Tuesday, January 12, 2016

Jonathon's Volume of La Ciencia Vampirismo Has a Name and Mind of Its Own .. 1/13/16

The book known as La Ciencia Vampirismo speaks for itself.

The strain now known as 'vampires' has been embedded in humanity since the beginning. Indeed, there is a life-eater saying that goes - I am but a link in the chain going back to the beginning. May no man know its source.

Some have seen 'gnome' vampires [here the book refers to Neanderthal vampires] and other varieties of forest folk. The chain is very long..... Since the inception of language, or at least languages that can be deciphered, we have been called 'the demi-angelic host.' In no way were we allied with evil. In no way were we cut off from Divinity. Indeed, our task has always been to combat evil. We stop it and we consume it.

As people developed cultures, forming clans and tribes, we became holy men and holy women and shamans. [when La Ciencia Vampirismo was first written and compiled, fourteen recognized 'lines of descent' were still acknowledged]... Existing lines, stemming from illustrious ancient shamans are  ~~ 1) Prism 2) Luna 3) HeartsBlood 4) Dacians 5)HollyBough 6) Ursus 7)BaughBaugh 8) Ospreys 9)Vulpines 10) Leonids 11)Serpents 12) Stone 13) Star 14)RamsGate

The book goes on detailing rather physical information about the vampire world.... preferred shelters... safe levels of dusk and dawn light..... methods of sublimation.... differences between classic vampires, cherubs, elferinos and imps.... skin shedding among the new born..... preserving mortal lines if possible.... the gathering of 'familiars' to help with various chores.

Then it gets interesting.... 'Thought Throwing' [what we might call telepathy].... 'Thought Lifting' [what we might call telekinetics]..... 'Talking to Dieties' [well, that's self-explanatory]... Increasing your inner power.....Interacting with Merfolk.... Lies Alchemists Tell... Undergarments for Unicorns and How To Sniff Out Rancid Ladies... Plus countless other arcane essays and additions.....

The last chapter is 'Practical Prophesy.' Most night-folk go right to that one. Knowledge is power, after all.

And in case you didn't know, hand copied and illuminated books, especially on vellum, or some other natural skin, develop 'souls' of their own. Jonathon's copy of La Ciencia Vampirismo calls itself 'Cumis.' ... To be truthful. There is no way to tell if this post is due to Cumis, or some other disembodied spirit-narrator.

Cumis likes being wrapped in clean, soft, Spanish Merino cloths. Cumis likes quiet libraries, low light and cozy, though not overly warm temperatures. Cumis likes the smell of fine wood and bees wax.

Whether these things are beneficial to Cumis is immaterial. Old, vellum books have minds of their own.

Next time we'll go into Prophesy.

<to be continued>


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David Bowie lost his physical form. Is he still here? I am Jonathon. I am a vampire. What do you think I'll say? Of course he's here. Flesh and by that I mean offal too, is a very friable thing. Energy is forever.

All of you, everyone reading this are already dead... are yet to be born... are young... are old... are experiencing 'existence' at every possible singularity. Time is an illusion. Time is a mathematical conceit. You know that thing we say at the top of every post... Everything is everywhere?.... Well, it is.

I see that in 'the book.' I see that in La Ciencia Vampirismo. We do not create new things so much as we (individually) become aware of what is already there. The 'spice rack' is full, but perhaps... just perhaps... there are combinations of flavors yet to be discovered. And maybe there will always be bottles yet to be opened? Eternity is terra incognita and we are in (vampires too) very small boats.

I should tell you that 'La Ciencia...' is not a collection of all vampiric knowledge. How could it  be? It is merely a collection of compass points... each bit pointing toward a different horizon.

Would you like to learn the best possible scenario vampirically speaking? It is that the need for vampires will decrease as humanity spiritually evolves. After eons of contemplation intellects greater than mine agree. We are here to cull the wicked. We are a physical tool wielded by a spiritual hand... 'pinking shears' for Creation meant to snip off errant threads.... Those of you familiar with our tale know that. We parrot it enough. But it's not just a slogan. It's the truth. We get those 'vision' and that's who we kill... 'Not the Shepherd, but the sheepdog.'.... Needless to say, we're the sheepdogs.

What can I tell you in a single episode? All true philosophies come down to one thing... be righteous...... Why is that so hard to understand?

And when humanity achieves that state, what will become of us? Will we exist in abeyance, like farm tools in the city?... Will we be mute observers, or do we have an as yet unexplored additional purpose? Will we forever be that point where the spirit meets the flesh? Will new duties appear?

Heal the sick.... We do that too. I do it, not every day, but I do it. I give tiny vials of my blood to 'familiars' with sick children and not just children. Those few drops make them well. Those few drops... not enough to make them like us... but enough to make them whole.

It always comes back to the same thing... Do what you can, where you can, when you can.

It's three o'clock in the morning. The book is closed. I sit in the snug, little library and I 'hear' the city... Not sounds... Not words, or noise... Maybe I feel it. That happens all the time.

I get up and sublimate right through the wall. It's cold. I'm on the street. Our narrow, little side street is empty, but I hear traffic nearby. If I continue, if I walk through the city... if I pass through knots of humanity, they'll notice. They'll say - Who is this man without a coat?..... I don't need that, so I sublimate back into the townhouse and bundle up. Comfort counts too, you know.

Then I leave through the front door, lest Mrs. Jackson, down the street is out on her step with Pepe, her little dog. She must think we're drug pushers, coming and going at all hours. Sometimes she smiles and waves. I wave back. Sarah waves back. Edith does. Conrad does. We all do. I send her a nice gift every Christmas... 'summer' chocolates on Mothers' Day.... little toys and goodies for Pepe.... Our own Gladys Kravitz (sorry, Billy).

I head for a coffee shop. You've seen that Edward Hopper painting, Night Hawks? Wee hour city life takes place in coffee shops. There's a waitress. She sits in a booth far from the window. She holds her cup of tea. She cries. A little child is sick... her child and doctors charge so much money. I give her a vial... For the little girl - I say.... She understands. They always understand. Like they pick it up from me. Then I give her some money. Two 'flats' of one hundred dollar bills... five thousand in each flat.... I say put it away. She stows it in her pocket. The money's not for the doctor. What's in the vial will take care of that. Maybe she'll fix up the apartment a little? Who knows?.... She doesn't get off work till seven in the morning. It'll be light by then and I'll be home, snug in the sleep cabinet with Sarah.

Then I dream. I see the little girl as an adult. Does she do great things? Is that all you care about? Maybe she does. Maybe she doesn't. But her line goes on . Maybe a descendant does great things?... And who's to say what's 'great?'

Tomorrow night I'll read some more. No part of this book is new to me, but every time I read it I find something.

Look, maybe you like illusions? Maybe you like the vampires they write about in paperbacks?...

But I thought you'd like to see a bit of the truth...

I've shared things like this before. And I've helped some of you out there too

Let me bid you adieu. And as night-folk say --- May you never know fear. May you never know pain. And may you hide from death, now and for forever, or until that time when all doubt slips away...

Good night....

Jonathon ben Macabi

<more next time>


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