SCHMOOZINGWITHALIENS: IMPERIAL ROMAN VAMPIRE BODYGUARD, JANUS, tells us ...

SCHMOOZINGWITHALIENS: IMPERIAL ROMAN VAMPIRE BODYGUARD, JANUS, tells us ...: I like yellow. All vampires like yellow. Reminds us of the sun we never see. Oh, I know some peek out during the last moments of twilight. ...

OK...think I might be able to move blog over here to its true site. Click on that SCHMOOZING WITH ALIENS site up above and it should appear...waa-laa!...SCHMOOZINGWITHALIENS is a little seen, secret site I had two years ago, but the 'men in black' ...did something.. If you want to see it, GOOGLE Schmoozingwithaliens by Billy Kravitz and ... well, I'm not supposed to say. But for the REAL VAMPIRE WONDERLAND post, click on that title up above. For more, as always ... click on YADDA YADDA YADDA .... and , psst!...(join me on TWITTER at ~> @wilkravitz ...  If I CAN successfully move it, it should appear  right above this...

janus GOES A little bit 'vampire crazy'.. (BUT BLOG APPEARED ON OUR 'SECRET 'schmoozingwithaliens SITE BY MISTAKE..TRYING TO GET IT BACK...8/10/13'

 LOTS GOING ON BETWEEN HERE AND L.A......  Can barely think straight. Trying to move post over here. sorry for any inconvenience. If you want, you can GOOGLE SCHMOOZINGWITHALIENS by Billy Kravitz...click on it and scroll to most recent post... Wishing all a spiritually rewarding SHARK WEEK.

Blue Jasmine Official Trailer #1 (2013) - Woody Allen Movie HD .. even the paranormal world bows to Woody... (he gets our rarefied angst ) .. 8/8/13

We told Janus, the Imperial Roman Bodyguard vampire, we couldn't channel him tonight on account of a new Woody. He had no idea what we were talking about and started to frantically bite his cuticles and curse us out in Latin, Celt-Iberian and Koine . Tsk, some people are just so God damned neurotic...If you want to see THOUSANDS of earlier episodes, click on `>THE MOTHER LOAD ... join me on TWITTER too at ~>@wilkravitz ... thank you and please leave COMMENTS...on my stuff, or Woody's.

BABY NESSO HAS A SHARP TONGUE.. 8/7/13

My vampire guide and erstwhile opponent looked at me and said - Now do you understand? The child never died. The nursemaid was not negligent. The woman did no wrong. She was waylaid by 'familiars,' vampire helpers hunting food for a lazy master. And she did put up a fight. Indeed, they blinded her in one eye and would have put out the other if the hounds had not arrived. Huge mastiffs they are. Bred by the infantry to rip open the guts, the genitals...anywhere. And they chased the loathsome familiars out across the fields, lacerating their weak, flabby buttocks in the process. But the baby was gone and Clan Romila was afraid. Canes belli ate the baby! Canes belli ate the baby! - she went on. But the only war dogs there that day were ours... and they eat other things.

We offered money. We offered plenty... a first tier box at the Coliseum. A month by the seaside in a villa recently purchased from some spurned imperial doxy. Good luck charms wrought by the hands of a top 'cassandra.' But your mortals would have none of it. And so the fight began. A killing here. A killing there. Geld a first cousin. Cripple some old, bastard uncle whose name I forget. Disgusting... truly disgusting. 

And now they sent you. But I'm tired. I don't want to do this anymore. So I did it. I showed you. You see him. You know. That other life-eater did not kill him. I can't tell you why, but he didn't. And so he sits here in the dark, contentedly drawing blood from other babies. Rome has a plethora of unwanted sucklings. Mama sows part with them quickly enough. A few coppers. Perhaps a bottle of scent. That's all it takes. Life by the river is tough. Thank Jove we're here in the heights. Do you know how my vampire nose would suffer in the miasma down there? Vampire, please! I'd vomit on a regular basis. These babies come from Shitsville. They'd die there just the same.

So go. Run and tell your master that the Nesso Baby lives. Well, after a fashion he does. Tell him what he is. Tell him what he does. See if they want him back. We found him, or rather he was left with us. And we provide the succor. 

Look how he gurgles. Look how he chews that leg. You know, 'cherubs' rarely kill a victim outright. They gnaw and they drink and they babble. Quite cute in their own way. No teeth. They have no teeth. Do it all with a sharp tipped tongue. A little, callused point they have. Twirl it around like a drill. And the poor, tiny urchins really suffer very little, for we drug them first. After all, we are not monsters.

Soon I'll take them out and end it in the fish ponds. That's why our crabs are so sweet... or so they tell me. 

But I took a tiny chain from off the 'cherub's' ankle... a talisman left by some long dead Nesso kinsman, and kept it with me when I left that place. 

The truth, as it is, troubles me. And I'm afraid to tell the master, for I've never failed him yet.

A vampire's nights are quite complex. Though I did kill two souls on my way home...an addle brained tramp and a waylaid sailor. The blood lust is quite simple. And I needed to forget.

Perhaps I'll say a prayer for those ruined babies, if I knew just what to say...
(more next time)
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THE IMPERIAL ROMAN VAMPIRE BODYGUARD, JANUS, sees another facet of his breed... 8/6/13

This is why I could not do it. This is why the leader of Clan Ramila still lives. I saw something there...something at once so innocent and terrible... and it scared me. Guess I haven't been a life-eater too long. 

They lived in a villa, a regular Roman style villa, square with an atrium in the middle. But it was big, all marble and tile. One way in through the front and another smaller, less ornate portal out back. Fortress mansions they are. Mortal guardsmen kept watch out front. Though a vampire knows how to beguile people. It's instinctive to us and I am no exception. So they stared off into the middle distance and let me pass. 

Inside all was silent. A small, votive flame dedicated to Vesta flickered on an altar near the entrance. I went into a reception chamber all done up in the simple, classic manner native to the Greeks. The Romila, being Calabrasi from deep down in the 'toe,' had strong ties to 'Old Hellas' and maintained many of the ancient traditions. Tiny oil lamps scattered about the interior provided dim illumination...'night lights' so to speak. Juvenile slaves charged with tending them were supposed to stay up all night. Most wealthy homes had perhaps two. An easy job usually given to the offspring of long-time family retainers. But in practice, kids will be kids... even slave kids. And these two were back in the kitchen filching olive paste and flat bread. They knew the routine. One or two passes a night was enough. Everyone else was asleep, holed up in tiny, windowless, bed chambers toward the back. Were there mice? Well, a few, but the cats took care of that. And all the other slaves were penned up for the night.

I did smell the vampire though... stale blood... not strong... very subtle... barely there. Some say vampires have no scent, but they are wrong. A lot of what they say about us is wrong. 

He was sitting in a chair outside a bedroom. Now please know that the light was exceedingly low. But vampire eyes can see even in pitch darkness. Like cats we are... Like sleek, hungry, feral cats. He sipped wine. Our kind can tolerate fermented nectars. And he slowly smiled at my approach. I'd rarely faced one of my own before. He seemed strong in a sly and clever way, while I relied on a more 'muscular' visceral type of life-eater strength. 

Then he spoke, barely audible to mortal ears and difficult even for me. He said - Come for revenge, have you?.... I nodded.... He chuckled and said - They've sent others before. Oh, we've lost people from time to time. Stolen away in the night... Poof, cold blue flame and all that... (and then his eyes bore through me) but not tonight... come with me. I've something to show you.... He got up and led me through dark passages, out through the loggia and across the roofless atrium, where he unlocked an old, rough door revealing a narrow stone stairway snaking down into the earth. I followed. At the bottom was another door. He fumbled for a key and opened it as well, uttering one word...'come.'

Inside was a room lit by candlelight. Not too bright, but brighter than above. The walls were fine, smooth plaster... old and veined with tiny cracks. They floor, smooth slates covered by many silken pillows and colorful, wooden toys. Mythological heroes stared out from the walls, old murals, carefully painted by long dead artists. And there in a corner, behind a disheveled child's bed sat a baby... a plump, little boy who went 'uh, oh' at my approach. For scattered 'round him were the almost dead, cold, gray carcasses of other babies, mortal babies. The Nesso Child had not died. He was here, right before me and he was a vampire, an innocent, lethal vampire, disturbed during dinner, yet curious just the same.....

(more next time)
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AN IMPERIAL ROMAN VAMPIRE BODYGUARD ENCOUNTERS STRANGE THINGS.... 8/5/13

I like the streets at night. No light. Few people. Feral cats. An occasional wandering ghost. A fresh corpse. Social types scurrying home from dinner parties surrounded by torch bearing (truncheons too) lackeys. Some recline in heavily curtained liters. It's quieter that way. Won't attract street gangs or 'the black hand.' Romans especially fear 'the black hand.' Some call it 'the red hand,' but they are misinformed. Everyone pays 'protection' in this town. Flows through the streets like water. Sure, they have sewers, but a lot of raw sewage never makes it that far.Imagine getting drowned in a reeking shit bucket. They do that, you know. 'The black hand' I mean. You can still feel the air on your arms. You can still feel the air on the back of your neck. But your face is buried in watery, loose turds. It burns your eyes. And after a few dozen heartbeats you can't hold your breath.... so you 'breathe.' Only what comes in isn't air. 

I saw them do it to a man. Young he was, maybe twenty three, twenty four. Caught him silently padding through the dark with one lackey and a sputtering torch. Must of been out gambling. Dice parlors are all over the place. Must have owed somebody too. You know, a lot of those senatorial and knightly families aren't as rich as you think they are. Lost plenty in the Dacia fiasco. Nobody wanted to go there. You got the Parthians right across the Euxine (Black) Sea. You got Bulgars and Slavic barbarians to the north. Superstitious natives. Swamp fever. And a really coarse, low, common, primitive type of lamia sanguine (vampire) too. Not at all like what we have in Rome. Big parcels of potentially choice land went begging. The empire had to give it to the troops and some of them are making a 'go' of it. I know all this because Clan Nesso knows it. You don't read about it in the broad sheets. In case you don't know, every district has a central square. And every square has a pillar... a big, wood pillar. That's where they go for news. Runners bring fresh sheets every day. Rip down the old ones and tack 'em up. Them what know their letters reads 'em. Them what don't bring a friend. But rich folks are privy to the real deal.... whispers on the dining couch and all that. 

But let me tell you what I saw 'the black hand' do to a man.... that young one, I mean.

Four guys grabbed him. The lackey ran away, screaming in the night. Then they threw him down on the cobbles. Must of broke his nose. I heard the crack. I saw the blood. He screamed, but they shoved some rag in his mouth. And as if that wasn't bad enough, they stretched him out, spread-eagle, and chopped off his hands. Shoved another rag in his mouth. Had to stuff it up real good, so he wouldn't bite through his tongue. Don't want him to die that fast. In fact, they want him to live. They want him to be a symbol... an instructional tool..... As if anybody has to be taught. Every dirty kid, at every dirty lunch counter both sides of the Tiber knows 'the black hand.' Oh, before I forget, they took his feet too..... Right through the ankles..... crack, smash, pop!! You should a seen his face. I never saw somebody go into shock like that, 'specially when they 'cupped' him.... Forced these copper things that look like cuffs, on over the stumps of his arms and legs. Real hot, they were too. Not red hot... but pretty close. Could hear the flesh sizzle as they locked in tight and contracted into place.

Stopped the bleeding though. Cauterized it and everything...
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THE IMPERIAL ROMAN VAMPIRE BODY GUARD HAS A CLOSE CALL... 8/4/13

I race through the dark, narrow warrens of the city. Rome is riddled with such byways. They snake through the Subura, a notorious district of tumble down insula (tenements) and rancid wine bars and lunchrooms. Insomniacs (or drunks) babble from laundry strewn balconies and feral cats snarl and fight in the shadows. 

I have failed. The master's 'best ratter' was foiled.  And I was so close. I was so close. Nicolo Ramila is an enemy. His 'house' and 'ours' are at odds. The vendetta is an old one, going back to a dead baby more than three generations ago. A distaff member of that Magna Grecia tribe (Greek-Italians from the south of Italy) was minding a baby... one of 'our' babies. She put it in a basket in a field, out beyond where the Trans-Tiber districts stand today, as she dug for mushrooms and wild greens. But as the baby was not hers she paid it little shrift. And as Apollo drove his chariot down toward the Ostrian shore, a wolf and a pig (alright, maybe it was just a dog) grabbed the baby and carried it off to have it for their dinner. The careless child minder blamed Sardinian pirates. She ripped open her bodice, raked her dirty nails across her breast and ran crying back into the city. Since her people had connections to a certain minor functionary at court, a mumbling second cousin to Nero, maybe it was Nero, her tale was given credence. Money changed hands and she was believed.

Though the Nessos never forgot and the pathetic little one cries to this day. I was sent out to avenge the tragedy... to even the score and devour one of theirs... Maybe more than one. Maybe two or three. But now I am on the run...

And the cursed enemy knows who sent me....

A vampire shamed is a terrible thing. 
(more next time)
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