VAMPIRES MAKE LOVE IN THE MORNING

Jonathon waited until Sarah came home. They were lodging in an eighteenth century villa just outside the walls of the Old City. Zorro could have lived in the place. It had that much Mediterranean charm. You know what I mean, all hand-laid tiles and stucco. The witch who owned it (she claims descent from a certain practitioner from Endor, once named in the Bible) took out all the electricity, so no light bulbs...only candles, big, fat, buttery, beeswax candles. I guess witches look better by candle light...vampires too.

He met her out in the patio. It was cool. You know how it gets right before dawn. The breeze picks up. A few itchy birds begin to sing. She saw him sitting in the shadows and stopped. He could smell the guilt. He held out his hand. She sat down next to him and took it. Her mind raced. She whispered something. He said - Don't...Don't...It is not necessary.....,.And he kissed her hand. She began to cry. He held her. She sobbed. He soothed her. He kissed her. She trembled and kissed him back. Then he got up, scooped her into his arms and carried her down to their chamber. The old witch chuckled with delight, as she fastened all the doors, securing the place against the daylight.

They slept in a deep, cool vault, once used to store spices traded via caravan to desert shieks far to the south. A rich, heady fragrance seeped out from the thick, rough plastered walls. He carefully put her down atop a nest of soft, silken feather beds, and undressed her in preparation for pleasures yet to come. The smell of the Frenchman rose up from her skin, but he ignored it, nibbling away at its essence, as he kissed her most hidden, sensative  places.

And the old witch danced and cackled naughtily, as she watched it all unfold upon the reflective surface of an old, broken blue tile, taken from the tomb of a lesser known prophet. Did they know of her intrusion?...Did they care? 

He rocked her gently with a slow, sure strength gained from years (mortal ones, that is) on horseback. And she held him tight, bestowing wondrous gifts of her own. His 'eighteen year old body' against her 'twenty nine year old body.' His thousand year old soul melding with her much younger one.

But the witch was a crafty old thing and she 'whispered' news of this coupling to the Chevalier Jean-Michel, as he lay cold and alone in his own crypt. Lurid images crept into his dreams. And a hunger for revenge began to build. 

The ersatz 'jinns' flitting about the Divine enclosure laughed sharp, metallic laughs, as they kissed the lips of the demented witch, carrying away her purloined secrets and then breathing them into other ears..... 

EINSTEIN PROBABLY UNDERSTOOD THIS STUFF

Renate is disoriented. She fails to understand how humanity can ignore such important information. Remember, we only pretend that this is fiction. Our plane, our universe is known as the 'field of lailacs,' for we were among the first to evolve flowering plants (at least in this part of the cosmic consciousness). The earliest vampires fell into our realm from another place. As far as I know (this is still Zebulon) it had no name. There was no need. All communication was telepathic. Words just clogged things up.

But the Lady Renate was not the first to manifest in our world. Two or three generations preceeded her, although they are believed to have passed on to another part of the forest, so she is the eldest (in all probability) of the breed. Yet questions remain. For if the vampiric line goes back a bit before her nativity, then what explains the Neanderthal vampires? Did they fall through a cosmic hernia too?  When questioned, she just laughs and laughs and laughs. Her eyes sparkle like diamonds. He teeth seem shaped by the finest  ivory carvers of old Cathay. Her raven tresses reflect colors here-to-fore undiscovered. She has friends on other planets. Indeed, planets are as islands to her.......

Wait.....I cannot tell you more.....I can't...I can't...I can't....sharp souled 'jinns' nibble at my ether. They weaken me. They attempt to destroy me. But 'this one' is strong. this one will not disappear. this one will endure.....

So permit me to sublimate into the Akoshic Records, where I can be safe.Oh, but the imposter jinns are there to, yet they can work no physical magic in that place. None of us can. We just float and endure and read and learn.

Jonathon is beginning to resent the French Knight. He'd really like to destroy him, but as a noble, worthy Sephardic Vampire from old Andalucia,  he knows that's out of the question. Does he blame Sarah for this little bit of shadow love?...No...he does not. He blames himself. Yet his allies feel differently. Papa (always in cerebral congress with his life-eater son) wants to truss him up and gift him to the same Vatican hangers on reponsible for his centuries long imprisonment. Let them study this self-important, Gallic speaking poser. See how he fares in the inescapeable dungeons of Rome.

Oh, the resurrected John Lennon and the others are beginning to get feedback on their video. Lots of down loads (at ninety-nine cents a clip). True, the first million were free, but movements need money, even peace movements....I'll tell you more about the 'universal dream,'.....you know, the 'I am The Unity like unto there is none else...Nothing can seperate Me from thee' stuff next time......I'm sorry, but it's so restful here in the Akoshic Records....I can't focus....I cannot think.......I can just 'be.'.....I just 'am.'

CLUES TO THE STRUCTURE OF ALL THINGS...vampires included

Zebulon speaks. I have been oozing in and out of our neighboring parallel universes. It's easy to do that here in Jerusalem, for this divine cooprdinate serves as a portal, a hernia, if you will, allowing souls and materials from one plane to seep into the next. Do they have vampires in those places? Of course they do, but I like the centaurs best. Can you imagine what their public toilets are like? Ass wiping poses a bit of a problem, but that's what the little satyr restroom attendants are for.

I also hear from those with various forms of mandibles and digestive tracts that the pizza is shitty wherever you go. And Cats is still playing in a realm two cosmic vibrations away, but with real talking and singing felines. Bette Midler is president of the United States in one reality and cans of  Chicken of the Sea tuna fish are used as money in another...counterfeits (did I spell it correctly?) contain dead human flesh in place of the more usual albacore.

So if you're of a mind to go back and compare episodes, you might notice that certain pearls along the strand don't exactly fit in with all the rest and some of the pieces of our puzzle don't 'jig' with the others. Does that reveal a fundamental flaw? Certainly not. It merely indicates an unavoidable level of extra-parallel contamination. You know how individual pieces of slop in the refrigerator suck up stinks from all the other slops? Well, cosmic reality is a lot like that too. Ask Renate. She knows. So does famed Australian kiddie singing sensation, The Wiggles. And I think Gilbert Gottfreid is comprized of a bit of trans-parallel genetic material too. God isn't a good copy editor. What can I tell you. But he does write a good story.....

A group of Holocaust survivors met with a steeering committee made up of vampires and other extra-ordinary types. They applaud the quest for Mideast peace, but fear that all this Israel-Ishmael brotherhood might water down the distinct character of their religious homeland. After all, Ishmael already has dozens of arrows in his quiver, while Israel has only one. Many states fly the Ishmaeli banner, but the tallis flag stands all alone. And certain supporters of the yet-to-be Ishmaeli state fail to see the sense in a settlement recognizing Hebrew aspirations. They never had to do that before. No one did. It's tradition. It's history. It's the way things are.......Looks like we're gonna have to contaminate plenty more felafel balls to circumvent this one.

And speaking of felafel balls...Sarah's getting mighty chummy with her new, centuries old, left over Crusader, vampire Frenchman,  Jean-Michel. Midnight swims in the storied pool of The King David Hotel. Pre-dawn blood nibbles on the Mount of Olives. Look, none other than Queen Beringeria herself had a thing for him, so what's a little auburn haired night-sweetie from Philadelphia supposed to do?

Ah, but the night air is peppered with our ersatz 'jinns.' Who are they? I don't really know. What are they? Well, they're a lot of things. Jonathon can feel them. He senses them in tiny currents and eddies moving through the mikvah (baptismal pool) where he takes his monthly post feeding purification bath. And he shivers as he steps up onto the worn stone paving surrounding the clear, fresh water, allowing himself to be enveloped by the crisp, clean sheets........

A TWENTY EIGHT THOUSAND YEAR OLD VAMPIRE SPEAKS

This is Papa talking. I know I don't usually address you all in this manner, but I have something to say. Jonathon and Sarah and all the others over in The Divine Font known as Jerusalem are fools, blessed fools, but fools just the same. I know. I understand these things. Remember, recorded history is but a 'bargain matinee' to me. I saw Europe covered in ice. I've been 'intimate' with Neanderthals. And no, giant sloth meat does NOT taste just like chicken.

Why are they fools? It's simple. Humanity is  not ready. Sure, mortals spout religious jargon, but they don't really mean it. Am I generalizing? Of course. Granted, there are tiny islands of enlightened souls scattered over the nooks and cranies of this world. Still, their numbers are small. And evil people seek to kill them. Beware those who style themselves 'jinn.' They flit through the souks and byways of The Sacred Civitas, laughing at the holy sites and those who frequent them. The dreams and desires of others are as  trash to them. And they have power...deep power. Can they destroy a life-eater? Well, why do you think there are not more of us in the world?

So this is what I really want to say to our brethren in Jerusalem. I know. I know. I know. I've visited their dreams. And I should have said it then. But they're so sincere and so committed, that a part of me wants to believe it could all work. Look, I know about the 'doctored' felafel. I know about the well meaning tricks. But are we just puppeteers? Do we merely pull the strings? Living souls have to come to the truth because they need it. And I do not think they do. Look to the written histories. Behold the perversions. Smell the murders. Taste the tears..... What is that?.......'Enough is enough,' you say?........Well, I hope that you are right.

Now, let me go back to the stimulating conversation  I was having with Doctor Franklin and the mermaid-sea hag. Interesting people, hers. Perhaps I should hitch a ride on one of the princes of the sea (the great whales) and visit them. I'm due. I can use a vacation. .....Or then again, maybe I should sublimate out to Europa (Jovian ice-skinned moon) and swim with the manta ray people? ..........I don't know......Look, who am I kidding? I'll probably just give in and have yet another sexual interlude with Luna....That's harmless enough.

Yet one thing gives me pause. Many folk in the vicinity of Jerusalem have been dreaming the same dream.....They hear a voice...a whisper in the dark...a breeze across the desert...and it says -

I am The Unity like unto there is none else.

No thing can seperate Me from thee.......

There's more, but please permit me to go. You'd think I'd have things all figured out after twenty eight thousand years......Wouldn't you?

UNTIL THAT TIME WHEN ALL LIES DISAPPEAR.....the vampires of Jerusalem

Must type fast. things are happening in Jerusalem. The local contingent of vampires (quite spiritual), plus most vampiric 'visitors' do not want to adopt Papa's plan (see last night's post). He popped over, addressing each and every one of them independently as they slept. Jonathon is torn, since Papa is his creator (hence the name). And Sarah, a newborn, understands humanity. Good intentions go only so far. I mean they've been receiving Divine Revelation for thousannds of years and look where it's gotten them. She's willing to try. Let them conjure up the two boys. Let them spread the tale (again, see last night's episode). If the story's compelling enough, it just might work. The end justifies the means.

Certain individuals in the Israeli government are in on this. Palestinian leaders know about it too. It's all a question of desire. How much peace do they want? And do they want it now? What do you think about this stunt? Please COMMENT and share your views. We get hits from all around the globe. This is me. It's wilkravitz. I don't know where Zebulon, or Johannan, or any of the other disembodied spirits are. They're not here tonight. My guess is they're conferring with the soul of some revered prophet, or some other Stars of The Bible.

Even Jonathon has managed to contact the great Rashi. He's been racing to catch up on one thousand years of Talmudical studies. (and the great Christian scholars of the middle ages consulted the Jewish Commentaries too). The vampire chevalier Jean-Michel squires Sarah about the city and to sights beyond. They've peered into still buried desert cells, rich with Essene scriptures and breathed in the dust floating up from (what appears to be) the curiously preserved remains of The Great Redeemer (Moses). But The Bible says that 'no mman knows his resting place'.....Well, maybe vampires don't count. Still, Sarah is beginning to understand quite a bit of French, if you know what I mean. They spend hours talking in the cafes. She watches him 'culll' his victims. He hungrily looks on as she does the same......And the great Renate hovers over her three muses. I think she is enamored of them. The resurrected John Lennon.....a somewhat suspicious Bob Dylan.....and a pious Yusef Islam (you remember...he's Cat Stevens) create their songs, as she hums along.....Who knows, perhaps she is their muse? Perhaps she has played the role many times before? Vampires are indispensible to human culture. They guide us. They shape things. They (at least the good ones) cull the wicked and preserve the worthy. And they've been doing this since Mouserian (Neanderthal) times.

It's not that their Inquisitional adversaries fail  to respect them. They just resent their very existence.

There's a hum in the air, an electronic-like zing. Many people feel it. Some call it Jerusalem Fever, others The Divine Presence. Scientists detect this strange anomaly via sensitive devices. What is it? Well, Jonathon says it's The Truth...........

Go back. Go back. Go back.......Read what you have missed......Stay with us.....and 'May you never know pain. May you never know fear. May you hide from death now and for forever.......or until that time when all lies disappear...................

VAMPIRES WHO CAN MANIPULATE THE MEDIA....and sloppy loo-loo's

Papa been meetin' with Doctor Franklin and his runaway sweetie, Luna, over at the palatial digs far beneath the old navy yard, in the Anti-Enchantment-Bureau. In case you are new to this here crumbly little morsel of creation, let me fill it all in for you. We are in Philadelphia, except when we're at the Jersey Shore, or runnin' 'round with a lot a save-the-universe, holy rollers (both mortal and not so mortal) in the Divine Portal that is Jerusalem. That's where Jonathon and Sarah are right now. If you don't know who they are, google VAMPIREWONDERLAND, Jonathon and Sarah, or any of the other not really ficticious bastids we talk about. You'll find out. But just in case you got lazy fingas or somethin', I'll slap on a little bit a facts 'bout Papa. He looks like he's floatin' next to thirty two or thirty three years, kinda like if Richard Gere and George Clooney had themselves a baby. Only he actually driftin' closer to twenty-eight thousand years...'cause he a vampire. So it goes without sayin' that he is privy to all the really good shit. Can do a lot a fancy prestadigitatin' too.

Doctor Franklin is just a big, old fat, stringy-haired white man. You know Benjamin Franklin, the dude on all them hundred dollar bills? Well then you know who I'm talkin' 'bout. But he is not a vampire, just kept alive by a bunch a scientific crap, based on magnets (not like the ones from the dollar store...better ones) and electric shock therapy (like what they gave Frankenstein and Olivia DeHaviland in that Snake Pit movie). Now he heads up the A.E.B., only they more pro magic than anti. But the government won't give no money to any magic group, 'cept maybe religious ones, so it is just easier to add four letters (a-n-t-i) to the name and be done with it.

Luna just some foundling child taken in by the Bureau who grew up to be vampirated by Papa. But she's really just a gold diggin' whore more into squeezin' her ass into some reality show, like Real Housewives of The Vampire Wonderland than puttin' down her monthly quota a nasty folks, which is what the better element of vampires actually does.

But Papa knows what's goin' on over in Jerusalem and he can feel how important it is to his thousand year old baby child, Jonathon (the one who tends to favor a young Antonio Banderas). He also understands how wicked and stubborn most hoomin-beans are, so he got a plan to goose things along. All they gotta do is conjure up two little, sweet-faced children from somewhere between the Jordan and the Mediterranean, give boaf a them some kind a severe case a the terminal vapors (you know...like where they need a whole bunch a them doctor-richifyin' bone marrow transplants...and not from  no discount, supermarket pork chops...from real, genuine, full-blooded hoomin-beans, I mean) slap 'em all over the media, then arrange for the Israeli one to get juiced up wiff  a few shots a Palestinian blood...and the Palestinian one to get juiced up wiff an equal measure a Jewish elixir. Stir in a little bit a Oprah Magic (you know she does it 24/7 now over on OWN) and WAA-LAA! PEACE IN THE HOLYLAND!!.....or maybe just a movie on Lifetime...We cannot always guarantee results in cases such as this.

Oh yeah...some a you are here to find out about 'sloppy loo-loo's.' Well, here's what they are....They are zombies, only well put together, verbally coherent zombies. You could sit pressed up against them on the bus, or see 'em on Dancin' Wiff the Stars and not even know the difference, 'cept when they bite off a finger, or take a quick, little nip a tittie or something....................

Blah, Blah, Blah and Yadda, Yadda, Yaddah from Our Vampires In Jerusalem

OK, so we were able to reconstitute the three mini super stars. Bob Dylan, Yusef Islam (formerly known as Cat Stevens) and the Resurrected John Lennon are all back to normal size. Dylan claims we still owe him a couple inches, but that's yet to be decided (the Vampiric Court has to meet on it). They're putting together a song or something for You Tube. Yoko wants to be in it and she thinks she is, but our resident, vampire 'familiar' computer geek  says not to worry, 'cause he gonna splice her aria into six hundred and fifty two prints of Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes. Look for it soon at a multiplex near you.

But Doctor Franklin, back in Philadelphia, sent word to Jonathon and Sarah. The Anti-Enchantment Bureau picked up something (in addition to that not-so-funny, haistily conjured up case a hard to eradicate 'dirty cauldron crotch rot.'). It seems that the usual contingent of vampire haters are beginning to appear deep within the shadowy recesses of the Holy City. Do I know who they are? No, not exactly. But it's a safe bet they're drawn from some twisted remnant of The Inquisition, plus maybe some Dungeons and Dragons flunk outs and misguided 'knights' from The Renaissance Faire. Black robes, nerdy sneakers, greasy chinned louts gnawin' on crisp, fatty turkey legs...Shouldn't be too hard to find...... Still, they can inflict a certain amount of damage and inexperienced life-eaters have been known to fall prey. So the authorities here are warning all facets of el mundo vampirismo to travel in groups. Jonathon and Sarah mostly pal around with the REAL French knight, Jean-Michel. So far, they spend most of their nights trickling drops of their blood into chick pea vats of unsuspecting felalel vendors, in the hope that a bit of their essence will make it into the final product and contaminate hungry lovers of the tasty fried balls with an unexplainable desire for peace and brotherhood. And you know what?.....It seems to be working.

A few of the older, 'purist' types frown on measures like that. Change must come from within. No foreign substances, no vampire hokkus pokkus. They're the ones bankin' on the effectiveness of the Dylan-Islam-Lennon (in alphabetical order, as directed by their agents) You Tube thingy.

We lost track of Renate. (see? you must keep up with us...it's difficult enough funneling info from one dimension, let alone God knows how many, especially when a few of the nearest ones bleed into each other all the time). So if you happen to be in Jerusalem, or anywhere else on Earth, or perhaps in the two nearest parallel universes, keep an eye out for a smoky voiced vixen who looks like a really, really good (and not in the least transvestite-ish) Cher impersonator.

Who am I? Oh, stop it, stop it, stop it. You know who I am. I am Zebulon, your favorite disembodied spirit. Now stand still, so I can sublimate through you and give you a 'kiss.'