JONATHON, the 'eightteen' year old vampire of a thousand suns, GOES KNOCKING ON HEAVEN'S DOOR

Jonathon felt the pull, like a tide rushing through his body. He was walking along an outlying lane beyond the city walls. It was an attractive district of old villas. Most were built by wealthy German vintners who made 'aliyah' during the mid to late nineteenth century. They helped raise synagogues and schools, contributing greatly toward the rebiirth of spoken Hebrew.

He heard their voices. He heard whispers moving through the atmosphere. Innvisible fingers pulled at his clothing and tugged his hair. And then the sublimation happened. His body crackled with a clean, white charge, tickling his molecules and freeing his essence. The soul that is Jonathon's moved through solid walls and leafy gardens. He saw lovers embracing deep within cool, dark shadows. He drank in the perfum of roses and orange blossoms.

And then he was back within the sacred walls, rising up to the Temple Mount and finding rest upon it. A man came forth to meet him, his face hidded by a cloak wrapped 'round his head. No words were spoken. None were needed. The identity of his guide was unimportant. His mortal or immortal state even less so. For are we not all immortal? And is not the flesh and bone supporting your true self little more that the trappings of a coach, useful for a time, but eventually breaking down and wearing away.

So they walked, if you'd like to visualize it as walking. They passed stalwart guards, upright in the moonlight and noble sanctuaries constructed by men. Then they flowed down through the rock, into a huge cavern known to exist beneath the anciennt foundation. Smooth and deep. Rather like the interior of a rough hewn egg. Soul-like wraiths swirled all about them. Some called out their names. Some said prayers. Others just laughed. A caretaker, attired in the robes of a desert sheik, trembled as they approached, quickly disappearing through a secret door.

Then the man with the hidden face stopped. He pionted at Jonathon and he stopped too. All forms of artificial illunimation trickling down from the shrine above evaporated. And the moon shone down through the miraculously transparent layers of human toil.

Then he knew. Then Jonathon knew. This is the Well of Souls. Hark unto my words! Think not that we are discussing that ficticious charade constructed on the gloaming shore of the New World's northern isle. For we are not in Tanis. This is not a nurse's tale. We speak not to the innocent, but to the profane. For they need it most. So open your ears, as well as  your soul. Bind yourself to our traveller and progress with him toward this midnight rondevous.

Our bodies pass through stone. Our ' hearts' as well. Look about and see. We are there, assembled at the foot of God's Great Skyway.... Take a breath. Move forward. Hold on. Have faith. Look up. Look up and see! Hold fast to Jonathon , as he ascends Jacob's Ladder..........

Fear not.........for it is written that.........

THE RIGHTEOUS OF ALL NATIONS SHALL SHARE IN THE WORLD TO COME..................

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A vampire stripling, originally meant for the earthly court of the great Rashi, rises up to knock on Heaven's Door.....................................................And boy, was Dylan jealous (read the episodes...you'll know), but Lennon just laughed and Islam just prayed.........
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#ENTOURAGE AND THE #VAMPIRES.....the world needs them both

Even el mundo vampirismo is in shock. #ENTOURAGE is gone! You can't realize what Ari Gold meant to these life-eaters. They got Israeli and Ishmaeli vampirissi cryin' around the same tv's over here in Jerusalem. People are flooding out into the streets hugging each other and blubbering (I'm talking about the ones with U.S. video feeds). It's worse than when the North Koreans shot Fonzie. Yoko, who as you know is over here trying to arrange an advantageous recording deal for her resurrected husband, says it reminds her of what happened in Strawberry Fields. Yusef Islam is disgusted by it. He understands, but is never the less disgusted. Dylan doesn't watch much television, so he don't care one way or the other. He would be disgusted but Stevens (I mean Islam) commandeered that emotion first. Sarah says it was one of the best series 'finales' (remember, they got movies in the pipeline) she ever saw. Actually almost squished a full grown royal Saluki (traditional breed around here) as she was watching it. Poor dog shit all over the rug. The L.A. types in town to oversee the arrangement of the new milleniuum (did I spell it right?) say that the 'Making It In America' show will slip right into the sweet little slit left vacant by Vinnie and the boys. A new 'entourage.' A new glamour biz (fashion). Neurotic environs (Manhattan). Great score. Just hope it's not a Jane Mansfield take on Marilyn Monroe, like Friends (charming as it may have been) was to Seinfeld.

Let's see. what was I going to tell you? Oh, yes. Jean-Michel is attempting to arrange a meeting between the newborn Lailah and her father, the Armenian Orthodox priest. I know most vampires frown on such 'after death' reunions, but our gallant, gallic night stalker wants to try. The girl isn't so sure. She has the mind of a fifteen year old. She wants more time. While her father blames himself for all this. He spends hours each night (after his priestly duties are through) pouring over arcane church texts searching for the proper exorcism ritual to flush the blood of Lilith from his daughter's nubile flesh. So far, all he's been able to do is kill a few innocent water bugs and sour a container of Lactaid.

Jonathon was mobbed when he went out on the street. You know about his resemblence to Adrian Garnier, so what else would you expect, tonight of all nights? He enjoys it though. Sure he wants to improve humanity, but our finely drawn, tight-bodied, little Andalucian has a vain side. I mean we know how he feels about a good Dolce & Gabana, not to mention all his cunning, snug-fitting, black leather bootkins.

And speaking of #ENTOURAGE and @jeremypiven and #VAMPIRES and all.....did you know that a few well known movie actors actually ARE VAMPIRES? Think about it. You'll figure out who they are. Listen for the vampire cadence to their speech. Look for the carefully crafted features and the exceptionally well fitting garments. Give us a lot of hits. Get me in a good mood some night and I'll tell you who they are. Although one's face isn't so carefully crafted. And I don't know who let him in the 'club,' but just consider him the exception that proves the rule.

More on who has experienced 'the dream' tomorrow night. And Doctor Franklin appears to have stumbled on some significant piece of esoterica. More on that as well.

The Red Paint People? I truly believe we covered this already, but I'll condense.....A stone-age European strain of humanity subscribing to a culture believed to be more than twenty thousand years old. Relics belonging to this group were uncovered in Maritime Canada and the northern U.S.. Most pieces bore faint remnants of an ocher coloring agent, hence the name 'Red Paint People.' A small, surviving band of such individuals resides deep in the New Jersey Pine Barrens, living side by side and sharing 'magic' and secrets with the general 'Piney' population. Many American Indian groups are believed to bear admixtures of Red Paint DNA, since these people were entering the continent from the east at the same time as their people were migrating in from the west. Red Paints are known for a stoic all knowing gaze and tall, sinewy, angular bodies. Some experts believe them to be highly telepathic and possessed of an extremely fine tuned sense of intuition. That 'scotosh beedosh' phraseology seen in our posts is thought to stem from an old Red Paint dialect.

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VAMPIRE MAGIC IMPROVES THE SANDWICHES AT A LOCAL DELI

This post is from the house in Chestnut Hill (Philadelphia). The vampires are very dissappointed. We did not get many hits yesterday. Today too. I know that happens over weekends, but THEY don't know that. Indeed, Papa still doesn't recognise the seven day week. Remember, he comes from a time far prior to any culture we're familiar with. Our contemporary faiths and beliefs seem as temporary fads to him. Five thousand years ago is like last Wednesday is to us.

And he is in contact with the others. He thinks...they know. Not exactly mind reading. More like a biologically based Surius radio station for liefe-eaters. Renate can do it to. They all can, the older ones, that is, up to a point.

I hope you googled that stuff we told you yesterday about Glen Beck in Jerusalem, so  you know it wasn't a fictional fabrication. None of this is. We've told you a million times. Do you just not believe us, or are you afraid to believe us? Scotosh beedosh, beedosh baposht, bapost sketosht.....In other words....Don 't be afraid to see what you see. Donm't be afraid to know what you know. The world is changing, hopefully for the better. All I can tell you is the vampires (the noble ones) are certainly doing their part.

Over in the Holy City, Lailah's been 'cullin' people left and right. A nip here. A cut there. Just trim off some of the fanatics. She has a way about her. Gentle...everything's very gentle. A soft kiss (well, not too soft). Eyes flutter. A quick swoon. The cold, blue flame...and hello eternity. That old French vampire, le chevalier, Jean-Michel saw her do it. He tried to speak with her, but she flew off. Roland's still here. He hovers 'round her. Papa wants him to come home, but he fights it. Look, we all know Papa could transport him right back to the house on Glen Gary Road in a second, if he wanted to. But this seems to be imprtant to the soft hearted 'elf.' So Papa hasn't forced him.

Edith is back. she brought us some of this really good Italian style bread they bake in Atlantic City. Well, she brought it back for me, mostly. Except for her and a Red Paint or two, I'm the only genuine human here. But we gave some to the woman next door...the one who feeds her kid shitty pizza. Maybe this will make up for it.

September is a dull month. Everybody pretends that it's not summer, but we still sweat like it's summer (not the vampires, naturally). It's like Limbo...It's not fall...It's not anything......I walk by a school. The kids just sit there, listening to the teacher with sad empty eyes. Their plastic 'swimming pools' are still up, for God's sake. All they want to do is go home.

I think the guy who owns this luncheonette I go to had 'the dream.' I heard him mumbling. I heard him mumbling. He said, 'I am the Unity,'.....over and over and over and over. Then, when I ordered, he told me not to get the tuna. First time he ever did that. So I got the turkey wrap. Sandwich was a little heavier than usual too...lotsa meat. It was the dream. I'm sure he had the dream.......I'm positive...........

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Glen Beck (and enchanted vampire minions) IN JERUSALEM

Glen Beck is in Jerusalem too. I know I said I's tell you more about my transformation into a disembodied spirit, but last nights pow-wow took a lot out of my. I'll share a bit more of that bloody, lurid stuff. Just let me fill you in on what's happening in the street first.

We don't know who conjured him up. Nobody knows if it was Papa, or Renate, or one of the other vampires. Some thought it might have been one of the jinns. But it looks like he bought a ticket (or leased a private jet) and flew over on his own. It's crazy, but in our enchanted universe, we often forget such mundane forms of voyaging are possible.

So he's been giving these speeches. Let me see. The last one was right by the Southern Wall of Temple Mount. Popular spot. Glen Beck and half the prophets. Gee, is he trying to tell us something. Still, the  audience seemed to eat it up. Renewal of faith. Support for Israel. Striving for a secure peace. A few plugs for his GBTV internet 'television' station. Look, I can't blame him for that last one. Guy's gotta make a living. Right? But (and it is a BIG but) Sarah says he had the dream. Some of the others picked up on that too, however she's really very young, yet able to zoom in and out of people's brains (both mortal and the fancy, improved vampire kind) like an F-16 fighter jet. Actually, most of the aces around here prefer the older Mirages ('ray France!), but Zebulon cares little for tools of violence. And before I forget.....have any of you had the dream? You know, the 'I am The Unity, like unto there is None Else. No thing can seperate Me from thee.... ' soul movie. Papa started it. That's what they say, only he's not so sure.

I've become quite attached to Lailah lately. she's a bit like me. Granted, they did me in before I actually became a vampire. And I would a been a great vampire, hollding court deep within some old abandoned, windblown, desert caravanserai. Nomadic minions at my beck and call. Human familiars securely hidden in glittering throne rooms throughout the known world. Rupert Murdock eat your heart out. Bill Gates too. But... it was not meant to be. And so I drift, a will  o the wisp, sharing stories, encouraging do-gooders (mostly) and visiting all the cool, new hot spots. Hey, even disembodied spirits need time off.

Some Israeli promoter tried to get Glen Beck on the same bill with Yusef Islam, Bob Dylan and the resurrected John Lennon. Oh, Beck was all for it. But Yoko put a bug in her no-longer-officially-dead husband's ear. And some agent from L.A. (specializing in dead celebrity estates) said it'd be a bad career move. Even dead Elvis wouldn't do it and he was (is?) politically closer to Beck that Lennon. ever was (is?). Bob Dylan mostly wanders off with these Jerusalem 'world music' types. I hear he's working on something new. Hasidic Love Call, I think it is. And Yusef Islam is heavily guarded due to a spate of serious .death threats.......Complications....Jerusalem Fever.....What else is new?

You know the ghost of my father is STILL in this city. Never passed over. Too guilty about what happened to me. Coulda paid sommebody off and shipped me out to Tanis or someplace like that. He wan'ted to. He thought about it. But it all happened so fast. Look, I am over it. I'm willing to swap vapors (a spirit thing) with him. He's the one. Pray for us. Let it all be settled before the New Yearr

Here's to a Joyous and Healthy 5772 everyone! May God sprinkle raisins and almonds (symbolic signs of good fortune and heavenly approval) down on you and yours. Tomorrow we run with Lailah...and maybe with her father too.

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DEATH COMES TO ZEBULON, A NARRATOR OF OUR TALE. CRUSH A SKULL, CREATE A MARTYR

I have told you many things, stories about others, vampire secrets, lies about myself. Some nights I am an adult, other nights I feign indifference. I am young. I am old. I am dead. In truth, I am all of those things. In mortal years I only reached thirteen. But a soul feels many things and life is not only for the 'living.' Think not that just because I lacked two eyes I could not see. I saw. And I knew. Maturity came after death in my case, a little late, but welcome just the same.

Now there  were many ways to kill the wrong-doer. Some nations used a sword, others an ax. Beheadings were accomplished in a multitude of ways. I knew of a tribe, deep down in the southern deserts. They buried the 'criminal' up to his neck. Then they soaked the sand in ass' urine, lots of ass urine, until it had the consistency of dough or wet concrete. You might say that the confiscation of the head was anti-climactic. The poor soul was doomed anyway. It's not as if he could just get up and leave. They could have gone back to their hovels and forgotten all about him. In a few days thirst would finish him off. The crows , quite partial to glassy eyeballs, might make off with a souvenir or two. The ants could have had a party. But the people liked a good show and lacking circuses, they made do with this. A strong man would come forth, usually a favored warrior or some coarse dolt like that. A king's fool. You know the type. He'd strut and flex, rage at the terrified, little head poking up above the ground. Pretend to kick it. Sometimes he'd pee on it But then, when it was time to get down to business, he'd grasp the offending appendage in his thick, rough hands. Oh, how the crowd would roar. Then he'd playfully slap the cheeks like a mother chastising her child. Oh, how they'd laugh. Sometimes the condemned would cry and the onlookers would grow silent, as the remorseless court-killer proceeded to screw the head around and around, cracking the neck bones, tearing the blood vessels and breaking the wind pipe, till the guilty noggin popped off in his hands like a cabbage torn loose from the ground. No muss. No fuss. The stump of a neck wound  up tight like the end of a sausage.

It was customary to present this 'cabbage' to the mother, or whoever came close to being the mother. The body was left in the ground. And some said that whatever grass grew in these parts grew sweeter at that spot, providing a headstone of sorts for the poor departed. But my people were different. We were civilized, so they did not do that to me.

My father accepted his 'loss.' God's will would be done. I had consorted with the Children of Lilith, danced with witches, drank unclean blood. My mother cried. She was unconsolable. But they drugged her with oil pressed from the seeds of the poppy and locked her away. Other members of the household kept silent, lest they too be accused, for wagging tongues were everywhere. You know 'the drill' as they say. Sometimes a city of God is anything but. Look to the scandals in other Holy Bastions. You know... you know.....

They bound my arms to my sides and wound me in clean, white cloth. Cotton, I think it was. Then four soldiers carried me to a place just beyond the city walls. Did you ever see Joshua in The Ten Commandments? Well, that's how they looked, short Israelite kilts, jauntily wrapped head scarves, while I , on the other hand, seemed to be an oversized 'papoose.'

Oh, my mind was gone by then. I'm sure my father paid the officials to dose me with some narcotic. And I 'dreamed' of summers spent in the north, along the shores of the Sea of Harps (where the bards came from). You mmay know it as the Galilee. Please excuse my spelling, but I've known so many inscription systems. It's hard to keep them straight.

I was laid upon a rock, a thick, flat, bed-like rock. It felt cool. I remember that. Up above, on the civic ramparts, a group of men prepared the stone, a large, raw, sharp edged boulder. They wrestled it up to the beginnings of a well, worn grove, an indentation approximately one and a half cubits wide. Prayers were said. Oh, not for me. For them. For the city. For the rest of the nation. And I don't know who else...For all the ships at sea. Then they let loose the stone and sent it rolling down over the walls and onto my skull forty feet below. My final memory was of the gulls. Jerusalem is not that far from the sea and those voracious thieves grew fat on our leavings. I saw them silently glide into possition high above, against the hard, blue sky, until a swift, dark shadow passed over my face and it was finished......

Please. I am so sorry, but after twenty eight hundred years it is still hard for me to relive this. Please, you must understand......Come back tomorrow night.......I'll try to tell you more......

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Go to @wilkravitz the profile page...look down the tweets till you see a link. click on it and you will dance among the stars.....SCHMOOZINGWITHALIENS.....contemplations on the cosmos.....

SEX AND BETRAYAL IN A PRIESTLY JERUSALEM HOUSEHOLD, RESULTING IN THE CREATION OF A DISEMBODIED SPIRIT

I was caught. They saw me, or one of them did. A servant. I never liked him and he never liked me. the Philistine bastard. Was he a slave? Who cares. He owed a debt. And besides, we were not like the pagans. Most slaves were freed after seven years. Even if they had no place to go and chose  to stay with their master, they could not remain beyond the Year of Jubilee.

He lived in the little room next to mine. Sort of like an in-house bookkeeper he was. Did a little bit of everything. And I could smell him lighting those tiny, little inscence fires to that statue of his. Nobody else knew about it, but I did. Oh, he was such a favorite. He was so indispensible. Kept perfect records and everything. They fed him the same food we got. He wore all the best cloth from Damascus. Even took part in The Passover with us.

They loved that son-of-a-bitch. Boy did they love him...especially my cousin...my girl cousin. She lived with us. Her parents were dead. I think a sea serpent devoured them en route to Cyprus, or something like that.  Man, you had to really look out for those sea serpents in my day. Today...not so much. Look, I'm not a dope. I know it must have been a rogue wave, or a storm. But what the hell difference does it make? And wouldn't the Weather Channel be more interesting if that big, bald guy said - We have a huge iron-scaled , fiery sea beast  with five score giant bat wings churning up the waters o'er the remnants of Atlantis........instead of telling you to watch out for little miss  Hurricane Big-Tits? What a poetically barren age you live in. Even the vampires dress like fools.

So my cousin started kissing up to those statues with him. Then she graduated to kissing up other stuff too. I saw. I knew. I was gonna tell. Why? Why do you think, numb nuts!? I liked her! They used to go out in this little courtyard we had out back. It was where the olive trees grew. But none of us went out there after dark. The gnats would eat you up alive. Apparently, not just the gnats.

I threatened them. Said I would 'tell.' But they bought me off. What did it take, a handful of shekels? That's where I got the money to go wandering around the city. And that's how I got in trouble. That Philistine creep didn't run back and tell my father the first time. He waited. He was shrewd. They both were, my cousin too. So they tailed me and they watched. Then one night.....I think it was just before  the Pentecost, they went to him. He had guests, other learned men from Punt. Were they Israelites? Not exactly, but sort of. Our Faith had somewhat of a following down there ever since that Solomon and Sheba fiasco. Look, you heard about Menelik? You heard about the Dissappearance? The Blessed Ark of The Covenant, I mean. Well, my father was meeting with some of those almost Israelites from down in Axum. They revered him, a hereditary priest, a noble. Kind a like some transported cut purse from Australia having high tea with the queen. And my progenitor loved to play that part.

So they barged in, the Philistine and my kinswoman. They told about my 'unclean' acts. They told about the Assyrian vampires. They told about the blood. And you know how Orthodox Jews feel about the ingestion of blood. So they threw their sugared dates and almonds to the floor and raced out into the night to find me.

Ever see someone get stoned? And no, I do not mean how the Ishmaelites or Medes do it. It is not what you see on the internet today. I mean how they really did it. I mean how it was done in Jerusalem. Well, come back tommorrow and I'll tell you. Might say I had a front  row seat.......

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YOU MAY KNOW ZEBULON, ONE OF OUR DISEMBODIED SPIRITS (narrators). HERE, HE SHARES SECRETS OF HIS OWN..., PRIESTLY INTRIGUE and ASSYRIAN VAMPIRES HIDING IN ZION...please disregard his careless script. he worked in haste..

I will have to transmit this information very quickly. there are those who do not want me to share these things. they do not believe you (modern humans) are worthy of such knowledge. this is Zebulon. I know I have told you many things about my beginnings. some of them are true (after a fashion). while others were merely burlesques, grotesque manipulations of the truth. But now I speak in a clear voice. this time my words are wrought in gold.

Oh., how I long for those days. May father was a hereditary priest in the Temple of Solomon, a prince bishop, as it were, arrayed in the white and silver robes of a high cleric. He sat in The Great Sanhedrin, part of a noble senate devoted to God and charged with maintaining Earthly purity. Was he First Priest to Zion ?(what many erroneously call the High Priest) No, he was not. Think of him as a cardinal. Indeed, the very structure of the Trinitarian Vatican is based on our beginnings.

A spoiled child, I was. Raised in a palace. Schooled in The Scriptures by the Prophets themselves. And when the time came for my father to be Gathered to Our Fathers and take his place under the Saphire Throne, I would ascend to his chair, joining that blessed assembly.

Privy to miracles he was. Confidant to the angels and earthly manifestation of The Heavenly Host. Yet I wandered the byways of David's City, an urchin among urchins, taking my fun from simple things. Stealing a peach. Upsetting a spice cart. Tickling the ear of a blind man. But I heard thinngs and I saw things. Mundane things and secret things. Some of them torment me to this very day. For I walked with the Night Folk and drank soup from witches cook pots. I saw them. I did. They were there. They fed on us and laughed at Divine Writ. Beings from afar. Assyrians, I suppose. Or at least they were Assyrians when they were alive. But they were not alive. They were something else.

They offered me blood. I wanted it. I needed it. They tempted me. Skill in games? It would be mine. A winning smile? Of course. Strength? Speed? Without a doubt. Drink it - they said. Taste it. Let it trickle down......And I did, durinng the sixteenth night of my fourteenth year. Already a knowing soul in the eyes of God, for I had been Consecrated in the Faith fifteen days before.

It happened that a servant from our household saw me. He ran home to tell the tale......Well, what  manner of truth can I tell you?  I pay for my transgression to this very night. Jonathon is my charge. He must succeed. And the world must grow to be a better place

Now do  not think that all vampires are evil. They are not. If you are a regular follower of our tale you know this. But I was not meant to travel their road. So I travel it yet, in a ghostly form to this day... Some may have read these words before, while others have not. That's just how it is.  And if you'd like me to recount the torment of my death, leave a message (comment)... To everything there is a season. And a time for every purpose under Heaven... Adieu, my best beloveds.......OH! and one more thing. If you'd like to feel my presence (spirit) lay your fingers upon the keys (lightly, please) close your eyes and dream......

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