Thursday, June 30, 2011


OK, now I gotta be tellin you this stuff fast, cause I keep my distance from them other Philly vampires. Do they know I'm here? Who the hell cares. That Doctor Franklin sugar-daddy, down in that magic place under the ship yard knows. He knows lots of things. Even them other life-eaters don't know all the stuff he  knows. I do not mean 'Papa' and  them really old ones. They understand a lot. They grasp a lot. but even they do not know all the Philly dirt I know, like who been swappin' spits (and other juicy-juices) and what kinda slap-slap-tickle-tickle games  are even more popular than Monopoly in certain rarified circles. Shit, this town been the same since they voted in the Volsted Act. Don't mind my spellin'. Book learnin' ain't never been one a my priorities, less it's the Kama Sutra or one a them other sutras. I got the whole set. They was sellin' 'em down at the Trocadero. Used to 'butcher' 'em between acts. Do I think they actually got all that 'adult' educational information from the Hindu holy books? Hell, no. Some artistically preverted numbers writer down on Snyder Avenue used to bang 'em out on a little, old Underwood typewriter back of  Goldstein's candy store. I knew the wife...Well, the REAL wife, not the little Betty Boop korva, or putan (take your pick) he used to mush  up wiff. I knew the imitation Jean Harlow, foul mouthed, sticky bitch he was actually hitched to. She was nice. Used to send me a whole bunch a free 'goof butts.'   But then one day she ran out on the street in her brassier and panties actin' all crazy  and got hit by the trolley car. Looked just like the steak tar-tar at Frankie Bradley's, only wiff the bones still in it.  Crows and rats polished her off before the cops even got there.

What??? You wanna know who I am? Well, I don't want to say....OK, OK, OK, I'll tell  you this...Call me Minnie. If you are old enough, you may remember. I used to do this Minnie the Mootcher strip dance, third act up from the closer in the Burlesque . The Trocadero was a major stop on the 'pastie parade' back in those days, the '20's and '30's, I mean.  We worked for the house, filled the chorus, played 'tart' to the comics. New headliners came in every week. But I just stayed put. Times were tough and twenty dollars a week was good money. Hell, my clothes did not come from no push cart vendor. I shopped Lit Brothers' and Gimbels, I want you to know.

So how did I become a vampire? Who taught me the 'shadow shimmy'? Well, I can tell you that now, 'cause I hear she served as the base for a really good salsa. Seems she crossed some bad fellas down in Havana. Hey, Castro was a fanatic against vampires, especially vamperinas.So they diced her up, threw in some onions and celantro (a little bit a tomatoes too--- some a these fellas were originally from the Yucatan.) and ate her up on about nine hundred and sixteen Ritz Crackers. At least that's what I heard. Some in the Cuban underworld claim her blood wiped out almost every case a gangster clap on the island. A regular Carter's Little Liver Pills, she was.

Look, come by next time. I'll tell you how it all started. Aw, hell, who am I kiddin'? I'm gonna tell you a little right now. You ever see any of 'em old, black and white 'flip-books'? I am referring to the 'Two Gal Friends On The Road' series, or 'Steamy Nights in Old Lesbos". Still show up at flea markets now and then. Fetch big money too.  Well, I was the black haired one (dye) with the daintier tah-tahs....Could a parlayed that gig into the movies, only them unions don't take no vampires, the bigoted sons a bitches.... I gotta stop now. Gettin' angry makes he hungry. I know, I know, I know what them other vampires say----- It's not the blood, but the 'culling' of the unworthy life.....Yeah....Who cares what them friggin' bastards think....I am gonna go have me some liquid bacon....................

Tuesday, June 28, 2011


This 'one' comes to you from far away and beyond many barriers. Those who normally enscribe this story take no part in what is to follow. My purpose is to draw back the curtain and show you things as they are.

Look to your place in the firmanent. Behold your situation. You inhabit not a planet, but a twin, binary system. That which you call 'the moon,' is a sister world, placed there by 'unknown hands,' so that you might be protected and saved from destruction.

Such arrangements are exceedingly rare, occuring only in the most pivotal cosmic nurseries. That is what the Earth truly is, a place of creation and innovation, set apart from the chaotic malestrom of the galaxy so that you might live.

Is it 'humanity' that you call yourselves? Then I will do the same. Humanity is brought forth via careful, measured steps. The land masses of your world were shaped and seperated so that you should travel to them and encounter new peoples.

The oceans churning between your rocky isles mirror the vastness of space, but you crossed them, in psychic preparation of greater journeys to come. First to the Moon (a baby step). Then to the red, fossilized realm you call Mars.

Echoes of life will be found therein. Indeed weak, surviving vestiges of once what was are already waiting for the first 'hello.' And as I scan the records of this 'blog,' as you call it, this 'vampirewonderland,' I find reference to the manta-ray-like beings of Europa, an ice crusted, water world keeping company with Jove.

See? Jove (Jupiter), already provides you with a 'toy,' nearby 'star system' to gird you for the real thing. It has all been spelled out for you. The path is cleared, your futrure forged.

Open your eyes...See what surrounds you.......What surrounds you is real.....Embrace that reality.......Reality is truth........................................Yet I think you've heard this all before, inscribed in an ancient tongue.......Scotosh beedosh......Beedosh boposht.....Boposht sceedosh.......

It is so difficult to render an accurate translation, especially  for one such as I, who has never had a tongue. But I try....and so should you. Those you call vampires are merely humans stained with the tincture of another realm, seperate from yours, but oh, so very close......Listen to them...Follow them...And learn..............

Monday, June 27, 2011


Jean-Michel continued with his story. He told of sailing from the fabled 'shores' of La Serenissima (The Noble Republic of Venice). He told of pirating their way across the Mediterranean and preying on Saracen ships, till they dropped anchor somewhere on the south coast of Anatolia. They camped on a desolate shore, living off tough, rubbery mollusks and brackish water from a nearby tidal river. Any peasants dumb enough to approach were slaughtered on the spot, even their own co-religionists, for Eastern Rite Christians were still somewhat common in the region. The supply vessels caught up with them after a few days, allowing the ego-ridden marauders to become 'gentlemen' knights once more. True, some of the mounts died during the voyage, but replacements were easily snatched from a sleepy, unsuspecting Seljuk fortress a bit inland.  Remember, this is the First Crusade we're talking about. Things became increasingly more difficult with each succeeding holy war. The Army of True Believers closed ranks, formed columns, blew trumpets and headed east, killing all Muslims, Jews and 'Greek' Christians in their path. Jean-Michel was having a really nice time. The sky was blue. The sea was green. The blood was red. His saddle bag grew heavy with the jewels and trinkets of  brutally slaughtered infidels. After a time, even the necessary raping became quite tiresome, so they made a game of it, one tally mark for the usual dusky local and two tally marks for  any alabaster skinned, carrot topped 'Circassians' encountered along the way. Ethiopes and 'Maidens of Cathay' (an extremely rare commodity in these parts) earned three tally marks. Needless to say, our Burgundian gallant did very well.

But one night, after a hard day of ceaseless slaughter, as he settled down in the open courtyard of a commandeered caravanserai, our medieval Frenchman was tossed a different type of feminine plaything. She appeared to be a Circassian and maybe she was. That is not the important thing, for she was also a blood-drinker, newly made and as yet unsure of her powers. So there beneath a blue-black sky, brushed with the huge, frightening arc of The Milky Way, our soldier of Christ found himself enlisted in yet another army........ And he entered Jerusalem a 'changed' man........

Friday, June 24, 2011


Jonathon was wary of this new individual. Why should he be tolerant of an everlasting Crusader, one of a band responsible for the destruction or dispersal of his mortal family? Even Papa, his vampiric initiator, suffered at their hands. So he sat back and let the French-brigand-'aristocrat' talk.

The Burgundian knight sensed his tablemate's distrust. He understood all the reasons, but being a practical 'man,' trained in warfare, he continued to push on. Sarah studied the strong features and short, sandy hair, attempting to learn something of the person within. She had trouble following his revelations, since most of what he said was in  Arabic, or Hebrew (1,000 years in Jersusalem works it's magic), but this emotionally fine-tuned vampirina didn't really need language. Her dialogues took place on a more visceral level.

Jean-Michel exhaled. His breath smelled of coffee, odd for a vampire, unless he'd been smoking some mocha flavored tobacco? They can smoke...Vampires, I mean. After all, we know how much they enjoy aromas. The humans in the late-night cafe seemed to receed into the ether, as he began to share his story.

My name is Jean-Michel ---he said. I was born into a clan of petty, though ambitious land owners in a remote area far from the newborn cultural center of Paris. Indeed, we had more truck with the German towns to the east and the Italian merchantile capitols farther south than with the supposed heartland of our nation. My father 'owned' twelvehundred souls, serfs, I mean. They toiled in the fields and paid taxes so that we could live well-fed lives behind  stout, stone walls, dining on fire-roasted joints of fat, dripping meat ...Do you know that during the brutal winters we used to rub that fat into our grimy skins to keep them from cracking open? Cold will do that, you know. I lost two young brothers to infected, festering 'winter tears" we used to call them. Like knife cuts, they were...No, worse, like paper cuts...But think not that we had anything as fine as paper. Such luxuries were unknown to us. But we did have fine horses to ride and falcons for the hunt and heavy breasted serf wenches to mount when we got tired of the horses.

Yet all of this would never pass to me. I was only a second son, meant to toady up to an even richer land owner, who would enlist me in his service and take me on his quests, so that  I might  fatten my own purse on his leavings......So that is what I did. We killed neighboring chevaliers, struggling barons, prosperous farmers and other small householders (quite different than serfs), not to mention the usual measure of Jews. Believe me, it pleasures me not to tell you this, but my sword first tasted blood from the breast bone of a young Jewish boy. What did he do? He was there. He was first. He was near at hand. I was eager to practice a 'blood eagle,' taught to me by Norman mercenaries from the west. They knew it from their Viking open the chest, hoist out the red, wet lungs, heave them over the victim's shoulders and laugh, as he choked and died in blood-soaked agony. Seeing as there was a fair number of Jews in some of the towns nearby, I 'd get lots of practice. No one cared when the victims were Jews. Now remember, Crusader fever was in the land. Flea-bitten friars goaded the populace into action. They spoke with the authority of The Church. Who were we to differ? True, some of the more educated bishops disdained such excess...though not the booty thus produced. After a time, I had my mount, a fine, gray stallion and the necessary armor and weaponry to go with it. I picked up a squire or two, little more than slaves, actually. And, in my case, we joined forces with a bevy of rich, well connected counts in Venice, where we commandeered that city's fleet and set sail for The Holy Land.......God's work would be done........

Yet before he could continue, some Israeli police stormed in and ordered everyone out, as they grabbed a couple of suspected bomb makers and spirited them away. Other uniformed personel questioned everyone out on the street. Our three life-eaters made 'vampire eyes' at them  and so were not molested or detained. But dawn was beginning to trickle into the skies of Zion. The time for vampires to be out and about was least for now.....  

Wednesday, June 22, 2011


Things move slowly in Jerusalem. Discussions drag on night after night after night. Jonathon and Sarah coast through the city, visiting a sundry assortment of well known religious shrines and sights.He is much taken by the ruins of Herod's Temple, known to Earth as 'The Weatern Wall.' Jonathon's people were of the hereditary priestly class. Think of the individuals who used to reign as 'prince bishops' in feudal holdings throughout the Hapsburg Empire and you'll get the idea,.They had seats in The Great Sanhedrin (the 'senate' of Jerusalem) and contributed towards the shaping of Western Religious Thought, as we know it. Indeed, some in the Fourth Commonwealth (as the land of Israel is sometimes known today) call for the re-establishment of that august assemblage, as precursor to a resurrected monarchy. But I digress. Another vampire walks the Holy City. His name is Jean-Michel, a French knight left over  from those ill-fated medieval Trinitartian attempts to wrest control of the See of Abraham from the various Unitarian factions known in the area.

Sarah spotted him, as he strolled through a night market festooned with 'bee' lights in the Old City. Did he glow? No. Was he deathly pale? No. Was there somethinng strange and magical about his person? That woulld be difficult to say. Enchantment often rests in the eye of the beholder. But he had a certain mien, a physical gravity, a warrior's grace and she saw that. She squeezed Jonathon's hand and said - Look......He followed her gaze and smiled......A vampire, that one is - he whispered.....One thousand years of darkness tend to fine tune the senses. Jonathon  was never wrong. He sent out a thought pulse and the Frenchman (or more correctly, the Burgundian) caught it, nodding in their direction. Jonathon gestured toward a nearby coffee bar. He led Sarah in. They found seats 'round a small table in the shadows and after a suitable measure of heartbeats, the Gallic life-eater joined them.

No one spoke. Communication took place via the subtle pre-linguistic telepathy vampires often use. There was no danger. There was no threat. So they sat there studying each other. Jonathon wore blue jeans, a tee shirt and thick, leather sandals. Sarah wore a short, sleeveless, ivory linen dress. Jean-Michel sported well cut khaki slacks, a gauzy white cotton shirt and fine, soft, kidskin driving shoes. Jonathon admired the stylish footwear. We all know how much he likes his  own collection of hand tooled black, leather bootkins.

The knight spoke first. He said - Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Jean-Michel, Chevalier du Roc-Montiel. My father was a count, but I am only a seconnd son, hence my place in the Crusades. New lands, conquests, glittering booty. I'm sure you understand.........Jonathon did understand, only too well. For it was a band of blood thirsty Crusaders who attempted to burn him, all those many long years ago. So he stopped and collected his thoughts before making a reply.............


Baylah, our Beyonce look alike, poker playing vampirina, invited me to go stay at her rich boyfriend's exceptionally fine beach house with the two of them. For a while, they were laying low, bunking at hotel suites and the like. But human beans are dumb. They refuse to see what they know they see. Could a stayed at the hotels, but they didn't.  So they're back at the big place in Margate. Lemme tell ya, I could get used to this. You can't die from designer sheets, natural slate, multi-head shower stalls and 3D flat screen TV's. Central airconditioning that actually works is good too. I  go out for pancakes every morning (if you can agree that under certain circumstances 1:30 pm is morning). And they let me pilfer a Benjamin or two from the Ming Dynasty money jar in the 'granite-with-a-vengence'  kitchen. Baylah, naturally, sleeps during the day in an opulent, little nest he had them build down the basement. You know the bottle 'I Dream of Jeannie' lived in? Well, it's like that.

The rich guy boyfriend has a white Bentley. It's all over town. Maybe you seen it?. Sometimes we scoot over to the marina back on Amherst Avenue and take the boat out. It's a classic, Penn Yan 58 foot sedan cruiser, in mint condition too, all decorated in teak, navy blue duck cloth, white piping, subtle touches of polished brass, accented with the occasional yellow throw pillow just to make things 'pop.'

They let you dock your boats at the big Bayfront casinos (Harrah's, The Golden Nugget, The Borgota), so that's how we roll. Baylah heads straight to the poker room. The rich boyfriend likes no limit blackjack. They usually toss me a few black chips, maybe fifteen hundred dollars worth. I cash 'em in and plant myself in front of a 'joler poker' video machine. I find the experience positively mesmerizing. You don't have to eat or urinate or nothing when them digital kings and queens start flippin' 'round.

Later on we meet for an early morning supper in one of the gourmet places where they force-feed the high rollers, almost as bad as they do them geese in France. Baylah likes looking at all the people, smelling all the smells and smiling at strangers. Sometimes she'll pick out a 'deserving' soul or two (evil doers) and have a bite herself when we're done.

But she still got a little of 'the call' in her. She still do her duty. I went with her once. You know those poor people who camp under the Boardwalk? She goes to them, dispensing  these little bottles of booze they used to pass out on the airlines. Only each one has a drop or two of her restorative blood swirled in. She helps a lot of folks. She cures sickness. Sometimes the miraculous blood even makes 'em think straight. You know, it's all part of that vampire 'preserve the worthy' thing. She knows what Jonathon and Sarah are trying to do. But her ways are a little different. No mass movements for her. 'Brighten the Corner where You Are' - that's what she thinks. The night I was there, she helped two queens (homeless transvestites....always dear to her heart)...and three Jacks (young, pathetic winos). That's a full house in my book....I'll let you know when she gets a royal flush.........This is wilkravitz saying 'good night everyone.' And 'May you never know pain. May you never know fear. May you hide from death now and for forever.' ..... (a vampire blessing)

Friday, June 17, 2011


Marrianne and Celeste, the two 'elf' girls, came back with a little four year old King Charles Cavalier Spaniel, a silky, little, black and white, big eyed confection named Bunny. She lived with an old 'witchy woman' in an early nineteenth century 'trinity' (narrow, three story townhouse) on a forgotten little mews, tucked away on a  tiny, cobbled lane far from the syncopated fandango of Center City.

The woman apparently knew a bit of the ancient 'this and that,' as those adept in such things say. She could conjure up needed opportunities and 'find' money (or easily saleable gold) as well as other useful commodities. Her place was a tick-tock, mish-mash of old velvet pillows, chintz fabric and porcelain bric-a-brac. Heavy satin curtains banished tresspassing sunbeams. And herbal teas perfumed the air with exotic, muskie delights.

It was said that the dog was a reincarnated spirit, to be exact, the soul of a beloved aunt (the witchy-woman's), dead since the dreaded influenza epidemic of 1918. No one knew the exact age of the canine in question and the little dog wasn't telling. But the small, nickel medallion on her collar was of a type not seen in town since before the Second World War. She was Bunny then and she is Bunny now. Her magical, human mistress was the proud owner of onehundred and seventeen years. She probably would have seen twohundred, but in was the cigarettes and greasy, meat pasties what done her in. Spells can only accomplish so much. And when the practioner in question begins to exhibit bubbles in her think tank, they become even less efficatious.

So they wrapped her in a silk shroud and buried her in an old pirate's chest (jeroboam sized) along a deep, shadowy pathway behind a thicket of granite obolisks, far at the back, in the enchanted woodlands of Laurel Hill Cemetery.

And now we have the dog lodging with us (it's me, wilkravitz) in Chestnut Hill. Edith dotes on her. Calls her a right proper witch's familiar (see, we have something in common, since I am a vampire's familiar). Has she done any sparkly, little miracles yet? I'm not sure. But Annie claims she heard her whispering something to the crows in the back garden.  And the sharp taloned, almost raptors seemed to find it very funny.

Stay in touch. I'll let you know what happens.

Thursday, June 16, 2011


There are vampires scattered throughout creation. We have not seen them all. And the saddest of the lot are the lapsed 'Nobles.' They wander about like clueless animals, killing indiscriminately, striking dramatic poses and staring at candlelight. Centuries come annd go, yet they remain the same, wax figures  occupying dank arcades off to the side of the grand parade. Have you ever heard an old, vinyl record endlessly repeating itself on an ancient turntable? Well, if you have, you know what I mean.

These are the beings who walk into the sun. These are the beings who sublimate deep down through the crust of the earth, till searing rivers of magma wash away the pain. But they've been having visions too. Many are returning to 'the fold.' 'Nobility,' among the life-eaters means something again. If you'd like to think of it as  a mustering of the armies of Michael the Archangel, you'd be as accurate as any.

And in Philadelphia, Edith knows it's coming, so does the child vampire called Annie. Baylah is ready. The poker rooms of Atlantic City cannot satisfy all her needs. Papa, in his own laconic way, waits for it too. The elves and cherubs have been whispering of such a thing for decades. The Red Paint Folks join hands, forming circlles in the Jersey Pines , dancing and stomping like New World dervishes, each taking delight in the Great Day to Come.

Those gathered in the Four Seasons - Jerusalem (the suite really is quite tasteful) complete their extemporaneous writings. The quiet imam in the pale gray suit and collarless shirt collects them. He quickly pats them together into a neat, square pile, places it on a table and taps a butter knife (from the earlier buffet) against the outside of a crystal water glass, producing a series of pure, clear, melodious notes. Everyone grows quiet. He speaks. He says - I will read the first two, then we can pass them all around......And he begins.........I see a beautiful set table, heaped with every manner of mouthwatering delight. It has no beginning. It has no end. And it snakes its way throughout a world without frontiers or soldiers. Every person finds a seat at this special feast. Each one talking to his neighbors and listening to what they say in return............The imam scans the rest of the page and says - This is a long one. I'll go on to the another, just to save time.........The next one spoke of the Tower of Babel run backwards. God cheered their efforts. The different tongues became one. And the people accomplished great things..........

And so it went for the rest of that night. To be candid, the visions discussed there were nothing more than manifestations of the 'Scotosh Beedosh...'  Open your eyes to what lies before you. Allow yourself to see the truth. None called for an homogenization of humanity. Each was free to follow the ways of his own people, like unique siblings in a large family. Like weary travelers returning home.......

Who knows? Maybe John Lennon was called back to be bard of this ...not a new beginning, but a re-beginning..I wonder what he and Renate are doing right now?

Wednesday, June 15, 2011


Sarah and Jonathon sat perched on two gilt occassional chairs in the middle of a crowded 'livingroom' in a suite at the Four Seasons Hotel - Jerusalem.. Nice place. Good air conditioning. No bugs. A mixed group of spiritual types crowded 'round them. The fat woman with the loose bun cirrculated  with a tray of small sandwiches. Some people munched tuna on challah rolls, others made due with some kind of ultra rare roast beef ( a bit too bloody to be truly kosher) on rye bread. I think there was some lox, salami and danish too (Jewish L.S.D.---God bless Henny Youngman)  Everyone sported carefully pressed business suits, or conservative-lady-business-dresses. For the most part it was the men in the suits and the woman in the dresses. A few of the men wore small prayer caps. I guess they were rabbis or popes or something. A hanndful spoke in tongues. But one of the tongues sounded familiar. I think the Three Stooges used it in one of their funny-films when they were supposed to be Russian diplomats or something. But, hey, we are not here to judge.

The woman with the sloppy bun gave Jonathon and Sarah lit aroma candles (pomegranate and citron, I think they were - this is the Holy Land after all). Eating-staring-small talk time was ending. People selfconsciously sucked fatty morsels of cow flesh out of their teeth. Then a man in a yellow suit (summer-butter-khaki actually)  scootched his chair forward and addressed the two vampires.........Good evening. I am Reverend Walker. perhaps you have heard of me? - he crooned......Jonathon said that he had not....But the California holyman continued unpreturbed.....You claim to act on visions, I am told. Can you describe one for us? - he asked.........Everyone grew quiet, waiting for a response.......Jonathon cleared his throat, more for rhetorical effect than necessity, as he quietly said - They are real. They are true. They are Divinely inspired. I could describe the very Saphire Throne of God itself  for you. Belief is in your heart.........But before he could continue, a young lady in the back spoke up. She said - Please, you are right. Belief lies in the heart. Tell us what is in your heart. Tell us what we should know.........Sarah looked. She knew the girl. It was Morticia, her 'goth' friend from a few months back. She whispered  this fact into Jonathon's ear. They smiled at the now decidedly non-goth human female. And she smiled back........All was silent. Then Jonathon went on........In the past, most of you here would have burnt us. We were demons. We were damned. We were persecuted and tortured. What changed your minds?...............A tall, thin man seated off to the side carefully put down his glass of iced tea and said - But if you'll excuse me, some of us have been having visions too.. They (all the humans, I mean) sat in embarrassed silence.

May I make a suggestion? - said a studious looking woman. Why don't we all simply write down  a simple description? Just tell what we saw. Then we can pick a leader. No, not so much a leader, more like a facilitator. That person could read a few of them, out loud, I mean. And we might be able to see a common thread. It would give us a starting point, a jumping off point. Well, what do  you think?.......A murmur of consent traveled through the room. Then a salt and pepper haired gentleman in a pale gray suit and collarless shirt (an imam, I believe) took some stationery out of a drawer and began to pass it around. Surprisingly each soul present had a pen (not Jonathon and Sarah. they were in those funny white outfits, but extra writing implements were soon brought forth). And every pen worked........a minor miracle in itself, you might say.....

Then they all began to write.


I'm not sleeping. it's me, annie. I'm in my sleeping cubicle down in one of the basements. the place is finished off real nice. they ain't got no jiggly buggies down here. you gotta go down to the sib-basement for them. I also got wilkravitz' laptop. he don't know. let him go to hell. he never wants to share with me anyway. they got a nice, little, pink, 'girls' laptop in the toys r us store. I want it, but no one wants to buy it for me. they say I'm gonna break it. I'll smash their heads is what I'll break. I know where Edith keeps her money. I know where they all keep their money. Don't you remember? I can read people's minds.I know when the grown ups (vampires and just plain stupid people) want to play sexy games. I know when the bitch next door, the one who feeds her kid shitty pizza (but not all the time), wants to mush herself up against Papa. If I was a just plain stupid girl, I would be throwing up during every commercial. I would be throwing up real bad. what was I gonna do? Oh, yeah, I minds.

1) this is to a hairdresser named mitzy who lives in north jersey. the boss knows you slip money into your own pocket. he knows you don't put it in the cashregister. but you are a 'good worker' so he don't say nothing. only brittany knows too and she is very angry about it. once she 'keyed' your car. and another girl laughed. but you are not so happy working there, so don't worry about it. take that new job out by the target store. and start going to that sports bar near the supermarket. you will meet a cute guy there soon. he makes about 80 or 90 thousand dollars a year (do they only pay plain stupid grown ups one time each year?...boy. that must stink) he looks like your cousin's huzbin. that should make you real happy.

2) Danny in boston should keep his mouth shut if he don't want to start a real big fight with his brother and ruin the whole family. And Leighanne is a great big fat liar and the whole street knows it. She ain't even sure she's havin a baby, so there. But her father has a little bit of money and whoever marries her and settles down will get some of it when they buy a house that she can move into. the father don't like having her at home, cause she drinks up all the God damned orange juice and breaks the washing machine. and he is asgusted. besides, he got a girlfriend too (only I don't know why they call her a 'girl'...she more of an old lady friend...a real wrinkle-puss if you ast me). her name is hellen, but she tells people to call her helene cause it confuses them and makes her look younger.

2) I don't know  exactly what 'economy' means, but it keeps coming to me that the 'economy' is going to improve in October (maybe cause people will be buying a lot a halloween costumes and shit?)

3) Somebody in california had little movies of some movie guy trying to kiss and hug a young girl we see on tv a lot. She was gonna show it to oprah, but now she will probably have to settle for somebody else cause oprah ain't showin little movies on tv anymore. this guy always likes to eat steak at a certain restaurant with two of his friends and he plays cards (poker I think) at a big house up on top of a hill. his car is big and white. that is all I know.

I am tired again and want to sleep for a little while before we all get up. so good bye for now. mind reading is fun, but sometimes I do not understannd what it all means...but it is still fun to snoop around in other people's brains and shit...

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

vampire wonderland: TWO VAMPIRES IN 'FLIP-FLOPS'

vampire wonderland: TWO VAMPIRES IN 'FLIP-FLOPS': "Here's another little peek into the pages of LA CIENCIA VAMPIRISMO, an ancient tome, much prized by vampires and other students of arcane fo..."

vampire wonderland: OUT OF THE MOUTH OF A BABE

vampire wonderland: OUT OF THE MOUTH OF A BABE: "this is annie talking. dont pay no mind to how I type this all out. remember, I am only six human years and most of 1 vampire years old. so ..."


this is annie talking. dont pay no mind to how I type this all out. remember, I am only six human years and most of 1 vampire years old. so if you dont like it, I'll kick you right in half your ass. you get to pick which cheek. I am not too bossy that way.  wilkravitz does not know where his laptop went. but he's busy watching THE VOICE on telebizon, so he wont know for a while, at least not till after that show with the four crzy guys trying to become movie stars in californya. you know, the onne with that kid who looks like  a skinnier, frizzy haired version of Jonathon. I'm sittin out back, on the kitchen patio, right where Edith had her run in with that Johnny Jump Up thingie. It's cool now. the rain stopped. thin little storybook clouds skate across the fat face of an almost filled moon. I like nights like this. I could fall asleep out here. And I have done it too. the elves and cherubs wake me up before dawn. Luna (she IS supposed to be like my step-mother) never does. I think she wants me to die. I really do. God knows where she is. I hope a giant spider or like some nazi scientist pervert bastids got her. I hope they kill her up real bad. maybe she already is dead. that's what I pray for, you know. but GOD tells me not to be that way. He sounds just like that 'boy' teacher they had at my (human) pre-school. I can remember some a that. the sand box was fun. and I think I used to like chocolate chip cookies. I had these barbie sneakers that were pretty good too.

I'm gonna try to read your minds and tell you stuff about the future. I like when Edith does it. She's at a church bingo tonight. and afterwards she stops for sticky-bun and coffee  at some diner place. She brings me back a whole lot a 'minty fresh' tooth picks and gives em to me. I use em to spear these big, shiny, roachie bugs down in the sub-basement. their stringy legs go jiggle-jiggle-jiggle...and then they just die I guess. I liked watchin the Phillies tonight. Cole Hamils was the pitcher. I like him cause he looks just like my favorite Ken doll. Sometimes I pop his head off and jam it down on this little My-Little-Pony rubber thing I got.

OK, here goes. I am seein stuff in my head now......Tell Gina and her boyfriennd Lucky that they are gonna have a new baby. I think it  is gonna be a boy or a girl. And that Spanish guy down the street want to but the truck, so things shnould work out real good. they live in new York city I think, because I see them eatin corn beef sandwiches and pizza with the statue of liberty. she chews her food  up real good for a big metal thing. I like that.

Sally's mom found a girl's wallet in the toilet at some pancake house. It had a lot of monies in it. big monies. two of em had Doctor Franklin's pitcher on em. I gotta ask him how he got em to stamp his face on all the monies. maybe they can do that for my birthday? Sally's mom was gonna give the money and all to the lady who lost it (her name was inside). but she changed her mind and bought a new set a patio furniture and three pairs of fancy-lady-tittie-cuppers instead. But she is ashamed to go into that pancake house on account a the money belonged to one of the waittresses. this is some where near where Oprah lives, I think. Cause every time I see the sky, a lot a the clouds look like Oprah's face, and I figure she could do that if she wanyed to.

Two earthquakes are gonna jumble stuff up in a place that looks like India. I think it is india cause the ladies all have fancy kerchiefs tied around their hair so nobody who is a man can look at it. they are not playing hide-and-seek under these movable tents like ladies in somme countries. they have a lot of pretty bracelets. I think the earthquake will come later in the summer, like on july 25th or august 25th. the president is gonna talk about it. you will see him on tv and he dont look  too happy.

A girl in South america is gonna have this little two-headed baby. Both a the baby's heads smile a lot. one looks snart, the other looks dumb. I call em smarty and dumbie. the mom and her family want em to be big celebrities, like the people on E TV, so they are gonna rent em out to a circus or something. Too bad Michael Jackson is mostly dead, or he could a bought em. I would like it if Papa would but em for me. but he will say NO. He will say NO real loud.

Jonathon and Sarah are gonna say stuff in Israel that will help stop all the fighting over there. I dont know what it will be, cause he's gonna say it in Jewish talk (Hebrew) and I do not know that. Sarah is gonna do some stuff with sick children. I think she is gonna give em little drops of her blood to make them better. but a little spy camera is gonna catch her and they will show movies of it on the rachel ray show (they tibo it for me). she will smile and act all surprised and talk real fast. I like when she goes like that.

Well, that's all.  wilkravitz is done watchin that entourage show and he wants his computer back. but he looks a little bit sick to me. I think he still has a piece a that diarrhea left, so he ain't gonna be typing out too much more new stuff tonight. so that's all. I'm gonna go down and spear me some more roachies. Good bye. that's it...just good bye.

Monday, June 13, 2011


Here's another little peek into the pages of LA CIENCIA VAMPIRISMO, an ancient tome, much prized by vampires and other students of arcane foorces.

FIRST KNOW THIS - The recitation of sing-song words and rhymes in no way brings about, or causes any 'magical' events to take place. Such things only serve as crutches, to focus the mind and amplify personal auras.

True magicians cannot create something out of nothing. They momentarily slip into a realm  (the modern world uses the term 'parallel universe') where such objects, or conditions exist. Then they manage to 'take hold' of these manifestations and bring them back into their own, natural realm.

The acts of a sincere practitioner in no way rely on supernatural powers or beings. These conjurings are brought about via the developement of natural mental abilities possessed by us all.

Open your eyes. See what you know is there. Indeed, one of the oldest scraps of wizardry to come down to us stems from a people before the 'time of the moon.'.....a knowing band inhabiting Hispania long before even the Phonecians. They wrote these words (reproduced here in Latic Script)--- Scotosh Beedosh, which means ----'Be willing to see what you know you see'...or 'Believe your eyes.'

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Meanwhile, in Jerusalem...................Jonathon and Sarah were rendered pure in the Eyes of God, via three quick, tepid dunkings in one and three quarters inches of water filling the bottom of a blue, porcelain sink in the bathroom of a fat woman with her hair done up in a sloppy bun. She scooped them up and carefully placed them down on the middle of a cool, cotton duvet covering a large bed in her sleeping chamber. Then she gestured to the British rabbi (who delivered them to her tucked away in a small, velvet lined jewelry box). He threw open the draperies, allowing a rich, creamy shaft of moonlight to penetrate into the room and bathe the pristine comforter in its milky glow. The two human shaped beings occupying the navel of this all-natural-fiber plain slowly began to sublimate out in all directions, regaining normal size.........Sarah (the female on the bed) said - Thank you for restoring us. But would it be too much to ask for the loan of some little outfits, so that we might venture out on the streets and look for our friends?..........Who are their 'friends'? - snapped the big woman with the loose bun............The British rabbi cleared his throat and said - As near as we could tell, a woman who looks exactly like the American singer known as 'Cher' and a resurrected Beatle, known as John Lennon. He, I can assure you, is quite real. And his singing voice is very much intact too..........The big woman did not like these complications and she grumbled as she scrounged around in a huge wardrobe searching for appropriate garments. When she was satisfied, she tossed them onto the naked pair, pushed the foreign clergyman out of the room and bellowed - Hurry up and dress yourselves. We do not have much time.

Jonathon and Sarah did as they were told. He wound up with a polyester tennis outfit, circa nineteen seventyfive (remember those little 'hot pants'?). And she managed to slip into a plain, though well-cut bridal gown, which appeared to be a decent 'knock-off' of Vera Wang's Spring twothousand and three line. The bedroom door opened. Two sealed, cellophane packages, each containing a fresh pair of white, rubber 'flip-flops' (Japanese zori sandals) were thrown into the room. And so our two vampire travelers, each dressed in bright white from head to toe (undergarments included) walked out into the shabby, but clean sitting room.

The rather dapper British rabbi gasped and said one word-----'Golem.'..........Then he pulled out and unfolded an copy of an old wood-cut depicting such a creature. It was a bit crude, obviously drawn by an amateur. Yet the likeness portrayed was a likeness of Jonathon. So his sojourn in that 'other worldly' Prague not too long ago apparently had been completely and utterly real............................................

Sunday, June 12, 2011


wilkravitz is sick and the usual, tiny droplets of vampire blood are not working. That is why our posts have been somewhat spotty of late. But I will do my best to channel some information. I think you already know me. I am Roland, the 'second' male 'elf.' Sometimes I slip into  the local library when they're open late (usually during the cooler months of the year) and tap away in the computer room. No, I do not have a card. But it is easy for me to bewitch librarians with a sly, vampiric glance. They are so very innocent and naive. So I've managed to absorb a bit of this magical apparatus. To me, it is like an abbacus for wizards, or a crystal ball for scriveners.

Forgive the late (for mortals) hour of this communication. I just got back from my first tryst of the evening, with a bevy of cheerleaders prepairing for some sort of high school graduation debauchery. There was a pool in the backyard (quite the 'stay-cation destination' I must say.) and connsidering the clammy, warmth, is was only natural for us to peel off our sundry codpieces, corsets and garters so that we might cavort unencumbered in the clear, blue, crystal waters.. It is so easy to nip wet, cheerleader fannies. I drank my fill in a few score heartbeats and had plenty of time for a stimulating assortment of carnal nicities. I'm sure I will remember those tickle partners. They liked by pointy ears, as well as certain other protruding bodily adornments. Such a shame I had to 'flicker' out of there so quickly (someone's 'daddy' approached) losing my best 'tights' (you would call them.) in the ensuing confusion.  I flew home dressed only in Mother Nature's creations and sit, still in that oh-so-comfy state as I type this out.

Jonathon and Sarah were spirited through the streets of Jerusalem. The British rabbi took them to a shabby, forth floor walk-up in a nineteen-thirties stucco building not far from the Temple Mount. Of course they were still tiny, about the size of those blue, rubber Smurf toys so popular a generation ago. He (the rabbi) put his briefcase on the table, took out the little jewelry box and flipped open the lid, allowing our two minute vampires to scramble out. I do not know where the one known as Lady Renate was, or John Lennon too, for that matter. But a strange, fat woman, with her hair all done up in a sloppy bun, pulled out an ornate magnifying glass and proceeded to examine the enchanted specimens trying to catch their breath on her Formica kitchen table. She asked the rabbi if he was sure of their provenance and he told her that he was. So she scooped up our miraculous couple and quickly waddled off to a small 'powder room,' where she placed them down on the lid of a toilet tank, before turning on a thin trickle of warm water running into a petit, blue porcelain sink.

The rabbi, looking in from the doorway said - You can't do it here.........I can and I will - said the woman. this is running water. And if you say the right blessing, it's holy water. So we can 'baptize' them here. We can purify them. We can wash away their sins. So hurry up and make this a 'mikvah' - said the woman.........Jonathon heard her and he tried to tell the rabbi she was right (although he wasn't quite sure of their purpose) but his tiny voice failed to carry. So he and Sarah just stood there, next to a roll of pink, scented toilet paper and a copy of People (in Hebrew) Magazine. As the rabbi chanted the prayers, the woman tore a little door into the side of a paper Dixie-Cup (conveniently stored in a plastic, wall-mounted holder)  and put it down for her miniature guests to use as a dressing room, sort of like a flat-roofed tee-pee. With his final 'amen,' she bent forward to address her illustrious (though stunted) visitors....................Go, go, go - she said. Either one. It doesn't matter. Off with your clothes and into the pool. And don't worry. you won't fall. Here, climb onto my hand. I'll help you. And no need for false modesty here, duckies. Those 'bits and pieces' you've got are so small as to be almost invisible..................Then she turned to the rabbi and said - Three times up and three times down? Am I right?.........Yes - he sighed............Jonathon told Sarah he would be the gentleman and go first, test the waters, so to speak. Besides, it was rather close in there..............So his evening also began with a little dip (Roland's joke), but went on to end quite differently........................ 

Friday, June 10, 2011


You have not encountered us before. We are two vagabonds, locked in the vampiric state. For how long, we do not know. Time is a conceit and we don't worry about trivialities. However, we are in possession of  a copy of La Ciencia Vampirismo and we are willing to share some ancient truths with you.

1) VAMPIRISM IS NOT SIMPLY A DISEASE. It is not effected by the physical world, save for the searing light of the sun. And even then, it is not actually the light itself which destroys us, but being active in a time not our own. God split the day from the night. We have our portion. The evening is ours. The morning belongs to mortals and the penalty for tresspass is death.

Our condition is a Spiritual state of Being, ordained by Heaven since the beginning of time. We are God's Tweezers, forged to pluck imperfections from the face of humanity. Perhaps I should clarrify. Other worlds with other soul-based beings have vampires too. They may be shaped differently. They may 'cull' the wicked via different means. But they are true vampires, never the less.

Blood does not sustain us. I know those of you familiar with this ongoing tale already know that, but so many of you gloss over it. It is the taking of unworthy lives at certain times of the year (as known on Earth) that keeps us going. Indeed, extremely ancient vampires often stop killing, as they continue their spiritual evolution and take on other 'chores.'

The blood, in and of itself, is not in anyway magical. It is only a recognized symbol for the 'sharing of the burden' (creation of new vampires). Noxious vampires, as well as those unable to forget human appetites, lust after it to satisfy an irrational hunger. Yet we must admit that its ingestion is pleasant to us and the rich texture and tang quite intoxicating.

...........................We will share more some other time. Your old friends, Jonathon and Sarah are still in Jerusalem, safe within a small, velvet lined jewelbox, tucked into the briefcase of that British rabbi.. He is taking them to a certain place, where he plans to present them to members of a revered assemblage. And little do they who push and jostle their way along these narrow ancient thoroughfares realize the importance of the tiny pilgrims passing through their midst. Oooh, that falafel smells good. If we were mortal, we would savor it. Maybe we should purchase a bit of it, just to dab behind our ears? But nights in the City of David can be quite warm this time of year. And although we rarely perspire, a sojourn on the Mount of Olives (a breezier venue) would be quite refreshing. So please bear with us, as we sublimate to that cooler clime. How we so enjoy the songs and prayers of the city as we pass..........

Thursday, June 9, 2011


This is Edith. I have the controls of the magic communication book. Well, that's what it seems like to me. wilkravitz calls it an out-of-date dell inspiron 6000. I call her Sweetie-Pie. And Sweetie-Pie wants me to tell you things. No, no, no....I want to tell you things. She just says she'll help me. If  you're new to our part of the firmament, I am a 'seer' woman, a 'pow-wow' woman from deep in the New Jersey Pinelands. I've been living with the vampires for nine moons. I know the Mole People. I know the Red Paint People. I know a lot of people. The vampires value my talents. They use me to calibrate their own 'visions.' If we match, then odds are the visions are true. Sometimes I get a big flood of Akoshic mumblings about you, or your sister in law or somebody's asshole of a boss, or that bib-busted girl down the street. Please allow me to enlighten you.

This is for a Barbra in Chicago. Your dog knows who stole your car. He was out in the yard when it happened and he got a good look at both of them. Right now, it's in a chop-shop somewhere in Gary, Indiana. But the insurance company will make a somewhat liberal payment. Splurge. Get the Chrysler 300. Also. ask 'you-know-who' to start writing down all her best recipies. That will simplify things a lot in the near future. Keep an eye on Gloria. She's not very trustworthy, but you already know that. Tranfer to a different school. There's a click in this one. They play games and make trouble. The boss is no good too. Seek greener pastures.

Now I have something to say to a Larry, or .....No, not Larry...a Florida...somewhere near Orlando. I think you're a limo driver. Join that band. The creative environment will be good for you. Put a little 'rock' into the country mix. Lose twenty pounds. Don't get that tattoo. Relationship will change. Contact Beverly. She feels bad about something (not your fault). Do your best to comfort her. And get your teeth fixed. Watch your driving. Get the brakes checked, your blood pressure too. Don't go skydiving...ever. And yes, buy that condo. Search it from top to bottom. The old couple hid something valuable.

First initial 'J' in New York City. Ditch that someone from the apartment downstairs. Listen to your friends. They know something. You 've been drinking heavily lately. Not an alcoholic (yet), but swimming in that direction. You'll join a social discussion group at a museum, or similar venue. Don't be afraid to talk. I think it's a film and theatre club. Be open to new people. You'll meet one from another nation. Prepare to live abroad, maybe in Amsterdam, London or Dublin. You currently like a human who has a cute, little Jack Russell terrier. If you're totally against relocating, this dog person may be the one. Not a problem free individual, but you can handle it.

Your mother wants you to know that she has rings hidden in a little china cup, or small painted vase placed way in the back of a top shelf in a bedroom closet. Other items are also stored away in the laundry room. Search the double-door, white metal locker near the door to the garage. It holds important documents....No....the rings are NOT on a top shelf. They are on the floor, under some old clothes. Collectible old records are there too. Is this Michigan? I think I'm seeing Michigan

You'll have to excuse me. That's all I know right now. My stomach hurts. Must go get a piece a cake....

Wednesday, June 8, 2011


They stayed right where they were. Jonathon and Sarah never moved, nor did their strange companions. Renate simply smiled and the omniverse, or rather Earth's little part of it, was transformed. The nighttime disappeared, so did the forest. And they sliced through creation like jinns on a flying carpet. Rivers of color swirled all around them. Snatches of songs sung in tongues yet unheard echoed through the void. John Lennon said - I think I have to take a piss.....Renate said - Do as you must.......So he stood up on a sliver of nothingness and followed her directions. Yet what exited his body was not the usual concoction of ammonia, salt and waste water, but minute, little solar systems, each as large as fine grained Bazmati rice. He laughed and cleaned his glasses, the better to observe them as they spun off to fill their assigned positions in the sky.

And then, after what could have been heartbeats or multiple infinities, the endless pin-points of possibility surrounding them began to solidify, drawing our foursome down into a very real place. It was Jerusalem, or more precisely a small room above an eating establishment for biblical scholars in the Jewish Quarter of the Old City. Two men sat at a table, quietly discussing God's intentions with the perfect faith of childlike, true believers.

Believer Number 1, a visiting rabbi from London, pondered the purpose of Revealed Religion. He drank a bit of tea, served in a small glass, Ukrainian style, and then said - God shows us these things so that we will become better people.......His friend, a highly spiritual screenplay writer from Los Angeles, gestured with his half eaten Pop Tart (yes, they have them in Israel too) as he spoke.......Then why are all these 'better' people heaped together in warring groups, constantly hurling insults and missles at each other? - said the two-time Academy Award nominated scribe.........The British clergyman carefully put down his glass, smiled his best pedigogical smile and said - Because the patient is not quite 'better' yet, I'm afraid. And that is all the more reason to continue with the prescribed course of treatment............. Or get a second opinion - said the writer.

That's when they noticed our four travelers. That's when Jonathon and Sarah and Renate and John Lennon ran out from behind an old, leather bound tome (the Shulan Aruch, [the 'Set Table,' a revered book of Biblical commentary] I believe) and addressed them from the center of a round stain left by a wet glass.......Gentlemen, - said the Lady Renate, I bring visitors. Come, let us converse and share our inner-most thoughts........But the two gentlemen in question stared wide-eyed at the pawn sized individuals before them.  Sarah burst out in a fit of laughter. The former Beatle did a little, spontaneous dance, while Jonathon responded with his best, most courtly, Andalucian bow.....The Lady Renate, much too dignified for all that, just stood there like a tiny queen, waiting for the two humans to respond................

Tuesday, June 7, 2011


It is I, the disembodied spirit of the West. It is Zebulon. Oh, the wonders I have seen, from the giant fungi living far beneath the surface of the earth, to Cleopatra's corpse (I'll dwell on that some other time). The world is changing, both physically annd spiritually. Some blame it on secret societies. But did they ever stop to ponder that if such suspicious congregations were in fact secret, we'd never hear of them in the first place? Do I doubt the existence of such troublesome councils? No, I do not. It is only that the names bandied about by selfstyled finger-pointers only serve to misdirect the living and send them screaming in the wrong direction.

Illuminati.' how they love to say that word. Yet clandestine oligarchies do manifest from time to time. Follow the money trail. Look to the enduring dynasties and you shall see them. But does that mean all the wealthy take part and am I saying every long-lived entity is involved? No, I am not. Reality is far more complex than best selling fiction.

Those known to you as vampires realise this. And if you want me to be truthful, they and their most high-ranking familiars comprise a secret society if ever there was one. It's funny, but the eldest among them usually fail to take part. Oh, they know of such shennanigans, much like a teacher knows who's passing notes in the fourth row. Still, they seek not to join in, but rather to guide and direct from above. I suppose the layers of intrigue never end. One man's elite secret society is another's naughty boys' club.  And a powerful Queen to some is just a meddlesome society matron to others.

Renate (in truth, she who you call Renate) knows this. She plays with all the many shadow groups like  a toddler playing with blocks. It amuses her. Yet occasionally she steers them toward positive ends. Jonathon's pilgrimage is one example. She sees it as a means for greater peace and understanding in the lands of the Fertile Crescent. I believe, if I am not mistaken, that other speakers of this wondrous tale echo similar sentiments, but....where do you think they get them?

Here's her plan for the Holy Land (and remember, she was reverent and righteous at least thirty thousand years before the place ever had a name). Let there be two kingdoms. Yes, I said 'kingdoms.' May the western realm be called Israel and the eastern  realm be known as Ishmael. May each be free and master of their own fate, though hopefully wise enough to work together in matters beneficial to both, such as water, trade and the like. The Israelis and the Ishmaelis, Scriptural brothers reunited once more. And do not laugh. Do not mock the Lady Renate. For as that sage wit, Judy Tenuta was wont to say - Hey, it can happen.

So a miraculous figure named Jonathon (the name means 'gift of God') and his equally worthy consort, Sarah (meaning 'princess') will appear in the hidden places of The Land of Abraham. And they shall share their dreams with others, so that the seed  may grow and bear fruit.

I wonder how Renate plans to dress them? Perhaps she's already whispering into the ears of creative types, filmmakers, poets, writers and the like. She's been known to do that. Who do you thing dictated Uncle Tom's Cabin? Who do you think tickled the eardrums of John Locke?

They say a mysterious Cher-like woman dripped out of the ether and into the midst of a Skull and Bones Society metting not so long ago. I wonder what she told those high-ranking, vampiric 'familiars'? Oh, don't be so surprised. What did you think they were? I know she's whispering the 'Scotosh Beedosh' story to Jonathon and Sarah right now. But don't ask me what John Lennon is doing there. He always turns up when things like this start to happen. I'll have to make small talk with some of the Librarians I know in the Halls of The Akoshic Records and see what I can dig up.

I'll bet something's going to 'happen' on The Pentacost (either  the unitarian or trinitarian version). If not then, perhaps on June twentyfirst, the Day of Big Light. Maybe I should seep into the brain of that Howard, or Harold Camping?  Perhaps he knows?..................

Sunday, June 5, 2011


wilkravitz is typing this. I don't know what is happening. There has been no artificial light for almost two nights. It is not that the electricity went out. That did not happen. Refrigerators still hummed along. Equipment in hospitals still put on their pricy show. Cars still ran...but with no headlights. Guys would pay homeless dudes to sit on their hoods waving lit cans of sterno. Even ambulances rolled like that.But planes could not fly. And elevators could not operate. Televisions were no good. Radio never had such a big audience since the late nineteen forties. The president went on a special airing of Howard Stern (they figured he'd reach more people that way). The Secret Service tried to sweep the place for naked girls and bed bugs. They didn't want the president to bring anything back with him. He told the nation (and the world) to stay calm and take advantage of natural moonlight. So a lot of young people got high, sat outside and put on hand-puppet shows for all the bad, little kiddies who refused to stay inside under the covers.

The elves and cherubs loved the darkness. They went flying all through the city, darting about like dragonflies buzzin' a pond on a hot day. A little bite there. A tiny nip here. People screamed. They slapped at their necks. But it was always too late. The 'donation' was already made. Annie did not go though. They wanted to take her. They wanted to spray her with solidified bloood crystals (you should see. they sparkle like fiery rubies). Papa said it would be all right. He wanted her to go. But she just screwed herself up into the usual neurotic knot and said - NO!......So Edith took her outback to the koi pond and rocked her in the moonlight. They made a game of throwing little pieces of bread to the fish, pretending that the moon's silvery-white reflection was a bull's eye. When she got tired of that, they went back in the house and sacrificed Barbies to the garbage disposal. I told you, the power was still on, just not the lights. Luna just sat by the fireplce (natural light) listening to Lady Gaga on her I-Pod.

Baylah was in Atlantic City when it hit (she still is). The casino where she was tried to switch to back-up, but that didn't work. So they literally had their goons use cattle prods (supposedly switched to 'low') so they could herd all the idiots together and sweep 'em out onto the Boardwalk. People were yelling and jumping. Old ladies were cursing. The goons kept repeating - Free all day buffets. No passes needed, when this is all over. Sorry folks. Hate to have to jolt your heinnies like this, but you understand. It's a city ordinance.......But once they cleared the floor and got everybody out on the broards, employees with bic lighters and food vouchers did circulate through the crowd, so people's asses stopped hurtin' real quick. The promise of free, organic, consumible materials will do that, especially if some of those materials happen to resemble fried shrimp or cheese cake.

But the strangest thing of all was the phones, cell phones, hard wired, all of 'em. Whenever they rang, if  you picked one up, all you'd hear was  some little girl's voice whispering - Scotosh beedosh, Beedosh Boposht, Boposht Skeedosht..........Whatever that means............And if you tried to tune in the twentyfour hour news station, you heard the same thing, over and over and over and over. Some people said it was a prank. Some people said it was something else............

Shit....I can't type anymore.......I think the lights are going out again.....................

Friday, June 3, 2011


They sat there and communicated. Renate 'spoke,' but her lips did not move. Oh, she smiled from time to time. She sighed. But she never shaped words, not physically. Her mind did that. And it all seemed so natural. Large moths with soft, earth-toned fur, danced about her head like a crown, as the Resurrected John Lennon absentmindedly hummed tunes. Small, thin, cherub-like creatures scampered out of the underbrush to listen. Sarah said - Excuse me, Lady Renate, but what are they? We have cherubs at home, yet these are different..........Only a bit - 'said' Renate. They too were asleep in the wombs of new born vampirinas. And when the mothers crossed over, these little ones made the journey as well. But they craved freedom and tore their way out of she who carried them, seeking independence among the cool, mossy darkness of the wild places. Wise Women in these part called them 'imps, ' or 'fairies.'.............Can they fly? - asked Sarah.......Of course - smiled Renate........And she clapped her well-formed hands, sending them leaping up into the air. Our Philadelphia vampires watched, as this miniature ballet  filled the ether with grace and whimsy.........What function do they perform? Who do they eat?/ - questioned Jonathon.................They dine on innocent children burdened with disease. Their little drinks hasten the passing from this world to the next - said Renate..........Sarah asked if such children could not be saved. And Renate told her these young ones had drifted too close to the heavenly frontier, breathing in the perfumes of paradise. A return to fleshly mortality would be cruel, so the 'fairies' appeared to sever the ties and send them sailing free. ...........What do the children say when this happens? - asked Jonathon.............They say 'thank you' - said Renate.

Then they spoke of the John Lennon person with them. Was he a vampire? No. Well then what is he? Renate laughed and said - He is his own creation............The former Beatle nodded, thenn rocked back and forth in delight, as the 'fairies' dashed off to play tag with the fireflies.........Sarah turned to him and said - Please tell me. What do you 'do' sir?..........The creative musician answered - I 'do' very well.............And he fished a silver harmonica from a pocket, breaking into a tune. I believe it was Muddy Waters with maybe a small peppering of early Bob Dylan.

Jonathon wanted to know if the Lady Renate was, in fact, still a vampire. She complimented him on his powers of detection and said - What you know as the vampiric state is but a stop on a journey. Moths were once plump caterpillars. Every soul changes. Every life grows. Some follow one path, some another. I wandered down a different lane long ago, soon after creating your father. He could have changed by now too, but stubborn, that one is. Who knows? Perhaps you'll be able to show him.

Then she told them of events yet to come, when they passed through to the spiritual navel that mankind knoows as Jerusalem........ And the one known as John Lennon sang 'Imagine'.......

Thursday, June 2, 2011


Jonathon and Sarah fellt the power. Was it threatrening? No. Could it be resisted? No. It filled the space beyond the entrance to the cave. It occupied the sky and the land. And it was Renate. Now, if you follow this truth-telling, you know who she is. Renate is the eldest one. Was she the first one? Don't be silly. Who can know such things. But she is the oldest one alive on Earth today. Human shaped, I mean. Some tell stories of surviving Neanderthal life-eaters. And yes, they are human too, after a fashion. But fashions change. What you call 'modern humans' are different. You, yourselves are different. And Renate comes from  the time of your inception. Where she was born, I do not know. Who gave her the 'night bite,' I cannot tell.

She caused a flickering of the ether. That's why it was possible for the naive Vienese hiker to stumble upon our spiritual travelers. Could mortals feel her. No. To them, she was as nothing. But when Jonathon stepped out of the cave to taste the newborn evening, he sensed her. How could he not? His vampiric father was her son and consort. The female, Sarah, saw his apprehension. She whispered - What's wrong? What is it?.......She's here - he said. Renate, we're, we're...within her.........He drew in a great breath, held it, then slowly let it out, while whispering her name 'Renate.' (Brick, from IN THE MIDDLE, could not have done it any better)

The twilit sky looked different, more violet and infinitely deeper, as evening  birds traced ornate loops and twirls through the firmament, calling to each other in exotic, unknown languages. And then, one heartbeat later, all was normal. His eyes cut through the newborn darkness, detecting every detail. A cunning, little vixen and her bright eyed cubs. The dried, dessicated hand of a murder victim.  Repulsive insects eating dung.

But one thing was not  so normal. One event stemmed from a  differennt reality. On the surface, it did not seem that out of the ordinary. A man walked toward them, average height (perhaps a little more). He wore glasses, not so different from the ones Doctor Franklin prefered. His hair was long (brown, streaked with a little gray)  annd his voice was low and mild.....Hello, my name is John - he said...........And our 'John,' or rather 'Jonathon' shook his hand......Sarah stared transfixed. She knew him. She knew this man. Not personally. But she knew him.....Are you John Lennon? - she said..........The man smiled and told her that he was. At first she didn't believe him. But then he took her hand and let her feel the bullet holes. She gasped. He smiled and said - Come, there's someone I want you to meet. So they followed him into a shadow thicket and into the presence of Renate.

At first they saw nothing. They felt nothing and heard nothing. Sarah put out her hand, attempting to explore this  void. And for the tiniest fraction of a heartbeat, she detected something. But then it  was gone, as a female voice said - It's not nice to fool Mother Nature (then she laughed).......Moonlight and her weaker, distant, star-born cousins tricled down into a small clearing, gillding the four beings seated there. One was Jonathon. Another his 'bride.' The third, a former Beatle. And the forth one was more than thirty thousand years old. Some claimed she was almost forty thousand. Yet if I had to describe her to you, I'd say she looked like another somewhat 'rock' star. I'd say she looked like Cher (from her post Moon Struck days), though anything even remotely resembling fishnet stockings was nowhere in sight.

I've come to talk about your Quest - she said, as the musical member of the group began to hum a little tune... And even the crickets joined in.............

Wednesday, June 1, 2011


I don't know how much I'll be able to tell you this morning. It's 5am edt in Philadelphia right now. Papa has to settle in for the morning. He hates these short summer nights. They all do. Little Annie complains about having to go to bed so early. She really doesn't understand yet. Papa wants to take her outback some day just as the first hint of the nuclear-hydrogen blaze, which is the sun zaps over the horizon and shoots into Chestnut Hill. You know, let it sinnge her a little. Just  a tiny bit. Just so she learns. Because right now, we don't think she really understands. There's a recording. It's somewhere on the web. I don't know exactly where it is. But it shows this skinny male vampire peel off all his clothes, walk out some, little cabin door and stand on the porch, waiting for the sun to find him. I think it's from Finlannd or Sweden or someplace like that. First, it's still dark. Then we hear a few birds start to sing. A light breeze picks up. It plays with his ginger colored hair. And the vampire guy doesn't do a thing. He continues to stand there. Then he shakes a few kinks out of his arms and legs, stares off into the distance and smiles, Somebody from inside cracks open the door and tries to talk him back in. He ignores them. The door slams shut. The guy holding the camera starts talking to him. It's not in English. But it's obvious he's asking him if he really wantns to go through with this. The skinny vampire guy nods. Baylah says he looks a lot like Ashton Kutcher, only with lighter colored hair. Then he swallows. You can see a little shadow near his adam's apple. The light's changing. The sun's coming. He remarks about the 'royal blue' colors of the dawn sky. Then he tenses. His eyes shut tight. He starts to tremble, his fists clenched by his sides. Tiny, dancing fingers of weak, blue flames begin to tickle his ears, his hair and his shoulders. The cameraman starts saying 'Oh, my God . Oh, my God. Oh, my God,' over and over and over. The vampire guy looks like he's being buffeted by hurricaine force winds. He opens his mouth. He screams, as all the skin on the sun-side of his body ignites, as if touched by a blow torch. We see the flames flatten  around his form , until every naked inch  is  consumed. A pillar of fire stands there. The 'human' form within barely discernible. The cameraman begins to cry. He sobs, sniffs and says - I have to move back. The heat's melting the lens. Then the fire weakens. The blue flames shrink down and disappear. We see thin tendrils of sooty smoke snaking up into the brightening, morning sky. We focus on a small residue of greasy ashes on the porch. The camera pans around. Nothing else was burned. The vampire guy is gone. Then, in the last seconds, some kind of weasel zig-zags out of the trees, bounces up onto the porch and laps up the grease. The screen goes black. Papa wants to show it to Annie. But all the others say she's too new. They say it'll give her bad dreams. Jeez, what couild have happened to Luna? She is so selfish and irresponsible. I don't know how much we really 'like' her, but we're all nervous, just the same. Papa says he can tell that she's not dead. He knows she's still alive. Big deal. What does that prove? You think death is the worst thing?.........Please excuse my typing. Just cut me a break today. Okay?