Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Biolo...

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Biolo...: Soon we are gonna introduce some representatives of original Martian fauna. They lived there back when the planet was a hot, wet moister pla... Anybody want a full blooded, Martian chupicabra for a pet? We can't keep it, 'cause it killed all the neighbors and peed up all the rugs... (peek into the flora and fauna on the fourth rock from the sun)..... Good entry point into our EL RANCHO TEXACO story arc... HOW THE WEST WAS WON meets DALLAS on Mars. If you like it, just scroll down to NEWER POST or OLDER POST (click on either one) and explore. Think of a highly readable, novel-like film treatment. Join us on Twitter at ~> @wilkravitz ... Some other Twitter sites you might like are ~>@andrewharding4 ... @joe_hill ... @O_GTomes ...@jthomasross ... @eliroth ... (more later)... your COMMENTS are very appreciated. Thank you.

THE ACID BATHS OF IMPERIAL ROME and other loathsome necessities... 7/30/13

First of all, the Amphitheatro Flaviani, which most Romans call 'The Coliseum' is already over one hundred years old, a venerable vector of vicious vice and venal voluptuousness. How's that for alliteration? They have night shows, you know... perfect for vampires, whores, cut-throats and any other cultural specimens given to unusual hours. I go from time to time. The Nessos have a box, not too close to the Imperial Enclosure, but not too far away. Nobody wants to seem threatening. Such behavior is a good way to make yourself part of the show. They have elephants, actual pachyderms all the way from the Land of Hind, plus a few from somewhere past the great deserts of Africa, though that variety is much harder to control. And I once saw a recalcitrant valet get his head shoved up a she-elephant's ass. A real show stopper. Let me tell you. There's a device, like a narrow bed, high atop a bier, maybe ten feet high. And the whole contraption rolls around on four gold wheels. They strapped the valet down (a troop of pygmies, who also served as dancers, did the honors) on his belly... naked, always naked. You know how the Romans are. Naked is the new black. And they did something to the elephant. Gave her sweet, juicy melons injected with some sort of fermented intoxicant, until she was sleepy and compliant. Then they wheeled the bier right up under the giant beast's tail. One of the pygmies scrambled up on her back to raise it out of the way. Another straddled the victim's shoulders and greased his head up real good with butter from a small, red crock. A lot of the props at The Coliseum are red..... Easy to see from the stands. Rubbed it in his ears... on his head (shaved, of course.... 'round his jaw, his neck, the face, everywhere. Next they worked a big, thick candle (well, it looked like a candle) deep into the elephant's dung-hole. She trumpeted a bit. The crowd roared, as she proceeded to shit right on the valet's head. He coughed. He screamed. He begged. He cried..... And the crowd began to yell and chant.... 'Make them 'one.'... Make them 'one.'..... So they did. A pygmy cohort down on the sand pushed the bier in closer. The man holding the tail swabbed the beast's anal region with a sopping rag tucked into a braided, leather belt (his only garment). This caused an immediate slackening of the sphincter, but seeing as the giant's bowels were already empty, only a thin drool ran out. A pygmy hanging onto one of the tall, thin legs of the bier scooped some up on two fingers and smeared it across the victim's lips, teeth and gums. And the crowd went berserk... foot stomping, yelling, screaming, everything. Needless to say, the poor man threw up... projectile vomit, I might add and since his head was not supported by the narrow pallet, the rank cascade was seen by all, to the manic delight of those in attendance. People threw roses to the pygmies. They actually did. And the little comedians scooped them up, tickling each other with the blossoms in a most ribald manner.... Not the one's on the bier, or the beast's back, but the remainder of the troop capering about down on the sand, below. 

And maybe eight heartbeats later they did it, forcing the bier in close and jamming the man's head right up the elephants ass. The crowd gasped. You could see his body convulse against the straps. He trembled. It was horrible... hypnotic and horrible. 

Then she trumpeted. The beast trumpeted. I suppose she was still sedated from the melons and all, but she knew something wasn't right. So she tightened her grip on the victim's neck and made off, lumbering 'round the perimeter of the great, sandy ring like a war-horse dragging supplies, as perhaps fifty 'pygmies' (I later found them out to be small Romans, special entertainers, made up for the occasion, as the promoters lacked access to such exotic humans and knew nothing of their lives and customs) vaulted about in a frenzied dance. Oh, and before I forget... some of the torches produced colored flames... reds and blues and greens. And the music was good too. 

Now I don't know how long a mortal can survive with his head shoved up an elephants ass, but by the time they freed him, he was dead. And as soon as the pachyderm was safely lead away, twenty ferocious mandrills raced onto the sand, devouring the remains.

Children in the stands liked that part. You know how much children love monkeys.

Look, I know I've yet to get to the acid baths, but I just saw this and wanted to relate it while fresh in my mind.

We have showmen here in Rome, true masters of the theatrical arts....
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ROMAN SLAVE VAMPIRE BODYGUARD TELLS US MORE... 7/28/13

The things I speak of already happened, but not that very long ago. When you read this, it seems as if you peek into the distant past, for my true time is far removed from yours. I know not what calender you use. I'm told the Zoroastrians have one and the Jews have one and the Egyptians have one based on ancient dynasties. The Romans base theirs on The Founding.... the establishment of 'The City.'..... Who cares? Days are days and nights are nights. And all of us ultimately die. Do you think bodies in the grave, or ashes in the urn worry about numbers? 

But please forgive me these outbursts, for I have seen bad things. The lady's maid, from my master's household, asked me to save her father, held in bondage quite nearby, though in a strange and grievous place. Rome holds many secrets behind plain, rough, street-side walls. Her ruling families turn inward, away from the disgusting mob they need so much.... I ask you... who is the real vampire... I, or a clueless, eight year old prince-ling playing knucklebones with the real thing, made from the chopped-off hands of a hungry slave-thief trying to filch a fresh, hot, pigeon pie. They still have him... the slave, I mean.... Play ring toss games on the stumps. And he  eats his food from a bowl like a dog.

I picked the lady's maid's father out right away. They share the same scent. Mortals smell like bread to me, or sausages, or even cat piss. Not vile odors, though decidedly alive and of the flesh. He was packed in tight, down in the 'pits,' mindlessly humping up against a more or less anonymous mound of meat. Must have been a kitchen slave. They do tend to corpulence. Funny, no one chops their hands off. Probably because they're afraid of ground glass in their porridge. Causes heart problems, you know. And by 'problems' I mean death. 

Now, the father in the pit was painfully thin and his illness was quite manifest. Perhaps he'd have lived a season or two more. But the daughter, the lady's maid, was very attached to him. For the first six years of her life they were owned by the same people. She didn't even have a name, not an official one anyway... not a name given her by the master. Most called her 'Outy,' after her navel. They tied rags 'round her feet and used her to polish the floors. But one too many trips to the gaming tables of Capri forced a series of liquidations. She was sold with the cleaning supplies. He was sold as a 'rooster,' for back then that's what he was.

But back to the pit, which was more like a round, deep, well-like dungeon. I think I've mentioned it before. The close, nighttime quarters facilitated mating and frankly guaranteed a good crop of future merchandise. Some of the others knew what I was and called for me to favor them, or to finish them off.  Slaves have such simple wishes. But a vampire bodyguard who feeds off potentially valuable assets, especially other people's assets, walks on shaky ground.

So I fished him out and made him well. Those in the pit cheered and wept. A few drops of life-eater blood passed mouth to mouth is a potent thing. That much I knew...

That much I knew quite well... 

And I did intend to talk about the acid baths, but these episodes are real and truly 'organic.' Isn't that a word endemic to your time? See, I observe. I see things. 

Now let me retreat to the shadows. Next time I'll tell you more...
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wander through all of the VAMPIRE WONDERLAND at ~> THE TALE OF 700,000 WORDS ... join me on Twitter~>@wilkravitz ... your COMMENTS are very important to me... thank you very much... 

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: MEANWHILE DOWN AT THE JERSEY SHORE.... a glimpse into a story line from two and a half years ago.. scroll up or down if you like it... 7/27/13

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: MEANWHILE DOWN AT THE JERSEY SHORE: Baylah could feel everything. She could taste the events in Philadelphia. She knew about Papa and what he did to the others. Did she hate hi... I am still so very, very tired.... but here's a peek into one of our best pixilated portals.....  a time when the twenty eight thousand year old, neolithic vampire, known as 'Papa' (a dead ringer for the thirty two or thirty three year old Richard Gere) did some very bad things. Baylah, originally a princess in Old Mali and now a 'life-eater' in Philadelphia, retreats to her mortal boyfriend's commodious shore house near Atlantic City, where she breathes in the salt air and plays 'vampire poker'..... Scroll up or down if you like this story arc and want to read more... You know how to do that. Click on 'NEWER POST' or 'OLDER POST' down at the bottom.

Thank you. The hum from the refrigerator's about to make me pass out. As always, look for more at ~> browse.feedreader.com/c/Billy_Kravitz_vampire_wonderland ... or jump in on TWITTER at~>@wilkravitz ... COMMENTS make nice gifts too. I'm s-s-s- sooo tired. ZZZzzzZZZzzz (collapsed on the cold, kitchen, gray, slate tiles....)

THE VAMPIRE BODYGUARD, JANUS, ENTERS THE SLAVE KENNELS... 7/26/13

It took a while for me to get that sublimation thing. The lady's maid wasn't much help. She's mortal and cannot do it, but she has a book, supposedly written by a highly respected Assyrian vampire back in ancient times. I like that name.... 'Assyrian'.... The 'Assyrian' Empire... The 'Assyrian' Lion.... 'Assyrian' pancakes.... I don't know if they had them. But almost every country has them. So why not? 

The book makes ancient Nineveh sound like quite the place. Ritual disembowelments and death by ants and honey.... The sacking of the Israelite Sanctuary at Shiloh..... Hot damn! Those were the days. Vampires slept in temples, protected by the priests and fed the most nubile delights. They had crypts down below the fine, inlaid, lapus lazuli flooring, lined with costly, gold brocades brought overland from the Kingdoms of Hind. Must go there someday. Not the city of Nineveh, for it is but a ruin. But Hind still survives... indeed, flourishes. I know. I've tasted the curries. Not first hand, but in the blood of certain Roman epicures given to rare and exotic, foreign cuisines. Dhows bring it over, offloading at what was once Solomon's treasure city of Etzion-Geber (Ait-cee-yon Geh-bare). How I'd love to see the East. 

Still, after some trial and error, I acquired the ability to pass through solid matter. First through gauze... Then through sheets... Then through wet sheets.... After that, people. Naturally, the ordeal killed them, so we only used the coarsest, cheapest slaves we could get. The master got us some off a bankrupt latifundia (plantation) down toward Calabria. I was shocked by the outcome. Shredded... They were completely shredded and showered down onto the atrium pavers like so many tiny shards of wet, red glass.... Then they fizzed and disappeared, running down into every little crack and seam in the stone. Masters appreciate bodyguards who can sublimate, so this was a win-win all around. 

Two nights hence, I entered the slave kennels of a splendid villa not so far away. But these pens were vile, like dungeons they were... dark and hot and steamy. People screamed like maniacs locked in the luna-teriums for the insane. And they writhed, each against the other, a vast worm bucket of human flesh. I'm told this ups the crop of little slave-lings. For the master of this place 'dabbles' in the trade and is very scientifically oriented.

Well, he was...until I killed him. But more on that tomorrow. ..... Look, if it was up to me, I'd go on. But that 'wilkravitz' person  is inscribing this and he want a go beddie-bye.

So let the bastard sleep..... I'll be back.
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A REQUEST FROM THE LADY'S MAID, as told by the Roman vampire, Janus... 7/25/13

I am causing this material to combust upon the page, though from what I gather, it does not combust upon an actual page, but manifests in a rather ethereal manner on the surface of some sort of magic mirror. Yours must be a wonderful age. That 'wilkravitz' person prefers an earlier bedtime now and some woman called 'Edith' set it up so my thoughts are able to come to you in this fashion. In case you've come late to the tale, I am Janus, vampire bodyguard to the illustrious Clan Nesso, in the imperial city of Rome, during the reign of the great Marcus Aurelius. And though not a citizen (my forebears hail from the north-west corner of Iberia), I  move in rarefied circles as the pampered slave (only for legal reasons) to a family of decidedly senatorial rank..... If you don't know who Edith is, google her (whatever that is)... Search for ... Edith, Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz (whoever he is) and the magic mirror will tell you. 

Another member of the household, one lady's maid wants me to assist her. She claims my blood can cure the sick and extend human life. Her father, an old retainer in a nearby villa, suffers from a debilitating illness brought on by guzzling too much Thracian wine pilfered from the master's cellars. Everyone's noticed his sickly body. How can they miss it? The poor man serves as 'companion of the gate' and sits by the portal like a watchdog. No, really. I mean it. Certain chi-chi types in the capital have a thing for human watchdogs. They keep them out front, on little stools facing the street. Such slaves wear what a dog would wear, namely a neck collar attached to a chain, the other end of which is welded to a plaque cemented onto the wall. Duties are light.... BIG greeting for the master, the mistress and important guests. Lots of hand licking and all that. Rome is, after all, a weird and wonderful place. Though all tsk , tsk over his emaciated form..... the delicate rib cage and withered ass.. I don't know. Maybe it's not just the wine. But that's what the physician says and this one is very thorough, often killing people to get at the truth. Many say his shingle should read AUTOPSIES FOR THE LIVING.

The daughter, our lady's maid, wants me to 'sublimate' into his cubicle in the slave kennels and dose him with a bit of my blood. It's not that I am entirely unwilling. But first she has to teach me how this 'sublimation' works. 

I hear it can be dangerous and even fatal to life-eaters (vampires) unversed in such things. 

But she had a book and says she can teach me.....
(more next time)
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see more than 1,200 posts at ~>WOW, that's a LOT OF POSTS! ... join me on Twitter at ~>@wilkravitz .... please leave COMMENTS too. thank you.

THE IMPERIAL ROMAN VAMPIRE BODYGUARD, JANUS, SHARES MORE INSIGHTS... 723/13

Now there was a lady's maid in the Nesso household... a quite comely girl who passed herself off as  British, but everyone knew she was from Panonia (ancient Hungary). I mean THAT accent? Come on! But she was well versed in peasant wisdom and knew her way 'around a cauldron.' That's a saying we have, here in the capital. It means someone, usually a woman, able to conjure and influence events via potions and poultices. 

My unusual condition intrigued her and we'd talk out back, after dark in the kitchen garden. Cook didn't like it. But she didn't like anything. And she was a fanatic against the vampires. Had a copy of The Septuagint (Greek translation of The First Testament), so you KNOW what her favorite part was???... 'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.'..... Guess who was the witch? In her eyes, I mean. The poultice girl she considered an idiot. But I was the real thing. She knew what I could do, even if I didn't.

The Britainia girl, by way of Panonia clued me in on 'sublimation.' Had a friend who's husband was a vampire, so she knew. This was before she got sold into slavery. Actually, not so much sold, as pimped. The grandmother, who needed money to buy a nice, little mercantile inn somewhere just outside of the new city of Aquincum ( Budapest) gave her to a returning legionnaire, in return for a gold, ceremonial sword, which she promptly pawned for thirty five thousand sesterces... far less than it was worth...

(Someone doesn't want me to tell you the rest. I am sleepy. I am unnaturally tired. Magic is upon me (in addition to vampiric magic)  and I grow lethargic and heavy-lidded by the moment.

Please..... (heavy lidded yawn) forgive me. All I want to do is curl up after a good, blood feast and retreat to the land of nod...
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click WHAT BILLY WROTE ... and join me on TWitter at ~> @wilkravitz ..... sorry for mistake but I THOUGHT I posted last night, though I apparently was SO tired, I didn't (it was just saved as a draft).. Fixed now. Thank you all.