HOLLYWOOD ON THE JORDAN RIVER.....ISRAEL AND ISHMAEL, COMING SOON TO A MULTIPLEX NEAR YOU

Some film guy from L.A. met them in this room. an office, it was. Pretty nice to, with a view of the honey, colored Old city and everything. You see, Jerusalem is actually a fairly big place. Got more than 775,000 people, not counting the outlying suburbs. You can get a stylish condo, or a co-op, or a townhouse. They got these Mediterranean villas from the seventeen and eightteen hundreds (and no, I do NOT mean b.c.). You know, like the place where Laila met up with Roland. But if you want one of the villas, get ready to pony up at least two and a half million American dollars. I know, 'cause I just seed 'em sell one on HGTV.

So they got Jonathon and Sarah sitting in this specially darkened room. The rest of 'em are in the 'great room' next door....Lots a glass.....Picture-book view. There's the L.A. contingent, the resurrected John Lennon, Bob Dylan and Yusef Islam (listen, how many times do I have to tell you that he is the artist formerly known as Cat Stevens?). I think Yoko was there too and a few other 'movers and tremblers' (as opposed to genuine movers and shakers). Everybody's suckin' down diet cokes and eatin' a mess a humus. The vampire twosome in the dark room is breathin' in a tart, green apple smell, I think it was. Yes, the got Yankee Candle stores in Israel. Think I even saw one in Ramallah too. Somebody activates the computer screen in the dark room and a video of the two boys pops into view. One of 'em, the Jewish one, is actually named Israel. The other one, the Muslim one, now get this, is named Ishmael. And then this voice comes on. I think it's the guy who announces all them coming attractions at the multiplex. He tells us about their rare disease and how they require some kind a unconsconably expensive transplant. Then they pull back to show us the two donors. Little Israel is a match with the Arab guy and little Ishmael , you guessed it, gets the Jew. Everybody's smiling. The two boychickles are going up and down on a sea-saw. The sun is shining. And I'm almost sure the adult guys in the film were eating a lot of humus too. Could a been a humus commercial. No, really. I'm not kidding. I saw the jar and everything. The 'movie announcer voice' goes on to detail the uniqueness of the situation and the symbolism of it all. We see a team of doctors and nurses, a smiling mix of Israelis and Ishmaelis. They don't say Palestinian no more, 'cause why would a people with a genuine biblical tie in want to hide it under a Jaffa orange crate for some ancient off-shoot of the Aegean (did I spell it right?) Greeks? I mean it was the Romans who came up with that moniker to disrespect all the locals around here.

The L.A. guy (the head one, the one with the diamond bezel on his watch) tells how they got more than 2,000 prints of that video playin' in movie theatres all over the U.S. and Canada, kind a like them Will Rogers fund raiser commercials. And they got these slick, toy-like, geography kits showing maps of Israel and Ishmael...two sovereign nations carved from 'The Land of Abraham,' ready to distribute in classrooms all over the Middle East. Jonathon actually started to cry. But Sarah was a bit more controlled. She asked what the 'other side' was doin'. 'Cause not everybody's gonna get so sentimental just because that movie announcer guy starts  talkin'. And some a them are gonna use those geography kits as kindling when they light up their real big, nasty bonfires.

Who am I? Oh, don't tell me you did not recognize my distinctive speech patterns. It is me. It is Zebulon. But hush up. Them three famous song writers I told you about at the beginning are commencin' to warble and I do not want to miss this.

Gimme a few nights. I'll skedaddle through the Akoshic Records and try an find out what transpires. Mebbe find a newspaper printed in Ishmael, or something encouraging like that.....and then again...mebbe not.

Damn, that Yusef Islam sounds sweet.

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AN UNKNOWN SPECIES OF VAMPIRINO TELLS A TRUTH

this is the time of the year when the sadness slowly fades. three weeks from now is even better. I live for the months when the nights are longer than the days. christmas time is best. Frosty nights filled with cheerful darkness. if they only knew I was out there. you don't know my name and the beings responsible for this ongoing tale are not in the least familiar with me. I inhabit the black at the botton of cellar stairs. I creep through inky darkness.

they may have told you something of the noxious variety of life-eater, crazed, demented dead souls condemned to a never ending gnawing hunger. Well, maybe I'm like them. But during the few, fleeting instants when you see me, I appear quite normal.  No crazed eyes. No drooling gash. Just a regular male specimen..... a regular, extremely attractive male specimen. we lock eyes in a speeding subway car. you feel me in the shadows. you catch sight of my face, just inside the black, iron fence surrounding a cemetery.No one else is around.....No one else is ever around. Maybe you shouldn't have gone out alone. Maybe you really do know better. but the level of your intelligence doesn't mean crap anymore. 

will you cry when I grab you? perhaps. will you tremble and pee? I suppose. Will you be warm? Of course. And you'll be salty and yeasty and oh, so good. My teeth are sharp...very sharp. And you'll gasp, as I gently tear into the skin. two lovers locked in an embrace. that's all the stars will see, till I take you to a darkness even  rats don't know. peel away the garments. expose the possibilities. Bite into the flesh. Drink the life-blood in. Lick it from my lips. kiss you. kiss you. tickle with my tongue. taste you. taste you. pitty, she's so young

and then you will be gone. the urine on the concrete will be dry. flaky, greasy ashes tumble up into the sky and melt away. but your memory passes through me with the blood. and you see the night, forever, through my eyes. a prisoner, locked inside me. no one dies.

EIGHT QUICK VAMPIRE FACTS...(not an actual episode, but good to know just the same)

1)vampires rarely kill a victim every night. If most major cities harbor between three and seven vampires, the number of 'culled' people would be too high. the public would certainly notice for sure.

2) Vampires suffer seasonal depression in the spring and summer...when the nights are short...They're 'happiest in late fall and winter when the nights are long. In that way, they are the opposite of most living humans.

3) Some vampires CAN imbibe alcohol. No one knows why. For instance, when they cull a drunken victim, the alcohol  in that person's system passes into the life-eater. Because of this ability, some vampires impersonate drunks and hang in bars.

4) Few, if any, vampires ever 'sleep' in coffins. Why would they? Their bodies crave comfort too. Actually, a good mattress and adequate 'black out' shades and draperies are all they need.

5) Religious talismans have no power over them. Most, in their own way, work for the betterment of humanity. It has been said----- They may not be the shepherd, but they definitely are his sheepdogs.....I guess that makes us mortals the sheep.

6) Vampires are extremely partial to pleasant aromas. If you follow our story, you know how much they enjoy a good scented candle. A Yankee Candle store is their idea of Heaven on Earth.

7) They have their own language, known as Vahmpeerigo, bases on medieval Italian, French and Spanish, spiced with a bit of Catalan and alpine German.......Communities from different parts of the world speak in tongues built on languages native  to their regions.

8) Most soon-to-be vampires strive to get in perfect shape before they are brought over...Imagine being an overweight night stalker for all eternity.

THATS ALL THATS ALL THATS ALL THATS ALL THATS ALL THATS ALL THATS ALL

OUR NEWLY MINTED VAMPIRE-GAL KILLS A BLACK WIDOW

A cool, September evening crept over the Holy Land. It happens sometimes. A breeze comes in off the sea, or  maybe down from the mountains heralding the approach of the biblical New Year. In three weeks it will be 5762 s.e. (since creation). OK, OK, OK, so the number is symbolic. Each year stands for an epoch. And if you look at it that way, it's pretty accurate. I mean all that 'In the beginning' and 'Let there be light' stuff sounds exactly like a description of the big bang. But I'm not here to talk about the heavenly ordained calender. My job is to channel some more information about Roland and Laila. You see, something didn't go right. She's almost an elf....Almost, but a little different. You want to know how it shows? Well, elves rarely kill people. They take tiny bites here and sucky, little kisses there, but nobody dies. Or hardly ever dies. Only laila doesn't appear to be like that. She has the hunger, the true vampirina hunger. Her skin peeled. She was burning up and everything. Papa's essence is always hovering around this place. That's because Jonathon (his vampiric son) is here. But he butts into my mind too. And he says she was too old. Laila, I mean. She was too old to become an elf. She wasn't on the brink of puberty. She was already swimming in it. Had a box of Kotex in her drawer and everything. I guess it's on the mark to say she came a little late to the dance. So she's over the rainbow. Not actually an elf (although her ears ARE a bit pointy and her flying skills are pretty good), more like a hybrid. And that's extremely unusual. So we gotta see how this is gonna play out.

Remember, this was only her first true night and she  already woke up with a vision ...a REAL vision. Roland didn't know what to do. He is totally an elf and they don't have to deal with stuff like this. But Renate sensed her need. Who knows? Maybe Papa sennt her. Maybe Moe, from The Three Stooges sent her. What the hell difference does it make? But that evening, when the sun went down, the surviving mother of all the life-eaters was there to greet her as she stepped out of the crypt. They have a lot of cryps on the Mount of Olives. Most are empty, the bones long ago finding their way into the lucrative relic market, or maybe they were carved up to make mah-jong tiles. What do I know. But some of the dead-boxes dug into this picturesque hill side are still occupied. And other camoflaged corpse condos have yet to be discovered. The place where Laila and Roland slept is like that. Nobody (no mortals anyway) knows where it is. They have to enter via an opened, deserted grave, squeeze through a crack-like niche in the back and shimmy down this little tunnel. But he (Roland) tried to make it homey. There's a stack of old comic books, some Teenage-Mutant-Ninja-Turtle sleeping bags and a couple of mag-lite flashlights plus a whole pile of double A batteries from this real cheap,  'Just Batteries' vendor in the souk (shuk in Hebrew). I'm not sure, but I think they got a few hand held, joker-poker, video games floating around in there too. Hey, vampires get bored too, you know.

So, let me get back to the 'Renate' stuff. She puts her arm around Laila and whispers something in her ear. If it was any other life-eater I'd be able to tell you what was said. But Renate is different. Does she mask her words (thoughts too) on purpose? I can't really tell. I mean she seems pretty level headed for a forty thousand year old supernatural (superpowered would be more like it) Cher look-alike. No, really, they do look exactly the same. People stop her on the street and start singing 'Turn Back Time' and everything. She just nods and smiles, but when she don't like the looks of 'em, she'll zap 'em with a real  lose runny case of  diahrrhea. Hey, being 'Witness-to-the Ages' doesn't necessarily give somebody an evolved sense of humor.

Now Laila was still all broken up over seeing her father and all. She is not about to give him up. She won't forget her family. But a true vision is a powerful thing. Renate, of course, understands this. So she hugs her and they 'crackle' through the air, all the way into the bedroom of some habitual husband poisoner...a real 'black widow', some sixty year old, paint-face bitch who makes a nice living stuffing tainted chunks a pickled herring down the pie-holes of her ninety year old bed partners. I don't know what they actually DO in bed. Pee the sheets is more like it.

So the hard looking thing wakes up, snorts a few times and lets rip with a fart before she realizes what's going on. Imagine, she got Cher and the girl from Slum Dog Millionaire standing there, in a shaft of moonlight,  right at the foot of her bed. Takes her a few seconds to get her teeth in. I think she's sixty eight and only says she's sixty. But by then, Laila's moved in close. And after Renate pokes and pinches her a few times, she opens her mouth, exposing the fangs. This sets the old bitch off. She starts yellin' and kickin' her rough, yellow-nailed, boney feet. Like one a them extreme boxers she was. Renate had to straddle her thighs and pinch her titties a few times to get her to stop. But I think almost swallowing her lower plate is what actually did it, 'cause she was about seventy five percent choked to death by the time Laila bit into her neck (more like where the neck meets the shoulder) and finished her off.

Granted, it was not pretty. But vampires aren't made for 'pretty.' They're made to cull the wicked. And Laila's first night as a professional was a resounding success. The next part, where she starts calling for her father and crying till  a whole bunch a snot came out her nose, a little less so.

Who knows? Perhaps one night she will catch up with him. Her father, I mean. But this night, the first night, Renate took her to this place to get her palms henna-ed and that sort of distracted her.

The life of an exotic vampirina....just like in the movies, right?

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AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT---------

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ELFIN BEGINNINGS AND A VAMPIRE'S PRAYERS

They hovered over her ancestral home, a rough, little stucco and brick villa adjacent to the ancient cathedral. She was able to fly on her own. It comes natural to certain life-eaters. Her father did not see her at first. He just sat there, pressed against one of the courtyard walls. She could tell he was praying. She could 'hear' his words and taste his fear. They checked her bed. They knew it was empty. He hated going to the police. Fraternizing with the Israelis made him more vulnerable to attack and the Armenian enclave was small and exposed as it is. She could see him trembling. She could hear the whimpers. And then she cried. His ears could not detect her sobs. She was too far away. But the Spirit of the Judean Zephyr was playful that darktime and a finger of the night breeze kissed her cheek, brushing away a dewy drop of sadness which fell down to the world below.

It hit her father's ear. He looked up and saw her tiny, broken face gazing down at him. He saw the heartfelt longing in her eyes. The rest of her, wrapped in chaste, dark cloth, blended into the empty sky. Her tragic features suspended in the void like illusions at a seance. But Roland sensed the dawn. He grabbed her arm and whispered - Come. We will face this truth tomorrow. She knew what he meant. The benevolent enchantment flowed through her. And her life-eater's eyes beheld the first pale glow of fire in the sky. She turned and followed him into the darkness.

Now new born vampires often feel remorse. They long for the old life and those left behind. Some try to go back. They tap at windows and sublimate through bedroom doors. Yet these desperate gestures only make things worse, causing madness, hysteria and death. But Laila did not know this. And that day, as she lay deep within the blackness of a crypt, her young girl's soul called out for redemption. Would it come? Perhaps, but not in the way she imagined...

But Roland loved her. He held her and tried to comfort her. For he too remembered pain. It's like that for the ones known as elves. And she clawed at her face and screamed as the skin peeled away from her flesh and a fiery hunger began to grow....

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May you never know fear...May you never know pain...May you hide from death now and for forever..... (a new born vampire's prayer)

A VAMPIRINA TAKES HOMELESS PEOPLE TO ATLANTIC CITY ALL-YOU-CAN-EAT BUFFETS

Baylah climbed up out of the sea. Her companion's Margate beach house was untouched. Most of the Jersey Shore came through unscathed. The hurricane was over and all were safe. That's if you only look to the surface. Some are scarred by different storms. In the Atlantic city area they inhabit an underworld, seperated from our more secure stratta by two inches of  a specially treated, tropical lumber. ....'Under the Boardwalk, down by the sea...On a blanket with my baby is where I'll be'......But what they don't tell you is that the baby is only seven month old. You know how, in cartoons, they always sweep  dust under the rug? Well, they do it in the real world too. Look at the mole people inhabiting long forgotten, never used subway tunnels. And what about the 'bums' squatting under seaside promenades. You know the ones I mean, those guys down in the cool, damp shadows peekin' up your little, skirty-skirt through the boards. Yeah, it's cool and damp now, but come back in November. Then it's hell.

Baylah goes down to that world. She visits the 'damned,' distributing gifts and favors like a Heavenly redeemer. A drop of her life-preserving blood here. A wad of twenties there. Maybe some hand-held video games for the little, dirt-caked kiddies. Right now, tonight for instance, she's already saved two queens (homeless mothers) and a set of one eyed jacks (half blind winos. That's a full house.

Some nights she'll rent a room up topside in a presentable, but cheap, off  the main drag, little motel, so the people she rescues can take a hot shower and pick out some clean warm clothes from an assortment she throws out on the bed. Other times she'll 'cull' an especially noxious street dude preying on these perpetual campers, just so things  will be a little more peaceful.

None a the outdoor set ever let on that they spot her as a vampire. If they do, they keep it to themselves. She wants to start gettin' 'em jobs. You know, like head washers in beauty parlors or lawn mower pushers. Then maybe move up to real estate salespeople and clinical dieticians. Who knows? That's how she is. But the companion tells her to be careful, since , in reality, she is a somewhat feared and misunderstood supernatural creature herself. But I think he's afraid some mob might burn down his house. Watches too many Frankenstein movies, if you ask me. She asks him if it's all right for her to take some of the cleaned up ones to an all-you-can-eat buffet. He just grimaces and shudders. She takes that as an 'OK.'

Vampirinos and vampirinas can be so good hearted. You watch. She'll start doin' more. You wait. You'll see. Come back tomorrow night and I'll fill you in on what's goin' on with Laila and Roland. Her father is takin' it real bad.

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THANK YOU FOR THE COMMENTS. PLEASE KEEP IT UP AND DON'T BE AFRAID TO PROMOTE YOURSELF TOO. SHARE YOUR LINKS. TELL YOUR FRIENDS. SPREAD THE WORD ABOUT THAT EVOCATIVE PLACE WE CALL THE VAMPIRE WONDERLAND.

VAMPIRES DON'T TAKE DUMPS OR DRINK KOOL-AID

I'm guessing this will be a short post, mostly because I don't understand what's happening. They zap me through the ether like a rubber band. It must do something to my cellular make-up. But Papa says it's all right. No worse than stepping into an elevator on one floor and walking out some place else. It's not like I'm breaking through from one parallel universe to another. That's not it. He (Baylah too) just send me back and forth between Philadelphia, the Jersey Shore and the Holy City of Jerusalem. What can I tell you. Vampires just don't have the patience to bang things out on a keyboard. Doctor Franklin says they should get one of those set ups where you just speak and let the device transcribe it. He also claims to have visited a universe not far from here where they wear  tiny chips, little printed circuits, in their brains rendering everyone telepathic. They know who ate the last doughnut. They know who laid that fart, or who peed on the new ceramic tile floor instead of into the toilet. And none of the restaurants can have roaches, or waiters who 'play' with the food, 'cause they'd all know. He visits there with the help of certain delicate frequencies conjured up on his Great Armonica. Go back and look at some of our earlier post, like from the time when Jonathon was 'abducted' by the Anti-Enchantment-Bureau and they stripped him and probed him as he hung suspended in a vast, magnetic web (actually very good for the spine, or  so I;m told). And don't do like some readers did. They picked up a few clues from the text and went down to the old navy yard looking for camoflaged entrances to the underground facility.  The guys with the mirrored sunglasses don't like that. So unless you want to wind up a specimen locked in a glass box with like say the real Jersey Devil or some toothless, pancake-breasted old mermaid hag, stay on Delaware Avenue and don't turn into the site.

Brought back some of the 'contaminated' (in a good way) falafel balls from Jerusalem. Gonna feed 'em to a few real rotten bastids I know. Wanna see if it mellows them out a little. The Jerusalem vampire contingent says that it will. Yusef Islam (the artist formerly known as Cat Stevens) got me off pork. He says that as fellow Proclaimers of The Unity (single, indivisable Person of God) we should ingest only pure kosher/hallal nourishment. And it's cruel to slaughter hogs for food (one of the real reasons they eighty-sixed the pig meat), since the creature 'knows its own death.'....Cows and bulls, it seems. are too dumb, so I guess it's all right to take a bite out a the stoopid.

Baylah's back from her undersea adventure. Brought me this glittery, shiny belt decorated with shedded merfolk scales. Very opalescent, but where the hell could I possibly wear something like that?. I don't know. I guess I just gotta stop being so self-limiting. She's been playing Vampire Poker again too. Helped some really nice deserving people this time. She truly makes a difference, that one does. Baylah's a 'micro' like Papa. You know --- brighten the corner where you are. The Jerusalem contingent is what would be called 'macros.' They want to remake the whole world. Trouble is, the world likes being a scraggly, wrinkly, spiritually flabby, belching slob. I don't know.  Sometimes I think this planet gotta get dipped....

This has been me...wilkravitz. Please leave some comments. Please tell your friends. My vampire buddies are swell, but every so often I crave dialogue with plain old  pimply skinned mortals...the kind who still know what it is to take a dump...or mindlessly chug a huge, frosty pitcher a kool-aid on a hot  sweaty summer day.