Anthony Warlow & Lucy Maunder sing 'Now' - Doctor Zhivago The Musical ~> inspiration for Vampire Wonderland and Philadelphia After Dark 12/13/15

 

OK... this is a little aside. I think some of you know the Vampire Wonderland blog is an outgrowth and a nebulous expansion of my PHILADELPHIA AFTER DARK screenplay. The script, needless to say is tighter and more coherent. The characters are a bit different too. Tomas/Jonathon is just plain Thomas, the overlooked second son of a Scots peer, who one snowy evening, while strolling the deserted midnight, frosty deck of an 1880's ocean liner, sees a light in a porthole, stops to peek in and enters a world he never knew existed.

I love that scene.. a silent, silvery night... snow powdered deck chairs... complete solitude (well... almost) .... arcane secrets in a mysterious cabin.

And then they disembark... a nighttime docking.... the crowded, teeming, Gilded Age port of Philadelphia.... First Class exits to be whisked away in black, mirror finished, silver trimmed broughams.

A bewildered Thomas sits between the mystical 'Kahn' an Indian aristocrat and a mysterious woman, as they leave the docklands and enter the cobbled, gas lit streets of the city.

THE TOWNHOUSE - a bit heavier and more imperious than the one in the blog. ( maybe due to the times?) ... overseen by a formal dwarf.

DAWN APPROACHES - A clueless Thomas, already translated on the ship, needs a place to sleep. Until something suitable can be arranged, he spends the daylight shut in a large, black, medieval iron maiden (spikes removed)...

When he exits his uncomfortable refuge, the Khan is gone and the body of the dwarf hangs from a noose, slowly turning, just beyond his iron 'capsule.'

And then it begins.....

Sarah, his consort, is still Sarah. She still owns the dim, snug, atmospheric jewel box of a book shop - PHILADELPHIA AFTER DARK.

The Khan 'dead'.... survives as a spirit narrator... a muse of sorts.

And they meet an enemy... a self-styled monk, sent out by the fifteen hundred year old Brotherhood of Saint Shamus of Castle Mara.

The elferinos and elferinas are still there, though a bit more tragic than in the blog. The 'cherubs' are there too.

Sarah has drama with the OLD WOMAN, Thomas' long-time housekeeper who resents her presence.

They meet an ally in ROLAND, another vampire, deeply religious... a night-folk 'saint' if you will.

Other characters swirl about in a complicated love story among the undead and nearly undead. Two characters that I like are vampire brothers, employed as night watchmen by the nightmarish MUTTER MUSEUM of MEDICAL ODDITIES (it really exists)...

A few other blog stalwarts dance through too.

Death scenes to die for. I can't help but imagine what Broadway can do with material like this...thus the inspirational song from Doctor Zhivago up above.

That's it... our look at Philadelphia After Dark, or Vampire Wonderland... haven't decided yet... I think P.A.D. wins out.

Trouble is script only exists in hard copies. I don't know if I even know how to translate it to disc, or PC or whatever it is. But I got enough copies to go around.... THAT you probably already suspected.

Please listen to the song... It's a real good one. And if you have any favorite projects of your own, PLEASE share... COMMENT about them... People will see and I'll mention them on Twitter too.

Thanks for visiting,

Billy

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I think the link to all Vampire Wonderland episodes via (click on it) browse.feedreader.com/c/Billy_Kravitz_vampire_wonderland   ...
is working again...(phew!)
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until next the Earth turns again, or maybe the next time it turns again....

Good night.

A Certain Sort Of Vampire Is Amenableto Doing 'Favors' ... 12/10/15

Sometimes people ask Jonathon things. He sees them on the old mellow cobbled streets. They wave, exchange greetings and smile. Vampires often develop a presence in their immediate neighborhood. Do they know he's a vampire? Well, word gets around, but nobody makes a big thing out of it. Like in the nineteen twenties, when a cleaning woman saw Mrs. Tuttle lay an egg... and not any egg. This one had a beautiful opalescent shell, like an Easter decoration, or something a giantess might wear as an earring. They say the cook fried it up with savory sausage and onions and served it to Mr. Tuttle for breakfast. He pronounced it rich, full bodied and delicious. The cook curtseyed, farted and said - Thank you.... Mrs. Tuttle giggled like a ticklish, little Kewpie doll. Mr. Tuttle died on his way to work, as pink, frothy, spume gushed up from his jelly belly, exploded from his mouth, soaked his brown tweet suit and puddled around his feet, till the platform on the Broad Street subway line grew so slick he fell down and rolled off the polished, cement deck, right onto the electrified third line, treating all sleepy commuters in attendance to a track level light show of white sparks and acrid smoke. 

Neighborhood matrons discretely approached Mrs. Tuttle, petitioning her for the home grown breakfast food so their husbands might enjoy the same experience. Cooks talk you know. In a few months, Mrs. Tuttle had a nice little nest egg, if I may use that term. And when Christmas time rolled round that year, she pulled up stakes and ran off with a Tango  dancer from Detroit.

But we're talking about Jonathon. He gets requests too. A teary-eyed, young thing in a clingy cashmere sweater knocked on the door one evening, as they were watching Wheel Of Fortune. Edith, the Piney Witchy-Woman housekeeper let her in. She looked around apprehensively. After all, how many people have an acknowledged vampire for a neighbor? In a quiet, self-conscious voice the girl said - May I speak to Mister Jonathon?... Few knew his family names.... Edith led her into the den adjacent to the kitchen, where the vampire was watching his show. Jonathon raised his well formed Spanish head, smiled pleasantly (believe me, he knew the effect) and said - Tell me, Nora, (her name) how may I be of service?..... The teary eyed Miss said - It's Carl, my intended..... You want me to kill him? - asked Jonathon..... No - said the girl. Nothing like that. I want you to bite off some of his fingers..... Jonathon looked puzzled... The girl continued - I remember when the little girl, I remember when Annie used to be with you. She told everyone. Most people thought she was a psycho, but some knew the truth. Look, maybe she was both. We knew she was a vampire and we knew she bit off fingers, so I was hoping you did something like that too.....

Toes, dear, toes. Annie bit off toes, not fingers. She was peculiar that way - said Jonathon..... And you don't? - sniffed the girl.... Well, not as a rule - he said. Why do you ask? What has kissy-boy done?.... She sighed and just sat there. Edith got her a cold drink. She sipped a little and went on - He's cheating on me. We're engaged and he's cheating on me. He pretends he's going into a little book shop. But the book shop has a back entrance into the lobby of a small apartment building. The coffee shop on the other side of the lobby does too. ...Do I know who she is? ... Not exactly. I've seen her. The doorman told me who she was. I gave him a hundred dollars...... Then why not give him more and ask him to do the deed? - said Jonathon..... Because he'll get caught - said the young bride to be..... Jonathon thought for a few heartbeats and whispered - Because you'll get caught?..... She nodded - But you won't...

The vampire sipped his chilled vodka (Edith always hovers about serving something), looked her in the eye and said - Give me a little time to think about it....

May I tell you something else? - said the not yet bride.... The preternatural figure nodded..... He already has his medical doctor's degree. My 'intended' I mean. But he's not yet cleared to be an ob/gyn. He's still training. They see patients through a clinic at the hospital..... And? - said the vampire..... In a barely audible voice she said - The girl from the apartment building was one of them.

He sniffed and sighed.

Housekeeper Edith said - Oh, dear....

But then Antiques Roadshow came on. Jonathon said nothing. Edith patted the girls shoulders and whispered - Shhh, let him think....

<more next time>

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Ev'ry Little Movement Has A Meaning All Its Own --- A Vampire's Favorite Song ... 12/4/15

Our vampire, Jonathon, speaks ---

Sometimes I give you what you want. It's all very clear. When I speak of blood, or pain and torture, you come. And there are countless such episodes for me to relate. But night-folk existence is not always like that. You might say we lead 'charmed ' lives. Whether for the best, or the worst is hard to tell, though none can deny the magic involved.

There is one such soul I see around town from time to time. Few notice him. Just an old man working the stage door at a certain theater. 'Old Gus' they call him. Shortened from Old Gustave. He originally game over with a group of Swiss-French colonists in the mid seventeen hundreds and was already a life-eater back then. Some of his people were members of the group and they sheltered him. Bride chests, what we call 'hope chests.' were bigger then. A vampire could hide in one.

When they disembarked, his relations joined the others and continued on to the lush, green farmlands of Lancaster County. Gustave stayed in Philadelphia. Small, country farm towns are not right for vampires, even 'noble' reverent ones, like Gustave. As what would become 'Center City' was already claimed by others (you know who they are), the new Swiss-French colonist set himself up down in the 'Southern Liberties' in what would become South Philadelphia. He had a snug, little, heavy timbered room  behind a stable with a strong, stout beam to bar the door. Few knew he was even there. The district was not rural, but primarily made up of small individual plots used for vegetable gardens, or the raising of chickens, separated by hedgerows and occasional wooded areas. You should also know that Old Mister Gus was already of advanced years and rather stout when the burden of vampirism came upon him. Once a month he fed, always on an old man, or woman in failing health with no one else to help them. It was all done peacefully, discretely and quiet. He even said a prayer before the deed was done.

And today he still follows a similar pattern, but he likes the theater. During the dark months he'll take a job backstage. Playwrights and actors know what he is. They call him 'the muse,' as he often contributes useful insights and suggestions based on many decades of life and keen societal observation. He'll bring in boxes of chocolate, cherry filled cordials for everybody 'round the holidays and (as of late) TOYS R US gift cards for those with small children. This is not a fiction. That's just how he is. He's not a blood thirsty ghoul. My God, they truth about night-folk and what society wants us to be is so divergent, it's tragic. Not that gruesome scenes never happen. Look, some of you are psycho killers too. And we will use this space to regale you with such fiendish delights in the future.

It's just that I thought most of you would appreciate this insight into an enchanted shadow few would otherwise notice.

There's a rather Grandpa Stroehmann character out there. He comes and goes at odd hours, all bundled up with a newspaper folded neatly under his arm, making his way through chill, Center City streets toward his lodgings, still in the same spot, but now altered into a cozy, Queen's Village, first floor apartment in a red brick row house with white, marble steps.

Few molest him on his way. Vampires are just like that. He brews hot tea and coffee in his kitchen and reads all the popular paperbacks on sale at the CVS. Sometimes, owing to his theatrical connections, he reads plays. At times he's even portrayed a character or two.

The song up above is one of his special favorites. He wants me to tell you that.

<more 'gruesome' stuff next time>

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Missteps In the Paranormal World..... 12/1/15

There was a time when the forces in charge of our paranormal world tried to switch things up a little. When someone became a vampire, they didn't grow cunning, sharp little fangs, but long, gray, prehensile, elephant trunks which allowed them to forcefully draw the blood out from people's large intestines via their rectums (major vacuum power)...

But vampires looked like pathetic goofs and there were loads of complaints. Manufacturers of sharp, 'vampire-wear' lost plenty and people stopped showing up for sensible colonoscopy examinations because of what might happen.

Preteen girls stopped loving vampires, moving onto centaurs and centaurinas instead.

Needless to say, the world was a very sad place. Dracula looked like Babar's father, but skinnier and minus the fancy ears.

Count Chocula made kids throw up and cry.

Real elephants ran and hid.

Luckily, paranormal forces are open to suggestion (eventually) and they went back to the fang thing, erasing all memory of trunks.

Existing 'trunked' vampires morphed into fanged varieties.

But they say a few, overlooked collectable Count Chocula cereal boxes ( of the trunk variety) do turn up from time to time.

Go figure..... That's just the way it is.

<more regular vampire stuff later>

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JONATHON GOES INTO HIS VAMPIRE ACT FOR SOME APPRECIATIVE STONER DUDES.. 11/30/15

Jonathon loves these long nights. He bundles up and walks the city. I told him I wanted to return to the 'new vampire' Danny thread from sixteen nights ago. But he said - The hell with Danny. Tell about me..... (You know how vain vampires can be)..So tonight I just sit here channeling his night out. Sometimes I wish I was mixed up with genii instead of vampires, 'cause they're content to lounge in their bottle smoking a hookah, or whatever it is they do.

Winter is special to night-folk. The added darkness liberates them. They sublimate from point to point... disappearing here... appearing there. Once he smiled, opened his mouth and a beautiful, lacy-winged moth flew out. I don't know where he found it in the wintertime, or if it was even real and all. Vampires can conjure things. Not the same as wizards or witches. They don't have the staying power, though it can still be quite distracting.

He's not effected by cold, but that doesn't mean he likes the way it feels. Tonight he has on some kind of designer boxer briefs, two matching tee-shirts, two pairs of medium weight wool sox, flannel-lined blue jeans, two sweaters ( a turtleneck under a vee-neck), a finger-tip length black leather quilted coat[not puffy-quilted, more tailored like] and enough mufflers, wool caps and gloves to finish it off. He wears the hat pulled low over his eyes and ears.....

And then he walks... Oh, he's got warm work boots too. Sure he still likes his trim, leather ankle boots, but not when it's this cold.... If he feels like it, he rides buses or subways...empty save for a few unimaginative hoods looking for victims. Thing is, Jonathon's looking for victims too.

The hoods come to him first, especially on the subway. One'll sit down, notice his watch (usually the Rolex) and say - That real?.... Jonathon doesn't answer. He just sits there, staring, as the train rattles along. Hood Number Two joins Hood number One. They look at each other. Rolexes sell real fast. Can get at least four hundred dollars for it. Sells for ten times that.

Hoods look at his high priced leather jacket, his cashmere scarf, his long, wavy, styled hair (they don't know but night-folk hair always looks good). They're gonna do something. Train stops. Doors open. Nobody gets on.....Maybe some ghosts? Maybe some other stuff? They say a little dog with a human face jumps in every once in a while. Who knows? Doors close. Train pulls out. That's it...Few heartbeats later First Hood pulls a gun, levels it right at Jonathon's face. Says - Gimme your coat. Gimme your watch. Gimme your wallet.... But with a move so instantaneous even some vampires can't detect it, Jonathon grabs his wrist, cracks a lot of bones and twists that hand 'round till the gun points back at the Hood's face. Kid starts trembling and sweating. Jonathon gives him a real sly, night-folk smile. Shows his cat teeth and everything. Other Hood just sits there, making like he can't move no more.... Then our vampire slides his hand along the shattered, bloody mess, tightens it over the knuckles and keeps smashing that pistol into asshole's face till it ain't hardly a face no more.... Kid crumples down onto the rat-stink floor... Doors open (no people)... Other Hood makes like he's gonna run, but Jonathon finishes him right then and there. Pulls that hat off his head and sinks his teeth through that skull-bone just like it was a bowling ball with pre-drilled holes. Kid's face freezes in a rictus of 'uh-oh' surprise and pain. Eye's roll back like they see that vampire drawing out his liquid innards right through his brain... Then some stoner dudes step in just as the emptied formerly living husk falls down and ignites into a 'cold' blue flame the way vampire victims always do. I guess they like the show, because they start clapping and hooting... Jonathon stands up, straightens his clothes, gives 'em a stage bow and sublimates out through the roof (whoosh!).... Stoner dudes cheer even louder..... as train rattles on pulp-faced kid gives off a little bitty moan from his private puddle on the floor..... First Stoner  (in an effort to help) says - Yo, dude, you want a Kleenex?

CUT TO -

Jonathon walks down a frosty street. Little 'bee' light Christmas decorations still twinkle from shuttered stores.

He sees a catatonic beaten down character staring at an expensive bottle of wine in a window.

Without missing a beat, his hand sublimates in through the glass, grabs the wine and sublimates it out. He gives it to the sad-sack guy and whispers - Here, this is for you. Merry Christmas....

The rumpled guy hugs the bottle, mumbles  a 'thank you' and hurries off.

But our vampire, Jonathon, is already gone.

That's how it is... long winter nights in the city... Vampire 'Me Time.'

<more next time>

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to see more episodes simply GOOGLE Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz, but before you click, ad any word... Really, any word you like (not obvious porn or hate). You'll find something.... that's how many episodes we have out there. Our usual link to all episodes, browse.feedreader.com/c/Billy_Kravitz_vampire_wonderland  .
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THE FLIGHTLESS ANGEL GETS HIS MIRACLE ... 11/26/15

And the little angel forgot about attaining flight for a while. He'd sit on the roof of The Alt-Neu Schule in the midst of Prague (Josefov district, if you know it.. where they made the Jews live), studying people down on the street. He whispered in ears, telling them things that might help them. He told Mrs. Grossman that willow bark (aspirin hadn't been invented yet) would help her arthritis. He told Yankel the Lame to buy that art set and paint. He told Lana from Above The Butcher Shop to marry Nathan and not Eitan. They didn't know who was saying these things. Angels don't announce themselves. Well, not all the time. And every message was channeled through him by an even Higher Authority. He whispered things to people from beyond the district too, for during the day, when the gates were opened, people from all over passed through the ghetto. He told a hardworking farmwife where to place her market stall. He told a barrister fearful for the life of his client what to say and who to seek out so that his client might go free.

The angel attended services, comforting those who mourned. Sometimes he told rich men to help poor, struggling cobblers. He did what angels do and he did it well. Occasionally a little child would wave to him. He'd wave back and go 'shh.' They'd smile and nod.

Winter came. The cobbled lanes grew cold and icy. People wrapped themselves in whatever they had... layers of shawls... old felt boot liners... cloaks.... worn,. cast off, military great coats.... wool caps, sometimes a coachman's hat.

Days were short and sunlight hid from the narrow streets of the quarter. Wives kept old copper tea kettles boiling on the grate for endless cups of warmth. Little boys read school books by the fire and little girls rocked babies and embroidered whatever the mama told them to embroider.

Market stalls opened early and closed early too, for streetlights were few and far between. Mostly the women went out to work the stalls. December was coming and ruffians from beyond the quarter were less apt to gang up and molest older matrons than young girls or men. Tragedies were rare, but they did happen.

The little angel sat on his rooftop and looked at the stars. Some of the grander heavenly guardians and messengers, Seraphim and Arch Angels and beings of that sort, occasionally flew out to the stars and told tales of exotic worlds that raced 'round foreign suns like moths 'round a flame. But our little being knew nothing of that. Soon it would be time for him to walk the walls of the ghetto, paying special attention to the gates, whispering to vandals and telling them to mind their better side and leave the world in peace. Then he visited those with troubled dreams and helped them find peace too.

Time passed. Years went by. Generations. The 'life' of an angel is one of service. He never complained. He never would. But one year a sweet little girl... a light to all around her... passed away. Although he knew she was safe, the people of the quarter were broken and few lit candles or made provisions for the Festival of The Rededication... for The Hanukah. December was exceptionally cold that year.

The angel spent nights in the sanctuary staring at the small, steadfast, Eternal Flame...Then, on Seventh Light (though few observed, or at least failed to make a big thing over it) there was a knock at the rabbi's house next door. Few came by at that hour, so the angel passed through the wall to listen.... It was Beryl the Barrel Maker. He said - Rabbi, the lights in the sky, have you seen the lights in the sky?..... The rabbi said - At this hour and on a cold night like this? No, I do not watch the sky.... Oh, I am of a similar mind - said the barrel maker, but Greenie, my cat (she has such vivid eyes you know) wanted to come in. So I unlatched the door and went out into my tiny rear yard. Rabbi, I saw. I saw them. High overhead they were. A straight line of silver lights, each in the form of a flame and slowly descending from heaven to earth.... The old clergyman thought for a bit. Beryl said - Come, rabbi. Let us go out into your rear yard ( a similar tiny space like the barrel maker's).... So they went and they looked. The angel went with them. And there in the firmament were eight tiny glittering flames, arranged in measured precision, as if held in a great  invisible, celestial menorah. One for each night plus the 'sexton' used to kindle the rest. Each of them stared transfixed, as the wondrous spectacle slowly moved down the sky.

In those days, few would have known they'd witnessed the break up of a small comet, or asteroid. Perhaps a learned man from some venerable academy might. Who know? And as he watched, so slowly he did not notice, the angel rose up from the ground, till the roofs of the ghetto shined in the moonlight below him.

Was he afraid? No, for he heard the voice of his stork-mother friend from long ago. She'd flown to The World To Come and just as she said, had come back to share her wings. Spirit storks can do that. The angel, flightless for so long, was quite pleased. But as he was such a caring being, he asked after the sweet, little girl who passed on and the words of the stork were very reassuring indeed.

News of the 'menorah in the sky' quickly spread, till many people came out to see it. On Eighth Light they had a celebration with crisp edged, piping hot potato pancakes, sweet applesauce, nuts and small gifts for the children, plus dreydles and games ands songs.

That's how it is. That's how miracles happen. Life goes on, both here on earth and 'up above' as well.

No matter how you observe The Season Of Miracles, have a good one.

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WHAT THE LYRICS to ANY DREAM WILL DO mean -11/22/15

THE MEANING OF THE LYRICS
ANY DREAM WILL DO
JOSEPH AND THE AMAZING TECHNICOLOR DREAM COAT~~

Our regular post will come later. This is 'extra.'

The Biblical story of Joseph is a parable of forgiveness and the universality of the human condition.

The words to the song were written to reflect that... Joseph, who has suffered much at the hands of his own brothers and others, is now in a position to help his starving brothers.

When he 'dreams' he 'sees' humanity as a whole. Indeed,, his 'coat of many colors' means he 'sees' for all of us, no matter what group. He knows that those who do wrong also have wrong done to them. Not necessarily for any divine reason, but that's just the way society is.

So he returns hateful acts with blessings. He saves his family and deals with all in an understanding, accepting loving way.

He 'saw' from a loftier vantage point during his 'dream' or state of higher consciousness.

He was open to the truth.

If you like, click OLDER POST at the bottom and go back and listen to the song again. Or just scroll down to it if your page is set up that way.

Thanks --- Billy