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OK, I'm happy he's back and it all worked out. I'm glad he has his 'purpose' again. But he has to recognize that I want certain things too. Blogging for vampires isn't all I do. I write other things too. Some of them are (dare I say it?) screenplays. And I'm fairly sure I can write. I mean I know the difference between a first draft and a polished manuscript. But even my first drafts 'read' well. People who write know these things. We see other people's material, often professionally presented as either novel, or screenplay. We read it...and re read it to the point where we can see the writing instead of the story. Sometimes its special and sometimes its not. And we look at our stuff and think --- Why not us?... Or more accurately - Why not me?
Well, that's how I feel. I want Jonathon to help me. I want him to sublimate into some agent's bedroom, like Marley's Ghost and scare the smoked ricotta right out of them. I want him to leave one of my screenplays on their Williams Sonoma night table. Maybe he could give them a drop or two of his blood, so we'd be friends and all...
Is this probable?... No.... But the trouble is, I know it's possible. He helped a certain Philadelphia director break through, but that was before I got involved in all this. And something happened they never talk about. Every time I ask him he makes a face and looks away.
Their out back now, in the little kitchen garden. It's freezing.... all glazed in ice and slush. Sarah cleaned off this little wrought iron settee they have. Now their bundled up and wrapped in blankets... but they're out there. Vampires love the outdoors, even the truncated spaces we have in the city. Funny, since they don't need oxygen. I think early vampires lived out in nature. In fact, I know they did. 'Papa' did. He led moonlit hunts and everything. Rode on the back of a woolly rhino. I don't know what they were after. That's not important. Could have been baby mammoths, or cocktail franks. He wasn't gonna eat it. Liked the drama of it all... Great Shaman of the lake-front tribe.
Edith made them some hot bullion. They can tolerate clear soups and beverages. Sarah likes clam juice. Jonathon tells her it's pure crap. Lord Byron's night fiends, they are not.
Sarah might help me. Am I crazy for wanting it like this? Well, tell me. Tell me why I'm crazy? My stuff is good. I could smash my skull against the doors of some production company and never get in. While some guy who went to camp with what's his names son makes movies. Look, I know it's not always like that. But that's just it. You use the tools life gives you. I got a powerful, moral, altruistic vampire and his more or less like minded 'wife.' Am I supposed to feel guilty about asking them to help me?
If they won't, Edith will. She's not adverse to throwing a spell or two. She likes me. Buys the cold cuts I like.... Hawaiian Pastrami and all. I know a few simple Red Paint spells. They're not really spells. More like Zen contemplations. But they make things happen.. You know... visualization is realization... Once, in The Pines, I found a gold watch in the mud after I did it. Didn't work, but guy at the we-buy-gold place gave me two thousand dollars for it.
Look, the vampires have plenty. God knows how much they have. And they share with me. I can't complain. But I want my own and not just 'stuff,' but recognition too. I don't mean red carpets. Red carpets are fun, but red carpets are just rugs. I want to be acknowledged by other creative people. I want them to believe in MY abilities. And if it takes some vampire voo doo to make it happen, who the hell cares?
Wait a minute. Does that sound right?
Well, you tell me. You bounce around on line . You know how hard it is. What am I supposed to do?
I'm gonna try one of those Red Paint 'spell' things again. Not for a gold watch. I don't want no gold watch.
Just gonna do it and see what happens.
Look at them out there. He hugs her. They watch the stars... all honorable and altruistic and 'good' vampire and all. But they got their 'familiars.' They control them. They juice them up with the blood and all.
I'll tell you another thing. I think that GOTHAM show has it all wrong. Batman, Bruce Wayne, I mean, was born sometime around nineteen ten. He was thirty years old when the first comics came out. That was about nineteen thirty nine... nineteen forty. So shouldn't GOTHAM look like World War 1 era New York?.. Horse drawn ice trucks... Old ladies in long dresses... Celluloid shirt collars... Them semi-open chauffeur driven limousines... Old time stuff. Not like that 'I don't know what time it is' easy to reproduce 'Manhattan.' There should be the essence of a whole new time being born. But they just don't see it... or see the need for it, 'cause 'you' buy what they sell anyway.
I'm gone upstairs. I got a book... a Red Paint book. They don't write books. Some guy, some anthropologist wrote it fifty years ago. That's where I get the spells. I know a little from The Pines first hand. But a lot comes from the book.
Gotta try something.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
google --- Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz... to see more of our tale, but before you click, ad a word... ANY word... then click...see where it takes you. maybe that, in itself, is a little bit of magic too.
click HAWAIIAN PASTRAMI ... to join me and a whole lot of other interesting people on Twitter.
please leave a COMMENT down below. thank you for your support.
Well, that's how I feel. I want Jonathon to help me. I want him to sublimate into some agent's bedroom, like Marley's Ghost and scare the smoked ricotta right out of them. I want him to leave one of my screenplays on their Williams Sonoma night table. Maybe he could give them a drop or two of his blood, so we'd be friends and all...
Is this probable?... No.... But the trouble is, I know it's possible. He helped a certain Philadelphia director break through, but that was before I got involved in all this. And something happened they never talk about. Every time I ask him he makes a face and looks away.
Their out back now, in the little kitchen garden. It's freezing.... all glazed in ice and slush. Sarah cleaned off this little wrought iron settee they have. Now their bundled up and wrapped in blankets... but they're out there. Vampires love the outdoors, even the truncated spaces we have in the city. Funny, since they don't need oxygen. I think early vampires lived out in nature. In fact, I know they did. 'Papa' did. He led moonlit hunts and everything. Rode on the back of a woolly rhino. I don't know what they were after. That's not important. Could have been baby mammoths, or cocktail franks. He wasn't gonna eat it. Liked the drama of it all... Great Shaman of the lake-front tribe.
Edith made them some hot bullion. They can tolerate clear soups and beverages. Sarah likes clam juice. Jonathon tells her it's pure crap. Lord Byron's night fiends, they are not.
Sarah might help me. Am I crazy for wanting it like this? Well, tell me. Tell me why I'm crazy? My stuff is good. I could smash my skull against the doors of some production company and never get in. While some guy who went to camp with what's his names son makes movies. Look, I know it's not always like that. But that's just it. You use the tools life gives you. I got a powerful, moral, altruistic vampire and his more or less like minded 'wife.' Am I supposed to feel guilty about asking them to help me?
If they won't, Edith will. She's not adverse to throwing a spell or two. She likes me. Buys the cold cuts I like.... Hawaiian Pastrami and all. I know a few simple Red Paint spells. They're not really spells. More like Zen contemplations. But they make things happen.. You know... visualization is realization... Once, in The Pines, I found a gold watch in the mud after I did it. Didn't work, but guy at the we-buy-gold place gave me two thousand dollars for it.
Look, the vampires have plenty. God knows how much they have. And they share with me. I can't complain. But I want my own and not just 'stuff,' but recognition too. I don't mean red carpets. Red carpets are fun, but red carpets are just rugs. I want to be acknowledged by other creative people. I want them to believe in MY abilities. And if it takes some vampire voo doo to make it happen, who the hell cares?
Wait a minute. Does that sound right?
Well, you tell me. You bounce around on line . You know how hard it is. What am I supposed to do?
I'm gonna try one of those Red Paint 'spell' things again. Not for a gold watch. I don't want no gold watch.
Just gonna do it and see what happens.
Look at them out there. He hugs her. They watch the stars... all honorable and altruistic and 'good' vampire and all. But they got their 'familiars.' They control them. They juice them up with the blood and all.
I'll tell you another thing. I think that GOTHAM show has it all wrong. Batman, Bruce Wayne, I mean, was born sometime around nineteen ten. He was thirty years old when the first comics came out. That was about nineteen thirty nine... nineteen forty. So shouldn't GOTHAM look like World War 1 era New York?.. Horse drawn ice trucks... Old ladies in long dresses... Celluloid shirt collars... Them semi-open chauffeur driven limousines... Old time stuff. Not like that 'I don't know what time it is' easy to reproduce 'Manhattan.' There should be the essence of a whole new time being born. But they just don't see it... or see the need for it, 'cause 'you' buy what they sell anyway.
I'm gone upstairs. I got a book... a Red Paint book. They don't write books. Some guy, some anthropologist wrote it fifty years ago. That's where I get the spells. I know a little from The Pines first hand. But a lot comes from the book.
Gotta try something.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
google --- Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz... to see more of our tale, but before you click, ad a word... ANY word... then click...see where it takes you. maybe that, in itself, is a little bit of magic too.
click HAWAIIAN PASTRAMI ... to join me and a whole lot of other interesting people on Twitter.
please leave a COMMENT down below. thank you for your support.
1 comment:
I feel your pain, but I'm beginning to see that it is all chance or fate. You can do everything you are supposed to and be ignored.
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