Let The Grand Procession Begin! THE VAMPIRE REVELS 1/27/13

Everything smelled different. The functionaries lit all the torches. They had these special ones, like the wrought iron wall hands in the Jacque Renoir version of Beauty and the Beast. The whole place smelled like a whole lot a musk mixed with the roast beef carvery station at Golden Corral. Vampires love that meaty, bloody smell...that and green apple aroma candles from Target. I don't know where they got so many of them over here in England, but they did. 

Tomas sat us all down. Told us what to expect. Everybody gonna go through a big door... walk down them steps (can't fall. vampires never fall. humans make like a hobby out a it). Edith's real nervous. She got this nice pants suit from Lane Bryant and all. Look like a lady version of a Mad Men suit if it come in size sixteen and a half. Sarah want her to wear this gown she got. Velvet...black velvet...real slimming. Bought it special for Edith at a trunk show off Washington Square. Edith say she like thew pants suit, but Tomas say she gonna wear the velvet thing.

He got like a bad-boy Medici Prince look goin'. Got like a black leather vest thing...silver chain belt. Leotards all black too. Don't think they call 'em that, but I do not know the right word for 'em. This Mister Never-You-Mind. I the disembodied spirit narratin' for y'all tonight. Long time no see. How you all doin'? Tomas' joint come wit' a Eye-talian, Renaissance jock strap. Call it a cod-piece, 'cept you wear it on the outside.... like crotch jewelry  wit' them black sequins and all. Annie say he look like a Romeo-and-Juliet Adam Levine. Sarah say he do too. But he not sure who that is, 'cause you know, he out tom-catin' 'round when The Voice come on. 

The lady one, Sarah, look real mysteriously delicious too. She not old like a lot a them, but she do wanna fit in. That why she dress like Napoleon Bonaparte's sister. You know, that Pauline bitch what always posin' mos' naked in them 'oh-I-ain't-got-no-panties-under-dis-see-through-gown! old time, rich lady, hootchie outfit shit. ...(I know this hard to read. You gotta slide through it two or three times, 'fore you get the same rhythm I got)....

Finally got Edith to put on that black, velvet dress. She look like Morticia, if the Addams mansion next door to a Dairy Queen. I jus' tellin' the truth. You know how it is?

Annie wearin' a flesh color body suit what got green, silk leaves sewed on it. She like Puck. That not a dirty word. It a character from Shakespeare. All the way over, she doan wanna wear no body suit. But Tomas say - No. An' she listen to him, 'cause Papa not here an' she know Tomas gonna tell. 

wilkravitz got one a those skinny-boy- cut black suits, like what Jimmy Fallon wear on TV, wit' a white shirt and skinny black tie. Not the same black, leather bootkins as Tomas, but close enough. They look like a nice family, if nice families was vampires, blogger-guys and Piney-ladies. I can't say what Baylah got on, 'cause she say she gonna seal me in a bottle if I do. So you gotta wait for that one. 

Musicians startin' a play. Tomas say it The Carousel Waltz from the Broadway show, 'cept they do it with back in the day funny pianos and a whole bunch a fucked-up lookin' fiddles. Powdered wigs on they heads look like dead little Frenchie-dogs too. 

Got real dogs wanderin' 'round. Big ones. Nice ones. Harlequin Great Danes.... Irish Wolf Hounds.... One got like a human face, but I doan like to stare. 

Light all low, from them torches, I mean. Whole bunch a au natural functionaries standin' round like statues what got trays full a ice cold vodka. They got other kind a rot gut too, but vodka big wit' this crowd.

And it warm in there. Can't be them big fireplaces. They suck out the warm. Edith say they got lot a magic floatin' 'round this place. Maybe that how they do it?

Ooh! Look! 'King' Rafe just combusted on that big throne he got. Dressed like a Roman emperor... Like battle dress, not them baggy ghost outfits.. An' lemme tell you. This place really special. They do put on quite a show. Got smoky, gray doves flyin' up by them huge rafters..... Black and gold butterflies. Tomas say they gonna have cherubs too, like what we got back in Philadelphia, 'cept we only got four and here they gonna have more.

'Case you doan know, cherub a little sucker (toddler) what got 'accidentally' vampire-ized. Not supposed a happen, but when it do, it very, very, very sad.....

Cattle-people startin' a moan. Guess it slaughter time. Lot a night-folk like to eat 'fore they dance. You know, like pre-gamin' it. 'Cept cocktail weenies they got still movin'...

Come back tomorrow. I tell you more. And another thing, I'm gettin' 'mind tickled' by 'nother vampirino in ole, sweet home Chicago. Click on ALEXIOS and go see what that bot gotta say...

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This and That about the 'Guests' ~~ The Vampire Revels 1/26/13

I believe some people arrived during the day, while we slept. Sealed vehicles brought them into a discreet underground passageway and silent functionaries led them to their rooms. Some of the 'food' was delivered then too. Edith said. She felt it. Trucks came in. She doesn't know how many. But they were plain, big, flat-panel vans. Tomas says there'll be at least three hundred night-folk in attendance. I don't know how often they feed. Some of the religious types might not feed at all while they're here. A few of the other types might be like real drunks, with blood, I mean. Who knows...not just with blood. They can have alcohol too, you know. This... is gonna be a real madhouse. 

It's funny thinking about the 'food' though. Baylah went down to look. Dungeons, like regular dungeons, that's where they keep them. Just cattle. That's all it is. Nobody talks. No eye contact. Very quiet. They have some kind of heat down there. Keep it pretty warm. Have to 'cause they're naked. She noticed that a few of them have symbols painted on their flanks. Asked one of the functionaries what they were for. He tried to mumble something. She couldn't understand what he was saying. They have their tongues cut out. Saw the little purple stump and everything. The suppliers in Eastern Europe drug them. That's what they say. 

I can hear an opera singer practicing. Tomas says it's a famous castrato. Sounds like a lady to me. You know, there was a vampire grapevine in the old days. Used to 'change' wealthy clerics and nobles and merchants...Anyone who could pay for it. Made 'em vampires. But most didn't survive long, though.. Nothing in the agreement 'bout killing them. New ones don't know shit. They're easy to kill. A few are still around. The ones that paid, I mean. 

Some of them want to go down into London for a 'day' trip. Tomas says we might stop there for a few nights when this is all over. Originally, it was supposed to be in London. But they changed it. Don't ask me. Vampires do that. They got a foursome playing mah-jong in this little parlor off the great hall. Three males and a female. Jabbering away to each other in, I don't know what it is, Finnish, Hungarian? I don't know. One smiled at me. But I quick flashed this pendant they gave me to wear and he looked away real contrite like... Should all be here in another night or two. Whales are fast, but not that fast. Imagine... all the oceans in the world are like big lakes to them. They swim all over. They see it all. Seventy percent, I mean. We see, and that's only if we travel a lot, maybe thirty percent. They must think we're just dumb shits. But I'd like to see a whale go to Mars though....

Don't see too many 'night-servants' anymore. I'm talking about the strange wraiths spun from ashes and moonbeams. Now it's the functionaries. Look like crazy humans to me. Annie likes to run up behind them and give a sharp pinch, right in the ass. But they just stand there like nothing happened and wait till she's done squeezing. She runs 'round the place with a little Romanian bastid named Carol. That's a boy. In Romania, that's a boy's name.

They got a real nice buffet set up in a 'hunt' room for the humans...people like Edith and me...guests...ones they're not gonna eat, I hope. Got Chinese stuff...Mexican stuff... seafood... roast beef...chicken... everything. You just walk up and serve yourself.  Can eat all night, if you like. Some of the vampires like to watch. They stand against the wall looking. Most wear modern clothes, more or less. A few wear things from their mortal life. We got too 'Robin Hoods.' I'll tell you that. And a handful of Celt-Iberians what won't wear nothin'. Edith calls the Robin Hoods 'Peter Pans.' Calls the Celt-Iberians 'nudists.'

They got musicians getting ready. Like a whole orchestra. Maybe it's a chamber orchestra. I don't know. Sarah went out to explore the hills. Say they got some big, feral cats out there, probably runaways from circuses, or private zoos. You read about them in the tabloids...'beasts of the moors' and all that.

Baylah calls her boyfriend like every forty five minutes. You know, the one with the house down the shore? Tomas says this whole place is gonna change, once everybody's here and they get it all set up. Staged 'fang fights.' Wagering. Drinking...blood and alcohol. Romantic entanglements. Music... dancing. He don't like it. Tomas, I mean. But he said we can watch when they kill the cattle-people from Eastern Europe. Might not all be from Eastern Europe. That's just where they gather them in for shipment. 

You know, some famous humans come here too? World leaders...everybody. They break up into groups...meet in little salons...discuss world problems...kick around solutions. Like that Bilderburg thing the Clintons go to. Only the Clintons don't come to this one. Not every time anyway...

I'm gonna go for a massage. There's a spa downstairs. Relax a little. Loosen up. Feel a little funny, though, 'cause the masseuses are all vampire girls. I seen 'em. I looked in when I walked by. They laugh. They roll their eyes..... I'd let 'em bite me a little bit, just a little bit. No more than that. Like a kiss, that's all. It's just like a kiss.

Edith laughs when I tell her. She goes - To Serve Man... it's...it's a COOKBOOK!!! 

She likes Rod Sterling. What can I tell you?  

The castrato opera guy is singin' again'. And the mah-jong people are clappin'...

Candlelight makes everything look like magic...

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thank you for visiting. please tweet - I nominate #BLOGGER @wilkravitz for a SHORTY AWARD based on his narratives and stories.... If you don't want to, I'll understand... I will... :0)

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: MUGGS ROLLIN' OUT. JIMMY ROLLIN' IN

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: MUGGS ROLLIN' OUT. JIMMY ROLLIN' IN: Three hundred and fifty thousand dollars in damages. They said we were lucky. I don't know who the day crew thought we were. A few of them k...This is from almost two years ago...when Mister Muggs, the accidentally created vampire chimp, was tearing up the exhibits at THE PHILADELPHIA ACADEMY OF NATURAL SCIENCES and humpin' all the stuffed cavemen in the diaramas. (hope we get it in a movie someday)... More VAMPIRE REVELS later tonight..... Please click onto this one. It's worth it... Thanks and as always, we take special delight in your COMMENTS...

THE CROWS FLY IN~~ The Vampire Revels 1/25/13

No one talks to 'King' Rafe, or addresses him in any way. They sublimate into the castle and are taken to suitable quarters by the night wraiths, the haunting beings spun from ashes and moonbeams. Most imagine them to be etherial extensions of the 'king,' but he doesn't say and they never do, so the whole thing is moot. Best not to look too closely during The Revels. That's not what they're all here for. 

They gave us quarters in the North Tower, the darkest spot. You see, the castle is shaped like a huge diamond, each corner occupying a different compass point. Best part is, no real windows. Just small, narrow slits originally constructed to accommodate archers. Smoked glass seals them now. And the beds...oh, you have to see the beds. Huge medieval fortresses brought over by the Normans. One slept in by The Conqueror, himself. All dark wood. 'Ebonized' I think they call it.  With gargoyles and allegorical allusions carved into the thick, lofty bedposts. Silk, quilted canopies, sent from a Chinese, court vampire seven hundred years ago, span the heights above firm, hand-stuffed, horse hair mattresses.  I can't tell how old they are. Still look pretty good. I know. I peeked under the sheets. No vampire sent them. They came from Williams-Sonoma.

An animated, preserved, headless corpse (female, I think) sat on a small slipper chair in the shadows, dressed in a dark, velvet gown. She was a harp player and regaled us with madrigals and mass songs plucked from the genuine, cat-gut strings of a large, free standing Celtic harp. Tomas remembered her from the old days... the really, really, really, really old days. I think she had her head back then. Fortunately, someone had seen fit to close the wound with coarse, black stitches. And I must say, the needle work was of a very high order. A large, walk-in fireplace held down the northernmost position. Jamb statues, filched from a Gothic cathedral, support a black, granite slab of a mantle, topped by the complete, articulated skeleton of a snarling wolf. Annie thought it beautiful. And I must say, her child-like, awe-struck face did reflect a certain predatory charm when viewed in the orange glow from the hearth.

Naturally, Tomas and Sarah slept there. The rest of us made do with smaller cells one floor below, each like a pie wedge sliced from the whole. The furnishings were similar, though. A bit scaled down, but still impressive. None had a headless musician. That part, I did not miss. 

Edith went around blessing the rooms. Pineys believe in that sort of thing. And if I'm going to be honest, I do too. So we said our good nights (dawn comes late this far north) and settled in for a deep, winter's nap, snug in our dark, and strangely commodious cocoons. There was a warm, glowing coal fire in a small, simple hearth across from the foot of my bed. That part I liked. So I burrowed under the luxurious tester (pulled up around my head) and drifted off. 

Was I frightened? A bit, though no one disturbed me but the ghosts....

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thank you for visiting. if you like, please help. please nominate me for a SHORTY AWARD. Just tweet this- I nominate #BLOGGER @wilkravitz for a SHORTY AWARD based on his narratives and stories......... Also, more links to intriguing writers tomorrow. PLEASE COMMENT......Good night...

SOME WRITERS TO PERUSE ON A COLD WINTER NIGHT ~~ 1/24/13

This jus' a short subject between acts, but the subject matter is very major, indeed. What we got here are links to four really good web sites overseen by four entertaining and stimulating writers. Some, household names, but the others are certainly comin' up the walk.

So why don't y'all open the door and let 'em in?

Erin Morgenstern ....... Neil Gaiman ...... Joe Hill ...... Andrew Harding

Click on them names and say - howdy do~~~
Might put up some more later. But what we got now are real paranormal and just right.
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THEY CAME IN THE HUNDREDS.. The Vampire Revels 1/24/13

We traveled together, Tomas, Sarah, Baylah, Annie, Edith and I. Four vampires and two mortals. The others, the lesser night-folk backed out, intimidated by the arcane splendor of it all. They stayed home with the elferinos. I know not what Blackie and Minnie will do. We don't control them. They've always been independent. 

Some friend or relation of the still missing Grigori Usipov put a plane at our disposal, a sleek, tailored, high gloss jet. We embarked at Atlantic City. Atlantic City International Airport,I mean, Philadelphia's second major aerodrome. Actually, not to far from where The Hindenburg came down.  The Muscovite oligarch knew we, or most of us, were vampires and the plane was fitted out accordingly with opaque windows, sealed sleeping quarters and the like. Feeding occurred prior to take off, so that won't pose any problems. Doctor Franklin arranged for the culling of four deserving criminals, via his connections on the police force. Not the usual way these things are done. Not through 'the visions' and all, but time prevented that.

Now Marianne and Albion, the two most worldly elferinos, may cross over later. Yet that is not at all definite. The waif-like, juvenile night-folk are extremely fickle. They dance. They play. They cavort with cherubs and hob-nob with assorted sundry ghosties. She's French, or started out that way, you know. He is too. Different cultures... different norms.

You should have seen Tomas assembling his raiment. Fine, black, bootkins... three pair..... Handmade demin pants, dark as winter midnight... more than enough.... Deluxe, cotton, white, bespoke shirts... by the armful.  Hose, doublet and jerkin, for the Grand Procession. The medieval look, you know, complete with codpiece.  Yes, he thinks it a conceit, but he does go with the flow.  Sarah, originally more conservative, assembled niceties of her own. gleaned from private, midnight showings in the best Rittenhouse Square district boutiques. Baylah, our Beyonce look-alike, always had the best. I'll tell you about the others later.

Some vampires are traveling the traditional way, in union with the whales. They've done so since ... forever. Wait on a moonlit beach. Listen for the song. Shed all clothing. Walk through the surf. Swim toward the depths and meet the leviathan host. The vampire makes contact... a chaste, small bite, locking  on to the grand cetacean like a lamprey to a fish. Then an inky, gel-like substance seals them to the rubbery hide, blocking out the light. And away they go, tearing through the sea in the age-old symbiotic embrace. Tomas has done so. Sarah too, young as she is. But time was different (mortals in the mix, you know) so they made other plans.

And in his hidden 'castle', far away in the English Northlands, 'King' Rafe feels them approach. Not just our group, but each and every one. The air around him quickens. He slowly smiles, as he drifts through the heights, up amongst the huge, oaken beams of the old and vast Great Hall.

Then he mumbles things. Songs, or chants, I cannot tell. Edith, our mortal 'seer,' plants the visions in my mind with her powers. But they must be spells, for ever so slowly 'things' begin to condense out of the gloom. Tapestries grace the walls. And so many chairs, more like tall, straight thrones line the perimeter. The 'king' prepares for guests.

Vampire culture is so special...so rich...so rare... so enticing, even for a mortal guest, like me...

wilkravitz says good night, from his berth in a sleek, fast jet, high above the silvery waves of the cold Atlantic Sea...

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we'd very much appreciate it if you'd be willing to tweet the following--- I nominate @wilkravitz for a #blogger SHORTY AWARD based on his magical stories and narratives..... thank you and good night...  

A Venue for The Vampire Revels 1/22/13

England is a green land, set in the cool, North Sea, yet warmed by the last kiss of The Gulf Stream. Some say the warmth turns toward France, but night-folk necromancers employ their razor sharp skills to draw it on toward Albion's shores.  And their kind have been in residence since the ice sheets disappeared. At first it was a refuge, clean and pure.  Caribou grazed here. Hunters came after. And then the night grew bright, quickened by those-who-see, even in the dark.

They slept in barrows, long, earthen tombs, snug beneath the grass. Some called them Oberon. Indeed, Oberahni grew to be the name of their tribe. The first night-lord was Rafe.  And he is still among us. Ancients knew him as 'Sandman.' A bringer of dreams. Perhaps you've seen him, tall and slim, white as the moon, with hair like spider silk? For he is an albino..... the 'ghost' who lusts for blood.

And he haunts a noble house, surrounded by hills, up toward the land of the fabled Picts. Night-songs (spells) sung by manic witches serve to keep the curious away. Vast stone halls, warmed by mammoth hearths, echo in the dark, for none but Rafe abides there. Is he lonely? At times. But he goes out to 'dine.' This one knows no vows. This one has no creed. He resembles the 'nobles' (moral vampires) but he is not one of them. Rafe hungers and he eats..... dowagers and doormen..... ballerinas and boors.

Oh, he is not cruel, not purposely.  A torturer? No, at least not in any premeditated manner. Though some might hold another view. 

Minions, conjured up from ashes and moonbeams, make ready for 'the dance.' They rub iron filings into the flagstones in preparation for the 'Grand Promenade.' You may have heard Tomas refer to it as 'The Stampanada.' Flinty heels strike orange sparks from off the iron floor. Step-step-step-STOMP. Step-STOMP-step-STOMP... Quite hypnotic and stately in its own cold, regal way. And they dine on plane-loads of plump, sleek mortals, flown in by soulless crime lords from the cities to the east. At least those who are not 'nobles.'

Protected mortals serve other functions. They are magicians, or waiters, circulating through the crowd with icy draughts of vodka, or tiny aroma candles. Some are jugglers, others subjects for real magic... donkey-boys, or feather girls. Sadly, a few die in these displays. But what can I tell you? It's only a hobby.

And our Philadelphia night-folk draw near, most like wide-eyed farmers at the fair.

Oh, the sights you will see. Come back. Bring your friends. Expect to be tickled and amazed.

Could be you hold a little magic too?

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if you're willing to help, please nominate me for a SHORTY AWARD by tweeting this~~~> I nominate @wilkravitz for a #BLOGGER SHORTY AWARD based on his narratives and stories........Thank you very much.