Sunday, August 31, 2014


They quietly walked to the edge of the great, wooded, forest-like necropolis known as LAUREL HILL (a real place) and waited for 'the man' to come. Its hard to get around. Travel is dangerous. Bandits and street vigilantes are everywhere. People hole up at night around hand cranked flashlights. They hide behind blackout shades eating cold cans of soup and tuna fish when they can get it. Lot less cats than there used to be. And you got to have those little tablets that purify water. Some guys rig up labs to make them. But they have to be real careful. If word gets out... if they sell to many, or somebody talks... BOOM! You know a warlord's gonna grab them. Keep them locked up. They got places. Make them work. Make them cook up a whole mess a them tablets. What? You think they ain't rediscovered slavery yet? Warlords control all the drugs. Bad drugs, good drugs, they got them all. You pay. You live. You don't pay. You die. 

But that's another thing. Right now, we're waiting for 'the man.'... Tomas doesn't say a word. Nobody does. Street's empty... deserted. No more traffic lights. No more street lights. The absolute darkness of a medieval night. Sometimes you hear somebody mumbling in the blackness. Don't go that way. Just don't... Marianne took his hand. She's 'elferina.' She's vampire. So are the others. They can see... a little. They can fly... true flight. Elferinos and elferinas can do that. They can pick him up, Tomas, I mean and take him there. But they can drop him too. So they don't take the chance.

They stand there waiting. Heartbeats go by. Then off in the distance they hear something... wheels clattering.... hard wheels... iron rimmed wheels. But no sound... no engine... no hoof beats... nothing..... Then rat noises, as even the vermin run from it.

Soon they see something... the fleeting glint of starlight on polished, lacquered ebony... silver bits.. trimmings... glass. Eyes glow in the darkness... hard eyes... 'animal' eyes. They hear panting. Steam rises from unseen backs.

Marianne whispers - Here, follow me. Put your hand on my shoulder... She leads Tomas to the back of the vehicle, opens the doors and helps him climb up into what seems like a large, upholstered cabinet. Satin... he feels satin. The doors lock. He can't get out. Albion strikes a match, just for an instant. And Tomas sees him. He sees him through the wall of the conveyance. It's glass. The walls are glass. He's in a hearse... a great, black, nineteenth century hearse. But where are the horses? What pulls this thing?

Then they're off. Twelve, huge, midnight, third caste werewolves (human intellect, but always in lupine form) streak through the night, bearing their precious cargo out through the city toward a bridge, a steel and concrete artery
spanning The Delaware. Are bridges patrolled? Of course they are. But few confront true lupines. In a time of chaos, old fears die hard. Even warlords pretend not to see. And the guards cower in their guardhouse, as the fearsome 'meat wagon' speeds by.

<coming next time - Tomas reaches the Pine Barrens and reunites with Edith, the 'witchy' woman>


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Friday, August 29, 2014

West Side Story-America..imagine version in future, multi world AMERICA with REAL aliens... 8/30/14

One of the brightest most inspirational numbers in American Theater. But picture a future place... the United Worlds of America... Huge star ships enter our space via the eye of a GIGANTIC hologram of The Statue of Liberty.... Vast, Ellis Island-like sorting center... immigrants pass through full body cattle in a cattle chute.... lots of yelling... scared, desperate families... some essentially human... some humanoid... some a little bit squishy for my taste... But FUTURE AMERICANS ALL! Pushing and jostling to this song.

I picture it as a scene in EL RANCHO TEXACO, my How The West Was Won epic (I hope) on Mars. Can't help it. I got dreams too, you know. If you like, google EL RANCHO TEXACO by Billy Kravitz and poke around. No vampires, but we do have a few chupacabras out on them red plains of Mars. Go see~>

Would have posted a regular narrative episode, but had to do a lot of #ff stuff on Twitter and want to be fresh for Labor Day Weekend activities tomorrow (means I gotta sleep). Can't rely on sugar rush to stay awake, 'cause I ain't got no cookies. And somebody 'messed' with the apple pie in the refrigerator, so that's off limits (torture knowing it's in there though).

Watching AVATAR on FX... Really like that movie... Now, I'm thinking it's Disney's POCCAHONTAS (can't spell Old Algonquin) on Pandora instead of Virginia...Humans should re-evolve tails...prehensile ones...just like monkeys.


<more next time>


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Thursday, August 28, 2014


Imagine the poor, little soul... a small child... half human and half ape.... What father would let his essence be used that way?...What mother her womb?... But such things did happen. I saw them. Pathetic, mewling wee ones, kept in pits for the entertainment of curious boyars and other Eurasian nobles. They always blame Stalin. But that monstrous branch of animal husbandry predates him. Arab traders and explorers reported such things centuries ago. Some were hearsay, gathered 'round hearths in rude inns on frigid nights. Others were true.

In the Urals they embalmed them. Little halflings, I mean. Sold them as relics...Siberian Demons, they were called. And not just in the Urals. Certain medieval Scandinavian kings had their own specimens. I saw a coupling once. There was a woman. They had her in a pit. The Bride of Kong, so to speak. I see movies too, you know. She screamed. She prayed. She clawed the dirt walls with her nails. She shrieked and cackled like a banshee. Caked with dirt and naked, she was... an older woman, known for her fecundity. The potentate wanted healthy 'cubs.' For ten days hence they fed her liver and rice, occasionally mixed with strongly pickled pigs feet. A suitable diet for those about to conceive, or so they thought. Such low, brutal people they were. Wolf meat... they actually ate wolf meat. 

A powerful wizard, they thought I was. Night-lore was new to me. I wandered. I witnessed. I explored. Basically, I had one good trick... curing the sick with tiny droplets of my blood. But they didn't know it was my blood. I couldn't tell them that...

<Tomas sat and regaled his adolescent vampire companions, as they waited for a man willing to take him to the JERSEY PINE BARRENS. He wanted to reunite with EDITH, his friend, ally and 'witchy-woman.' She'd know how to contact the one who 'made' him... the one known as 'Papa.'>

Called it the 'red elixir,' I did. Said it was liquified rubies stolen from the hoard of a Hindustani king. They 'oo-ed' and 'ahh-ed.' Tried it on a sick, condemned slave first. Brought from Pomerania, he was. Caught with a royal daughter and for that he must die. But he had a case of the 'flux.' Don't ask me what that was. Everything was 'flux' back then. He coughed a lot. I know that. And his stool was loose and bloody, so 'flux' it was. 

We laid him on 'the groaning board'... the huge table where all the 'A' Number 1 rapists and pillagers ate their meals. I gesticulated a bit. There's no business like show business, you know. Then I carefully tapped a few drops from what looked like a silver eyedropper into his mouth.... Nothing happened... The rapists and pillagers waited. Some mumbled a bit... Then he hiccuped. The coughing stopped. His copious farts grew a tad less noxious. His breathing grew less labored. He relaxed. He even sang a little prayer ( to some outlandish, South Baltic, pagan deity. I don't know). Then he sat up and laughed.... The grease smudged assemblage cheered... Two minutes later they summarily pulled off his genitalia with white hot pinchers and threw them to the hounds. But I was safe, a valued member of the ruling class.

Getting back to the dirt-caked naked older woman in the pit... she soon met her groom, a broad, hulking, vaguely Neanderthal/Gorilla looking gentleman with the red pelt of an orangutan. She froze. He sniffed her... examined her breasts, then knocked her cold with one sharp backhand. The aristocratic audience (snacking on crisp, fried seal hide) nodded their approval (though some of their womenfolk seemed none too pleased), as he threw her to the dirt and sealed the deal. ... Nine months and three weeks later (yeti-like beasts apparently have longer gestation periods) the little thing was born. The mother loved it. How could she not? It was hers. But I saw the sadness in its eyes.

As one born to vampirism in a likewise violent way, I understood that all too well. Though nothing is devoid of charm and I soon learned to see the good of it.

<then he stopped>

Marianne, one of his closest elferina friends, offered him a clear liquor and he drank.

Then they sat, waiting for the man to spirit him away. No one comes to the old, woodsy cemetery after dark, so they were safe, staring up at a new crescent moon. The city was quiet that night. They could even hear crickets, as God's silver Thumbnail climbed higher into the sky...


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Wednesday, August 27, 2014



You have to break through one of the coffins to gain entrance. But they already did that eons ago. Tomas sat there with the others. He likes elferinos (pubescent vampires). How basic. How trusting. How innocent they are. Yet each has certain heightened abilities due to the raging hormones coursing through their bodies at the time of 'inclusion.' They fly... true flight... Peter Pan flight, though infinitely faster. Other vampires 'sublimate,' traveling through matter, even air, while elfin-folk need no quantum construct. The vacuum of space is no barrier to them. Albion has seen the lakes of Titan. How did he stay warm in the glass-like frigidity of such a foreign place? It's a mystery. No one knows. You could ingest every word in LA CIENCIA VAMPIRISMO and not find it. Night-folk keep their secrets well. And I know you're seen some lesser secrets here, but please don't think yourself an 'adept,' for 'lesser' is the operative word. 

Celeste prepares a hookah. She fills the four hundred year old, hand blown glass chamber with rose water and a certain tincture made from the blood of (unknown donors), lights the fire and waits. Then she attaches the pipes and beckons the others. Each draws in the sweet and pungent vapors. They sit there on the packed earth floor, lost in the darkness, beneath the crumbling bones of nineteenth century robber barons 'sleeping' up above. 

Tomas says - I can't go on like this.

Marianne (sighs) - I thought you valued mortality?

Tomas - I do... but not for me. I have seen into... I don't know what to call it... 'the fourth dimension?'... And not just in that cave, that grotto, near Baby Philadelphia... not just in the moon... Everything has been like that since my 'inclusion.' A 'life' with few barriers. You know what it's like.

The others say nothing, but he sees their faces in the glow emanating out from under the ancient, Turkish water pipe. They know. He can tell. Elferinos know a lot. Some they don't understand. Yet that doesn't mean they don't feel it.

Marianne says - Is he here? Can you sense him?

Tomas shrugs. Marianne crumbles dried leaves and sprinkles them into the bubbling liquid. Roland draws first. He likes herbs. Not all herbs. Just certain ones. They say he spent his first years in Brazil.

Marianne ~ Take some, Tomas. It helps. Maybe you'll 'feel' something. 

Tomas - Vampires don't need that.

Marianne - You're not a vampire yet.

He breaks down and cries. Marianne embraces him.

Tomas sniffs. He mumbles something - Scottosh beedosh. Beedosht boposht. Boposht skeetosht... Then he just stares...

Albion - What was that?

Tomas - I don't know... I used to know.. but I don't anymore. I don't know what's real. I don't know what's not real... (laughs) I like peanut butter though. I know that...

Celeste - We'll find him. We'll find 'Papa.' We'll get him back...

Tomas nods. Then he tears up some more.... They hear an explosion off in the distance. Street battles between various factions happen all the time. No one says a word.

Then Roland says - They killed a vampire yesterday. I didn't see it, but a lady on a 'bus' (open air trucks) told me. A 'wild' vampire he was. Nobody controlled him. No warlords, I mean. They sealed him in a glass cube... more like a rectangle I guess it was. I think they embed thin strands of lead in that glass to keep them in. Wheeled him out to the middle of LOVE Park (where the original 60's LOVE statue is)... and left him there til the sun came up.... He, uh, boiled. Flesh fell right off the bones... a pink, soupy mess, bubbling away at the bottom.... They clapped and danced jigs. The people, I mean... the mortal people.... Rectangle thing's still there, if you wanna go see.

Celeste - I hate this world.

Tomas chuckles - Anybody got any peanut butter?

The five friends instinctively huddle together, as another explosion rumbles through the night...

<more about the being known as "Papa' next time>


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Tuesday, August 26, 2014

K D LANG skylark..Vampire life Quickens and the Nights Grow Longer... 8/27/14

Tonight I'm not talking about our current story arc. We'll go back to Tomas in his pre-apocalyptic Philadelphia next time. This is about real vampires. Yes, I know. Tomas, also known as Jonathon is real too. But we know him. We feel him. We savor him. Eight hundred thousand words is a long time. Not that every passage is about him. But in a way he inhabits them all. Even THE LITTLE MATCH BOY resonates with his voice. 

This is a nod to the vampires we don't know. They'll be out soon. Long autumn nights soothe them. They walk the streets inhaling all the intoxicating vapors of life. They watch us from the fuzzy periphery of reality... a bit paler... cooler and incredibly still.

Some prowl the rooftops, stretching out to peer through scattered, illuminated skylights. Most skylights lead to bathrooms, you know and vampires love watching us  during those real, unguarded moments. Milky glass means little to creatures adept at tasting the world around them. They feel our heat. They smell our essence, observing us as we observe birds, or small drifting fish in a fish tank. 

And they like to toy with our world, whispering in the ears of poets... Everyone who creates is a poet... and most have heard the vampires' song. 

You know, you might have been a life-eater (term vampires use for themselves) in a past life. They 'die.' They are destroyed. Ever catch yourself staring at a light bulb in a still, quiet room, or contemplating the patterns, lines and contours of your surroundings? Sometimes those are signs. Are you intrigued by strangers... passengers on a bus... diners in a restaurant... people waiting at the emergency room? Do dogs gaze meaningfully into your eyes? Perhaps they sense something?

And 'goth' culture is but a parody of the truth.

Music plays a part in this too. Vampires love 'the old standards.' 

Skylark is a special favorite.

That's why we have it here tonight.

Close your eyes and listen... October comes... Not September... September is the anteroom of fall, as much epilogue to Summer as prologue to what comes next.

But October is something new.

So enjoy summer's end. Breathe in her showy death... rich deep orange sunlight... cerulean skies... warm, sparkling seas... juicy, ripe peaches... the virtuosity of crickets.

One day she'll be gone, replaced by chilly nights, pumpkin pies and vampires.


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Saturday, August 23, 2014

Tomas Tours A Near Apocalyptic Philadelphia ... 8/24/14

Marianne met him at the Sixteenth and Locust Street subway entrance. Figured a stop on the Patco Line would be a little safer. Gets a better clientele and all. Well, it used to. They don't come in town much anymore, unless they're real rich and got like bitches to guard their bodies. And then they roll in on jacked up Humvees. Some convoy. Some got shot up weeks ago when all this started and they dead, stinkin' corpses in a back alley, so who cares?

They all in black. Tomas and Marianne, I mean. He like that look, 'cause it brings out his lean, hard coolness and all. Some people get time before they turn vampire so they can lose weight and buff up a little. Ugly vampires make folks sick and they don't like gettin' barfed on, specially since they fussy 'bout their clothes.

Tomas don't say much. He just look at everything. Most of the stores all smashed up. Maybe a dollar store here and there still open, 'cause you gotta be real dumb to waste time in there, 'less you queer for Off-Brand deodorant and Cartoon Jesus coloring books. Warlords run like general merchandise places... some new merchandise... some used merchandise... stuff what got boosted from rich folks houses... shoes... hot dogs... brassieres... fruit from Chile. Warlords got everything.

Still a mayor, but he like Queen Elizabeth, 'cept without no pocketbook. Don't do nothin'. He jus' a play mayor. Put out Doritos and soda for warlords' meetings and all. Sometime they let him talk. Sometime they don't.  I think he gonna get shot, or maybe pushed out a window. That why he stay downstairs.

Some toilets work. Some don't. Every warlord got his plumbers. Got vampires too. Most only got one, like for an enforcer. Some got two. You might say - How warlord gonna control no vampire?... But these smart warlords. Got that drug. Got dart guns. Vampire collapse. Get collared. That's it. Not like a dog collar or no electric thing. These collars lead. Night-folk krypton. Vampire can't pass through lead. Can't sublimate. If he do his head fall off. But job real cushy, so they don't care.

Bein' a 'free' vampire, dangerous. They get you, they take you to the Lead House. That the old Eastern State Penitentiary... huge, old dungeon-like jail house. Folks been screamin' in there for two hundred years. Used to have' Terror Behind The Walls' Halloween time ... Fake ghosts... real ghosts (actually documented). Werewolves all fake, 'cause real ones too crazy.

Marianne take Tomas to see Roland and Celeste and Albion. They the other elferinos and elferinas (pubescent vampires). Got hidey-holes in Laurel Hill Cemetery. You never gonna find 'em in there. Dark lanes... old trees... lots a bushes... crypts Morticia Addams would love. It like the QUEEN a cemeteries.

All Philly talkin' 'bout what some warlord did. His warlady mush up with kid what brings the pizza. Pizza kid incinerated in genuine brick oven. Made his daddy slide him in and light it up. Warlady got zipped in body bag with gallon jug of purebred Venezuelan bedbugs. They the 'spensive kind. Not that Venezuela got more bedbugs than anywhere's else. They jus' got fancy ones. Took her two days to die, 'cause a the little brass air holes they put in. 

Tomas tear up a little bit when he hear all this. Marianne say - You wanna stay mortal? Might be safer.... 

He jus' shake his head...

I Mister Never You Mind, the old Cajun-Creole disembodied spirit. Been narratin' this here thing for long, long time.... Dead folk gotta keep busy too, you know...


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Friday, August 22, 2014

NIGHT TRAIN... treatment for a short HORROR film ... 8/23/14

Something different. Pretended tonight's post was meant for London's FRIGHT FEST. Click on if you want information about that. It's on this weekend. 

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Thursday, August 21, 2014

Pink! performance at oscars 2014... Tomas' First Night Back.. 8/22/14

It was dark down there, not velvety black, not that dark, but dim and shadowy. They were in the tunnels, the ever so deep, never used tunnels of the Philadelphia Subway System.... extra tunnels. Many cities have them, remnants of an age before motor cars. But they do not go to waste. Thin, little trickles of humanity have found their way down there for decades.... a refuge for the homeless... a place of magical exploration. 

Tomas was in a chamber, an old Edwardian restroom. They have them down there... places for business-suited gentlemen to refresh themselves on the way to their concerns.... pull-chain toilets... white enameled, cast iron, pedestal sinks... old mirrors not quite as silvered as they once surely were. A large, zinc bathtub, dragged out from a long forgotten store room, occupied the center of the space. Tomas reclined against an old, canvas drop cloth, folded to cushion the backrest. Sylvia, first daughter to the Mole King, filled it with countless droplets raining down from an old, lead pipe overhead.... eleven decades of never ending subterranean rain. If the tub wasn't there the floor drain would catch it all. Most 'nights' the small, white tiles glistened.

The former vampire leaned back, as the princess of hidden places bathed him.  Neither spoke. They didn't have to. Both knew the routine. Her sister, Aura, knew it too. But she's been missing since the chaos up above first began. Tomas loved the mole people. He enjoyed his time with the underground tribe. Their large eyes were so expressive in the sputtering candlelight. And now, for the first time, he experienced it all as a mortal. The illumination was less varied. Tactile sensations vibrated with a different frequency. But the animal part of it all was deep and overpowering. No blood drinks. That would come later...

When she met him at Penn's Landing, Marianne (the adolescent vampirina) asked if he planned to remain mortal. She, being night-folk herself, was quite willing to change him. But her line was younger and he wanted the old power back. Perhaps they'd reach 'Papa?' Perhaps he'd reappear? Twenty eight thousand year old Cro-Magnon 'life eaters' (another vampire designation) can be so capricious. 

Sylvia dropped the sponge and climbed in. No need to disrobe. She'd already done that. They spooned in the cool, soapy water, then did something else.

After, they dined on grilled mushrooms and roast pigeon. Both raised underground. Mole folk were adept at sun-free husbandry. Some clans kept clean, domesticated rats. Humans can be so resourceful.

Later he'd go up above, exploring old haunts and narrow, cobbled lanes. How different it all was. Armed bands roamed the streets. Flotillas of police helicopters combed the city looking for... well, just about everybody. 'Urban Feudalism' it was called. Municipal government answered to a congress of warlords. And werewolves (they said) prowled the quiet places.

But how had he sublimated down from Franklin's craft? Where did he get the power? ... He didn't know. Tomas just did not know. He wished Sarah was here. He wished Edith was here... even Conrad.

How vulnerable mortals are.

Life is so brutal.

How easy it is to die...


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Tuesday, August 19, 2014


It was all so easy. Great seething tides of manic, screaming flesh swept through the streets breaking windows, smashing cars and killing people. After a while even the cops joined in. Psychologists might call it 'mass hysteria.' But it was more visceral than that.... Planet of the Apes, but without all the chimps.

They say it started in France. Somebody firebombed a synagogue in Marsailles right at the start of The Biblical New Year. Burnt, cut survivors struggled through shattered windows, falling down to the grass below, only to be bludgeoned by crazed assassins yelling shrill, scriptural mantras.

The next day they did it in Paris, but the sanctuary was empty. And in the dry countryside of the south a bomb went off... a 'small' more or less tactical device, atomic in nature and approximately sixty percent the strength of Hiroshima.

No one died (they think) but the flash and the mushroom cloud were carefully recorded. You Tube never had so many hits. Some group in West Jerusalem claimed credit. The Sword of Gideon, they were called.

Soon after The Missouri Compromise failed. Four guys shot up a 'Peace and Reconciliation' panel in Ferguson. Within hours St. Louis exploded.... an instant Beirut.  And little by little, older, traditional hate groups crept out of their basement warrens scattered throughout the Pacific Northwest and various parishes out by New Orleans. Look, other cities had them too. We're just telling you where it started.

They called up the National Guard. For a while they were effective. Manhattan was quiet... sort of. But then a plane flew over. No bombs.... just a hundred and twelve, late stage Ebola victims, thrown from the hold like candy from a pinata. Each had a parachute. Guess somebody else pulled the chords. They floated down to the city and few knew what it all meant til they saw the t-shirts... plain, white, Hanes t-shirts, each bearing five scrawled letters... E-B-O-L-A. ... When they ordered the guardsmen to round them up (most survived the fall) half deserted. That went viral too (in more ways than one). Rich New Yorkers fled to the rooftops, where helicopters scooped them up, yappy dogs and all and carried them off to God knows where.

Three kids interrupted Governor Christie's news conference in Trenton with about thirty five seconds of cell phone video. Said it was 'werewolves' running through the woods by some shopping mall in Ocean County. Governor tried to browbeat them, but folks like werewolves and they wanted to see.

'Least it took everybody's mind off what Putin did in The Baltics.

That's how it was when Tomas, also known as Jonathon, came back. Franklin tried to stop him. Tried to keep him up there in The Moon. Baby Philadelphia is a sweet little town. And the various alien specimens scattered about the inner surface of Earth's little sister get along much better than the (mostly) human population we got down here.

Gave him a little version of The Poor Richard, piloted by an android. Brought him in right over Philadelphia. Not Baby Philadelphia. This was the real one. Came in low, just above the river. He 'sublimated' into the city from there. One of the elferinas met him. They say it was Marianne. Where they went, who knows.... Gunned-up vigilantes patrolled the streets. Some have armored vehicles 'liberated' from a military depot up toward The Poconos, others make do with Suburu Foresters.

In all honesty the Foresters are much more comfortable... til they get shot up that is.


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Saturday, August 16, 2014


I feel like I'm bleeding. PC was either compromised by virus or screwed up by my deficient digital science. It's in PC -sick bay now. Should have it back by Mon or Tues...(I hope) ..On a desk top thing at public library now. Very confusing. Kids running 'round. People getting paper cuts and screaming...Bedlam. Noboby tempers their voice (including the staff).. It's surreal. My head feels like it wants to buss' open. That probably happens a lot 'round here, cause I see old dried up brain stains on the ceiling. Ewww, the stain two seats over is still dripping.

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Tuesday, August 12, 2014


It's hard to 'channel' this. The truth comes from the 'characters' in the story. It comes to me and I transcribe it on this laptop. But certain parties do their best to stop it. I don't know who they are, though I have my suspicions. They create malware and virus-like prions. The kids at various 'support' sites do their best. They try to help. But the poisons still drip back. We do not know if these noxious brews come from the world we are all in (you and me) now, or the place where the story comes from. They don't say. 

So I'll get on with it.

The radiance in the cave, the four dimensional being, sees many things. Our 3D lives appear as picture books to them. consider this example. Think of a 'dot' personage in a 2D realm. Pretend he's in a circle. He cannot see anything beyond it. The circle is an impenetrable wall.

Then a 3D being comes along, reaches into the 2D circle with special tweezers and plucks the 'dot' man out. As he rises above the plain of his flat world, he sees it all and realizes its limitations. Going 'up' exists. Going 'down' exists.  Possibilities abound. They are difficult to comprehend, but 'dot' man is now, at least aware of them.

Four Dimensional man is like that. He sees more possibilities. He sees ahead in time and back into time. And he sees movement in every possible direction. Barriers mean little to him. His world is a place of coming together and blending. Distinct personalities swirl and dance into and out of each other. They see. They feel. They know.  Even the sub-atomic particles in such a place exist in a multitude of points at any one instant. Truly 'empty' space is hard to find.

So Doctor Franklin and his companions stand there and listen, or rather absorb, what the being has to share. Some of the information is surprising and new. Most of it is not. 

He tells Tomas to resume his original path. Worry not about the world, but rather separate individuals encountered along the way. 

Sarah is a healer, meant to cleanse the sick with drops of her vampiric blood.

Luna is a scientist, cold and dispassionate.

Billy is an 'illustrator.' His stories (if he tells the right stories) will inform and inspire.

Doctor Franklin chuckles. He doesn't share what he heard. And nobody questions him. But Tomas asks about something else. He says - How does that 'thing' that light in the cave get here?..... Doctor Franklin shrugs. He says - I don't know, not really. But I think he may have started the whole thing.... What 'whole thing?' - asked Tomas. ..... This. The moon. The hollowed out interior of it, I mean. It must be artificial. Physical matter doesn't arrange itself this way. At least not solids. - says the three hundred and eight year old explorer.

Then they exit the cave, really more of a grotto, and walk back toward Baby Philadelphia. I don't know if they eventually got into some conveyance, or walked the whole way. 

It was dark when they left and the handful of ethereal twinkling illuminations, meant to represent stars, sprinkled the void within the bubble-like habitat with a cool and silvery light. 

Jonathon, also known as Tomas, wondered - What was his original path?.... He's had so many.


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Monday, August 11, 2014

A FOURTH DIMENSIONAL BEING SEES ALL (many theorists feel they would) ... 8/11/14

The light WAS the being. It touched Doctor Franklin and Jonathon and Sarah and Billy and Luna too. Maybe 'touch' is the wrong word. Encountered would be more accurate. For it washed through their skin, penetrating every part of their bodies. And it examined them with senses far in advance of our own.

The creature knows their thoughts...all their thoughts... a totality of every fleeting image or perception. It experiences the fitness or foulness of their bodies. And because it is a benevolent creature, corrected certain things. Minute clusters of 'questionable' cells became healthy again. Hearts beat strong. Organic secretions ran pure. Vampires were vampires no more, or at least until they left that place....

Look... I wrote a full length post. But my CLEAR 'hot spot' internet access thing is horrible. It dropped connectivity after only two paragraphs, so the rest of this episode was lost. I call them and complain, yet the kids in far off cities cannot do anything but repeat - We are so sorry you feel that way... I tell them this is not something I 'feel.' This is something I know... So they say - We are so sorry for your inconvenience... How well rehearsed they are. How afraid of their corporate superiors. Is this the way the internet was supposed to be?

Though tonight's moon was a super moon... and what goes on inside it can be rather special too. 

Next time you'll see.


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Saturday, August 9, 2014

A BEING NOT LIKE ANY OTHER... they engage the 4th dimensional being... 8/9/14

I must type fast. Actually,I type not, but think of what it is I want to remember and pass on. Yet the experience is very much like tapping keys. If I stop. If I think. The essence of what it is I want to record is lost. So please excuse any mistakes. I am not scribe, but witness. 

Why do I channel this? Why has it fallen to me? I don't know. I hear I (or a manifestation of me) exists in two worlds. I am here, in the story, with doctor Franklin and Sarah and Luna and Edith and Baylah and horsey Skeezix and the new non-decomposing zombies and the Red Paint People... all of them, even the three castes ( or flavors ) of wolf-folk. Ours is a varied and complex 'plain.'

And I also exist as the 'real' Billy who tweets on Twitter and eats Chinese buffets and loves new sneakers. Like a fun-house image I am, lost in a hall of mirrors. 

Doctor Franklin goes first. He walks into the cave, a rather ordinary opening, shrouded by vines, bushes and tree limbs, his face bathed in soft, dancing light. Tomas goes next. The Doctor whispers and he follows. But Franklin, in this instance, addresses him by his earlier, Hebrew name. He says 'Jonathon'... and the old being in the young body steps inside. Sarah takes his hand and goes with him. I go next. Then comes Luna. 

A cool, light dances over the rough, silvery walls. Moon 'rocks' look that way. Google them. You'll see.

Doctor Franklin nods toward the radiance, which resembles nothing so much as a fine, constantly changing, filigree of thin, coral-like spicuals... a delicate, moving tree emanating soft, undulating light. 

This is 'the beautiful emissary' - says Franklin. My friend from another place. I stumbled upon him one night during The Revolution, alone in my cellar with a primitive 'armonica'... not yet 'grand,' like the one we had at The Anti-Enchantment Bureau. He hears, or rather felt my song. his world knows harmonic science too... And we talked. Thus did I learn secrets... things about the British and the French and the Algonquin and the Iroquois ... Not with words. We spoke in different terms and his voice resonated in my bones. 

They the old reprobate refrained from addressing us and focused on the presence before us. 

Earth is in chaos - he said...( and I refer to the Doctor.) Religion means everything and faith means nothing. This exotic being sees that. He is there and he is here and countless other places too. I brought you here to escape that chaos. Indeed, I brought you here to save your lives. .... Jonathon, step into this tree of light... step into all that is before you. Go on. Don't be afraid. Do it.

And the thousand year old son of old Al Andalus did as he was told. His form grew indistinct and soft about the edges. And we all just watched.... The Doctor said - What do you see?..... I see everything - said the former vampire. I see creatures... human... not human... though none appear like him (referring to the 4th dimensional visitor)... and I hear voices, or rather I comprehend words... at least I hear them as words.

What do they say? - asked The Doctor...... But Jonathon just laughed... an innocent, soft laugh.

And then the light touched us all...

<more next time>... how do you think a 4th dimensional being, unlimited by time or space might look to us? please comment and share.


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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: JONATHON a.k.a. TOMAS, IN PERSIA DURING THE AGE O...

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: JONATHON a.k.a. TOMAS, IN PERSIA DURING THE AGE O...: The voyage down the Red Sea and around Arabia Felix, as The Yemen was known in those days was uneventful. I fed before we left. Twins, they...

A delightful early episode. Good place to jump in and bathe in the perfumed waters of Old Persia. Our (basically) courtly vampirino, Jonathon, also known as Tomas recollects some early days, spent east of the Levant and south of Muscovy.

Click on that first line, up above to see it. If you like, click on NEWER POST or OLDER POST at the bottom and explore.

Couldn't post a new episode, because we did #ff stuff tonight on Twitter and we do it right. took hours. But this is good. With almost 1,600 episodes, it's like a whole attic waiting to be discovered.

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Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Okay, NOW We Meet the Fourth Dimensional Man... 8/6/14

They dressed for the occasion, quite aware of the fact that they'd seem little more than two dimensional photographs to this erudite, far traveled being. 

Sarah, slightly intimidated by the whole thing, saved her new eighteenth century garments for later, preferring her natural attire... Tomas too... So they both made do with tailored jeans and white, cotton shirts. That which is familiar provides security. Billy wanted to wear his new suede, knee britches. You know the type. Wears his new sneakers home from the store and all. Luna didn't care one way or the other. Not like she's ever gonna 'get' with him. Put on a good bra though, 
'cause she IS still vain. Doctor Franklin did a mix and match...  black wool knee britches, a deep green Philadelphia Eagles sweatshirt and a good pair of Rock Port walking shoes. One sees things like that on the streets of Baby Philadelphia.... street entertainers, fire breathers, in cargo shorts and poofy shirts.... tavern wenches resembling nothing so much as  mid-eighties Madonnas.... small children sporting a Little Rascals meets the Seven Dials ensemble. I guess it reflects creativity and diversity... But as the lunar generations unfold, that won't necessarily be so. If people become used to seeing things that way, it's no longer new. It's just what is.

Well, let me tell you about that fourth dimensional guy. Think they call him Biff. And here's how 4D people diverge from you 3D bastids. Think of it this way. Imagine if at every instant of your life, you occupied every place you'd ever be in your life... a nebulous, misty, web weaving together your spot on the rug in kindergarten... the path you take when you walk the dog... all the toilets you ever sat on... If your body EVER passed through it, you (at all times) occupy it.... even if somebody else has occupied it too.

The entire population of 4D world forms a nuanced melange... a gumbo of unique personalities able to see into and all over everyone else. Though their focus of orientation can zoom in on particular areas at any time. 

3D people, on the other hand, only interact with the point in the universe they happen to be in at any one time. 4D people can talk to us, but move items far, far away. They can drink coffee in your kitchen, operate a bus and deliver baby tigers in India... Or just drift and observe... Que sera, sera.

In some ways, a bit like Olympian Deities. 

And all inanimate matter in 4D world operates the same way. Each planet forms a torus around its star. Each star forms a torus around the center of its galaxy. Errant comets and asteroids only add to the confusion in a burning bush of creation spanning eternity. 

Gee, what do you serve a bastid from some place like that?

Hope (when they focus) they don't look like bugs.

Doctor Franklin leads his group down the street. He hails a cab... a rather Dr. Seuss looking affair that takes them to a little place out in the country. 

They exit and snake down a leafy glade  toward a hidden cave. A soft, misty brightness rolls out to meet them. Billy's sorry he wore those suede britches, 'cause now he's starting to sweat.

Sarah says she hears some kind a show tunes playing inside. Luna says she smells farts. Tomas whispers an old Hebrew prayer. Franklin chuckles.

They step inside.


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The young vampirinas were dressed by Madame Hortense , while Tomas and Billy went to Mr. Hopkins, a sixth generation Selena (inner surface of the moon) tailor and haberdasher. After two days of careful measurements, punctuated by civilized breaks for restorative beverages and sweet or savory mouthfuls, it was over. Each went home with their parcels. Indeed, Doctor Franklin had to dispatch a 'horse' drawn lorry to bring them back. And Martha devoted a whole afternoon to arranging draws filling cupboards.

<turns to face camera... Billy- Look, you'll have to forgive me. I've been tired for a few days. Glad there's finally some sort of peace in the Middle East. Haven't slept well. Thought I'd be able to post some good narrative this early morning, but brain keeps drifting off, like ice floes 'cross a chilly polar sea.... Wondering - Do any of the more social and advanced insects have any sense of self, or are they analogous to cells in a greater brain?... Why does Australia have so many poisonous animals?....(begins to breathe in a slow 'sleep-ful' state....  Camptown races five miles long, oh, the doo dah day...

<more next time. once again, I apologize>


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Sunday, August 3, 2014

Fun.: Carry On [OFFICIAL VIDEO]... an inspiration toward PEACE and what I'm going to say... 8/4/14

I know there are a lot of people who just want to rant. I rant sometimes too. I know there are those who obfuscate facts on all sides. And maybe the rank and file (wherever they may be) are scared to even mention peace and acceptance. That's sad. But there IS an aware, acculturated community on both sides that CAN visualize such a blessed condition and I speak to them.

Let the creative souls of Israel and the creative souls of Ishmael come together. Let them present their hopes and aspirations to the world.. in song.. performance and monologue via a review perhaps. 

Stage it where the world will see... in New York.. in Los Angeles. There must be inexpensive venues available. I'll bet accomplished writers, composers, stagers, performers, directors would be more than eager to contribute to, or mentor this special thing along.

And I'm not asking anyone to abandon their hope for a secure, independent home.

Simplistic?... Yes... But symbolic and, if the talent's as good as I think it is, quite infectious too.... Like a musical gesture... a first step toward reconciliation.

The title?... Well, that's easy... ISRAEL and ISHMAEL or reverse the billing in some locales. No problem. Donate a percentage of proceeds to bridge building. Hopefully, one day, have a production in Cairo and Dubai too. Security might be iffy, but we can hope.

Bet the ORIGINAL CAST ALBUM goes platinum. Especially if BIG NAMES lend their luster.

Who'd you like to see in it?

Pie in the sky?

Is it time? Are we in a spiritual drought?

Well, soon it's gonna rain. I can feel it... and you're gonna get all wet.


Look, I don't have any cousins in the biz. But if YOU do, ask them what they think.

If we stage it, they will come....

First venue will probably be somewhere easily guarded and secured. I'm not completely naive.

But, maybe a little starry eyed naivete (wow, I spelled it right) is what we need.

And listen to the FUN video up above. That's good too.


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Sarah got up early. She had a cup of tea. Vampires appreciate clear broths and thin, hot beverages. Their bodies require moisture after all and they don't cull victims every night. Then she sat in the salon (what we might call a living room) waiting for the others to come down. The android woman asked if she'd like some music. There was a very authentic, though digitalized harpsichord positioned in an alcove. The android woman said it had everything from Mozart to Billy Joel. But Sarah demurred, preferring to sit there by a window. Daylight, or what passed for daylight around here felt good and that 'sun' thing anchoring the center of this hollow world looked quite like the genuine article. The sky was blue, though more translucent than Earth's. She could see details and geography far away on the other side. That was a bit disorienting, but she'd get used to it.

Six hundred heartbeats later, Doctor Franklin came down. He looked at her and said - My, my, my... Then he sighed... Sarah said - What does that mean?... He said - I was picturing you in your new frocks, my dear. Quite fetching, I must say. Although I think First Empire France might be more your thing. But a delicate, floral challis with a complimentary velvetine bodice should more than suffice....

And the old reprobate would have leaned in to kiss her, had not Tomas walked in. Not that he feared the temporarily mortal vampire, but proprieties exist for a reason. So he patted her hand, sat down and called for a 'breakfast blend,' his usual morning brew. The artificial woman brought him some in a delicate, porcelain cup. He thanked her. She nodded. He sipped, savored the rich, robust flavor (meant to wake people up) and said - One for Mister Tomas, too, Martha... The artificial woman obliged. And there they were, three unusual 'human' organisms taking good English tea in a Georgian sitting room snug within a scooped out moon. They made quiet small talk, while waiting for Billy and Luna to come down. Billy'd sleep till noon if you let him and Luna was always contrary. Soon she'd ask Martha (the artificial woman), or one of the other servants to help fix her hair. Moments later, as her companions conversed, Sarah noticed Martha sitting off in a corner reading what looked like a Bible. She even mouthed prayers.... Sarah interrupted whatever it was the two gentlemen were discussing and asked - Doctor Franklin, your housekeeper, she's some sort of robot. Am I right?.... The Doctor chuckled, smiled and nodded.... Sarah continued - Her spiritual devotion. Might I ask, is it programmed or real?...... Oh, quite real, my dear girl. Martha is a pillar of her congregation. Instructs the young and everything. Wrote two hymns, if I'm right.... He turned toward the prayerful 'woman' and said - Martha, how many God songs have you penned?..... She held up a hand, indicating 'three' then went right back to her devotions.... Sarah whispered - Did you give her a soul?..... Franklin said - I did not. She got that, or rather discovered it, as soon as she wanted one. The Deity is quite liberal in that regard. Would you agree, Tomas?..... The formerly one thousand year old vampire (though with an eighteen year old body) nodded and said - The righteous of all groups shall share in The World To Come. Miss Martha is nothing more than a representative of a new group. At least that's how I see it.

Soon after, Billy and Luna came down. Those able to tolerate such fare had eggs and rashers. Then they set off in the fine coach pulled by those exquisite automoton horses through the cobbled streets of Baby Philadelphia, as the polity and it's tradesmen embarked on another day. Billy would get his suede knee britches. Tomas would be attired in trim, spare, rather clerical garb. But the ladies, the 'vampirinas' would blossom as never before (they were young vampirinas, don't forget), wrapped in the language of  a romantic age set far in advance of their nativity.

And even if the intra-lunar reality at hand was but a simulation of that time, the effect was very satisfying just the same.

Their meeting with that gentleman from the fourth dimension would come later, as would introductions to all manner of beings from an assortment of exotic and intoxicating worlds.

Selena, as the inner surface of our moon is called, is quite a sophisticated place...

<more next time>


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Friday, August 1, 2014


Now doctor Franklin had a townhouse in Baby Philadelphia. The place was patterned after his residence under The Anti-Enchantment Bureau, but minus the exterior vistas (holograms, since they were beneath the surface). If you're curious, google - photos of townhouse mansions in Philadelphia. The stately, red brick domicile occupied four stories. Tall, narrow, multi-paned windows let in lots of light. Floors were hand-laid walnut, burnished to a fine, rich, glow. Some of the furnishings were authentic, but most were Lunar made, though of exacting specifications. And the carpets, woven by intelligent cephalopods from another settlement planted inside the moon, equaled those wrought for the court at Versailles. Indeed, Doctor Benjamin Franklin was exceedingly fond of the house and quite proud of its comforts. 

Martha, his automoton (but in reality, more like an android) housekeeper, met them at the door. Sarah and Luna, being vampirinas and used to sniffing out mortals, knew that right away. Even Tomas recognized the difference, in his temporarily mortal form. Vampire skills and abilities die hard. There were a pair of footmen too, Jack and Walter, but they were human. Three maids, also android, kept the place spick and span. And a gardener, named Chauncey, tended the small, walled sanctuary out back.

Each was given a room. Not counting staff quarters, the residence had seven bedrooms, all with en suites and small sitting areas, unheard of in Revolutionary times, but the Doctor likes HGTV (yes, you can click on it) and is quite up on things.

The Old Patriot (Doctor Franklin) said - Tomorrow we go for our fittings. Our tailors and seamstresses are quite adept and can reproduce a wide variety of eighteenth century attire. You'll get those suede, knee britches you asked for, Billy. And Tomas will find enough linen (term for shirts) and waistcoats to please his rarefied tastes. The ladies (Sarah & Luna) will be attended to by Madame Hortense, dressmaker to the fourth or fifth Duchess of Alba. Well, not the actual woman herself. But via careful scanings of her preserved brain (she lost her head during The Reign of Terror, you know) we were able to download her essence into the engineered woman you'll meet tomorrow.... Oh! I nearly forgot. We'll also be meeting a gentleman from the fourth dimension. And please don't stare. Beings like that are very different. They wax and wane, appearing to move about the room (and sometimes beyond) without warning. You see, in their dimension, everything exists as two poles of a spinning dumbbell. Living things, inanimate things, even the very world they live on. At times he will appear to occupy space already occupied by a wall, or a pie-safe or a lady. But no harm will be done. This is not like vampiric sublimation. So don't be alarmed. We look like rigid and diminished things to him. But he tells the best jokes. You'll like him.

Tomas (somewhat lost in his own thoughts) said - Who built this place? And if vampires, well, certain ones anyway, have traveled as far as Europa and swam with the manta-ray people under the ice, how is it we never stumbled on this place? (he meant the Dyson-like 'globe' occupying the inner surface of the moon.) ... Doctor Franklin just shrugged. no one knew the answer to that, even him.

Billy asked about conditions on Earth. Sarah wanted to know too. But he pretended not to hear. Why burden them with the truth?

So they repaired to their quarters to freshen up, then met in the Louis XV dining salon for victuals suited to their own special spiritual condition and physicality.

<more next time>


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