscure variant) sprinkles everyone with holy water made from melted ice cubes taken from a machine in the hall.

Keep the faith.......More to come...........

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