EVERYTHING IS EVERYWHERE ... Johannon Talks... 12/7/14

A FORTNIGHT LATER~~~

He walked with Sarah. The rain had stopped. It was cold and windy. Jonathon was still weak. She made sure he dressed warmly. Edith (for she was back too) made him a muffler and in the way of her people, in the way of The Pines, she prayed over every stitch. Sarah put it on him.  All is as it was. The townhouse was ready. Loyal 'familiars' saw to that. The floors were buffed. The rugs were cleaned. Even the windows sparkled. And you know how hard it is to engage residential window cleaners this time of year. Edith bought candles, the green apple kind vampires like. True, Jonathon was still mortal, but he noticed and he thanked her. 

Now they passed through the narrow streets he loved so well. Sarah held his hand and put it in her pocket. Jonathon said - I like the air and the wind and the damp. I like all of it. ..... Sarah said - I'm glad. And do you like the food? Edith wants you to gain weight..... Jonathon whispered - I like the food. The first I've had since (he exhales and thinks) the year they call ten ninety seven. Forty eight fifty eight by my reckoning. You know, I always refer to myself as 'one thousand years old.' But I'm not. I'm only nine hundred and thirty five, or there about. ..... She squeezed his hand and said - Oh, so young.

Then they went by Head House Square, an old, long, red brick, market pavilion going back centuries. It was empty now. Three thirty in the morning. Clubs and taverns closed ninety minutes ago. But the diners and coffee shops were still open. So they turned onto South Street and made for a place that had good omelets. Jonathon liked it there. He usually sat in the back nursing a mug of tea. He liked hot tea.  This time he'd have a little bit more. 

The waitress knew them. She didn't know about the vampire part, but she knew. She knew there was some special quality, some elusive difference. They helped her once when her little daughter was sick. Doctors and hospitals would only do so much. Her insurance, such as it was, wouldn't pay them any more. So she took the little girl home one night and bought her the doll she'd always wanted. Then, as her mother was watching over the child, she sat outside, on the low, white, marble steps and had a cigarette. While she thought, or tried to think, Jonathon and Sarah came by. The vampirino said - What's wrong, Joann (for that was her name)? Why are you shaking?...... The waitress told him. She said she'd been everywhere and tried everything..... Jonathon sat down by her and quietly answered. He said - Everything is everywhere..... Now the waitress was puzzled by those words. But Sarah knew. It was his way of saying nothing is impossible, or almost nothing. 

The next morning a package arrived, delivered by a 'familiar.' As he was neatly dressed and well spoken, the grandmother accepted it. She took in inside and opened it, finding what looked like a genuine pharmaceutical parcel. Then she ran next door and asked a neighbor lady to read the directions and explain it all to her, for the grandmother was born in another land and had not sufficient knowledge of the language. Well, the prescribing physician's name was right. The pharmacy was right. It all seemed so proper. She tried to call her daughter. She phoned the diner. Upon hearing the particulars, the waitress was shocked. Maybe he did it? Maybe the doctor came through? The pills... The medicine... Seven hundred dollars a capsule.... That's it. He did it. He sent it. And in her heart she blessed him for righteousness not his own.

Five capsules. Five shiny red capsules. One each day with her evening meal. So the grandmother made the tuna croquette and the macaroni and cheese and brought it up. There was applesauce for the medicine. She carefully opened the capsule (the instructions said she could do that) and mixed in the glittering dark red crystals. No one ever suspected it was vampire blood, whether Sarah's or Jonathon's is immaterial. Vampires, moral vampires, aren't like that. But, thank God, the little girl lived and got well. Small infusions of night-folk blood can work miracles.

Help is all around us. Solutions may be elusive, but you can find them.

Everything is everywhere.

The townhouse has been made right. And Jonathon, though in an ever so slightly altered form, is back.

Call me Johannon. We've spoken before. And I have returned to this place too.

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Tomas Watches Peter Pan on TV and Recounts Le Avventure di Fauno .. 12/5/14

He woke up. Tomas was awake. Not completely. Still a bit drowsy. But he knew his name and he knew where he was. Sarah was with him when it happened. The television was on. No, sound, but it was on. Peter Pan. A nurse did it. Sarah didn't care. She just sat and dozed. They gave her a carafe, not a whole one, more like a half, of some kind of white wine. But she didn't want it. Guy who brought it in meant well. She thanked him. 

Tomas noticed the tv screen. Saw Peter Pan fly, or something like that. Gave her a half smile and said - Fauno. Le avventure di Fauno..... Sarah said - What, Tomas? What did you say?..... He said - I know the story.... Then he drifted off again. He closed his eyes, but continued to whisper......

When I first come into this. El mundo vampirido, I mean. There was a place, some woods. I don't know where, but the people spoke Italian. Like an old Italian. Dante, la lingua di Dante. I know it. Not like I know Old Spanish, or Vahmperigo, or... the other (trembles) 'talks' I know. The girl, the skinny boy-girl they got dancing around on the television, she is the Fauno, il Fauno. Very big famous star of many stories. You tell me. You tell me. I am mortal, or vampirino?

Sarah inhaled and said - You are mortal, Tomas..... He says - Why do you call me that name? I am not Tomas. I am Jonathon ben Macabi. Not Tomas..... Sarah guessed he remembered the earliest parts of his life first. Doctor Franklin and the others said that would happen. He always vacillated between the two names anyway. That's how it was in Europe. In one town you can be a Jew. It was alright. Not easy, but they don't kill you. Next town, they kill you maybe. So people have inside names and outside names. They all do it. Not just the Jews. You travel. You go out on the roads. They stick a big pin in your neck. Not a pin. More like a skinny spike. Vein, or artery, or whatever you got bust open. Blood shoot out, or squirt  down your throat and you die. They take your money. They rape your wife. They sell your children. If they don't wanna feed no children til they sell them, they throw them down a well. Not a wet well, a dry well. Head smash open. Neck break. No more that kid. It was a custom. Then, after wife all raped up, they throw her too. You know it is not good to separate a mama from her children? Everybody knows that. So people got a home name and a road name. Road name make them look like a big shot. Like a gentleman. Got a fancy cloak. Got a scroll, got a parchment from some bishop. Says you helping the bishop. All stamped. Red wax and everything. Only you got a brother-in-law make it up for you. Some bastards scared to kill big shots. They take the money, but you live. Everybody lied back then. Nobody likes getting killed.

Who am I? Well, let me tell you. I am a disembodied spirit. We narrate from time to time. If you know this story, you know us. We got Johannon and Zebulon and Mister Never-You-Mind. Got other ones too. Right now, you don't have to know my name.

Jonathon wants to be vampirino again. He dreams about it. Thought it happened already. But that was just an illusion while he was dead. Dead folks think of all kinds a crazy shit. They don't know. Angel go - Yo, asshole! Shut up! You in Heaven already! They don't know. They scared.

Jonathon watches the show. He goes - Why he fly like that? Il Fauno don't fly like that. He go fast. He go smooth. He go high.

Sarah says - It's a story. That's not real. Il Fauno is an elferino (pubescent vampire), yes?..... Jonathon nods. He smiles. He likes the story.

Sarah gets up and sits on the side of his bed. She kiss his hand.... He says - I like you. You a nice lady..... She says - And I like you a lot too.

Little by little he gets better.

When the funny pirate-man dance around he laughs

Sarah laughs too...

<more next time>

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The Wee Hours of December 3rd In Philadelphia ... 12/3/14

Tomas slept. He lay wrapped in the sheets and he slept. A nurse came in to check his vitals... all within acceptable parameters. The room is dim. There are no external windows, but as is the case with many underground, 'Bureau' chambers, artificial windows (basically extreme high definition panels dressed to look like windows) provide 'views' of an outside world. 

Sarah, his consort, sits in a chair watching silent talking heads on @TMZ. Then she gazes out the window, taking in the exquisitely rendered Jacksonian scene.... eighteen twenties Philadelphia by twilight. Carriages bounce past in the deepening gloom. Lamplighters, carrying long, match-like poles and four sided, glassed in lanterns, go about their rounds igniting wicks in oil-filled street lights. Squirrels scamper about leaving embroidery-like tracks on a dusting of snow. A woman hurries by, dragging a dawdling child. She turns toward the people in the room, as if she can see them. The Anti-Enchantment Bureau has unmatched technology, if that's even the right word for it. 

Doctor Franklin, dressed in his favorite uniform, a green Eagles sweatsuit, glides into the room upon one of his battery powered scooters. He stops by the foot of the bed and says - How is he?.... The same - says Sarah. He mumbles. His eyelids flutter. He gets restless. Changes position.... Luna's been in (a vampire physician and Sarah's one time rival). She tapped some tubes, scanned the monitors and left. Sarah gave her a weak smile and got one back. They can be civil when they have too.

Franklin says - Come Sarah, take a break.... She follows him out of the room and down the hall toward a small snack bar. They go to the counter. Franklin addresses the girl. He says - Hello, Brittany. I'll have a diet coke and a large sweet potato fries and she'll take a cold, clarified cider...... Vampires can tolerate beverages, provided they're thin and watery. Sarah likes the smell of apples. She enjoys it. Buys green apple aroma candles whenever she can. Skinny guy at Yankee Candle knows her by name. Does he know she's a vampire? Some people who deal with them know. Some don't know. It's always been like that. 

Sarah turns the pages of an OK MAGAZINE. People leave them on the tables. Seems the British Queen has a real good way to make bread pudding. Makes it for herself and her husband on 'off nights.' Buckingham Palace is like a big ornate hotel. Ain't got no casino. Who knows? Maybe it does, down the basement or someplace. Queen has an apartment. Don't know how many toilets they give her. That's like a secret. Says she got a nice kitchen,though. Sarah closes the magazine and says - What will he remember... about the procedure... about... being dead?..... Doctor Franklin says - I don't know.... We got his ashes. And you know, I mean more than just dried ashes. I mean the greasy residue. All of it. We got it right away. They say life-eaters,  who die suddenly, revisit their remains. They say a lot of things. I know more than my share, but not everything. Did he survive as coherent energy? Call it a soul. I'm not adverse to that. I'm a Deist. God 'is.' You do the math. Yes, he did survive. And it took a long time to get him, shall we say, 'settled,'. We had him in a 'soul' pod even before we got a body. And what's a soul, energy, a quantum field? We bombarded him with images even then. Is this a precise science? No. One day it will be, but not now. We were just lucky. We were very lucky. And the information we got from that place in Russia was invaluable...... But, now we have him back? - asked Sarah..... Yes - said the Doctor. Now we have him back.

She sipped her cider and whispered - He looks so fragile... Doctor Franklin said - Because he's mortal. You've never seen him that way.

Sarah broke down - I want him back. I want him the way he was....... We all do - said the Doctor. We all do.

When she returned to the room, Tomas was all curled up sucking his thumb. She stroked his hair. He seemed to smile. It's miraculous how close this body is to his - she thought.
Then he said something in Old Vahmperigo (an ancient vampire dialect)....

But she didn't know the words...

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You Can Play A Mind Like A Vast Piano ... Tomas' Next Adventure 12/1/14

Things happen suddenly. Meteors vaporize continents. 'Soldiers' machine gun babies. A dancer plucked from the chorus by an amorous star-maker goes on to a stellar career. No one knows why. Perhaps time doesn't matter? Maybe the past, present and future are but competing swirls of syrup in a vast eternal smoothie? Sometimes they kiss. Sometimes they part. When reality and illusion are added to the mix things really get complicated. Can you follow all the threads?

Ssssh, he hears something. The sounds... the voices... Tomas hears them. He huddles in a den beneath the hedgerows with other tiny humans. They have warm, carefully cured, mouse pelt blankets. He taught them how to do that. He taught them many things. It's raining out in the dark, wide world. Each drop is so large to them, like a liquid pomegranate falling from the sky. But the original possessors of this den, the ground squirrels, knew how to build, so the wetness stays outside. 

The others sleep, even the few novice vampires. But Tomas, also known as Jonathon, does not sleep. He lays curled by the smooth, dirt wall, surrounded by his rescued brethren. His eyes are open. He detects things... a rhythmic, electric hum... tiny rapid, pin-point tickles... voices... muffled sounds... the smell of ozone..... Then come flickers... The den disappears... He is suspended in a soft, grey void.... a dense, ethereal place. They say some parts of Jupiter's atmosphere are like this... smothering blankets of slowly, flowing matter... not solid... not liquid... not air...

And then the squirrel den is back again.... It's all so fluid... Doctor Franklin appears. He hovers above me like a shield blocking the sun. I hear my own voice... mumbling... moaning... trying to shape words..... lights flash... it gets dark, but the temperature rises, warmer than it should be in a chill, damp, nighttime burrow. Tomorrow will be bright. Tomorrow will be spring. The sun will shine. Vampires can endure sun in this strange place.....

A pulse wracks my body. Iridescent singularities dance before my eyes....People talk. They whisper. But not here. Not in the den. No one here seems to notice. They breath. They snuggle. They sleep..... Doctor Franklin whispers - Not long. ... Someone says - It's so hot in here.... Doctor Franklin says - I can't help that. It has to be warm. Be patient. A few more minutes. A few more minutes. Let him breath. Let him breath..... Another voice shouts - He doesn't need oxygen!..... Can you keep quiet, you idiot?! Do you think I don't know that?! - barks the 'Doctor.' It's a reflex. He inhales. He exhales. That tells us a lot....

The voices fade away. Tomas studies the sleeping humans all around him. It's dark, but not  completely so to vampire eyes. And his gaze falls on a skinny, little girl, wrapped in a mouse-skin blanket. She leans against the opposite wall. Their eyes meet. She smiles and waves.....

(Then it all disappears... Poof! It's gone)

Tomas stares up at a smooth, white, clean, cement ceiling. Clinical fixtures bathe all in bright, metallic light. He rests suspended, held aloft in an energy web emanating from the throbbing heart of Doctor Franklin's harmonic masterpiece, The Grand Armonica. Crisp, uniformed technicians race from end to end, monitoring readings. The Old Patriot sits at the organ-like controls of a large console, orchestrating the whole thing. He says - Tomas... Tomas, can you hear me?.... A technician, holding up a syringe asks - Shall I give him some more?.... The Old Reprobate raises a hand to silence him, then says - Tell me your full name, Tomas and where were you born?.....

For perhaps twenty three heartbeats just silence.... Then a weak response.... The young, naked vampirino hanging in the barely visible, ever changing network of harmonic, energy threads coughs and in a quiet voice he says - My name is Jonathon ben Macabi, also known as Tomas de Macabea and I was born in Granada, which is ruled by The Caliphate of Cordoba.... Then he whispered something in Old Spanish, or Hebrew, or Arabic... None could tell. 

Those in attendance burst into applause. Most were staff people, but some were wealthy guests, there to see the potential for 'life extension' inherently possible in this unusual procedure. The 'Doctor' valued his business world connections and the income they brought in. Benjamin Franklin is, after all, the ultimate realist.

When the cheering died down, the 'Doctor' adjusted his controls, weakening the web and slowly lowering our esteemed life-eater (politically correct term for vampire) onto a waiting gurney, where he was immediately wrapped in clean sheets and whisked off to an uber-tech intensive care unit. 

Human neurons can be very precisely stimulated. The mind can be played like a piano. And now, with our extensive knowledge of each and every region of the brain, we can paint detailed experiences and memories onto the human psyche. Thus Tomas' recent adventure. Those at 'The Bureau' had to know the strength and completeness of his re-mortalization. They needed to know if his energy cloud, or soul had successfully integrated into its new physical environment. He had to experience all manner of stimulation. Did the programmers get a bit crazy? Sure... 'invasions' of The Bureau... panicked flights to the Moon... a subterranean, Dyson Sphere-like lunar civilization.... Escape From New York-like chaos on the streets of Philadelphia... Giant canine, civilized, mid-Victorian alternate universe.... tiny humans raised for food in deep cellar mushroom farms? Looks like some of Doctor Franklin's programmers and technicians want to write for the movies. Lotsa luck. Hope they got 'good' cousins and stay on the right side of North Korea.

But that's history. Tomas is back. The procedure was successful.

Naturally, the poor, unwitting donor lost his mortal body and is now for all intents and purposes completely dead. But he didn't count for much anyway...

<nitey-night...or rise and shine... depending... more next time>

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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: The Book of Sarah Thanksgiving threw me off, so here's some classic stuff 11/30/14

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: The Book of Sarah: We walked. We walked back to Philadelphia, to a new existence in our new tabernacle in the sky. I led the way. Sarah, Bob, Baylah and a Pow ...



The Thanksgiving observance threw me off... beloved family members in from the far shore of our Great American Empire... new little dumpling (that means 'baby'... extra dogs and all that.... enough fancy deserts to do in three boatloads of Pilgrims and turkey flesh galore. I'll hopefully be back on track tomorrow. Til then, please allow me to show you a few Vampire Wonderland baubles from the past. They come from the early times, highlighting the Never Land existence of night-folk and, for the most part, slipped unnoticed into the great nimbus that is our wondrously pixilated world.



Just above these red letters, you'll see the portal. Click where it says The Book of Sarah . That'll get you in. Actually, this is the second post you'll see. I'm going to put up another. That one will be at the top. 



To wander through the whole treasure chest, click on this and scroll around ~> THE MAGIC KEY ...

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TOMAS RETURNS FROM WHENCE HE CAME.. 11/27/14 . Best Of Peter Pan-Never Neverland

Thus did the winter pass. The humans settled in. Existing vampires made more of their kind, forming a warrior class among the little people. They even learned how to herd mice, fattening them up with buttercups and marigold seeds. The flesh absorbed the flavor of the feed and it was good. 



Tomas served as a kind of Dalai Lama in this strange new Shangri La. He told them what to do and taught them how to live. They had no alphabet. He taught them our Roman alphabet. That's the name for what we use to write English. They made paper of a sort from tree bark. Not the thick bark that forms on trunks. These people were much to tiny for that. But the fine, thin bark sheathing new born twigs was perfect. Their first codices were crude, scratched out with a kind of charcoal and the spelling was obviously phonetic. Their language was a mix of English, Spanish and Hebrew. Tomas taught what he knew. Even a few giant canine words found their way in. At times the speech resembled Welsh, or Middle English, though sometimes it wandered off in directions all it's own, with vocalizations and syntax never before heard by mortal man. If that's what these beings truly were. They seemed to be.



Just having a written language gave their culture a huge step up. As their kind advanced into new territory and killed (you knew they would) more dog people, they'd be able to share things... ideas... discoveries... observations... all kinds of things. They'd mine metal, already refined and smelted from the eating implements in the huge houses. One fork could make a lot of plows... or swords. Tomas couldn't say which way they'd go.



Spring turned warm. Bugs woke up. In this giant place, that meant danger. Bees were OK. You could reason with them. Plant a lot of flowers. Let them have the nectar. Just spreading the 'dust,' just moving it around from plant to plant made more flowers. Bees were experts at that. Ants were another thing. They're mercenary bastards... all 'What's in it for me? And if I kill you, or your little grubs, will you taste good?'



Folks would have to feel their way. Tomas showed them how to make slings, simple bows and arrows, things like that. Even taught them how to use certain kinds of dirt to kill bugs. They can't stand it. Dries 'em all up. Desiccates their bodies. Turns 'em into husks. .... Teachings from an alien. We've heard that before.



But let me tell you this. I will put up, I will publish what I've channeled so far. This is me, Billy. Facts are coming through me this time. But there's a lot more to this post. Vibrations... resonances come back. Tomas feels them. He knows them. He recognizes them. And behind the buzz he hears voices. Folks are talking, whether to each other, or to him he can't tell. So he sits by himself and thinks. He prays. He wishes... tries to figure out what's going on..... Maybe he's not so all alone after all? ... Maybe somebody's found him?



Harmonics can work miracles and he does know a bit about that. If you've forgotten past episodes, or never read them, google Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz Harmonics, or Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz Great Armonica... Something'll come up. Then you'll know, or at least have a clue. And it's based on actual science. God bless Doctor Franklin.



I have to go to sleep now. Thanksgiving washes over us tomorrow. Let me rest. Let me get ready. 



That title up there will make more sense when the rest of this post goes up.



Tonight's music (the Never Never Land video) might put you in the mood. I hope you listen and enjoy it. 



May The Holidays... The Season of Miracles... dawn bright for you and yours.



Keep dreaming and please tell others. Thank you.



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The Vampire, Tomas, Becomes Attuned To Things... 11/25/14

We huddle together during the night. Days are bad enough, but nights are brutal. There's a layer of dried, plant particles on the floor. The den's full of it. Mostly leaves, I suppose. The humans burrow into it, just like they used to dig in under the excelsior in the glass tank in the kitchen. But it's still cold. We find dead ones every morning. 

Polidori (new vampire) had an idea.... use the corpses as bait. Drag them out where the mice will find them. So that's what we did. Caught one right away. Polidori jumped on it. Vaulted right onto it's back, just like an ancient Minoan bull jumper. Grabbed hold of the ears and held on. It squealed. It ran. Tried to knock him off in the brambles. Scratched him up pretty good. But he's a vampire. They heal fast. Thing got tired. Mice can move quick, but only over short distances. When it stopped to catch its breath, he bit in. Now mouse blood's not the same as human blood. But this universe isn't Earth either. Things are different. Do they overlap? Sure. But they're still different. He was nourished in a half-assed sort of way. And the mouse easily had a body mass equal to two and a half or three times that of a person. There was more than enough, so Tomas had some too. Not his cup of tea. But he was curious and this was taking too long. Soon after, it squeaked to a mousy god, shuddered, gasped and lay still, legs stiff, on it's side, the way they always do.

Then they peeled off the skin. Humans watched. One or two smart ones began to help. Repulsive sickening work. Had to force their finger nails under the hide. But what did they know from that? Just a matter of survival. Now being Australian, Polidori understood something about sheep. He knew how to stretch and dress a hide. Sheepskin gives good leather, thick, pliable and what with the fleece, incredibly warm. This wasn't that. Yet when properly prepared would provide robes for two people. Nothing fancy... More Neanderthal than Cro Magnon. If they can kill a few every week, they'd all be warm... or warmer. Built frames out of twigs. Polidori showed them. And via that 'skin talk' they have (stroke each other's faces picking up chemical 'words' along the way) 'smarts' travel fast. 

Did they eat the carcass? Of course. Country folk on Earth eat muskrat. In the tropics, fire roasted rat is a delicacy. It eats the grain and the farmers eat it. Thus they recoup their losses. Fire kills anything, even the germs. Soon they had quite a little community. Killed a few shrews too, but mice are easier. 

Tillie, the other vampire Tomas made, picked up some words. She learned English, naturally, because Tomas and Polidori spoke that, plus a few words of classical Spanish from Tomas too. Might have been Old Vahmperigo, the life-eater dialect. They are fairly similar. She appreciated her new, grey, mouse fur kimonos. The made snug boots too. Rodent couture was 'in' that year. The extra layer or two of insulation did the trick. People stopped dying. Oh, once a weasel came 'round. To the Mouse Skin Wearers it was an apatosaurus. But Tomas quickly sublimated through the head and killed it. Though it did crush a little boy under a sharp clawed paw. All the humans had to climb over it to get out of the den. They had to leave. It was too big. They couldn't move it. But a few yards away there was another den. From the smell, it probably belonged to some mice, though they were long gone. What with the vampires and other humans, what chance did they have? You know mouse bones make good spears? Leg bones telescope together. Sharp too.

Weeks passed. Soon it was time to feed. Tomas needed to kill. Local vampires, ones made here, had no such rhythms. They could kill. But regular small drinks were enough. The 'burden' rested different on them. It's always like that. Even Earth has different strains.After a while they formed 'harems' of compliant humans willing to share their blood. And the donors benefited too. Got choice hunks of mouse meat and nicest robes.

But vampires, at least Tomas' kind, get very aware come feeding time. He felt the air and the night and the damp and the soil. He smelled each and every mortal. How unique they were... How irresistible. The very particles of creation vibrated with a certain resonance...an 'Earth' resonance... It felt like home.

He lay there, curled up in the dark, listening to the world around him.... each breath and the subtle 'hum' of the planet beneath him.

Intersecting universes have overlapping resonances... That's how they intersect. So Earth, although thousands of light years away, was quite accessible in other ways.

Tomas felt that... and it tortured him.

Sometimes he almost heard voices.....

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