Showing posts with label JERSEY SHORE. Show all posts
Showing posts with label JERSEY SHORE. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

SARAH, Jonathon's VAMPIRE CONSORT, speaks from a nice house at THE JERSEY SHORE ... 5/29/30

Baylah's boyfriend has little 'tablets' in every room. He's into technology. It's just something he does for his guests. Jonathon and Edith took Annie up to Ocean City's boardwalk, about fifteen minutes away. I stayed home. I'm afraid to put myself on display in a place like that. Somebody will recognize me. Not 'might'... but 'will.' I've only been like this for maybe a little more than two years. I still have magazines from before 'the change.' And although my eye teeth aren't all that different, they do stand out. They make me self-conscious. I'm afraid to laugh. That makes me look even more out of place, especially in Ocean City.... especially in 'happy town central.' Oh,  we see vampires at the shore all the time. Beings from other bands, I mean. They glide through casinos taking stock of the mortals as they imperiously chose their prey. Of course they 'try' to follow the dietary laws. Of course they attempt to 'cull' only the evil. But sometimes 'bacon' smells SO good. 

I don't like strange vampires. Maybe I'll get over it. Maybe it's just a thing we go through, but I don't. They make me sick. They throw it in my face. They say - This is what you are. This is what you do. This is how you look...... The Vampire Revels were torture to me. I hardly spoke to a soul. I'm NOT like them. Jonathon isn't like them. We're different. You know that. You know it. 

When it first happened, I saw myself as Wendy, from Peter Pan, sent by God (why not?) to 'mother' them. A family. I had a family. And I had Jonathon too. He used Tomas back then. He'll go back to it. You'll see. He will. And I loved the townhouses and the museum basements and all the other places we frequented. You know, I sent money to a cousin of mine. She's like a sister. Keeps calling and emailing. Keeps asking when I'm coming out to Denver to see everybody. A 'familiar' handles the correspondence. A copywriter for an ad agency I think he is. Knows Jonathon's 'voice.' Knows my 'voice.' Calls if he has any questions. My cousin talks to him now. They say it's better that way. But I hate it. 

Still give out the blood vials, though. Still heal people in hospitals or on street corners, or in laundromats. I don't tell them what it is. A few get a feeling. But most don't want to know..... Jonathon's periodic vampire flare ups, like the one that just ended, give this city, Philadelphia, I mean, quite a reputation. I've seen articles... 'An Old City With Ancient Magic'.... 'New Orleans, North'.... 'The Ghosts of Philadelphia.' Pow-wow magic has become the new voo-doo. So called practitioners even run ads in the back of PHILADELPHIA MAGAZINE. Edith laughs at them. But that's all she does. 

Jonathon and I drift apart. They tell me it's normal. I did talk to one vampirina at the Revels. She was all right. She told me. I liked her perfume. Moroccan, I think it was. A Berber, from high in the Atlas Mountains. Caught in an Ottoman slave raid and sold on the isle of Naxos to either a bey or a pasha. That part, I don't remember. But one of the eunuch's had a friend. He'd sneak out of the 'quarters' to meet him. One night he came back changed. Then one by one he passed 'the burden' on to all the rest, til theirs was a harem of life-eaters, even the four official wives. When the old dowager, the mother of the bey, or pasha found out, they sewed her into a weighted sack and tossed her into the harbor. They say it takes two hundred heartbeats to drown. But we're immune to that. Then they killed the master. Drained him of every bit of serum 'neath his skin. For a month they reigned as 'the vampire harpies of Naxos,' although, in truth, they were quite beautiful. But when the Emperor-Sultan himself , Akbar, I think she said, dispatched the great Barbarossa, First Admiral of the Realm to root them out and crush them into dust, they fled, too scared to test their own nascent abilities. And so she burned through many vampire romances. A few were still friends. Some were dead, others forgotten..... I told her I was different. I told her I loved him. She said she did not doubt it, but love and endurance are not the same.

And now I understand.

Let me stop now. I want to go out. I want to walk through almost deserted streets. I want to pass by the occasional mortal trying desperately to walk without a sound. Sometimes they cross the street at my approach. Sometimes they look down. But I pose no threat to them. And they sense it. It's dark and damp and quiet. I like that. It helps me think...
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Tuesday, May 7, 2013

BAYLAH SAYS WE SHOULD GO TO THE JERSEY SHORE..... 5/07/13

Baylah is very philosophical about this. She says centuries are as nothing to us.... Well, at least potentially. She wants us to go to the Jersey Shore. Maybe wander through the Pine Barrens. Pass through a few ghosts. I do like talking to Red Paint people though. You've met then here before. Edith knows them. Not traditional 'Pineys,' but something else... the last remnants of an ancient North Atlantic culture going back, perhaps, to the last days of the Neanderthals. And they had settlements on both sides of the ocean.  Annie likes running through the dark woods with Pin Head Mel (a mico-cephalic kid) and Horsey Skeezix, a real nice, little Jersey Devil boy. So she's all up for this. Conrad, our new, forty year old vampire who wears Dockers pants and store brand sneakers won't like it. But, you know what? I don't care. I just want to get out of here. 

wilkravitz is still sick. Edith tried to 'pow-wow' him. But that doesn't always work. Sarah says he should take some blood. And I will tell you what's going to happen. He'll wait to just before the end, or what he imagines to be the end. Then he'll say ,' OK, alright. Give me some of the blood. But just a little bit.'..... And we will. .......(sigh) Mortals......

It was pleasant walking back from that place under the bank building, though. The night sky was clear and crisp.  And those stars able to make it through all the Center City light pollution really did look like diamonds, rather than the huge, terrifying, nuclear quagmires they truly are.  Imagine, those monstrous, hellish orbs are the font of all life. 

Not as many homeless people on the street as there used to be. At least my work did that. But, I will tell you, the hotels are going to start throwing them out, unless we come up with more money. Might have to break into The Oak Island treasury. You've heard of it, that old deep, booby-trapped, log-lined, supposedly pirate created hidey-hole for buried gold, jewels and moolah off the coast of Maine. Well, I'm here to tell you none of them 'arrrggghhh' guys had anything to do with it. Vampires did it. And it's been there since Saint Brendan the Navigator. But I won't tell you what's down at the bottom.... I mean below the regular treasure...

Anyway, I had some high quality, Australian opals. not from Oak Island, just from a box in the cellar. The little ghost boy, who died from polio, likes to play with them. I don't mind. He's a good kid. But I gave them away to people on the street. I love doing that.  These were big ones. Like smooth, Russian, Faberge eggs they were. Each would go for at least seventy five hundred dollars. And I told them that. The people, I mean. I said - Be care where you sell them, because you can get a lot of money for these..... I hope they listened. One young couple with limited finances got three.... I have to tell you, vampires, at least the good ones, love doing things like that. That's the best. 

I also passed a blood vial to a young woman searching for over-the-counter pain killers in an all night CVS store. She was desperate. I could tell. And quite near death too.... Now, she's not.... Another night-folk dividend.

I'm ready for the Pines. We're gonna go. And wilkravitz gonna accidentally on purpose get a little bit of vampire blood mixed in to those strawberry preserves he likes.  It's a thing with him. Wassa crisp bread... Philadelphia cream cheese... and Smuckers strawberry preserves..... Edith knows how much he likes it, so we never run out.

I'm going back in now. I've been sitting outside in the little back garden, talking to a raven. Ravens like night-people. I feed him cherries. He swallows them almost whole. Chickens store pits and stones in their gizzards to masticate food. Perhaps his kind does that too? Such shiny, black eyes he has. And so smart.

I miss hearing Old Castillian and classical Arabic, Sephardic Hebrew and our beloved Vahmperigo. Two of the Red Paint people know Vahmperigo.  It will be nice, sitting out in the dark, damp pines and conversing.

Tomas de Macabea..... Jonathon ben Macabi.... We both crave some peace.

I'll preach when we get back....
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