Monday, May 6, 2013

BAYLAH SAYS WE SHOULD GO TO THE JERSEY SHORE..... 5/07/13

Baylah is very philosophical about this. She says centuries are as nothing to us.... Well, at least potentially. She wants us to go to the Jersey Shore. Maybe wander through the Pine Barrens. Pass through a few ghosts. I do like talking to Red Paint people though. You've met then here before. Edith knows them. Not traditional 'Pineys,' but something else... the last remnants of an ancient North Atlantic culture going back, perhaps, to the last days of the Neanderthals. And they had settlements on both sides of the ocean.  Annie likes running through the dark woods with Pin Head Mel (a mico-cephalic kid) and Horsey Skeezix, a real nice, little Jersey Devil boy. So she's all up for this. Conrad, our new, forty year old vampire who wears Dockers pants and store brand sneakers won't like it. But, you know what? I don't care. I just want to get out of here. 

wilkravitz is still sick. Edith tried to 'pow-wow' him. But that doesn't always work. Sarah says he should take some blood. And I will tell you what's going to happen. He'll wait to just before the end, or what he imagines to be the end. Then he'll say ,' OK, alright. Give me some of the blood. But just a little bit.'..... And we will. .......(sigh) Mortals......

It was pleasant walking back from that place under the bank building, though. The night sky was clear and crisp.  And those stars able to make it through all the Center City light pollution really did look like diamonds, rather than the huge, terrifying, nuclear quagmires they truly are.  Imagine, those monstrous, hellish orbs are the font of all life. 

Not as many homeless people on the street as there used to be. At least my work did that. But, I will tell you, the hotels are going to start throwing them out, unless we come up with more money. Might have to break into The Oak Island treasury. You've heard of it, that old deep, booby-trapped, log-lined, supposedly pirate created hidey-hole for buried gold, jewels and moolah off the coast of Maine. Well, I'm here to tell you none of them 'arrrggghhh' guys had anything to do with it. Vampires did it. And it's been there since Saint Brendan the Navigator. But I won't tell you what's down at the bottom.... I mean below the regular treasure...

Anyway, I had some high quality, Australian opals. not from Oak Island, just from a box in the cellar. The little ghost boy, who died from polio, likes to play with them. I don't mind. He's a good kid. But I gave them away to people on the street. I love doing that.  These were big ones. Like smooth, Russian, Faberge eggs they were. Each would go for at least seventy five hundred dollars. And I told them that. The people, I mean. I said - Be care where you sell them, because you can get a lot of money for these..... I hope they listened. One young couple with limited finances got three.... I have to tell you, vampires, at least the good ones, love doing things like that. That's the best. 

I also passed a blood vial to a young woman searching for over-the-counter pain killers in an all night CVS store. She was desperate. I could tell. And quite near death too.... Now, she's not.... Another night-folk dividend.

I'm ready for the Pines. We're gonna go. And wilkravitz gonna accidentally on purpose get a little bit of vampire blood mixed in to those strawberry preserves he likes.  It's a thing with him. Wassa crisp bread... Philadelphia cream cheese... and Smuckers strawberry preserves..... Edith knows how much he likes it, so we never run out.

I'm going back in now. I've been sitting outside in the little back garden, talking to a raven. Ravens like night-people. I feed him cherries. He swallows them almost whole. Chickens store pits and stones in their gizzards to masticate food. Perhaps his kind does that too? Such shiny, black eyes he has. And so smart.

I miss hearing Old Castillian and classical Arabic, Sephardic Hebrew and our beloved Vahmperigo. Two of the Red Paint people know Vahmperigo.  It will be nice, sitting out in the dark, damp pines and conversing.

Tomas de Macabea..... Jonathon ben Macabi.... We both crave some peace.

I'll preach when we get back....
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