The Vampirino Tomas, Also Known as Jonathon and doctor Franklin Attend a Hanukah Service... 11/28/13

Although Tomas couldn't bear to stay in the Anti-Enchantment Bureau and left of his own volition a few nights ago, he still enjoys the company of Doctor Franklin. Tonight he and the irrepressible  reprobate attended a service at a centuries old, Society Hill, Spanish Rite (Sephardic) Synagogue. They sat in the Doctor's pew. He's been a subscriber for more than two hundred and forty years. Subscribes to all denominations he does... Church of England, Methodists, Presbyterians ... Would have done the Catholics too, but they came to town (officially) after his so-called 'death.' But I'm sure he's done so since. 

Sextons at the various prayer houses polish little brass frames holding his name card. Each says 'Franklin,' though I doubt few realize which Franklin they refer too. He's not a vampire, you know. his longevity comes from science...'harmonics.' But we've been over that before.

Tonight was First Light, the first night of The Feast Of The Re-Dedication (Hanukah) and the children's orchestra performed a concert... Judas Maccabeus, the classic Handel, seasonal oratorio. If you're curious, we found a video on You Tube that more or less matches that performance. You can click this link~> CHILDREN PERFORM THE HANUKAH ORATORIO ... to see and hear it.

Tomas. also known by his Biblical name (think saint's name), Jonathon, loves this holiday, for his family bears the same appellation,  Macabi (Macabeus in Old Spanish), as the Temple deliverers almost twenty two hundred years ago. Legend says there was a connection, but no one knows for sure, though the thousand year old vampire in an eighteen year old body likes to dream. Doctor Franklin calls him a hopeless romantic. 

They went for coffee after, slipping into a warm, cozy, fragrant spot a few blocks away on South Street (where the 'hippies' meet... you know the old song). And they talked. Tomas spoke of 'the magic.' The model for the hundred dollar bill spoke of harmonics. Basically two names for the same thing.  In case you were wondering, vampires can tolerate black coffee, you know. Simple liquids pose no problem. 

Tomas spoke of 'Papa' and their 'voyage' through the stars. The Doctor took notes, preferring a small, spiral bound tablet to the digital counterpart. Old habits die hard. Penmanship, you know... quite the thing in his day. The Founding Father wants to reproduce the voyage with his Grand Armonica. Past experiments achieved similar things, but not exactly so. He'd like to meet 'Papa' and wants Tomas to arrange it, though our spiritual, yet vain, vampirino makes no promises... Look, look, look at him. See how he admires his reflection in the mirror-like night time window. How he vacillates... one night an ethereal saint, the next humping mole girls in tunnels 'neath the subways.  It's Sarah (his casual consort) who must be the saint. I'll tell you that. See how he studies his artfully mussed, long, dark, wavy hair.. the fine line of his thigh in those tailored, black denims ... the trim, leather bootkins. 'Jack the Lad,' I'll tell you that. Proud of himself for confronting the ghoul, though he needed 'Papa' to save his ass in the end. Night-folk are so vain. 

Still, he does have a good heart. When they leave he gives silver dollars (each worth in excess over forty times face value) to people on the street (an old Hanukah tradition)... mostly college students and twenty-somethings off on a pre-Thanksgiving bender, plus the occasional homeless soul. Vampires have a soft spot for them.... Then he leaves the Doctor, who gets into a cab and departs.

Eight minutes later he sits on a bench deep in the shadows of Washington Square Park sharing confidences with a ghost.. no, two ghosts I think it was... One a fallen member of Washington's Continental Army... The other, well, I don't know who he was. Some ghosts play it close to the vest.... Then he sublimated down beneath the earth to see the moldering bones of those interred there. They never moved them when they made the park and vampires have a real fascination for what happens to lesser mortals after death.

After that he just went home. Edith (back from the Pines) let him in, gave him a cold iced tea (he likes that) and clicked on the flat screen. Then she lowered the lights and went to sleep. He sat there for a bit half watching some wee hours talk show and mumbling to himself. I don't know what other vampires were in residence that night. They come and go... even Sarah.

Before dawn, the ghost of the little polio victim abiding in the cellar woke him up and he went upstairs to his snug, little special place and fell asleep.

The townhouse was quiet, except for the ticking clocks.

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MEANWHILE BACK AT THE ANTI-ENCHANTMENT BUREAU .... 11/4/13

I don't know how the drivers do it. I think they have a way to triangulate positions. Tomas has a chip too. I forgot about that. He forgot about it too. A lot of vampires have chips. Some luddites among them know nothing of technology, preferring to wallow in the primitive realities of their past. They keep to the shadows, make bug eyes at buxom damsels and sleep in specially made 'dead boxes.' Like Dracula. That's what they are. Not the new one they got on TV. He's just a rehash of our own (and presently missing) dashing Muscovite-oligarch- vampire known as Grigori Usipov. Regular readers know that. No, I'm talking about the real Dracula... the one Bram Stoker wrote about. And let me tell you something else (a digression, but bear with me). The first draft of that 'novel' was penned here in Philadelphia while the esteemed author played house guest to the prominent Rosenbach family. Their vast, Center City, townhouse mansion has since become a rarefied shrine... a museum... brimming with unusual treasures and quasi-miraculous what-nots. You can see the hand written 'fictional' account there, within the pages of a large, pale green, late Victorian ledger.  Well, researchers can see it. They have a room for such things... a small space, with hardwood floors, Persian carpets, heavy draperies, second empire moldings and a large, polished library table. Oh, did I mention the fine, old, tall clock? Tick, tick, tick it goes. And the soft, rich chimes are so mellow. Some say the book is cursed. Some refuse to touch it. Others are less fearful. Some of them are dead. For what appears there upon those pages is not the same as what was published. Secrets flicker there. And our own Tomas keeps even more within the vellum pages of his also hand written (though not by him) copy of La Ciencia Vampirismo. We've referenced that tome from time to time, but best to leave it alone, for the magic within (if magic is the right term for it) details more than just life-eaters.. Indeed, the vampires we speak of may be but one manifestation, one facet of 'the dark jewel.'

Whew! Some digression, eh?

The car arrived. More like a luxury S.U.V., if you will and the the two young filmmakers, plus their vampire savior got in. The driver, a well trained functionary of 'the bureau' said not a word, as he ferried them out of the woods and down a highway into the city. How it sparkled at night. Dense, thickets of towers all alight, as charwomen and char-men too, I suppose, moved about the august offices preparing them for a bright, new day. Dulcet jazz tones filled the cab all the way down the great length of Market Street, 'crossed the Schuylkill (school-kill) River and on into midtown, passed the huge, illuminated, wedding cake spouse (the city hall and not a copy, for both were built 'round the same time) of the Hotel de Ville in Paris. They cruised by the convention center and the nineteenth century cavern that is The Reading Terminal Market Place and larder to the knowing gourmands of this place. Last comes the Historic Heart, America's Vatican, or The Tower of London, if you will. What splendid ghosts 'live' there. Then the N.C.D. (night club district) where twenty-somethings overpay for table service and well heeled tourists dine in establishments known to Jefferson. 

In case you're wondering, wilkravitz the one they call Billy narrates tonight. Usually I just type, but our disembodied helpers are somewhere else, so I do double duty. Tomas, the night-folk, 'star' of our tale, loves his adopted city, thus the travel log, in case you wanted to know. 

Doctor Franklin's underground compound lies at the edge of the city, just passed the tight little red brick streets of South Philadelphia, home to cheese steaks, trattoria and the immortal Ninth Street Market where Rocky trained... The hidden resource is accessed via nondescript tunnels scattered about The Navy Yard. They pulled into a clean, low-lit parking garage and got out. Two agents, rather Men In Black and mysterious, led them through a thick, metal door and into the storied corridors. After a time they heard, or rather felt a sonorous hum, like music from talented whales, or well schooled 'spheres.' A portal opened and they were there... the hall of The Great Armonica, as Doctor Franklin (Benjamin Franklin, if you will) hung naked and suspended within a spider web of magnetic 'music,' as his greatest invention bathed his aged, though well preserved body in carefully regulated pulses of restorative energy. 

He spotted Tomas and waved. The vampire waved back. Then he and the two young filmmakers sat down at a table and read magazines ( I think a couple old Crate and Barrel catalogs... maybe a Readers' Digest... a People) til their unusual host was through..

The newly minted filmmakers, needless to say, were thoroughly impressed.

Next time I'll tell you more...

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