Tuesday, February 26, 2013

THE NIGHT BEFORE A NIGHT IN WIMBLEDON ..TOMAS RUNS WITH OLD FRIENDS ..2/26/13

Tomas remembered the old nights. He remembered the barges, opulent, river platforms, rowed by liveried watermen, progressing down the Thames from just west of The City to the noble enclosure of Wimbeldon.  This was the first 'Main Line'... the first Tuxedo Park and the original Beverly hills. Peers mingled with merchant kings in a fine, country town filled with fresh, new manor houses and a resident Dowager Queen.

Vampirinos came to dance at the splendid balls and assemblies.... and vampirinas too. Such theatricality. Huge sparklers lined the paths from quay to porte cochere, where bewigged courtiers and would-be courtiers sailed into glittering halls, like ships of the line into Cadiz. 

They called him 'the Spaniard,' second son to a royally connected hidalgo, from an old Andalusian dynasty predating The Reconquest.  And Tomas obliged them with sensual couplets of poesia antigua and hot, little kisses.

But these nights were not for dining and his tid-bits all survived. Though he sometimes did some 'shopping' for a rump-roast, or a loin to be devoured later. Corruption flowered just as brightly then as it does now. And he did his best to cull the grossest weeds. 

Francis did the same. Miranda was his 'beard.' For who'd suspect a gentleman allied to such as her of wanting more than all the others did? A seat on The East India Company? He could have it. A reception at Saint James? Why not?

Blood flowed free in those days. Money too.  London was the best of all possible worlds, for the gentlemen of the day ... and the denizens of the night...

Tomas had digs in The West End, a new, classic townhouse. columned doorway, white stucco facade and all that. At least I think he did. He bought and sold them so often. But such was the fashion. Society was in flux. The modern age was born...

And it still has not come of age.....

But how goes it in the fabled township after all these years?....... Even better. Wimbeldon-the-fair... a town and country playground for the stylish and ever-young.

No barge conveyed them out this way on this cold winter night..... A Jaguar raced along the road, a coach devoid of light.

And somewhere in a manor house behind an ivy wall, a 'dead' girl, though still dancing, was the fairest corpse of all....

Tomorrow night 'it' happens.

Tomas relives the old 'days.'

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THE ENCHANTING CAPABILITIES OF DARK MATTER ... More with 'The Golden Dawn'.. 2/26/13

Some meetings were rather like services among The Society of Friends (Quakers). Vampirinos and vamperinas sat together, staring into the ether as they inhaled the smoke from exotic fires. After a while, images flowed between them, til each separate  mind joined as one. Mortal guests were occasionally included. The outcome was still the same, though it took a little longer. 

Sarah liked these things. She was always rather contemplative. You know, the bookshop is still there. The cozy space, with the old wooden shelves, dim tiny lamps and scattered hassocks still welcomes readers on cold, dark nights. Someone else runs it now. I don't know if Tomas set it up, or one of the others. Obviously a mortal 'familiar' helped. But the place still survives. That's the important part. 

Edith says it occupies a 'rupture,' a point where the visible world meets something else. She can feel those things. You can too. Ever walk down the street... everything's 'normal,'... everything's right... but then you get a feeling like it isn't. If it's nighttime, suddenly the sky feels too vast.. the stars too real.. the dark too menacing. Comets fall on nights like that. And some people disappear.

But you've felt it. Who knows what's over there? 

Annie sits in the garden. Not just her. Two old souls sit with her..not vampires, but witches, I believe. They occupy iron settees arranged among the dead, winter planting beds. But the evergreens are still there. She plucks off needles and flicks them into the dark. At least at the REVELS she had Larry. Sometimes the witches sing songs... very quiet songs. And sometimes they change an odd little mousy thing racing through the cold into miniature dragons, or lost, scared medieval knights. I believe the cats take care of them. But she is developing a heightened sensitivity. This place is drenched in it. Figurines on shelves turn ceramic heads on ceramic necks when certain people pass by. And a spider in the library carefully studies a volume of old incunabula left open on a table.

Oh, some of the vampires sheltered here still sneak out to kill... A discrete bite here... A small nip there... But they're like Tomas (mostly) and only cull the wicked. 

It's coming though. The emperor knows, for he is far in advance of most. Not because he was once the Great Marcus Aurelius. But because he's always been partial to magic.... and since that day, high atop the almost completed, dome of The Pantheon (scroll back a few nights...you'll see), he's always been partial to goodness.

You give a little love and it all comes back to you. You're gonna be remembered for the things that you say and do.... Remember that song from the Coke ads they used to show at the movies? It was a precursor. 'They' let them seep through. And now that I said it, you're going to be hearing that song for quite a while.

Comes the Equinox.... Comes The Change...... Will everything be different? Not right away. Not for a time. So eat your Cheetohs and punch the 'weird' kid. Lie on your taxes and ridicule the neighbors. Que sera, sera... and all that... but not tonight.

Tomas is off with Francis and Miranda. He always did enjoy watching them work. But in the old days, those lacy cuffs and big, curly wigs got in the way. Things are so much neater now. Besides, they only cull the wicked. Tonight should be quite a show. 

Sometimes Miranda lets her adorable, little King Charles Cavalier lick up all the grease. Doggies love such treats. 

At least two thirds of the firmament is made of dark matter. No one knows what it is.... except for certain 'people' in a large, Georgian house on Hoxton Street.

Remember the Coke ad. Remember the song....

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