Monday, June 29, 2015

Sweeney Todd - Not While I'm Around...The Elferino, ALBION SPEAKS .. 6/29/15





I am Albion. Attentive readers may know my name. I fly through the tale from time to time. I am one of the elferinos and elferinas and a vampire of sorts, but only of sorts.... A Peter Pan by moonlight. I'm sure you know Marianne. Many wealthy people here abouts payed ten thousand dollars to hear her story. She told it in a house just down that cobbled lane over there. You can still hear the echo. Well, night-folk can, I mean. Echos never fade for us. They get tiny and quiet and brittle, but they're always there. I hear Abraham Lincoln addressing the crowd 'round The Pennsylvania State House. You may know it as Independence Hall. I hear old char women scream as the notorious ghoul, Johnny Jump Up, drags them to the roof tops for a midnight feast.


The world's a hard place. I can tell you that. They sealed me in an leaden box. I was a captured little elferino... a vampire boy, snatched up in a net wrought from fine, lead filaments. Night-folk cannot sublimate through lead. I don't know why. We just can't. I felt them seal it shut. I could feel the heat... the molten lead. You see, the box was like a cube and I was all curled up hugging my knees. Movement was impossible. I had burns on my arms, the sides of my shoulders and my scalp. They tore off my clothes and forced me in. This was in Normandy, but that's not important. Well, it sort of is. Most New World elferinos and elferinos come from Northern France or the Low Countries (Belgium and The Netherlands)... Witch hunts and all... They were big then. We didn't burn, though. They didn't want to foul the land with our ashes. They got another boy when they grabbed me. He'd just been turned the night before. I don't know what happened to him. Most were taken out in boats and thrown into the sea. The lucky ones washed up here, or in Cuba, or Haiti, or someplace like that. Currents helped. The whales helped. We know them as 'Princes of The Sea.' Princesses too, I guess. Enchanted folk, I mean. The whales would nudge us along... around rocks, or impediments. I was under the waves almost thirty years.


Seventeen twenty four... that's when I washed up. Philadelphia was already there. It just wasn't Philadelphia yet. Swedish people lived around here... maybe some Dutch too. How do you think the Schuylkill River (Center City's 2nd waterway) got its name? Some soldiers rescued me. They broke the box. I didn't cry, or anything. I was numb... frozen... locked in position. But my mind was a thousand leagues away. Night-folk can do that. We go into dream-like stupors. I was home in Normandy. God knows what they thought when I fell out. No treasure. Just me. 

I bit one right away for the blood. The other ran into the woods. Elferinos rarely kill... almost never. He was a big musketeer. Too much blood for me. He lived. A smaller man, or a woman might have died.

Listen to me, going on so about myself. Do you have anywhere to go? Your face will bruise, you know. I can 'do something' to that guy if you like. You're not scared of me are you? My eyes shine... the pointy ears. That gets people sometimes... mortal people, I mean. Don't cry. I won't hurt you. And you'll be safe with us. (He puts his arm across her back... They just sit there, on the white, marble steps of a Philadelphia row house. The woman inside is dead, but Albion didn't do it. She just died. He sensed that and came to comfort her spirit. But then he found the girl. He helps her up. They walk off. The ghost of the dead woman peeks through the drapes and watches as they go.)

Elferinos and elferinas are basically good souls and often defend the helpless. Are they 'vampires?'... Yes, but 'magic' is a funny thing...

Well, not 'funny' but strange.

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Thanks for your support.
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Elle King - Ex's & Oh's .. While Jonathon's Away, Vampirina SARAH Scores a Few X's & O's .. 6/28/15T





This is Sarah. You know me as Jonathon's consort. But what you don't know is I also 'consort' with others when he's out of town. I like the city during the summertime. Perhaps because 'humanity' is not so distant from me. And I speak of my humanity. Five years ago, I still ate salads and drank diet soda and bought Clearasil. Twenty somethings break out too, you know. I used Tampax and Secret roll on deodorant. I carried Tic Tacs and bought knock-off designer bags from a place off Bainbridge. And now I'm a vampirina... No more Clearasil and Tampax and the bags aren't copies anymore. I drink eighteen dollar chilled vodkas. And every time I walk into a certain Old City dance club the D.J. plays DEVIL IN A BLUE DRESS. My mortal bed-boys, Luther and Timothy go with me. Flotsam and Jetsam, I call them. Such evil toys they are. But I keep them in check. See those thick, black watch things they wear? They're house arrest bracelets. You don't have to wear them around your ankle. That way I know where they are. That way they stay out of trouble.



Philadelphia is clogged with tourists. They stand where George Washington stood and Chubby Checkers stood and Bobby Rydell stood and Grace Kelly stood. They take selfies with all the ersatz Ben Franklins (and sometimes the scientifically preserved real one). Ben Franklin is our Mickey Mouse. They go see the townhouse mansion (now a museum) where house guest Bram Stoker wrote Dracula, some say based on stories Jonathon told him about a certain noxious vampire from Austria-Hungary he knew.



I like to talk to them... the tourists, I mean. I chat up conventioneers in bars. I kiss them. I bite them. I tickle them. We go to hotels. there's a suite haunted by the ghost of Sid Vicious or Nancy Spungeon. I like that one. Although I forget which ghost it is. Some spirits are so dull and nebulous. But my dates like it. It's fun to meet a ghost, especially with a witch for protection. That's what I tell them I am. I levitate a little... move things with 'mind power.' Sometimes I levitate during sex. that's a real show stopper. 



Edith (the housekeeper) knows. Look, Jonathon plays games too. I don't tell him and he doesn't tell me. Oh, and I have an alter-ego. Celeste and Marianne, the elferinas gave me the idea. When I'm out and about with Luther and Timothy or whoever, I'm not Sarah... I'm Evangeline.... Some in the Papal retinue have requested an audience. They know 'Papa' from his years in Rome and are curious about the rest of us, I suppose. I'll probably meet with them. we'll see. But that's three months away. If you're here then, or possibly before, make sure you see The Basilica Cathedral of Saints Peter and Paul... a vast baroque, God House on the Parkway and equal to anything in Europe. Then take in the deformed, grotesque, preserved bodies at The Mutter Museum... And maybe a stop at a strange, little, cozy, all night book shop called PHILADELPHIA AFTER DARK. Tell them I sent you... after all, I used to own the place.



Now let me go 'levitate' for a guy at The Society Hill Sheraton. I'm in a mood to put on a real show...



<to be continued>



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Saturday, June 27, 2015

A VAMPIRE SEES EVERYBODY DIE IN THEIR TURN .. 6/27/15

Our vampire friend, Jonathon, continues--- We saw them devour the girl and the baker's boy too. No one left. There were no 'delicate' ladies rushing from the hall. Some stopped eating, but not all. That's how it was. It wasn't the time. It was the people... at least on a brutal outgrowth of Western Asia, called Europe. 

Handicapped children were thrown down wells.... old wells... dry wells. You could hear them whimper. Not just handicapped children. Death, or witnessing death, was a grand entertainment. But if you've been with us a while you know that. 

The eleven year old boy, a last minute addition to the cast, tried climbing up the bars. He teetered, about to go over the edge. But the graf motioned toward a functionary who pushed him back in with a few quick pike jabs to the belly. The grandees in attendance chuckled at the comedy of it all. Baker boys were two for a pfennig. No one cared.

Then one of the zombies gently took the shocked, numb mortal girl by the hand... He kissed it, turned toward the crowd and leered, before taking each finger, in its turn, into his putrid, oozing mouth and biting it off. A second shouldered in to lick up the blood. A third made a succulent morsel of the baker's boy's cheek. The guests, by now quite into their cups, roared. A few well born ladies opened their bodices and teased the male zombie with their breasts. He rolled his eyes and made 'tongue dances' at them.

The graf's musicians, serfs, not much different than slaves, struck up a lively Bohemian Peasant Dance, as the Poo-Bah's banged their pewter tankards on the table as accompaniment. Zombies must appreciate music and rhythm, for it spurred them on... tearing flesh... crunching bone... ripping gristle. Soon the maiden and the boy were gone. The walking dead sat there, leaning against the bars, legs splayed out before them, stuffed with fresh, bloody meat. And they didn't realize what was going on, as the graf's men threw pitch soaked bundles of straw into the room sized enclosure and proceeded to light them up.

God damned zombies, what'd they think, they were gonna live forever?

The crowd liked the zombie-fire too.

Later, when the hall grew dark, I crept into the Lord's Room (he and his woman slept not in the vast space with the rest of us) and 'culled' them in reprise. The ghosts of their mortal victims, not to mention the zombies, heartily approved.

Just an episode from long ago.... something I remembered...

An Idea! ~~~ 'comment' any questions you might have and I, Jonathon ben Macabi, also known as Tomas de Macabea, will answer...

I hate these short summer nights...

<more next time>

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Wednesday, June 24, 2015

The Vampire, Jonathon, Tells About A Zombie Show... 6/25/15

Once, long ago, I witnessed a Tot Wocher (dead walker, or zombie) Fleisch Esseren (flesh eatting). Please forgive me, but my Vahmperghan (Central European, German influenced, Vampire dialect) ist nicht sehr gut. They had a woman. They like women. The skin is easier to bite through. The meat... the muscle tissue is more tender... and they whimper so piteously. What? Did you think they scream the whole time? Well, they do not. Oh, it's not that the pain and shock lessens. But after a while a pathetic, though actually quite heroic, ennui sets in. You've seen the slow, almost beatific gasps of antelope, as lionesses rip out their guts? Not out on the streets. I mean on television. That's how it is with 'Die Essen' (the meal)....

This was in the thirteenth or fourteenth century, in a place that was neither holy, nor Roman, nor an empire. A certain graf (count) threw a banquet. The high age of castles and all that. Huge tapestries lined the rough stone walls. Vast fireplaces... more like bonfire-places bracketed the ends. We were seated at two, heavy, long, oak tables. In the middle, was the cage... a roughly twelve by twelve by twelve foot wrought iron cube. The bars were really very thin... just strong enough to keep the girl in. She wore a loose, linen smock. Under that, she was bare. The Fleisch Esseren would shred it in heartbeats. It was all part of the show. I'm sure she was drugged, but not too much. 

The 'zombies' were lowered from an opening in the high, vaulted roof, each one hanging from the neck, via stout, hemp ropes. They have strong necks, you know... at least the ones in those parts did. There were three of them and they thrashed and snarled like beasts... But you'd expect that. Nobles and consorts put down their dainty steel knives to watch. I remember how colorful the rafters were... all painted in bright reds, greens and yellows. Besides the huge fireplaces, scattered torches provided additional light. Oh, it was all rather lurid and shadowy, but we could see. Musicians provided a sad dirge on lutes, pipes and timbrels. Let me tell you... This was a big production. 

One zombie lacked a nose, maybe a few fingers, but other than that they were intact. Oh, before I forget, they too were covered by loose, linen smocks. People angled their heads to peek up under the hems. Zombie 'privates' along with 'mummia' were (in powdered form) considered to be potent restoratives and certain members of the walking dead were not so intact. But they didn't seem to care. 

The girl in the cage naturally saw them coming. She stared. She prayed. She spat at the crowd. They just watched. Then, one of the zombies, obviously a fresh one with a lingering bit of humanity, focused on someone in the audience. He pointed and said something in a dead, raspy voice. Mortals crossed themselves. To be addressed by a zombie is a horrible thing. 

When they reached the floor of the cage the ropes were dropped and the three Fleisch Esseren removed the nooses. Then they got down on all fours and crawled toward the victim, who was curled up and crying in a corner. First they sniffed. Then they tasted... No bites... just tongue. One, the older, more battered male, thrust his head under her smock. The girl screamed. Then it was on. They bit and tore and ripped like vultures. Thin strips of flesh snapped out toward the crowd. Ladies cowered. Their men watched impassively, as the girl, now completely stripped, began to wail. Those in the seats began to chew their meat almost reflexively. Pork favors human flesh. You know that.

A baker's boy tripped with a tray of rolls. The graf glowered, then, on a whim, snapped his fingers and said - Toss that dirty, little, son of a bitch in too. They cheered with delight as he sailed over the bars. Eleven years old is old enough..... 

< to be continued >

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Wednesday, June 17, 2015

TALES OF A VAMPIRE ABATTOIR ..6/18/15

Why do you feel guilty? - the silver haired Lucid Wanderer woman said.
Jonathon did not answer. He just sat there and stared at the people going by. He likes casino coffee shops and visits them whenever he's in Atlantic City. .. 
The Lucid Wanderer followed his gaze. --- What do you owe them? - she said. I don't mean on a micro level. I don't mean person to person, but as a whole... as a herd.  And don't talk to me about 'your vows.' Mortals have made vows for ages and the world never gets better. Maybe there're islands here and there, but just here and there. Imagine if you killed three a night... No credit.. No, what should I say, publicity? Just clean, hot kills. If you don't want to drink their blood, don't drink their blood. You didn't do it the other night. But vampires have powers. Murder comes natural to your kind. God's stilettos, so to speak. (eyes crowd) I bet they think that word means shoes....... It seems our Lucid Wanderer lady is a bit of a misanthrope.

Jonathon inhales the vapors rising from his exotic brew. Night-folk love rich aromas. Then he says - Where were you during The Renaissance?.....
Which Renaissance? - she says. There was an Islamic Renaissance around Samarkand and Tashkent, you know and Southeast Asia had quite a spell during... well, I forget what dynasty, but you know what I mean. You see, I haven't always been a 'westerner,' but you have....

Is that supposed to diminish me? - asks the vampire.
I don't know - says the lady. Consider it just another observation....

He nods..... She asks - Well, where were you?
I covered the waterfront, so to speak. The 'western world' was quite varied- he says.

No no no, don't go all scholastic on me. Tell me what you did. Who did you kill? Who did you not kill. And was it fun?

He studies her and says - You're going to die soon, aren't you.

She shrugs...

A human phoenix, that's what you are...

That's what they call Lucid Wanderers in China. Look, indulge me. Tell me some good stuff before I go (he gives her a look). Well, before I move on....

The vampire takes a teeny tiny sip of coffee. That much he can tolerate. Then he goes - I once hung a victim by his ankles, legs about two feet apart, and sawed my way through from groin to skull, straight down the vertebrae. I think they have thirty six, you know.....

When did he die? I assume it was a 'he' - she says..... 

They live as long as the heart and lungs continue functioning. No, maybe two or three minutes after that...

Do they thrash and scream a lot? They must...

Not so much. (he gestures) The wrists are shackled to the floor...

And they're naked?...

Of course they're naked. Half the people in The Renaissance were naked torture victims and the other half waited their turn....

She stifles a laugh and says - See, that's what I meant. Your 'fun' side. I want to see your fun side. What about blood orgies? Ever have any blood orgies?

How many is an orgy? - he asks.....

When you lose count - says the woman known as Boo-Kah-Lay-Nah. It talks a village to nourish a vampire... and she laughs...

Jonathon laughs too. They have huge stone basins, maybe thirty five feet across and fifteen feet deep. There's a drain in the middle. Two or three vampires go in.....

Are they naked? - she asks....

Well, considering what's coming, they'd have to be. This is like in a dungeon.... torch light... grease stained walls. Witnesses file in, dressed in black, beaded, Renaissance finery... faces white with chalk... hair blackened... lips all gray... eyes too. Then dungeon masters open a portal one gallery down and throw in the victims. Peeled like grapes they were. Oh, they greased the surface of the bowl to make them slide. A regular abattoir  it was. In fact, that was the name for it. Go right for the throat, we did... or the groin, or any other pressure point. Did you ever hear of nineteenth century rat pits, where they'd put a few terriers in a pen filled with rats and sporting types placed bets in how many rats each dog would kill? Same with us... And for a while, I was blue ribbon champ of Britain and The Low Countries....

I'm impressed - said the Lucid Wanderer...

But Jonathon, usually a moral restrained chap, was quite aroused by that confession and distracted by a plump, young thing busy with a creamy latte...

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Monday, June 15, 2015

THE VAMPIRE, JONATHON TALKS TO US... 6/16/15

I speak tonight. Jonathon speaks tonight. Not anyone else. I am still at the seashore. Baylah's mortal 'friend' has a laptop and he set it up for me to use. I know how to type, after a fashion. I can do that. 

It's been said, that Earth mirrors Heaven. You are worldly reflections of angels. And just as Those On High assume new duties four times each spiritual cycle, so too do you.... To everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under Heaven. Well, the seasons are about to change. If you haven't done anything, do something now. It's time. On June 21st, the Earth sits balanced in space. And I know these things are but physical representations. But light reigns triumphant. Indeed, no 'day' can have more light. Let it shine in you. I am Jonathon and I am a life-eater. Most call me'vampire.' Most are wrong. You who've been with us since the beginning... and I speak of the beginning of this site, or 'blog' as it is called, know me. Yes, I have my vanities. But I am more than that. We are all more. Don't sell yourself short. Feel the light.

That's it. I'm done preaching... A Nazarite, a consecrated 'monk' I am not.... though sometimes I like to play that I am.

On June 21st I shall go out. I shall put on a clean white shirt, trim black jeans and bowing to the season, fine black driving slippers in place of my well known, black leather bootkins. I will go out and I will do good things. Maybe I'll wander the casinos giving hundred dollar bills to despondent losers? I'll show my fangs... Scare them a little, so they go home and not back out on the floor.

Will I 'cull' anyone? What do you care? Just so I don't cull you. 

Strange how songs stay in my mind. I know madrigals from the eleventh century and rock from last week. But 'old standards' are my favorite. Google Bing Crosby's TEMPTATION on You Tube... You'll see.

I think it's quite fitting for someone like me.

The Red Paint gentleman peeks over my shoulder. He's not too familiar with the 'web.' He studies every key stroke.

God, that makes me nervous. I think I'll trot out onto the beach and take a swim. Wee hour swims under a bright, cheesy moon are wonderful. 'Vampires' don't fear sharks, you know...

They fear us...

Good night.

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Sunday, June 14, 2015

NIGHT-FOLK MAKE A BIG DEAL OUT OF MIDSUMMER'S NIGHT.. 6/15/15

The two vampires returned from their rounds. Baylah and Jonathon crept into the beachfront residence of her wealthy, mortal man friend and joined Boo-Kah-Lay-Nah in the sun room. No one spoke. Paranormal folk speak only when necessary, for they have other means of communication, more visceral and true.

The old, Lucid Wanderer, known as Boo-Kah-Lay-Nah sighed and whispered - It is as it always was. Goodness and justice is out there, though elusive and hard to find, while bitter fruit litters the ground. You did your part. You helped people... and The Universe knows that. Then, just before dawn, the two night-folk went to their shuttered rooms, there to spend the day. Baylah slept soundly. Jonathon dozed fitfully, accompanied by piped in Broadway scores. First came Bali Hai... Next came Camelot... Third, I think was Gravity... Not the cosmic force... the song from Wicked.

The house awakened. Baylah's rich, mortal consort went fishing. You should see his boat. The Red Paint gentleman strolled the beach, dropping baubles where old grammpy-men with metal detectors could find them. The housekeeper gambled from her smart phone in the kitchen, as gulls wheeled over all.

And based on the deeds of that special night, perhaps two, three or four posts ago, our planet is just a little bit safer. A certain number of selfish souls are gone. The breath of 'Mother Earth' is cooled. The 'culling' was successful... thanks to the vampires. You can always trust the night-folk.

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The Vampire Wonderland is very real. Our old friends know that. They're citizens of Wonderland too, as are we all.

Maybe vampires go a bit crazy this time of year. Darkness is a rarity and they relish what they have. Strange magic simmers to the surface. Elferinos and Elferinas flash over moonlit lakes. Cherubs make merry with the aged.

When next this day shines bright again, Midsummer's Night's Eve falls upon us. The Enchanted Bard, known as Shakespeare (a borrowed night-folk name) knew it and deep within your bodies, you do too.

What manner of revelry appeals to you? What games will you play on this shortest night of the year? Are you open to it?

A boy in Michigan (Upper Peninsula, I think) once cracked an egg into a cast iron pan on Midsummer's Night and found a curled up little man with wings. Whether or not the pan was sizzling, I do not know. But he and his cohorts were deep in the North Woods, where such things regularly happen. The second egg had a tiny, little, beautiful centaur woman in it, all glistening and covered in yolk. I'm thinking they must have been organic.

OK, you've been warned. There's a week to go. Plan something. Conjure something. Howl at the moon. Bewitch somebody. Midsummer's Night... Don't waste it. Taste it.

And don't worry about who I am....
Worry 'bout who you are...

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Friday, June 12, 2015

Vampires Jonathon and Baylah With the 'Sandies"... 6/12/15

I am a very, very impatient disembodied, spirit narrator. this post is being written in an extremely accelerated manor. If mistakes are detected, may I rap your noggin quite sharply. For you obviously favor copy editors over bards and should be reading mathematical formula instead of tales. 

The vampires known as Jonathon and Baylah nest under the Boardwalk, visiting with their favorite colony of homeless folk. They share a bottle of top shelf vodka, purloined form a pricey bar in The Tropicana, plus a few drops of night-folk blood, meant to cure Mister Larry's various infirmities. A cool breeze tickles it's way through the pilings. People snooze on bath-sheet sized towels snatched from beachfront cabanas and rental chairs. 

Our philosophical trio, deep in their cups, speaks. 

Mister Larry - (takes a swig) I feel better already. Does this mean I can go mush up with Poxie Dorcas or what?...

Jonathon laughs and nudges him - For the most, but be careful, playful mortal. Although her earlier 'touch' has been lifted, we may not be here when she 'touches' you again....

Baylah - Use 'lambskin,' sprite of the night. Be smart. Steal the fruit, but with a gloved hand. The nectar will still be there.

The mortal belched and sniffed. He said - I really like you two, even if you are Jehovah's Witness, or vampires, or whatever you are.

Baylah leaned against Jonathon and said - I think he gets it.

Jonathon added - Just another path toward God..... 

And they all laughed. Then the male vampire (Jonathon) said - How go the funds?... Mister Larry said - You mean 'money?'

Jonathon nodded. His healed friend continued - It's run away from home. Off to join the carnies, I think. Gimme the bottle (and they did)..... Gambling? - said Jonathon..... What other way is there? - asked the mortal. God damned carnies.

Baylah slipped him a bauble. A four carat, emerald ring. Her friend knew the drill. Soon it would be sold to a buyer of gold and gems, an avaricious, not quite gentleman in a cramped dusty salon on Pacific Avenue, for an 'almost' partially fair price. But it would be enough to buy him forgetful pleasure for a while. They'd tried rehabilitation, but Mister Larry craved not permanent salvation... not with a night-folk spider web to save him.

So they sat there a while, telling secrets and humming songs. Then Larry scrambled off to buy his treasure and sample fresh wares. Perhaps he'd join a game post ablutions in a tucked away, though decent motel, after donning a new t-shirt, blue jeans and drawers?

Vampires like helping mortals... amusing ones, I mean.

They call them 'meat puppets,' funny automatons desperate for cheap thrills and gross sensations...

Not at all like cultivated night-folk...

At least that's what they thought....

<more next time>

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And, oh yes... 'sandies' are they who live under the boardwalk.





Wednesday, June 10, 2015

A MEMORY AS LONG AS LIFE... 6/11/15

Meanwhile, while Baylah and Jonathon were out dispensing favors to poor homeless folks under the Boardwalk, the eternally conscious, Lucid Wanderer woman, known as Boo-Kah-Lay-Nah, sits on the beachfront terrace telling stories to the Red Paint guy and I forget who else. Someone gave her vodka, so she's very, very talkative...

Boo-Kah-Lay-Nah says - I am aware. I have always been aware. I remember every life I have ever lived. I start each as an infant. Some were short. Baby-death was an everyday occurrence back then. I died in wars... And please know 'war' was a very different thing. Death came from knives... disembowelment... beheadings...or arrows, or spears, or caustic, searing liquids... I think you get the idea. The whole thing was much more intimate. They grabbed little ones by their legs and smashed innocent brains against rough, stone walls.... A world without compassion. That's what we had... (she sighs and eats a little popcorn) Not that we have much compassion now.

From whence comes your first memory? - asks the Red Paint guy. The old woman thinks for a few heartbeats and says - Do you mean my fist human memory, or my first animal awareness?..... I hadn't considered - said Mister Red Paint... She chortled and passed him the popcorn... I lived through the hominid-human progression, you know and various other transformations before that. Earliest incarnations were primarily indistinct blurs... a bit of light... feeding... weightlessness in a warm sea. Imagine billions of years in a soup like that. You know there were lifeforms before The Coming Of The Moon? Simple algae-like things we were. Then 'Evil Auntie' came. That's how I think of her, that semi-formed world who did us all in. A Mars-like globe, she was and she killed everything that lived. No pain. Physical sensations were far in the future. But all that was just stopped. And if any 'knowing' form somehow witnessed the horrific cataclysm, the sight alone would have sent them shrieking into oblivion.... mega-tsunamis of molten lava and a sky made from crumbling rock. If you crave a taste, google The Movie Melancholia on You Tube. See? I have acquired a bit of your age. 

Do you know there were civilizations long before Kemet (Egypt) and Sumer.... long before the half formed city-states of Anatolia and Jericho? I know, for I was there.... Ulan-Kah-Nok they called it. Four hundred and fifty thousand souls, hard by the north shore of the Black Sea...terra cotta pipes, oil lamps, vast bazaars and medicinal unguents all the way from Central Asia. But the Great Flood cured all that. Oh, it's still there, far beneath the surface of the new Black Sea. They'll rediscover it. You'll see.

Then she cackled and coughed out something in Ulan-Kah-Noki, which in case you're interested, meant Children of the Sun.

Three minutes later, she fell asleep...

The Red Paint guy waved his hand in front of her face. She just snored. Then he gingerly took the popcorn bowl from her lap and finished it, there on a seaside terrace, under a midnight moon...

<more with Jonathon and Baylah next time>

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Monday, June 8, 2015

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Aboar...

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: These are the dats of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Aboar...: We were going to run the blockade. The Empire of China could not stop us. This is the Twenty-First Century, flagship of the most venerable M...Aboard a ten mile long space liner of the Jeroboam Class, streaking toward Mars, filled with North American and Muscovite allies, in anticipation of WAR (or something close to it) with THE EMPIRE OF CHINA.... Click on that EL RANCHO TEXACO line up above to see the whole thing..And if you like it, please click NEWER POST or OLDER POST at the bottom to see more...



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Sunday, June 7, 2015

Buddy Holly - Everyday..Vampire Jonathon Patrols Under The Boardwalk.. 6/6/15





They liked his performance. The one called Boo-Kah-Lay-Nah and her Red Paint colleague approved. Jonathon did the deed. The Earth destroying plutocrat is dead. On that same night, thirty seven other 'Global Warmers' met He Who Made the World too. No one claimed credit... not openly. But surviving Earth-Warmers got the message. Within days there was a big Ice, Ice, Baby conference scheduled for some schloss near Basel, where the Bilderberg group once met. They had chilled vodka and gravlax and caviar and gourmet herrings (yes, there are gourmet herrings) as they discussed how to bring the chill back.. Then they raffled off faux fur coats (good ones) that looked like lynx and Arctic Fox and ermine (winter mink)... OK, it was a start. But steps were taken and fourteen ice shelves (eleven in Antarctica and three in Greenland) each grew an average of .4% and Bangladesh recovered two thousand hectares of much needed farmland. ... Seven or eight recalcitrant plutocrats 'disappeared' a bit later, just to keep 'em all on their toes.

But I jump ahead. Disembodied spirit narrators view time differently. I'm sorry. I do that. Please try to understand. Let me go back to a night soon after Jonathon 'sublimated' that man to death...

He sat there with the 'old' Lucid Wanderer... the Boo-Kah-Lay-Nah woman and her Red Paint companion from that obscure, Greenlandic fjord. Baylah (the Beyonce Knowles, three hundred year old, Tuareg princess vampire from Timbuctu) was there too. Her mortal boyfriend bustled around making sure everybody had enough cold vodka (night-folk love cold vodka)... plus he kept all the aroma candles lit. Vampires, in particular, have a thing for aroma candles. Jonathon's townhouse in Center City, Philadelphia often reeks from Yankee Candle 'Apple blossom.'

Boo-Kah-Lay-Nah said - We shape the world. We chisel off rough spots and imperfections. We lure humanity into the future and last night, Jonathon did his part..... The Red Paint man nodded. Then they just sat there in silence, meditating like Quakers. Baylah's rich, mortal boyfriend sat with them. But Boo-Kah-Lay-Nah shot him a look when he and his vampire girlfriend started makin' faces at each other and stickin' out their tongues, so he went out on the seaside terrace and ate a plate of cocktail franks. Turns out Lucid Wanderers and Red Paint types don't like 'em. ... Who knew? They say, during the early middle ages, some clans of witchy-folk cured all kinds of bacon... some made from you-don't-wanna-know-what, but to each her own... Boyfriend-guy don't care. He's watchin' the big play-off game on his smart phone too.

Few heartbeats later Baylah comes out. She breathes deep and goes - Night air smells so good, especially here at the shore. (she looks at the greasy plate) Did you eat all those cocktail weenies?.... He goes - No. Some fell on the ground.... But she knows he's a liar... Then she says - I'm going into Atlantic City with Jonathon.... Mortal boyfriend says - You want me to go?..... She says - You don't have too. We're gone under the Boardwalk..... He goes - Homeless stuff?..... She goes - Uh huh. And I don't want you getting sick. You got your inhaler?..... He goes - Yeah...... Baylah says - I could give you a drop or two of the blood, you know. Homeless folk take it. You want it?..... He just shakes his head. She worries about him. Mortals are so fragile. They break like glass. Worse than glass, like Christmas tree ornaments. But he's stubborn. Got his ways. Tomorrow she'll do something. So she kisses the top of his head and leaves.

The number of homeless people under the Boardwalk isn't huge. They got maybe three or four 'colonies.' Sometimes they move around. They know how to steal blankets and towels from the hotels. Each group has a few 'walkers.'..... People who look good. People who can get in to the big hotels. Most are women. They 'do stuff' for the guys who got keys to supply closets... mostly in winter, when it's cold. But summer can be rough too. It's dark down there... Got mold... Got dead cats... dead other stuff.

This town ain't unique. Every place got its 'nooks and crannies.' Ever see what New York got?... Or Vegas... Or Mohenjo-Doro?... Excuse me. That last one's before your time.

Jonathon likes ministering to poor folks. He can make do with being a vampire, but what he really wants to be is a saint... Yeah, like that's gonna happen.

They could sublimate into Atlantic City. It's only a few miles away. But Jonathon doesn't want to. Killing folks, without visions and all, does that to him. Baylah knows. she understands. Vampires aren't monsters... not in real life anyway. So she gets out the black Porsche and drives in....

She says- You want me to turn on the radio?... But Jonathon doesn't answer. He just looks out the window, as they roll down the 'cottage' lined avenue...

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Friday, June 5, 2015

Aladdin - Prince Ali [High Quality]..





Just a break til I can post again....

Who doesn't LOVE this song?

If only the region was a little like Hollywood wants it to be..

Superficial 'show biz' ain't always a bad thing. Too often they throw out the baby with the bath water...

The 'romance' of The Middle East...ALL NATIONS in The Middle East... can go a long way...

At one time this was the most progressive region on Earth...

At one time.....

Stop looking for reasons to hate...

(I don't know... just what I feel like saying)



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Wednesday, June 3, 2015

A VAMPIRE RUINS A MID CENTURY HENREDON DINING TABLE WHILE KILLING A GUY... 6/4/15

This early in the season, the town is quiet... Not 'dead,' just quiet. You might ride your bike down Ventnor, or Atlantic Avenues under a full yellow moon with nary a car to bother you. Some houses are dark. Others have a light or two. A certain number of homeowners have this thing they do. Huge, over-the- mantle flat screens (hooked up to automatic timers) beam Bravo's best through large, architectural windows, like digital whores in a beachy Amsterdam. You can hear the surf. You can hear the 'click' of traffic lights, as they run through their limited spectrum. Baylah (our vampire beauty with a rich, mortal boyfriend) loves midnight strolls. Fritzie, her fluffy, little friend, loves them too. She's not a vampire... just a Bichon Frise and quite well trained. Doesn't bark, or anything.
She picks up Jonathon's scent... not the dog, the vampire. He's in a house... a Jazz Age, white stucco, 'cottage.' She feels him pass through the foyer and make his way upstairs. How silent the place is. I suppose you might call what Baylah does 'remote viewing.' She's very good at it. Even while mortal she had the talent and once experienced the sacking of a rival Tuareg capital from her desert boudoir in Timbuctu. 

The house was almost empty. Two domestics, a couple, snoozed away in the room by the kitchen. Freshwater tropical fish, vivid, little Harlequins, danced to and fro in their clean, well decorated, hundred gallon prison.... just the thing to separate the den from the kitchen. The rest of the house was dead, save for an occasional spider, or feathery centipede (mortal enemies, I am told) and the snoring plutocrat in the master suite. He fell asleep during a God damned rerun of The Mentalist, while waiting for James Corden. Just because he's a plutocrat, deserving of death, doesn't mean he isn't discerning. You can see the spitballs decorating the screen where The Mentalist's face used to be. Not that he's world ranked, or anything. But there was an old Bic pen in the night table, plus two sleeves from them red Wendy's straws left from a Christmas visit, so bombs away.

Jonathon studied him from the foot of the bed. Was the alarm on? Of course it was. But vampires have a way to foil that via a semi-sublimation thing they do. Many of you know 'sublimation' is the term for what happens when vampires pass through matter... air, water, drywall, trash bags filled with used Kotex... anything. They excite their molecules to the point where they begin to disassemble, thus making themselves invisible.... even to the naked eye..... So the global warming criminal (petro chemicals, you know) never knew what hit him. Did Jonathon drain him? No. He'd have to solidify for that. Some vampires wouldn't mind. Go see all the real vampire videos on You Tube. But he's too discrete for that. So he just fell on top of him...sublimated through the blanket... through the skin, the flesh, the offal, the bones, the linens, the mattress and all the way down to the mid century Henredon dining room table below. That's where he stopped. Left a shredded, pulpy, bloody mess in his wake. Ruined the table, but what are you gonna do? It's what happens when vampires sublimate through living flesh. The excited molecular chains within their bodies slice through meat like fine, sharp piano wire... millions of microscopic resonating strands. And Baylah saw it all. She met him when he passed through the wall and materialized out on the street. Fritzie squirmed around and tried to break free. She wanted to lap up all the blood. Baylah gave her a few drops from her own finger. That shut her up. Not many people around, but still... you can't be too careful.

Then they tip-toed back to her boyfriend's house and drank vodka...

Boo-Kah-Lay-Nah was very pleased. In fact, I've never seen an old lady grin like that. And although I'm a disembodied, spirit narrator whose seen many things, the sight of it almost made me pee myself...

If I still had a urine filled bladder, that is...

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Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Our Vampire, Jonathon, Meets The Mysterious, Red Paint Visitor... 6/2/15

The 'other one' appeared. Jonathon expected a vampire, or perhaps a Lucid Wanderer, but this one was different. A mortal, he looked just like a mortal. Maybe it was the smell more than his appearance. Vampires are excellent trackers. In some parts of Eastern Europe, captive vampires were used as scent hounds. Better than scent hounds they were. Traitors, heretics and criminals didn't stand a chance, since the vampire who found them was also their executioner. Nobles and warlords staged midnight banquets to watch the carnage. Powerful magnates were known to join the vampire-executioner and rip off bits of the heart for themselves and certain other honored guests. But that's another tale.

The newcomers sat in the darkened solarium, staring out at the stormy surf. Jonathon came in and quietly took a seat in a nearby club chair. Then the strange visitor spoke. He said - Lightning at sea is especially terrible, don't you think? No where to hide. Imagine a small, oaken ship fighting not only the waves, but fire from the sky as well. Pity the poor seaman, usually little more than a cabin boy, sent aloft to trim the sails. Sharks sense electricity, you know. It excites them. Lightning must be like a drug... or an appetizer. The ocean's full of ghosts, you know...... Do you speak from experience? - asked Jonathon..... The man just chuckled.... What should I call you? - said Jonathon.... Take your pick - said the man. Times change. Names change. Languages come and go. You know that, vampire. How goes the telepathy with you? What do you think? ..... Jonathon sampled the ether for a moment and said - Red Paint. You hail from The Red Paint People, yet not a Red Paint from The Pines. You don't have the look..... You mean the Captain Jean-Luc Picard look? - asked the visitor.... Jonathon nodded....You see, I can read your mind too - said the old, old soul. No, I come from another remnant, a small, hidden colony deep within a chill, south Greenland fjord..... And your name? - said Jonathon...... The man appraised him for a few heartbeats and said - Call me Nils, but know that we were there, on that icy coast eons before those herring eaters showed up.....

Am I going to kill someone tonight? - whispered Jonathon.....

What do you think? - said the visitor.

Then he got up, motioned for Jonathon to join him and together they went out into the storm. Vampires care little for weather. Apparently, this strain of Red Paint People is the same.

They walked, bent into the wind, for a few blocks, til they came to a large house, a meticulously maintained nineteen twenties, white stuccoed 'cottage.'.... The man said - He's in there. I believe your instincts are keen, vampire. You need no instructions from me. Am I right?.... Jonathon nodded and went straight to his task, sublimating through the wall and into an old fashioned cloak room. Then he passed through the entry hall, barely lit by a small table lamp and soundlessly made his way up the stairs...

A plutocrat would disappear and maybe the Earth would be better because of it....

< more next time>

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