Monday, October 31, 2016

JONATHON Finds a HELPER with a HAUNTING TALE -- Haunting Classical Music | Veil of Darkness, Eerie Orchestral with Choir




They're seated in the ocean-front salon of the beach house belonging to Baylah's mortal companion. Jonathon and his nearly three hundred year old Tuareg princess ally listen to the tale of the vampirino known as Giacomo, a vagabond blood drinker, nominally part of the 'civilized' 'noble' line... but only just nominally. Baylah found him at the card tables up the coast, in Atlantic City. Night-folk have a thing for games of chance. It's said there's a special chamber, off the floor, of the legendary casino in The Hotel De Paris devoted to the wagers of life-eaters. Some say their loses are what keep Monaco afloat. You hear a lot of stories on The Riviera. The 'house' supplies them with plump, nubile refreshment, snatched from the shores of Sicily, Malta or North Africa and they fill its coffers.... But Giacomo tells a different tale. He speaks of his dark nativity....

Giacomo - I fought for The House of Modena, a lesser aristocrat, roughly equal to the knights and chevaliers of England and France. You know the history. The fighting never stopped. Each tiny city-state a 'potential' Rome, or at least an Athens. We accompanied a Neapolitan princess from her father's palace in Naples to our lord's holdings in the north. A beauty, she was. He sent a galleon powered by one hundred and eighty oarsmen comprised of criminals and Moorish captives. They were chained thirty to a side, sixty per deck, three decks in all and they rowed till they dropped. Replacements waited, ever at the ready, for the dreaded cry of 'bondsman UP!' As they scrambled through the slick, greasy darkness and slapped their asses down on the stained, fetid bench, the previous occupant, mercifully oblivious to it all, splashed down into the wine dark sea. The sharks dined well. The slightest hesitation on the part of any galley slave meant the sharks too. Can you imagine how they screamed?

In a quiet voice, Jonathon said - Yes I can. I was herded into a tenth century Provencal synagogue with hundreds of other believers. They burnt the sanctuary around us. The roof became an orange sky. Little children burst into flame in the oven-like heat. They sang prayers. They laughed deliriously. Those 'lucky' enough to squeeze through an opening in the wall (heated masonry crumbles, you know) were immediately hacked to pieces by crazed, hate riddled men at arms. But this is your tale. So please go on....

For a while there was just silence. Vampires can be a moody lot. Then Baylah got up, tuned out the lights and opened the draperies, revealing a moonlit sea. How soothing it was, just to watch the waves break upon the shore. How easy it is for night-folk to fall into a trance.

But then, after perhaps twenty five heartbeats, Giacomo went on - I had an enemy on board, my superior, a certain young gentleman hungry for a title or style (lesser title) like mine. He was ambitious. The army was one way. It's all he had. How he hated me. I didn't need this. He did. So one night he drugged my wine, shaved my head (oh, he had helpers. they always have helpers), stripped off my clothes and threw me in with the bondsmen. I was barely coherent when they whipped my ass and forced me up to take my place at the oars. Apparently I complained. I hesitated. I refused. No one so much as responded. They just wrapped me in weighted chains and heaved me over the side, into the chill, black sea.

I screamed. I gasped. My lungs filled with salt water. People say that. You hear stories. but can you imagine what that really means? Did you ever have pneumonia? Did you ever feel that sharp, little, biting pinch when one small part of your lungs fills up with mucus? Cough it up. Get it out, if you can. But we who've drowned know better. That sharp, little pinch is nothing. The lungs fill up like balloons. Sometimes they burst. Maybe 'burst' is the wrong word. I should say 'explode.' And I stood there, on the bottom, thirty fathoms beneath the sea. My eardrums were gone. My eyes, oozing jelly from countless tiny ruptures, pressed back into my skull. I was blind. I was deaf. My ribs began to crack and my cranium would most certainly have followed suit, had he not found me when he did... a vampire who walked the depths for pleasure. There's no place darker, or more desolate. Could I see? Could I tell what was happening? No, my brain was almost dead. But (and I learned this later) we shot up through the depths, broke the surface and vaulted toward the stars. He took my blood and gave me his. Was I healed? A little. Complete restoration would come later. But I was saved, in more ways than one... Now I am here to help. I've scanned your blog. I know. I know. I know you don't write it. Perhaps in isolated instances, but not too often. I'm aware of that. But, as a vampire, I recognize the truth of it. I remember the passage, not too long ago, when you said - This is the time of independent actors... I can see that. Banding together in large political blocs doesn't work. I saw what went on with you and the venerable Doctor Franklin. What a farce. Politicians we are not. I suppose it's an ego thing.... But I am here to help. Who should I kill first?

Baylah laughed. Jonathon didn't know what to say.

Just then, Baylah's wealthy, mortal companion came in, fresh from a stint at the casinos. (blackjack is his game). He looked at the new face and went - Jesus Christ, who's this one? Another vampire???

Baylah laughed some more.

Jonathon laughed too.

But Giacomo felt hurt and disrespected... After all, he did so want to help...

<more next time>

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Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Goldie Hawn and Amy Schumer Get In Formation and, uh, WHAT ARE YOU LOOKIN' AT? 10/26/16



This is not one of the regular posts they put up here. This time it is I, Doctor Franklin, addressing you. If you know a bit about me, you know I began my career as a cultural observer, a fictional old busy-body woman, who dished out advice on just about everything to clueless, insecure letter writers via a column in some prerevolutionary newspaper. I was the first 'Dear Abby.' I popularized raccoon skin hats generations before Davey Crocket and in Paris, no less. Some know me as America's first, great, celebrity adulterer- theoretical scientist. Hey, curiosity... it's my 'thing.'

I joined clubs and associations all over Philadelphia. When I ran out of clubs, I started my own. I regularly attended and subscribed to Protestant and Jewish congregations. If the Catholics (of all types) and Muslims had organized churches and mosques back then, I'd have rubber necked the crowd and prayed there too. Was I a Mason?' Sure. So what? Who cares?

The thing is, I have studied and explored everything.  And the truth is we ALL steal from everybody.  Nobody's culture is sacrosanct. I've seen old white ladies eat dry Cheerios with chopsticks... Hey, 'sacrosanct'... isn't that a Latin word?

African food became American food. Indian food did too. You like succotash? Good. So did Pocahontas. ... Ancient, Celtic-Irish observances morphed into Halloween. The savory, deliciousness of Italian cuisine got Tarantella-ed into Chef Boyardee . <~~ Ever see an Italian name spelled like that? I didn't...And Jewish thought-belief-religious practice got 'knocked -off' (an old Jewish term) into pretty much every mode of Western Oriented Faith we have today. You might say we ALL follow various denominations of Judaism, even the Atheists. Ever hear Woody Allen? But, old biases die hard. It's 'not nice' to say that. Thus 'Abrahamic' was created. Thing is, them ain't Abrahamic stories in all them scriptures... Them's Jewish stories.... Oh, well. What are you gonna do?

Transplanted, West African - In North American culture is like that too. It's the music. It's the classic 'Southern' recipes. It's the speech patterns. (some linguists say Old Dixie's accents are just seventeenth and eighteenth century English overlaid with the cadences of Senegal and Cameroon and Old Mali). Keep diggin'. Yams grow in all the gardens.

And I haven't even begun to dish out all the Frenchie, Spanish, Creole jambalaya they got bubblin' up from New Orleans to San Francisco. Bet some American Indian grandmothers up in Alaska make a mean borscht too.

I think God wants it to be this way. Everything goes into the stew. But it's not all pureed down to a smooth consistency. We can still taste the chunks of meat and potatoes and spices..

So, the thing about cultural appropriation is this... When nobody wants what you got, that means business is bad.

And everybody likes a little business.

Regular readers know I am one of the night-folk now. I am one of the vampires. Hey, don't hate. Investigate.

Your obedient servant -

Doctor Benjamin Franklin

<more next time>

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Tuesday, October 25, 2016

She Wore A Yellow Ribbon A Tribute .. THIS WILL BE THE R0MANCE OF MARS .. 10/25/16



I come back to this a lot. It's my favorite movie. I like other films too, but I always come back to this one. It's the inspiration for my EL RANCHO TEXACO story arc. In my world, the romance of the Old West will live again on Mars.

First settlers will be called TROOPERS and SHE WORE A YELLOW RIBBON will be the unofficial anthem, sung and banquets and dinners and weddings and everywhere a whole bunch of old TROOPER families get together...

In remote areas of the red planet, horses will be the preferred mode of transportation because the dust gets into mechanisms and fouls them...

Land grant families live on vast ranches (rancheros) and estancias. Our main family, the TEXACOS live on LA POLVA ROSA. Dynasties rise. Powerful families vie for The Stone House (Mar's White House)

Great mobs of CHUPACABRAS (like bigger, stronger mandrills and baboons) terrorize the far places.

An old, indigenous, strongly humanoid population, called TUVA TUVA lives out in the bush. They waited for wetter times, in a freeze-dried state, deep within vast caves and came 'alive' when the place was terraformed. Some are peaceful. Some are 'renegades.' Some work for the settlers in towns and out on the rancheros.

Specially developed horses with exotically messed with DNA soar through the Martian skies on great, bat-like wings ---- majestic 'Pegasi'

People speak a rich patois of English and Spanish..

Incredibly long assemblages of 'cars' called space 'TRAINS' with names like THE CITY OF NEW ORLEANS and APACHE NATION connect the Earth to settlements, towns and growing cities on Mars.

The planet's carved into states---- NORTH MARS... SOUTH MARS.. EAST EQUATOR... WEST EQUATOR and MARS MONTANA...

The capital city's called BARSOOM, after the famous science fiction name for Mars... Locals pronounce is BAR-sum.

But then war fever grips the land. Who needs EARTH? Why is the STONE HOUSE subservient to the WHITE HOUSE. Folks start flying the REBEL FLAG... and THE WAR BETWEEN THE WORLDS begins.

In my mind, I see this as a movie or cable series...

I think if you Google or search -- EL RANCHO TEXACO Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz, it'll get you in. Then just scroll around, or click NEWER POST or OLDER POST at the bottom of each installment..

I get EL RANCHO TEXACO fever every so often and I got it now...

So forgive me and maybe take a look. Maybe I'll find the direct link to the first EL RANCHO TEXACO post and come back and edit this tomorrow. But it's late here and I got to go to sleep....

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Monday, October 24, 2016

Christina Perri - Jar of Hearts ..Vampirinas Love This Song.. 10/24/16




I don't even know what my name is anymore. What difference does it make? It's just a collection of sounds... a bar code that stands for me. I know who I am. That's all that matters. I am female and I'm a vampire. We've never met. The one they call 'Billy' hasn't channeled me yet. He might not even realize he's channeling me now, till he sees what he's typed up. But he's sitting in that little library, in the townhouse in Philadelphia, listening to Christina Perri. That's how we connected. I heard the music, not through the small device that plays it, but through his mind. Vampires can't always control what comes through. It's like leaves sailing on the wind.

I wander around a lot. Actually, it's all I do. Got no 'familiars' to smooth the way. There are no safe deposit boxes stuffed with money and gold and all. I walk. I kill. I sleep. Am I moral? Who knows? I don't even know who made me. He did it and he left... not right away, but soon enough. I thought he was 'the one.' All vampirinas do. Well, all vampirinas know shit. He taught me how to sublimate. At least he did that. Look, I don't even know his name. I'd ask. He'd say - Call me Jimmy, or call me Daddy, or call me Mister.... It was a joke. But I didn't get it. Maybe he had a real mate somewhere else? Maybe he was just a real bastard. What, you think they're all like your 'Jonathon?'

It was a little town in Central Pennsylvania, right by University Park... right by Penn State. I went there. Studied education. Went to bars. Walked College Avenue. Walked Beaver Avenue. Got drunk. Ate sticky buns. Slept around. Cut class. You see, I wanted to be a singer. Wanted to be like Joni Mitchell, but with a lower, throatier voice. This was the seventies.

Sometimes I sang with a group in one of the clubs. They were cool clubs in those days... dark... basic places with black light posters and little, raised stages. Platforms really, maybe eight inches off the floor. Played under hot, little pin lights. Bar sold rum and cokes and vodka gimlets and 'dark' beers. We'd step out for fresh air... smoke these little, blunt looking, Turkish cigarettes. Pretended they were weed, but they weren't weed. Actually, everything was 'hash' when I was there. I'm not even sure what that was. Could of been little blocks of processed bird shit for all I knew. I was just happy to sing. I didn't need any 'high.' Had my jeans... my knee length suede boots... my peasant shirts... beads... long wavy hair, parted in the middle, no bangs. Tried to get a whole lot of little waves. 'Angel Hair' we called it. Smelled from Herbal Essence shampoo. That was real big back then.

And, you know what? I probably would have made it through. Probably would have graduated and taught school and married some guy who had a profession because his mother and father wanted one. Might of had a couple nice kids. I think about that sometime. Also might have blown my brains out. I think about that too.

I loved walking around State College. That's what the town is called. The campus is called University Park. They touch. It's really one thing. Tree lined streets. Traditional houses. Real nice shops. Classic college food joints like The New College Diner and The Corner Room. They had a big, stuffed mountain lion just over the door, when you walked into The Corner Room. It was like an old fashioned casual restaurant. I think the lion is still there. I don't know. Never been back.

The band had a front man. I wasn't a regular, so I was nothing. His name was 'Zodiac.' That's what he called himself, Zodiac, or Zodi. Think his real name was Zandor. His people came from Hungary. Not him. He was born here. Looked like Johnny Depp but with cleaner hair. I told you. The seventies. Everybody washed their hair all the time. Dressed like Steven Tyler, but not so girlie. Well, not 'girlie.' You know what I mean. I thought we were gonna be 'it.' Be rockers and all. He knew Patti Smith, or he told everybody he did. Used to take girls, college girls like me, to this tiny room behind where the disc-jockey set up. Disc-jockey played when we took breaks. Had a little sofa back there. More posters. More black lights.

I didn't know about all the other ones. And I wasn't playing dumb. I really was dumb. One night I wasn't supposed to be there. Was supposed to be home, back in Pittsburgh. But I couldn't get a ride and had to wait till the next day to take the bus, so I just walked over. Town was all decorated for Christmas time... a lot of 'bee' lights and wreaths and trees. Like Hollywood did it. That's how it looked.

Streets were quiet. Half the kids went home already. Locals were out. 'Townies' we called them. But that didn't have a stigma, like 'Cutters' in Indiana. Cost money to live in State College. My God, corporations had conventions and retreats there. They had a big resort, Toff Trees, right on the edge of town. Jitney buses rode up and down the snow ploughed winter streets driving people west to the Blue Knob ski area. I went a few times.

Look how I wander. Look how I put things off. But I, uh, walked in there. The band was playing. People were dancing. Not so much dancing. More like standing and nodding and swaying to the music. Crystal Ship, I think it was. Band liked The Doors. The 'second' front man, Ronnie, was on. I figured Zodi was taking a break in the little room behind the D.J.'s place. Snaked back along the wall. Didn't want to interrupt the set. The corner where the D.J. set up was opposite the one where the band played. They didn't want D.J. stuff and band stuff to get mixed up. So I opened the door to that little room and went in. They didn't even notice. Just kept going at it... Like a whippet and a pudgy, little cocker spaniel humping in the street. That's what I thought. Then it hit me and I started to cry. I wasn't gonna be a singer. He didn't want me. He probably didn't want the cocker spaniel either, but I didn't realize that. He NEVER caught on that I was there. Just kept doing his exercises. That's what it looked like. Hip thrust. Hip thrust. Hip thrust. Like zumba, zumba. zumba! But I saw her open an eye. She knew I was there. Didn't phase her a bit. Just raised her flabby arm and gave me the finger. Now when the set ends, the place goes ,black for a heartbeat, or two , so I slipped out and left.

Auggie, the bartender, liked me. He said - What's wrong?... I just shook my head. Then I said - Gus, give me a bottle of wine. I'll pay you later... He nods. Hands me a Chablis. Not my favorite, but who the hell cared.

Did I go back to the dorm?... No, I walked down Allen Street, passed the movie house and left town... No more shops, or cute houses, or Christmas lights. Walked along a country road... a few houses here and there... a few Christmas lights. There were some, but mostly darkness and cold and quiet.

I unscrewed the cap and drank the wine. Didn't want anybody in town seeing me do that. So dry, like fancy vinegar. I had one of those nylon parkas with the wolf trimmed hoods. All the kids had them. Gets cold in central Pennsylvania. Had my scarf and my gloves and my knit cap. All cocooned in with my misery.... Got pretty drunk too. Started sobbing. Banged into a tree. Scraped my face on the bark. Kept going. Lost my balance and plopped down against the next tree. Had some more wine, hiccupped a few times, wiped my nose and fell asleep...

About an hour and a half later, I woke up shivering. He was standing over me. I saw the dark form of a man, outlined by the full moon. No vaporous exhalations rose up from his face. Was he breathing? I was too out of it to be scared. I said - What the hell do you want? Who the hell are you?...  But he never answered. Just scooped me up, held me in his arms and walked off toward the woods. That's when I noticed he wasn't wearing a coat. That's when I felt the little pin pricks on my neck. That's when I fell back asleep....

Well, I thought it was sleep...

But I was drifting through something far different than that...

<more next time>

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Saturday, October 22, 2016

LATEST ON THE VAMPIRE POWER GRAB .. 10/21/16

Jonathon looked around what seemed to be like a vice-principal's office in some recently constructed suburban middle school. Who knows? Maybe it was? He sat in a green vinyl, roughly Queen Anne, visitor's chair. There was a matching green vinyl wing chair on the other side of the desk. It was turned around and he couldn't see who was in it. Jonathon cleared his throat. An empty gesture. Vampires don't have to do that. Whoever occupied the wing chair sighed and spun 'round..... Doctor Franklin said - Tah Dah!... Then he laughed. Jonathon didn't respond. He didn't look happy, but he didn't say a thing.... The newly minted, vampire-patriot, resplendent in his usual, green, Philadelphia Eagles sweat suit said - Please, dear boy, don't be like that. So I won and you didn't. What difference does that make? Look, the world's not a perfect place. People aren't as altruistic as you think they are, or as you pretend to think they are. That doesn't mean we can't change them, just via slightly more violent means. So much more direct. Look, think of it this way. You're Nicola Tesla. I'm Thomas Edison. The poet versus the engineer....

Jonathon still didn't respond.

Franklin said - You know, for a thousand year old specimen, you're still so God awful naïve. You're like Jefferson with his dream of a free and perfect, agrarian utopia. Can't you be a little more 'Hamilton?' Can't you just get things done in a direct, effective way that gets results?

That got a response.... Jonathon went - You mean like that girl in Korea? Tell me how successful she was. A new generation 'vampire' with superior sublimation abilities and I don't know what else. Oh, my God. The modern world is born. Is Aura like that? Excuse me, I mean (affected accent) 'Cressida.'

Franklin chuckled defensively. He said - You know how that ended. She never saw that pudgy bastard who owns the northern half. She never killed him. He still rules. Blah, blah, blah. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Now go to hell...

And in a quiet voice, our vampire hero said - How could you not realize 'the other side' wouldn't sit there and let us kill them? You know history. It's never worked. Did we get Hitler? Did we get Mao? They have their necromancers too....

Franklin interrupted - Nation to nation. Leader to leader. But there are ways to get through. Strike during peacetime. The element of surprise. We live and we learn....

Jonathon said - She never saw the leader. That Korean girl, I mean. She didn't even see a look-a-like. She saw a hologram. A fat, little hologram with a ridiculous haircut. They lured her into a lead lined room. Lead walls. Lead floor. Lead ceiling. Can't sublimate through lead. Everybody knows that. Then they filled the place up with more lead, in a molten form. Can you imagine how she suffered?... Jonathon looks at Franklin and goes - I think you can.

I doubted your capabilities - said Franklin. Your intelligence network is prodigious.

After one thousand years it would be - went our night-friend...

I suppose it would - said Franklin.

Where are we? - asked our friend.

That's not important - said Franklin. But the obvious thing is 'us.' You and me. We should work together. You want to change the world. I want to change the world. I don't know what that Marcus Aurelius thing wants to do. But between the two of us, we can control him. You knew it would come to this, but, no, you had to be difficult...

I guess that's just how I am - went Jonathon.

Then some girl came running in all agitated and crying because some creep threw her off the roof of the auditorium. But she was just a ghost. Jonathon told her God loves her. She stuck her tongue out at him and made a face. He said a prayer. She disappeared. Franklin laughed...

The two vampires sublimated out through the wall into the chill, damp night.... Jonathon looked back and said - You left the lights on.... Franklin said - I don't pay the bills...

And they walked off through the trees...

When they were gone, someone else turned them off...

<more next time>

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Wednesday, October 19, 2016

ANABELLA THE WITCH AND THE SALESMAN .. 10/18/16

They have all kinds a little country roads around Atlantic City. Not on the island itself, but over the bridge and through the marshland. Air still feels like the shore, but you can't see the ocean. Sure, folks know the Atlantic City Expressway, The Garden State Parkway and all them. But folks what know, ride the Black Horse Pike, or the White Horse Pike. They got two lanes in each direction, no sidewalks and lots a old timey custard stands, farm markets, places what sell all kinds a hubcaps, burger place with a giant, country boy, Mad Magazine guy standin' over it and woods... lots a thick, mostly pine woods comin' right up to the edge and sometimes reachin' out over it.

Then we got the smaller roads, one lane in each direction cuttin' through little truck farm villages (really just stretch a highway with few houses and a tiny convenience store on it)... some horse farms... few sheep places. One or two a the houses is murder scenes, but old ones, not fresh ones. Road crosses baby rivers and every place you look got lots a trees.

See, most of Jersey ain't 'Joisey.' That just a New York thing. South Jersey do have a lot a Philadelphia suburbs, nice ones too, with big malls and delicatessens and decorator kitchen showrooms and beautician-like plastic surgery joints in country-lookin' houses with green lawns, but that New Yawk thing is far, far away on the other side a the Jersey Pines, if you don't count Route 73, or Route 70, or Route 38, or Route 130, or 295, or ...well you get the picture.

But we're following witch gal, Anabella (from The Pines) and that salesman guy. They outside Atlantic City... well, fifteen or twenty miles outside Atlantic City. They got lots a blueberry farms out that way. Some roads got cranberry bogs, but not this one. This one just got the blueberries.

Salesman drive a two thousand and three Ford Taurus. It all shined up, but it still a almost seventeen year old Ford Taurus. Salesman know this, but Anabella don't, 'cause car ridin' ain't a regular thing with her. Folks in the Pines sets they asses in old, pick-up trucks, farm wagons (like a Jeep an' a teeny motorized cart had a baby) and mostly live horses and mules. Once she rode in a ambulance, but it was a old fashioned, hearse kind an' she was out cold, 'cause a mule foot clipped her head.

She say - Where we goin'?..... He say - We goin' for pizza. That like an Eye-talian grilled cheese sandwich wit little hot dogs cut up on it. You hungry?.... She go - Hell, yeah, I'm hungry. But none a that mushin' up stuff till after we eat, 'cause I ain't no whore.... He go - Uh huh.... Then nobody talks and they just ride. She see a temporary, seasonal Halloween costume store. She see a little place what sells pressed ham, American cheese, soft pretzels and cans a soda. She sees a gas station... a spooky lookin' doll hospital...a old lady tryin' a give away a angry, little, screechin' monkey in a homemade Hitler suit. Monkey don't like no mustache and keep rippin' it off, but that ruin half the effect.... Salesman guy go - You want that monkey? I get it for you?.... Witch gal say - No...( Some people fussy).... Salesman go - I like your dress... She say - Thank you. I made it myself. Took a orange, nylon extra large, men's tank top an' stretched it out so it'd be long and then I found a sequined belt on a dead baton twirlin' girl layin' in the swamp. (salesman guy's mouth twitch a little)

More quiet ridin'... Then she put her hand on his knee. They go a little faster. He gotta jam on the brakes, or he shoot by that pizza place. He scoot round a her side and let her out. That when he see she ain't got no drawers on. Ain't got no brassiere on either.... jus' her stretched out, nylon tank top an' that sequined belt from the swamp.

Folks let pizza grease run down they chins and jus' look when she walk in, 'cause she so beautiful and partially exposed an' all...

Owner turn the air on real strong, 'cause he accommodating that way...

And we really  do want a tell you more tonight, but it is just about 3AM here. Billy's still woozy from chest cold potions and other nostrums . He's the one who channels this. Plus there's lousy snack stuff in the kitchen, not no honey glazed turkey-ham, or honey-mustard-onion pretzel bits, or nothin' with honey. or even salt... jus' crappy cookies and crappy cookies and crappy cookies... so with your kind indulgence... more next time.

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Wednesday, October 12, 2016

Guy Lombardo - Did You Ever See A Dream Walking?.. THE WITCH, ANABELLA 10/12/16 (1933)



Things appear here as we get them. Some come in through the ether. You might say 'telepathically.' I type them up and that's that. Often, I'm not even aware what I'm typing when I type it. This was like that. I'd planned to cover Jonathon and the vampires. But then a breeze ran through the room. (all the windows were shut) The TV screen frizzled for an instant, leaving a ghost image of what appeared to be a young woman with long wavy hair and bare shoulders. The screen went dark, save for a small, bright, white dot in the middle. Flat screens don't do that. Still, it happened. Next came a freeze frame.. a beautiful girl, maybe twenty to twenty five, smiling down from the large, rectangular 'frame' above the fireplace. A quiet song began to filter through. You can hear it up above. And I fell asleep.. right there, with the computer on my lap. The little blue, porcelain, crackle finish Chinese dog on the cocktail table saw. He saw the young woman walk through the (I suppose it's plastic) TV screen, the mantle and the painted white bricks. He saw her step down onto the tiled hearth, walk over to me on the sofa and kiss the top of my head. Then she 'evaporated' and I woke up. That's when I started to type.


There was a washerwoman in a little cabin deep in the woods. Her hands were rubbed raw from scrubbing clothes all day. She did laundry for folks 'round about. You know business wasn't good, 'cause her nearest neighbors were a family of transplanted, semi-professional sheep dippers from Bessarabia . Sure, they got dirty and all, but what with the language differences and the fact that the sheep were bleating all the time and I DREAM OF JEANIE playin' all day on the old nineteen inch, black and white portable television kind a hampered any commercial arrangements. ('cept for the folks gettin' their sheeps dipped and they was all customers from way back.

Washerwoman had to trudge clear into town for her trade and tote it all home in a big, old wicker basket she kept balanced on her head. All year, every day she did it, wearin' naught but her pink, terry-cloth, arch-strap slippers.. Well, not every day, just in the summertime 'cause it was hotter then.

She'd yell - Salome! You watch the house, girl. Ya hear?... And Salome would put down her jelly glass full a Spaghetti-O's, scratch her belly and go - Uh huh.

But there's another real pretty daughter who runs with the wolves and sleeps with the fishes... not in her bed though. She talks to the moon and the bees give her honey, whether she wants it or not. If you want a jar she could probably get you one. Can't figure out how the bees get the lids on so tight, or what she gets out a sleeping with the fishes, 'cause these ain't beautiful, graceful cartoon fish like from that movie where Will Smith was a fish. These are catfish and mud-suckers. Guess she feels sorry for them, but they don't know the difference, so it's a total waste of time. if you ask me.

This daughter's name is Anabella. Nobody gave it to her. She just got it herself. She gets everything herself, 'cause Anabella can do magic.... Like the honey-pit under their out-house never gotta be mucked out 'cause she don't like it. And the tater chip bag is never empty 'cause it just isn't. Also when 'stories' she likes go off the air, they don't for her. Their old black and white TV still gets episodes of YOUNG OLD AGE ATTENDANTS IN LOVE. I do not know where they come from but they show up every day and the uniforms on the people look mostly clean.

But things changed one night, when a traveling, custom, tampon salesman took her to town for pizza and deodorant, when the road got washed away and somebody's crazy monkey got loose...

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Monday, October 10, 2016

SMALL MINDED MORTALS...SMALL MINDED VAMPIRES .. 9/10/16

No music tonight... Not that kind of a night. Jonathon knew they were all against him. It wasn't anything personal...just politics. Oh, there might have been a time... maybe a night or two, or a speech or two when they were willing to listen. That's how it always is. They let you have a chance, but know ahead of time that your ticket ain't the winning ticket.

Nobody was threatening, or violent. They just didn't care. Former Ancient Roman Emperor, at one time considered a fine, altruistic statesman, Marcus Aurelius, led a group up to the fifth floor smoking room for cigars and brandy. Vampires prefer more clarified spirits, like vodka, or gin. I guess they had some of that too. Besides, that non-decomposing zombie (at best) ain't even a real vampire anyway.

Our vampire hero sat on a leather upholstered bench in the entrance hall for a while. A footman offered him some chilled grappa, but he just shook his head and waved him away. After a five minutes or so, he got up, put on his jacket and went out. How quiet it was, the first truly chill night of the year... down to the low fifties (about 11C).The streets were nearly deserted. Clubs and bars let out over an hour ago. A few congregated in pancake joints and coffee shops... no huge, naked, plate glass windows anymore. Night-Hawks are security conscious these days. Jonathon might have gone in to talk. He often did. Drank a plain hot tea, as he observed all the people. But not tonight. Tonight he just walked.

He saw the occasional put upon worker, plodding on toward some thankless job, or perhaps a homeless woman dragging all her tattered belongings in a two wheeled, squeaking, market cart. Most nights he slipped them money. Made up these little rolls of hundred dollar bills before he went out... ten to a roll... one thousand dollars in each. That night he had none, so he just walked.

Now this is real early Monday morning we're talking about. Say 4AM. Early risers ain't up 'cause it's Columbus Day. Lot a people have off, so they sleep late and get up for, let's say, The Price Is Right, or How Dumb Is Your In-Laws?. Vampire like Jonathon can almost hear 'em snoring. But tomorrow night starts The Service of Atonement and Reconciliation, Yom Kippur, and you know how he gets. Sometimes he sits for hours in the little library at his townhouse listening to records of old hymns, prayers and cantorials for hours. Edith, the witchy-woman housekeeper calls it his 'holy roller' time. He's not home, so he heads for the old Rite of Spain (Sephardic) synagogue where he sometimes prays near the Old Statehouse (Independence Hall). A lot a stuff got 'old' in front of it 'round there. But not 'ye olde.' I think that's somewhere else. I think that means fake old stuff. This is real old stuff.

Jonathon sublimates right in when he gets there. Place is all locked up and dark. Night watchman sits in an unmarked, black car. Sometimes he parks out front. Sometimes he drives 'round the back, or walks up the alleyways. Looks like a Quaker Meeting House, if you've ever seen one of them, red brick and all. Our vampire friend solidifies, covers his head with a black prayer cap from the wooden box and enters the sanctuary. Only light comes from the Eternal Flame and that's not much. Jonathon takes a seat in one of the pews. Can't read a prayer book. Too dark, even for vampire eyes. But he doesn't need one. Knows 'em all by heart. Old Rabbi de Solis is already sittin' there. He been dead since before the Alamo. Not a ghost. Passed over to The World To Come, but shows up to pray with them what needs it. Jonathon remembers him from the old days. Vampire whispers - Why are people so small minded?... Rabbi goes - You're not... Then they just sit there.

Looks like Doctor Franklin and his crew gonna win. His comely, Korean, vampire gal gone in to where that Pacific Rim country keep their 'Great Leader.'

Leader look happy.... Dumb shit...

Don't he know he gonna die?

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Thursday, October 6, 2016

Judy Garland - On The Atchison, Topeka And The Santa Fe and Revival of Western Culture on Mars..10/6/16



This isn't a Vampire Wonderland episode, just something I like and want to talk about. If you read all or part of the EL RANCHO TEXACO story-arc on here you know what it is.

I'm talking about the settling of Mars and what kind of culture I'd like to see for the place. No dry government issue, green metal desks and furniture for me, or whatever passes for that junk a little later on in the 21st century. I want a continuation of the last time we settled so much new territory. I want an homage to The Old West.

Sure it'll be a little terra-formed by then... a bit more moisture... maybe some varieties of Mars-appropriate sage grass... river-like canals... Dust Devils dancin' on the flatlands. And all dressed up with Old West place names like Durango, Hole In The Wall, Silver City, Shiloh and Dancin' Lady.

Rivers (they DO have some) called The Yellow Ribbon, Red Snake River, The Little Egypt... You get the picture.

Land holdings will be called ranches and the roads knitting it all together will have names like El Camino  Real, The Lewis & Clark Highway (called the L.C.)...

Buses 'tween settlements will be called stages. Space craft toting, settlers out Mars Way will be named after the Great Western Train Lines... The Union Pacific... THE POTOWATOMI Express...and the legendary ATCHISON TOPEKA & THE SANTA FE

If they do Mars up like this. If it don't have no 'numbers' for road names. If they let the place have romance and atmosphere, they'll get it all peopled up in no time.

Wouldn't you like to have your own little South Fork on a world like that... or maybe a Ponderosa?

The West will live again.... if we let it.
 
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That's it.... Something to think about...

Wednesday, October 5, 2016

Rufus Wainwright - Across The Universe, SUMS IT UP.. ONE VAMPIRE MAKES PROGRESS, ANOTHER DOESN'T.. 10/4/16



The newly minted, comely, Korean, vampire girl, fresh from Doctor Franklin's Annex , made her way down the long, massive, granite lined hallway. Every surface was covered in polished stone, like a huge rectangular, never-ending seam, mined to fashion grave stones. Who knew where the light came from, or the air? Everything was grand, in a style come to be called 'Mussolini-Fascist-Modern.

Her data was in order. The people at the Annex are experts, in fact they trained the experts. All was as it should be. The Leader would ask no questions. She was there as a 'special assistant.' He'd had many special assistants. There were countless episodes, each quite pleasurable. Should any prove less than satisfactory, the girl in question would either be sent to the mines, or 'food stations' (huge prison farms) for re-education, which meant she'd be there till she died. Some were thrown to the pigs, (they're omnivorous, don't you know) but that was very rare.


After progressing down the almost featureless hallway for quite a while, she neared what appeared to be a dark, doorway shaped opening... The newly minted vampire assassin stopped and peered inside. The blackness seemed to go on forever. But six heartbeats later she heard a voice. It said - Enter... that's all... just one word... 'Enter.'..... So she did.

Then someone flipped a switch... and it wasn't so much that a light came on, as the dark was turned off, revealing a medium sized stark, white room with a white, rectangular table and a late middle aged , bobbed haired woman with an unsmiling demeanor and deep naso-labial lines. Did we mention she wore a white lab coat and there wasn't any door? Well, she did and there wasn't.

The woman said - Remove all garments and drop them onto floor. Do not fear. Condemned for life laborers keep it scrupulously clean.... The vampire girl just blinks and stands there for a moment.... She who has deep naso-labial lines says - Failure to obey will result in the amputation of finger. Choice is mine. And finger-chopping will go on till complete obedience is achieved yadda yadda yadda..... Please, permit this one to address She Who Is So Willing To DisFinger Me - went the vampire-girl.... Yes? - said the woman in the white lab coat..... How is it you know the term 'yadda yadda yadda?' - asked the vampire-girl. Ours is a closed and perfect society. Where did that come from?.... The woman with the bobbed hair shrugged and retrieved a large, polished pair of finger-shears from a here-to-fore unseen drawer...
The newly minted vampire-assassin did not want any problems, so she complied.

Soon after she endured the most invasive body cavity examination on the Pacific Rim. The woman used stainless steel, magnetic tipped insertion rods. She was a virtuoso. She had to be. In case of failure, her fingers would be sheared off.

How did the comely, Korean, girl vampire pass the oral exam, you know, with her fangs and all?

In good time, oh best beloveds... In good time.

While back in Philadelphia, when Jonathon returned to the symposium at the former British Consulate, he saw some strange faces among the crowd. They met his gaze and studied him in a very cold and mercenary manner. Some shook hands with the non-decomposing zombie that was Marcus Aurelius, who gave a short, curt nod to our vampire hero from across the room.

Jonathon wondered who the newcomers were, but he had some ideas. Night-folk instinctively know things...

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Monday, October 3, 2016

SOME NON-DECOMPOSING ZOMBIES WITH INFLUENCE PASS FOR VAMPIRES.. 10/3/16

I just dropped this laptop. Jonathon came running in here like a maniac and threw up in the toilet. Not the toilet upstairs... the one in the nice, little powder room off the front foyer.. It's got classic, Chinese grass paper wall paper and everything. He didn't go back to the British Consulate where all the other paranormal types are staying. Just tore through the city and came back here. Ran for three miles.

Edith (their Jersey Pine Barrens 'Witchy Woman' housekeeper) runs out from the family room yelling - What's the matter!? What's the matter!?... I tell her I don't know, but he's retching. He's in there with his head over the toilet throwing up dark, brown-purple sludge (who knows how long THAT'S been in his stomach?) all over the 'no touch' designer commode and the inlaid, quartz tile floor... Edith mumbles - God, I hope that doesn't stain..... She peeks into the powder room. He's sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, gasping for breath and vampires don't really NEED oxygen, so you know he's really upset.... Edith goes - Jonathon, are you all right?..... He goes - Leave me alone. Just leave me alone. Close the door. I just want to sit here. OK? Close the door.... She goes - You want me to get you a cold vodka?.... He yells - CLOSE THE DOOR! (micro second later) Yes! Get me the vodka....

She hustles into the kitchen..... I stand there. I don't know what to do. I'm afraid to move. He goes - Bill, are you still out there?.... I go - Yeah?.... He goes - I'm sorry if I scared you. I didn't mean it. I didn't..... He still fights to catch his breath..... I go - That's alright... He doesn't answer. Edith comes back with a big, ice-filled glass of vodka. I think it's Finlandia. They have all kinds. Somebody from a huge liquor supermarket over the bridge in Jersey sends them.... Edith sticks her arm through the opening and hands him the glass. She goes - Here. Drink it.... Then she watches. She makes a face. Let me tell you. Vampire vomit has a real memorable aroma. I can't see in, but I hear. He goes glug, glug, glug. She takes the glass. Then he starts to cry.

A little bit later, after he takes a shower and changes, we're all sitting in the den. Sarah's not back yet. Must be like 4AM. Still at least two hours till dawn... maybe two and a half. The room's dim. It's always dim around here. They don't like a lot of light. Nobody talks. I sit there with the laptop waiting to take it all down. After five years, I'm like a symbiotic organism with that laptop...Not the same one I started with, though..... Edith plays a quiet game of Solitaire. Jonathon looks at the little, blue, porcelain, Chinese dog like he's hypnotized by it. The tall clock in the hall chimes. Goes through the whole Westminster lead up before tolling the hour. That clock's a ham.

It's silent. Vampires don't mind silence either. That, I know. Then he began to speak. Edith jumped a little, because she was paying attention to her game, but I was watching him, so I didn't jump.

He goes - I didn't want to watch him feed. You know how I am. I'm not like that. But he insisted. He's a big thing with the 'Golden Dawn' people, so I got out of the car and went after him. He didn't walk like a vampire. Seemed too hurried, like he couldn't wait. Vampires, especially 'noble' ones, have more control. We don't do that. Then he got down on all fours and went right into the bushes. these are big 'yew' bushes. Some people let them grow tall and trim them like trees, but these were dense and close to the ground. Kids went in there to trade drugs, do drugs and hump each other. And it was so dark... damp too. Most of the kids were gone by then, but a few runaways slept there all night. He found a couple. They were sleeping. He carefully lifts the girl, blanket and all. Puts her down on a flat patch of dirt a little way off. She's still sleeping. He strokes her hair... whispers something in Old Latin, kneels in closer, pushes down the blankets and bites right into her throat. I can hear the trachea crack. That's so she can't scream. Then he flips her over and tears into neck, snapping her spinal chord. Was she paralyzed? Was she dead? Who knows. I hope so. For he began to rip the flesh from her bones like an animal. Gristle snaps like rubber. He chomped it down with delight. Blood ran from his chin. The dirt drank it up like wine. I don't know how many pounds of meat he took. The face was bare.. the shoulders... the arms.. the breasts... all bones. Then he chuckled, as he tenderly placed the gruesome remains where he found them, next to the 'boyfriend.' Imagine when he woke up.

Now I knew no vampire ever fed like that, even 'noxious' types. The former Roman emperor and one time honorable man was something else. He was more like a ghoul, or what they call a 'non-decomposing zombie.' But his vanity wouldn't accept that, so he was a 'vampire.' With his wealth and connections, who would say otherwise? The night-world is like that... filled with posers. Truth means nothing. Any remnant of mortal humanity they might have means nothing. Not everyone, but far too many. Thank God I am of the 'noble' sort. And those around me are 'noble' too.

Then he was done... Edith and I never said a word. We never learned what happened to the mortal limousine driver. Can you imagine when that blood soaked thing got back in the car? My guess is the 'emperor' needed him to get back to the consulate. He can't sublimate like vampires can, although he does know a fair amount of magic. Perhaps he can make himself invisible?

Jonathon just sat there till Sarah came home. Then she led him up to their sealed off sleeping chamber and that was it.

The coalition meeting at the consulate expected Jonathon to come back. How many of them knew the emperor's secret he didn't know... but the real question was how many cared?

Meanwhile, Franklin's new vampires were starting to go off on their missions. The comely Korean girl vampirina was ready to pounce...

<more next time>

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