Best New Trailers July 2013 HD.. A RHAPSODY ON CINEMATIC DELIGHTS.. but 1st my pixilated paranormal stuff, because BLOGGER won't let me post the video first, but it's down there... 7/10/13

JANUS considers the past, but looks forward... THE BIRTH OF A NIGHT-FIEND...

And then the walls of the rough, ancient chamber seemed to close in on me. Lurid patterns dripped down the pebbly stucco in the dim, flickering light of the oil lamp, as feathery millipedes watched from the cracks. I hung suspended in space... 'frozen' in the middle of a giant ice cube that was not there... helpless before the assault, as every singularity of creation whispered her name.... And one heartbeat later she was there, standing before me and tasting my body. She moaned and whispered in an unknown tongue, that I now know to be Vahmperigo... an old, Mauritanian dialect, tinged with vestiges of East Atlantan. The force that held me fast disappeared, but I did not fall, for she took me in her arms and laid me down upon a bed of soft, ivory fleece, peeled from the flesh of still living rams. Strong, she was, but delicate and comely just the same, as she slowly tickled and explored my recently perfected body.

I felt the teeth... small and sharp. I felt the bites... little nips actually, as she readied me for the kill... Some from the belly.... Some from below.... Some from the shoulder... a palm.... a bicep... a nipple... my throat. I trembled with delight, as wave after wave of night-folk magic washed through my form. Then she stopped, leaned on her elbows and looked in my eyes. How young she seemed. How smooth. How flawless, like Diana after the hunt... and I her grateful prey. I felt the pressure of her naked body against my own and tried to urge her on. She just smiled and said - This is but a beginning.... Then we rocked together, performing a slow dance for perhaps seven hundred heartbeats..... And then she did the deed, devouring my life and draining me dry. 

Those of you familiar with the tales of Jonathon and Sarah know the rest.... It was the same for me... No different. I gave to her and she gave to me, til our blood was mingled and my mortal life was gone.

I wanted to stay with her and be with her and learn from her. But they who owned me would not let that happen, for she was led away so soon. And try as I might, I could not remember her name... I still can't. 

Slave vampires destined to be body guards know little of their powers. The Roman authorities like it that way. Some learn later on... But some do not. I believe you have words for such a thing... 'arrested development.'... We have the same term too.

The next night we left Medio-lanum (modern Milan) destined for The Eternal City. I traveled in a lead lined conveyance.... no windows... even the door was cunningly concealed. The Dalmation and the Ethiopian sailor went with me. And in that box, dark and hot, we shed our human skins.... alone and afraid on the straight, hard roads of Rome..... Like crabs in a basket brought up from the sea at Ostia...... frightened morsels waiting to be sold.

(more tomorrow)
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TRANSFORMATION OF A ROMAN VAMPIRE DURING THE REIGN OF THE GREAT MARCUS AURELIUS ... 7/09/13

They led me into a tiny chamber with murals on the walls, simple, old, graffito from the time of Scipio Africanus. Apparently the space was used for military brotherhoods beck then. I don't know when the vampires came and there were none I could ask. Truly old specimens were very rare. We are trained and made to be lethal tools... equipment for great men. And 'great' in my time has little to do with good deeds or worthy acts. The term means 'rich in dignity' and dignitas, as we know it means something like a deep, secure power. Morality... true morality... has yet to be discovered by most people. The Jews have it. So do the Zoroastrians and the Gnostics. And when I say 'Jews,' please know I also mean the trinitarian congregations one finds in our cities, especially among the Greeks and Phonecians. But  we live in strange times and people are scared. The Empire shrinks... not much, yet it does. Primitive hordes press in on all sides. Inflation is everywhere. I can only imagine how much they'll charge for me. The Dalmatian tells me lamia sanguine go for upwards of two hundred thousand secterces... half a year's income for lesser nobles, such as those comprising the order equester and such.. and twenty five percent for men of senatorial rank. I'll be housed in smart quarters and dressed in fine soft woolens... thin and light. 'Challis' I believe you call it. Odd communicating with you. I'm told you have machines and automatons capable of many things. I'm told more than a handful reach one hundred years, in your time, or close to it. Tiro, the slave bought as brother to the great Cicero reached a hundred years. I know of no other and even he lived over three hundred years ago. But I ramble on, because I am scared. 

I am anointed in sandalwood. My feet are rubbed with myrrh. My hair is cut short, forming a petal-like cap over my scalp. And I wait, bare and unadorned. They gave me meat... Boar, I think it was, from the Trans-Alpine forests up beyond Medio-lanum.... raised on acorns and truffles. My cut was quite delicious. Yet they say the blood is even better. One of the nominees killed himself..... Broke a glass and swallowed the shards. Then he laughed as  blood filled his mouth and ran down on his legs. Three roman hours later he died, depriving his master a probable fortune. Money, money, money.... Everyone wants money. Newly poor matrons allow themselves to be ravished by animals for the predilection of the mob, writhing under the coarse embrace of a pan troglodytes, or a small, well formed pony. The Amphitheater Flaviani always has such varied fare. And  'beast and lady' shows are quite popular.

I think I'll be getting a vampirina. I think she'll do the deed. I hope she understands the intricacies of such a feat, for not all survive. Some bite too hard. Some drink too much. A bit of blood must remain... just a little. They can't take it all. For if true death occurs, vampirification cannot take place. 

It's cold. I'm shivering. I wish she'd come. I wish she'd come. I want it to be done. I want it to be over.

Please don't make me tell you more. I just want to sit here, by myself, watching orange shadows dance across the rough, white walls, until 'the change' takes place.

May the God of the Jews, or the Zoroastrians, or the Gnostics, or whoever help me. 

Now shut up and leave me alone.
(more next time)

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CONFIDENTIAL ANCIENT ROMAN SCANDALS... in THE VAMPIREWONDERLAND... 7/07/13

Sometimes the Dalmatian, the Ethiopian and myself would sit with one of the trainers, a vampire from Londinium, although I don't think he was British. Just lived there in service to the son of some big shot. Worked as a 'fixer.' What your time calls a private detective. His stories were positively hypnotic. 

We'd hole up in the alcoves, little indentations carved out of the rock, back in Etruscan times. Smugglers used to hide things there.... precious stones from Hind... exotic beasts brought up from far beyond the Great African Desert. They say one of the old Etruscan kings had a whole army of pygmy cyclops. But I don't know if he had a whole army.... a century maybe... not a whole army.... And I wonder why we don't see too many pygmy cyclops anymore. What could have happened to them?

It'd get quiet underground, after all the work was done... We'd finish our regimen, eat dinner and relax. Some studied music, the lyre, or the Judean harp. Helvetian timbrels were big too. Others learned calligrafy... in Latin, Greek and Hebrew. But we preferred 'the fixer.' He made il mundi vampirici seem like absolute perfection... arcane mysteries.... hidden magic... untold riches.... deep, dark secrets and sensual enchantments of the rarest kind. 

He specialized in the killing of courtesans. Pillow talk can be fatal. Indeed, it is among the most lethal of venereal maladies. Secrets spread contagion and eternal silence is the only cure. So he'd visit them in their catteries.... a handsome, powerful stranger.... free with his gold and quite adept at oral stimulation. But blood can be drawn from many places and this one knew them all. 

What energy sparks the cold blue flame? What necromancy makes it happen? At first the body trembles for an instant or two, then suddenly combusts. I'm told the Han in far Cathay have powders that do that. But this is different. And it scares me to this day. Azure fire... large, flaky ashes.... an oily, sticky residue and it's over... No flesh... No bones... No hair.... An instant crematorium ordained by some dark god.... At least that's how it looks to us in Rome.... 

The fixer killed troublesome politicians too. But when they disappeared, families were left behind..... families with their own vampirici bodyguards. In this way feuds became vendettas and Rome began to fall, drained dry by the teeth of my brethren...

Bet they don't teach that in school???

Tomorrow I cross the River Styx.... Come back and see me off...
(more next time...)
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MORE FROM THE VAMPIRE PITS OF IMPERIAL ROME..... 7/07/13

They had academies for vampirina too.... 'finishing schools' for exotic enamoradas, so to speak. You see, those in charge of the training knew how powerful night-folk can be, but they never shared that information with us. Oh, we were aware of our strengths.... 'the look.'.... 'the grasp.'... 'the bite.'... and all that. Yet few new initiates ever knew how to sublimate, or fly, or effect matter (you'd call it magic) with their minds. Remember, technically, we were slaves and slaves aren't taught how to read...... But intelligent slaves manage to teach themselves.....

Every few days they'd evaluate us, just like dogs in a dog show... posture.... physical presence..... strength.... agility... muscle tone. And there was a certain waist-hips-chest ratio too. We had to conform to that. Height played a part as well. Not that we had to be exceedingly tall, but an imperious, intimidating stance was paramount. They fed us cleansing nectars to purify the skin. Then they waxed us from brow to toe.... Roman physicians were able to achieve a certain rudimentary form of plastic surgery and a small number of nonconforming noses were carefully fractured and reset. In some instances foreskins were restored too. Voice teachers taught us perfect pitch and subtle modulation. Later on, after transformation... after 'passing through the portal,' some became good singers, but that was just an extra added bonus. 

We were paired with all types of partners. They watched us perform and took notes. But preferences and stamina change after vampirification, so these tests were only.... well, actually, I don't know what they were for. Perhaps for the stimulation of patricians and nobles invited to witness  the proceedings, which always took place in an opulent, little, jewel-box, subterranean theater not far from our below ground academy. You see, even at that stage, we had to be kept out of daylight, for some of our teachers were vampirici...

Oh, we were 'named' upon transformation too. Such rarefied things we were. Aristocrats and potentates  doted on us. You see, vampires are sterile and thus unable to pollute the harem, though much more powerful than any eunuch could ever be.... In short, the perfect weapon, or as close to perfect as possible. Betrayals did take place. But, then again, catapults misfire too...

Now excuse me while I dine.... Twins from the Tin Isles... My favorite..... Oh look, the blond one cries.....

(more next time)
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THE IMPERIAL ROMAN VAMPIRE KNOWN AS JANUS, CONTINUES ... 7/06/13

The two huge Dacians spirited me away through an underground labyrinth. Apparently, some young 'worthy' up in the gallery saw something in me...some spark, or ability, or maybe it was just lust. But I was taken to a subterranean 'school' rather like the one in Spartacus, only geared toward the creation and training of vampire body guards. 

I was given over to one known as Charon, named for the ferryman charged with taking souls from this world to the next. And the school itself was called Hades...the underworld... a benign 'hell' peopled by the dead. 

We toiled in eternal shadow, broken by weak illumination provided by a multitude of small, brass, oil lamps placed in niches scattered about the grotto-like enclosures. First came physical training. No fat vampires here. They drilled us for hours... calisthenics followed by various athletic competitions, such as wrestling or swimming....(in a long forgotten, though still functional pool surviving from the earliest days of The Republic.) I suppose the water was clean enough. Yet what did that matter? For soon we'd be vampires and beyond all earthly contagion.

And we were fed like princelings..... costly eels.... plump, fresh hares... peacocks and peahens... haunch of unicorn and savory pies made from the juiciest of phoenix breast. There were cheeses made from gryphon's milk and good, brown bread baked with exotic Scythian grains. some said they slipped in human tissue from time to time, to stimulate cravings for 'dinners' yet to come.

I fell in with two others, a Dalmatian (human, not canine) from across the Adriatic and a kidnapped Ethiopian sailor, who'd been to Serendip. We formed a 'pack' and for centuries after I did keep in touch with the sailor who rose quite high in service to The Purple Throne (rulers of Byzantium). But the Dalmatian was abducted by a band of Abenaki. And already immortal when it happened. They took him to the stars. I suppose he's out there still.

Now, had I been left unmolested in my Celt-Iberian homeland, what would I have seen?.... Some feasts?... A wife?.... Some children?... Oh, the scenery would have been nice, but for how long... thirty five years... maybe forty? Death comes soon enough. But now I am vampirici and (hopefully) immune to that. And although I speak to you from the second century, A.D., as some call it, a certain prophetess found in a little temple hard by The Forum tells me my 'life' will be long and I too will meet the Abenaki, though in a ship of Earthly devise. 

I must leave you now, but only til Fair Luna sails again. Permit me to float amongst my dreams. I will be back...
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VAMPIRE LORE FROM ROMAN TIMES.... 6/05/13

I am Janus. We have never spoken before, but I am aware of your place on the space-time continuum and how you smell when frightened. I inhabit the age of the great Marcus Aurelius. Rome governs all. Rome owns all. Rome exploits all.... And I exploit Rome.

This one is 'lamia sanguine'.... a vampire.... a blood thirsty witch. And before I entered this cult of mystery, I dwelt among the Celt-Iberians and was one of them, hunting in the forests of Galicia and dancing to the rhythms of the moon. Clothing was foreign to us, though bodily decoration was not. Some wore tattoos. Some wore torques. Some wore both. Such a sensual way to live.... the comfort of air and sunshine. How I miss that now. 

Latin slavers came down from the Acquataine in the southwest part of Gaul. They set snares among the pecan groves and traps in the bushes.... and I was taken... bound in a coffle and marched overland to the port of Marsallia. 

They penned us, separating males from females and children from those able to reproduce. Some of the children were sold to speculators for all manner of cruel uses. Others were fed to the pigs. Semi-feral breeds favored by Roman gourmets like a muddy, screaming young one every now and then. A piteous way to end. 

I was sent to the vampire pits. They had them then, deep within the darkest reaches of the Subura, a notorious slum worthy of The ripper. Dandies came to wager, winninng and losing thousands of sesterces in these dank, hellish cellars of death. 

Twelve scared victims went into the pit armed with daggers and clubs. No armor. No padding. No modesty cloth. Nothing else. Just a knife. Just a club.Then the vampire entered, a wiry wraith with long, lank hair and a loin cloth. He leered at the spectators up above. Why he didn't sublimate... why he didn't leap up into the stands and kill them all, I do not know. Perhaps he was numb to his talents. Some vampirici are. I know you've heard them say - 'the magic settles differently on each and every one.'.....Well it does. That's true. But this one still had teeth and strength and power. 

The rich, young bloods yelled 'kill! kill! kill!' And he did, ripping open the throats of his attackers as if the weapons were never there. I tried to make common cause with two others. Dacians I think they were, likely fighters too. But the nature of our surroundings unnerved them. Oh, for a while we did fall back, hugging the blood stained wall, while others met their fate. and he drank it all... the vampire, I mean. Then he turned toward us. The first Dacian shrieked like a little girl, as piss arced from his groin. How the crowd laughed. How they roared. And the vampire, a bit of an actor in his own right, played the part of a lion, stalking his prey with cold, hard dispatch. He lept forward, pinning the man to the wall. I never saw a person tremble so. He looked positively electric, if that is the proper word. I'm not sure. I could hear him whisper - 'no...no...no,' as the night-fiend nuzzled his throat, searching for the right spot. When he found it, death, or rather a dazed condition very close to it, came fast. And the second Dacian suffered a similar end. No, I think he bit the fingers off first, but I'm not sure, for I had troubles of my own to contend with. And the bottom of the pit was quite slippery, what with the greasy residue left after the drained bodies ignite. The crowd roared, as each burst into flame.... a cold blue flame, as happens to all vampire leavings. They yelled - 'Finish it! Finish it!'.... for I think the time taken to complete the carnage had something to do with the pay-out.

The creature turned toward me. I scampered 'round the circular enclosure, hugging the wall all the way and would have kept up the dance for hours, had not the monster tired of my performance. He sprang 'cross the pit and grabbed me, throwing me down onto the slick, putrid mess, as he sniffed 'round my belly, preparing for a heart-bite, more suited to ghouls than vampires.

But then he saw the mark and stopped.... a small tattoo... just above my sternum. He mumbled something in a dialect somewhat like my own, but different. He jumped to his feet yelling - 'Nae! Nae! Nae!.... as the crowd booed and pelted us with chic peas (a favored snack).

Two larger vampires, dressed like tigers, entered the pit and  dragged us both away...

Please forgive me for barging into this narrative, but I've never experienced a truth telling place like this and I want to have my say.....

Next time I'll tell you more...
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MORE ON 'CHERUBS' and other NIGHT-FOLK LORE ........ 7/04/13

It's been said that 'cherubs' made The Renaissance. The artist known as Giotto kept two in a golden room lit by the magically preserved 'tails' of Neapolitan fireflies.  His plump, gurgling, vampire-like babies (toddlers, actually) bounced off the walls, high on the blood of soon to die plague victims. 

Most vampires of moral bent shelter cherubs when they can and shun those responsible for their nativity. Ecclesiastic spies believe they (the cherubs) are linked to over zealous devotees of Mithra and are products of almost orgy-like blood baths. Apparently, white bulls were not always used. Clean, blemish-free humans were occasionally substituted and unbeknownst to believers, incognito vampires often crashed the revels in search of an easy meal... or partial meal, kind of like a tid-bit you'd get at a tapa.  And since babysitters were hard to come by in ancient Parthia, over-eager parents often brought the kids. 

That's why we have 'cherubs.'

Well, at least that's one explanation. ... There are about four in Philadelphia. Some say the delightful, little darling, known as Marie-Claire (if I have it right) died not too long ago. I will have to ask the caretaker's wife, the one who sits in her snug, little cottage lost amidst the mossy stones of the great Laurel Hill Cemetery.  She knits them sweaters and caps, but you already know that.

Cognoscenti of the breed say autumn's the time. Chill, crisp nights enliven the little buggers, who have been known to playfully nip an ear as they swoop low over Center City pedestrians. I love the way they chortle. 

As is the case with most vampiric variants, they can tolerate certain liquid refreshment and are particularly fond of Kool Aid, Orange Aid and the like. Cold pitchers left on rooftops make good bait. If rats are a problem, CD's of Walt Disney's DUMBO played on small battery powered CD devices draws them in too. 

One hears stories of over-indulged 'cherubs' kept as pets by strange, wealthy foster parents.

Tomorrow I'll tell you one of those...
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