THE GUY WHO BLOGS for THE VAMPIRES, Billy Kravitz, TALKS .. 1/25/15

OK, I'm happy he's back and it all worked out. I'm glad he has his 'purpose' again. But he has to recognize that I want certain things too. Blogging for vampires isn't all I do. I write other things too. Some of them are (dare I say it?) screenplays. And I'm fairly sure I can write. I mean I know the difference between a first draft and a polished manuscript. But even my first drafts 'read' well. People who write know these things. We see other people's material, often professionally presented as either novel, or screenplay. We read it...and re read it to the point where we can see the writing instead of the story. Sometimes its special and sometimes its not. And we look at our stuff and think --- Why not  us?... Or more accurately - Why not me?

Well, that's how I feel. I want Jonathon to help me. I want him to sublimate into some agent's bedroom, like Marley's Ghost and scare the smoked ricotta right out of them. I want him to leave one of my screenplays on their Williams Sonoma night table. Maybe he could give them a drop or two of his blood, so we'd be friends and all... 

Is this probable?... No.... But the trouble is, I know it's possible. He helped a certain Philadelphia director break through, but that was before I got involved in all this. And something happened they never talk about. Every time I ask him he makes a face and looks away.

Their out back now, in the little kitchen garden. It's freezing.... all glazed in ice and slush. Sarah cleaned off this little wrought iron settee they have. Now their bundled up and wrapped in blankets... but they're out there. Vampires love the outdoors, even the truncated spaces we have in the city. Funny, since they don't need oxygen. I think early vampires lived out in nature. In fact, I know they did. 'Papa' did. He led moonlit hunts and everything.  Rode on the back of a woolly rhino. I don't know what they were after. That's not important. Could have been baby mammoths, or cocktail franks. He wasn't gonna eat it. Liked the drama of it all... Great Shaman of the lake-front tribe.

Edith made them some hot bullion. They can tolerate clear soups and beverages. Sarah likes clam juice. Jonathon tells her it's pure crap. Lord Byron's night fiends, they are not.

Sarah might help me. Am I crazy for wanting it like this? Well, tell me. Tell me why I'm crazy? My stuff is good. I could smash my skull against the doors of some production company and never get in. While some guy who went to camp with what's his names son makes movies. Look, I know it's not always like that. But that's just it. You use the tools life gives you. I got a powerful, moral, altruistic vampire and his more or less like minded 'wife.' Am I supposed to feel guilty about asking them to help me? 

If they won't, Edith will. She's not adverse to throwing a spell or two. She likes me. Buys the cold cuts I like.... Hawaiian Pastrami and all. I know a few simple Red Paint spells. They're not really spells. More like Zen contemplations. But they make things happen.. You know... visualization is realization... Once, in The Pines, I found a gold watch in the mud after I did it. Didn't work, but guy at the we-buy-gold place gave me two thousand dollars for it.

Look, the vampires have plenty. God knows how much they have. And they share with me. I can't complain. But I want my own and not just 'stuff,' but recognition too. I don't mean red carpets. Red carpets are fun, but red carpets are just rugs. I want to be acknowledged by other creative people. I want them to believe in MY abilities. And if it takes some vampire voo doo to make it happen, who the hell cares?

Wait a minute. Does that sound right?

Well, you tell me. You bounce around on line . You know how hard it is. What am I supposed to do?

I'm gonna try one of those Red Paint 'spell' things again. Not for a gold watch. I don't want no gold watch.

Just gonna do it and see what happens. 

Look at them out there. He hugs her. They watch the stars... all honorable and altruistic and 'good' vampire and all. But they got their 'familiars.' They control them. They juice them up with the blood and all.

I'll tell you another thing. I think that GOTHAM show has it all wrong. Batman, Bruce Wayne, I mean, was born sometime around nineteen ten. He was thirty years old when the first comics came out. That was about nineteen thirty nine... nineteen forty. So shouldn't GOTHAM look like World War 1 era New York?.. Horse drawn ice trucks... Old ladies in long dresses... Celluloid shirt collars... Them semi-open chauffeur driven limousines... Old time stuff. Not like that 'I don't know what time it is' easy to reproduce 'Manhattan.' There should be the essence of a whole new time being born. But they just don't see it... or see the need for it, 'cause 'you' buy what they sell anyway. 

I'm gone upstairs. I got a book... a Red Paint book. They don't write books. Some guy, some anthropologist wrote it fifty years ago. That's where I get the spells. I know a little from The Pines first hand. But a lot comes from the book.

Gotta try something. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

google --- Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz... to see more of our tale, but before you click, ad a word... ANY word... then click...see where it takes you. maybe that, in itself, is a little bit of magic too. 

click HAWAIIAN PASTRAMI ... to join me and a whole lot of other interesting people on Twitter.

please leave a COMMENT down below. thank you for your support.

JOIN US FOR A LITTLE FAME & NOTORIETY ..... 1/22/15

Be honest --- haven't you always wanted to guest host Saturday Night Live? Well, if Lorne Michaels won't hire you. Hire yourself. 

Read this post. We've been doing this for two months. The feedback is positive and everybody has a good time 

Are you wanting FAME? Do you want to be well known? ... Be with us on this big funny promotional (and it's simple, easy and free) thing we have. 

This SATURDAY NIGHT many people are gathering under a hashtag --- #realSNLtalk <~~~ you can click on it. Some are already 'verified'... all are creative and talented. 

All you have to do is get your best lines together and TWEET them to #realSNLtalk.... Get together with a partner & Tweet an ongoing sketch if you want. Just DON'T FORGET to end each tweet with that hashtag~~~> #realSNLtalk .... 

If you're good with photos & graphics, especially humorous ones... Tweet them... But PLEASE remember to end (or begin) every tweet with #realSNLtalk... Sounds crazy for me to repeat this so much but we've been running for two months and people claim to be joining in BUT they don't tag their material. Unless we tag everything and group it all together under the same umbrella there's no impact. So THAT'S WHY I bang the #realSNLtalk drum so much...

It started as an alternative to the #SNL site, which mostly either gushes over or trashes Saturday Night LIVE and its cast members. We were different. We discussed things... not just empty quotes of somebody else's material over and over and over and over.

Then we realized... HEY! We got personalities too! Let's put on a show... So now, even if Lorne Michaels won't let us guest host, we can grab the SPOTLIGHT on our own.

Join us. Be there at 11:30PMest . We run concurrent with the real SNL show. Give us a funny 'take' (or funnier take) on their  material. Go off on a rant of your own. Tell a joke. Relate a weird, humorous story. Post pics. Dance around on a video. Use your cute little dumpling of a baby as a ventruliquist's 'dummy' (wish I could spell... if I make money in showbiz, that'll be my first big thing--- hire a well known, high profile, fancy, Hollywood spelling tutor... oh, I want that SO bad)... Did I say the part about exploiting your babies? You could also hold them up under the arms and make 'em dance.

That's all I can think of now. Wanna watch Carson Daly.. BLAKE SHELTON's gonna be SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE host this week. And music guest too. We're gonna feature the 'verified' and well known #BluesRock sound of @wilybo and @karenak <~~~ yeah, they're clickable.

Oh, if you know your way around @cryptTV ... tweet a '6 SECOND SCARE and ad our #realSNLtalk hashtag too. Comedy and Horror overlap... sometimes unintentionally.

That's all. Tell your friends. 

Have fun... Get famous...

Join us...

Did I mention to always use the 
#realSNLtalk hashtag?

And for impact, all people taking part are going to post the SAME TWEET at 11:30PMest. They're going to say ---
LIVE! from this screen, it's #realSNLtalk! .... Then, for the next 90 minutes, EVERY TIME they post the #realSNLtalk hashtag goes with it.

OK OK OK, I'm done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

if you want me, I'm on Twitter at BILLY KRAVITZ ...and you can click on that too.

please COMMENT and thank you for your support.

And It Was Done... JONATHON IS RESTORED.. A Vampire Returns ... 1/21/15

And it was done. We don't have to run through the details. After four years of this (although essentially no one visited during year one and year two) you know how to make a vampire. You've seen it... a simple give and take. The essence of one flows into the other and then goes back... Repeat a few times... collapse in rapture... stare poetically at a moonbeam, while a poignant aria or duet plays softly in the distance.... a few deep breathes and there you have it... a vampire.

Jonathon sits on the floor, his back against the stones, staring at his outstretched legs. Sarah sits on the bed. She wants to go to him. But 'Papa' hanging in space like a suspended marionette, stops her --- No. Let him be. He has to shed. Itches and burns less when people aren't hanging all over him. 

She looks at Jonathon and says - How do you float like that? Sublimating, once you learn, is easy. Flying is too. But floating is hard. How do you keep all the air molecules from slicing through your body?..... 'Papa' just shrugs.... Sarah rests her hands on her lap. Jonathon begins to fidget. The peeling... the shedding of the skin has begun.

'Papa tries to distract them... He goes - I used to love Vienna.... Before the war, I mean.... The Second World War? - asks Sarah..... No, The Thirty Years War - says 'Papa.' That one might have liked it, my Jewish son, the one sweating and peeling by the wall...... W-what do you m-mean? - mumbled Jonathon, who'd stripped off his clothes, the better to roll off thick, heavy strips of wet oozing skin. Don't think of sunburn peeling. This is not like that. Sunburned mortals merely shed their epidermis, the thin, filmy, topmost layer of the skin. Newborn vampires lose the whole thing... the epidermis and the dermis entire, down to where hair follicles and sweat glands live. Though it would be wrong to picture Jonathon as a flayed mortal. For as soon as the old hide left, a new, smooth, fresh replacement came forth to take its place. Oh, he was bald for a few hundred heartbeats and completely hairless. But only for a little while. And the new growth was powerful better than what went before. 

But what 'Papa' referred to was the position of Jews after The Thirty Years War. You see, Christians had shredded each other to bits. Steak tartare was more spot on. Then, for added amusement, they burned witches. And please don't think that magic appellation meant only women. Men took fire-baths too. So did pubescent children. Elferinos and elferinas (pubescent vampires) suffered greatly. Populations were halved. In some places it was worse. Towns and villages reeked of death and only the crows were glad. But oddly enough Jews were left largely unmolested. Confined in damp, rotting, creaking ghettos, locked away from truly reverent people, they somehow survived (in this instance anyway). Electors, grand dukes, margraves and princes went begging for subjects. So Jews, in exchange for paying unconscionable taxes, were raised up from their former 'full time' martyr status to new positions as 'replacement' subjects. Commerce flourished. Towns were rebuilt and 'civilization' went on.

Jonathon (rolling the last of his old skin from his groin, scrotum and penis in a careful, delicate manner) looked up and said - Wasn't there. Not in Vienna, I mean. Prague... I was in Prague. Served as 'Golem' when they came to burn the ghetto..... What for? - asked 'Papa.' Though he very well knew..... For surviving - said Jonathon..... 

And they all laughed at the irony of the human and more-than-human (vampire) condition..... Soon after, Jonathon was restored. 'Papa' gave him a new suit of clothes, more or less like the jeans, bootkins, white shirts and leather jackets he'd worn before.

Sarah said - What do we do now?

Go home......- 'Papa' said

They stood there in that raw stone tower and held hands. 'Papa' closed his eyes and so it was... or rather once was.

The enchanted place was gone. The highlands were no more, nor any small part of it. 

Everything fades away. That's just how it is.

But three people approached the townhouse on a dark, cold, misty night and Edith (the housekeeper) opened the door to let them in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

for more Vampire Wonderland... google Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz... but before you click, ad a word... ANY word... then click... see where it takes you.

to join me on TWITTER click #realSNLtalk ...and scroll around to see what that 'realSNLtalk hashtag is about. you might want to deal yourself in.

please COMMENT. thank you for your support.

THE EVENT... Papa Likes Drama... 1/19/15

And then we saw it... a pressure wave... a ripple in the air, or whatever passed for air in this place raced toward us... a tsunami made from ether. It tore the clouds asunder. Birds attempting to flee before it lit up like sparklers, as it passed. Sarah and I moved away from the raw, stone 'window' and hid under the bed. God knows it wouldn't have saved us.... a piece of wood shaving in the path of a blow torch. But I was still 'mortal' and she wanted to protect me, so we cowered there, under the huge, carved bed. Funny, what you notice. The illusion (what else could I call it?) was so complete, down to the spider patrolling her web beneath the bed slats. How calm she was... a black and yellow, glossy beauty, delicately knitting a bunting 'round what looked like a plump, green eyed marsh fly. Though upon closer inspection I saw it lacked the loathsome, insect mouth parts and instead had a neat, tiny Betty Boop arrangement, complete with lipstick and a little beauty mark affixed to its shell-like carapace. Was it looking at me? How could I tell with eyes like that? Besides, at any moment I expected to be incinerated and pulverized by the miles high wave. Sarah kissed me. I kissed her. We said our prayers and composed ourselves for the coming ordeal.

Then the tower began to vibrate. Stone resonates to a musical pitch when heated. I could almost hear it 'singing.' Maybe it was screaming. Next came the noise... a sky crushing roar, akin to the monstrous wail rising up from the depths of hell. I was deaf. Blood ran from my ears. Sarah's hands flew to hers, for she could still hear it. 

Blinding light sliced in through the narrow, open slit, blasting shards of stone from the opposite wall. Blisters rose on the backs of my hands. Sarah lay motionless as a corpse, her eyes glazed and 'lifeless.' Vampires face destruction differently, you know. The 'death' part has already been attended to.

And then it stopped. In an instant, in a micro instant it was over. The very stones of the place moaned and fell back into position. Outside, the crushing immensity of the pressure wave froze, each suspended particle of soil and dust contributing toward a translucent ocher hue. We crept out from under the bed and looked through the 'window.' A dead dragon hung there in the ether, it's heraldic countenance twisted and broken... how sad.

Two heartbeats later he spoke. I jumped. Sarah turned. 'Papa' was back, this time in the buckskin attire of a Scythian horseman. He pointed to the incredible sight outside and said - That is who I am..... Then he sighed and just like that, it was gone. All was made right. The highlands were green once more and songbirds swam through the air.... 'Papa' gestured toward Sarah and said - She does not burn. Your blisters are gone. And the stones are all healed...... I said - Is this all an illusion?..... No - answered my once and ostensibly future progenitor - More like a magical construct. Real, when I want it to be real and gone, when I want it to be gone. I was already 'quite formidable' the last time I brought you over. But a lot happens in a thousand years, not counting my brush with Madam Shang. I almost said 'time,' but it was far more complex than that....... I couldn't resist. I asked - Is what we have now 'real,' or is the whole thing also a construct?.... He looked away.... 'Magic' seems an inadequate word for such as this - I said.... 'Papa' nodded. Then he asked if I was ready. I know he meant 'ready' for the unimaginable abilities I'd receive in addition to his blood and I assured him that was so.

Thus it began... and Sarah was there to witness it all. I left this temporary mortal state behind. And Jonathon ben Macabi, also known as Tomas de Macabea, returned to what he was, guided by a miraculous being who many say resembles no one so much as a thirty two or thirty three year old Richard Gere.

But he'll always be 'Papa' to me....

<more next time>

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

learn more Vampire Wonderland... google Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz... but before you 'click' ad a word ANY word... then 'click' and see where it takes you. With more than 800,000 words, the destinations are endless.

click TICK TOCK to join me on Twitter and meet lots of interesting creative people too.
please leave a COMMENT down below. thank you for your much appreciated support.  

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: .. 1/18/15 .. A VAMPIRE ROMANCE IN OLD TARANTO OR POSSIBLY BARI

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: A VAMPIRE ROMANCE IN OLD TARANTO OR POSSIBLY BARI: The cozy, little bistro closed for the night and so the vampires returned to the street. It was two in the morning. The city was quiet. Som...



Many people from places all over the planet like this passage. It speaks to Papa's changing nature and the fluctuating levels of vampire security... not just vampires, mortals too.



Tomas and Sarah travel through Europe so that she might learn a bit of his early times.



If you like this 'peek,' click NEWER POST at the bottom and see more, or click OLDER POST, depending on the direction you'd like to take.



To get started, click where it says 'A Vampire Romance in Old Taranto or Possibly Bari' up above.



Thank you for any support you're willing to give me.



< we'll return to Papa's Highland Tower next time>



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



to see more Vampire Wonderland, google Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz... but before you click on anything, ad a word... ANY word... then click... see where it takes you...



click EXPERIENCE ... to join me on  TWITTER and meet a whole lot of creative people too.



please leave a COMMENT down below. thank you.

POSSIBILITIES IN THE ENCHANTED WORLD... 1/16/15

JONATHON SPEAKS ~~~~~

And then we slept. That's all I know. When I awoke, we were in a large, carved bed, snuggled into the hollow of a straw filled mattress, made up with a homespun linen sheet and covered by two down filled comforters. The round, tower room was still dark and chill. Papa still sat in his throne-like chair, there by the foot of the bed. Still in full, Scots regalia (though of a seventeen forty five type). And I thought, how strange for him to observe us like that. But then I noticed he wasn't there. I climbed out of the bed and went closer. The eyes, his eyes, were glass... clear glass. I fished a long piece of straw from the mattress and lit it on the brazier. Then held it up before what passed for corneas. I peered inside and saw weak, orange light reflecting back from the interior surface of his skull, if it was a skull. Papa had left the building. His skin looked like fine, bisque porcelain. The clothes did too. 

Sarah opened her eyes and whispered - What are you doing? ..... I said - I don't know.... She said - Is he conscious?...... I said - I don't even think he's here..... She threw off the covers and joined me. I blew out the tiny flame, lest it burn my fingers. She softly ran her hand along his jaw..... Where is he? - she asked.... I just shook my head. I'd seen magic, horrific magic. I'd seen the Earth encased in an over head ocean. Above the clouds, a shimmering, translucent, emerald shell. I'd seen a girl in Medieval Jerusalem consumed by what was essentially a huge maggot. The crushing immensity of Jupiter's lurid cloud decks.It's all here. It's all in the record we call Vampire Wonderland. Google it. Search for it. You'll find it.

And you want to know what magic is? It's manipulation. Everything is everywhere, like pages in a vast eternal book. 'Magicians' just have the ability to leaf through it and find things. I could do some as a vampire... telepathy... sublimation... the manipulation of small things, coins, knick-knacks. But Papa was something else all together. And time meant nothing to him, or those like him. He could sit at the bottom of the ocean, beneath the crushing sea, watching little crabby things crawl over giant tube worms for decades. Perhaps he conjured just a bit of weak illumination to witness it all? Maybe it emanated from his skin?.... He could climb to the heights, throwing himself from a mountain top, arms outstretched and sail around the world on thermals and jet streams, always staying in the dark. But sunlight didn't harm him. They say he could 'transfer' himself to the vaccinity , of our parent star and hover there, transfixed, encased in a sphere of ether, inviolate and unchanging, staring at the planet sized 'mountains' roiling 'cross the surface, as monstrously huge flares arced over his head. Why did the light not blind him? Well, let me put it this way. In your world it would. But God knows what world he was in. And God knows what additional 'tricks' he'd acquired from Madam Shang. She's even older than the Lady Renate. I don't know if she was ever human. Which is not to say she was not mortal, just from some other place.

Had he already forgotten us? Were we stuck here, imprisoned like Rapunzel in a high, remote tower far, far away? Would he return in a timely manner, or wander back after centuries? Were 'centuries' even the right frame of reference?

I was getting hungry. I was still mortal, after all. Would Sarah, being 'night-folk,' become desperate enough to feed on me?

Do you see how complicated 'magic' can be? Precision is everything. So much can happen. There are so many variables. There are so many pitfalls. 

Yet I want to go back there... to that special place... where all things are possible and everything is everywhere.

That's when the room began to grow warm...

<more next time>

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

explore... google --- Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz... then, before you 'click'... ad ANY word... THEN click... see where it takes you.

if you like, tell others about our ongoing tale. share the link... vampirewonderland.blogspot.com .... it's simple... tell them about it. mention it on your sites... set the story free.

to join me on Twitter, click ~> MIND MELD ...

please leave a COMMENT  down below. thank you for your support.

PAPA'S CASTLE IN THE HIGHLANDS ... 1/13/15

JONATHON SPEAKS ~~~~

First of all, my name is not misspelled. I write it that way as an allusion to the Hebrew original ----- Yo-nah-tohn. That's all. We get tweets and Emails and all manner of digital messages about it. Please know that a name is a personal thing and mine conforms to basic rules of phonetics, so that's it.

<now back to our story>

Papa doesn't sublimate. He can, if he wants to, but after twenty eight thousand years of paranormal evolution, he has other choices. So at the same instant we left the tunnel, deep under Center City, Philadelphia, we appeared in the castle. And this is not a romantic redoubt out of a courtly fable, but rather a stark, grey fortress set atop a high place on the treeless, Scottish uplands.

There was a huge iron brazier in the middle of the room and if we were mortal we'd have breathed steam. That's how cold it was.  Papa sat down on a large wooden chair. It looked like a feudal throne such as a local laird would have occupied while dispensing justice to his tenants. Maybe it was. Sarah went to the window, really just a narrow opening in the wall. I came up behind and hugged her.  She was so cold.  I looked at Papa. He never made eye contact, but he knew. Two heartbeats later the brazier glowed with a deep, red light. Peat, I think it was. Such a warm, natural fuel. Whether real or just an illusion conjured by our host, I do not know. Does it matter? Soon there were other furnishings in the room. Sarah and I sat down on two, deep, Romanesque chairs, by the brazier. Moonlight streamed in through the window. Save for the occasional low 'pop' from the fire, all was silent. We almost fell asleep...

Then he spoke. Papa said - Please excuse what to you must seem to be unbearable lethargy, but this is how we are..... (more silence)... Sarah said - Who is we?...... Papa studied his hands and said - Old ones.... I said - Where are we?..... The 'Old One' smiled and said - With me..... Then he pointed toward the window and whispered - Look...... We turned. Since the opening was small, we couldn't see much, but a dragon flew by. It was far off and bathed in a silvery, lunar haze and when it passed, two small ones followed after.... Other than that time in London at the Hermetic Order of The Golden Dawn House, I'd never seen anything like that. Certainly not a family. And I know Sarah hadn't..... I looked at Papa and said - Are you a vampire? I mean 'still.'...
He thought and said - At this point, I don't know and I don't care..... Will you bring me 'over?'.... With that, the sound of Judy Garland singing 'Over The Rainbow,' straight from the nineteen thirty nine movie, quietly radiated out from each and every rough hewn stone of the place..... Papa said - I like that song and don't worry. For your purposes, I can be anything..... A vampire? A life-eater? - I asked. He just nodded and smiled.

The Judy Garland song faded away, replaced by a low, quiet, old tribal chant. Guess he liked that song too. In twenty eight thousand years you hear a lot of them...

Soon I saw the dragons fly back the other way. I suppose they were going home...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

wander through the rest of our tale... google Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz... then, before you click, ad ANY word... THEN click... see where it takes you... everything is everywhere

to join me on Twitter, click ~> POWERFUL CHOPPING BLADE ...

please COMMENT. thank you.