From "On the Town" - Some Other Time! - Eileen Farrell, Leonard Bernstein ... The Caretaker's Wife Dies..She was important to the elferinos and elferinas... 12/11/13

She gave then scarves and mittens. Every year she made them new ones. And they sat on the floor of the little caretaker's cottage listening to her sing. The elfie-folk liked the way she sang. Sometimes they heard songs from old movies, or Broadway musicals. The caretaker's wife knew them all. Her husband liked the songs too. He accompanied her on the piano.... Nothing grand. Just a small, worn upright salvaged from God knows where. If there were any other souls to hear it, the sound of music drifting from those walls must have seemed strange in such a place. But Laurel Hill is a place of subtle enchantment, a mellow, urban necropolis laced with narrow lanes tracing pilgrim paths through the bedrooms of the dead. 

Marianne, the more forward of the elferinas mouthed the words. She knew Oklahoma and September Song plus a lot of things from Gypsy. And she liked these evenings with the two old people. They were family. Much nicer than the previous couple, or the six other couples before them. By mortal standards, Laurel Hill was quite old... one hundred and sixty nine years old to be exact. But for the elferinos and elferinas it was still fairly new. Albion, the second elferino, sensed the illness. He was good at that. He could sniff it out. Oh, the others knew too. Even the caretaker, though mortal, knew it. But people, mortal and otherwise often like to ignore things. Death comes hard to the elfin ones, especially the death of someone they love.

When the caretaker's wife began to roll her eyes and fan herself with a printed program left over from a recent, graveside service, they knew. Albion felt every heartbeat, but he pretended to be interested in his new mittens. Oh, they could have saved her with a tiny drink of their blood, but she wouldn't have it. Neither would her husband. It's not that they didn't love the four enchanted creatures, for they did. They loved them dearly. But they were mortals and that's just how it was. Death did not scare them. They had a child over there and the final journey would presage reunion. The elferinos and elferinas wondered about that. Family relationships ... true family relationships were quite exotic to them. Most, indeed all, had been members of 'el mundo vampirido ' for hundreds of years. In their eyes human lives burn fast, much as ordinary mortals view the lives of dogs. And they still missed people from so long ago. Dogs, to them, are as dreams.

Celeste nudged Marianne and Marianne spoke. She said - Please, 'mother,' let us help you..... But they sick, old woman just shook her head, as the caretaker went to sit next to her. They held hands. She wheezed. He said - It's alright. She just needs some rest. To us it's late, you know, children..... He always called them that and they rather liked it. So after a bit they gathered up their new scarves and mittens, kissed the caretaker's wife on her cheek and left. But they didn't go far. Each took a seat on an old, cement bench, originally meant to front a small, Romanesque mausoleum, but the family rejected it for unknown reasons, so it wound up here. They watched from the outside, as the few, low lights went out and the couple repaired to their room in the back. After a while that light went out too. 

The child who passed rested nearby beneath a small stone topped with a little lamb. Most children's stones had themes like that.... somber cherubs... faithful puppies. That's how they did things in Laurel Hill. They pubescent vampires went over to visit the little dead one. But his ghost wasn't there. It never was. For he is in another place... and now his mother is too. Roland said it first..... She's gone - he whispered.... They stood there for the longest time, then went back to the mausoleum where they slept and cried. Celeste and Albion wanted to go back to the cottage. They wanted to be with the caretaker. But they knew they couldn't. A mortal couple was already there. A niece and nephew, I think it was. So they stayed where they were til the cold, morning light crept near. Then they settled in and slept as night-folk do. Each dreamed of other caretakers... mortal families... their families... gone and dead for centuries. But sometimes dreams are more than dreams...

And the dead have their dreams too...

Tomorrow night they'd use their blood to rescue fragile souls, but not now. This day the seventeenth century lived again and the elfin folk were there.

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Jupiter Ascending Official Trailer (HD) Mila Kunis, Channing Tatum... our neurotic Docker-wearing vampire, Conrad, turned us onto this...

Whoa! Dissa Looka GUDE! 
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PUBESCENT VAMPIRES known as ELFERINOS & ELFERINAS enjoy The Holidays... 12/9/13

There are four of them. Ain't speechified much 'bout them in a while, but they still there. Special things... magical things they are. Been livin' here just as long as Tomas... Maybe a little bit longer. Folks say they ran 'round with them Indians before Philadelphia got itself built. Talked to trees. Flew off the top a hills. Swum with beavers. Could a even rode a big deer once or twice. I'm talkin' 'bout them elferinos... elferinas too. They sure are fine little things. And not so little, really, when you think about it.

Yeah, they are vampires, or night-folk, or life-eaters, or whatever else you want to call it. But they different. Magic settle real nice on them young ones... gentle like. Fly like the wind, they do. Sing like angels, if you can hear 'em. Sometimes they ride out the day in dark mossy tombs deep within the winding lanes of old Laurel Hill Cemetery. Play with the bones, they do. Femurs is clubs, or scepters. Skulls is cannon balls. Caretaker's wife makes 'em outfits. She a knittin' lady... sewin' lady too an' she love them young ones, 'cause they so cute. Preach to them out a her holy books. They go 'uh huh' and 'yes ma'am.' Caretaker's wife like that. And she know all their names, 'cause they trust her. She know Roland and Marianne and Albion and Celeste.... Mostly Frenchies they are... or were when they were mortal. If not real French, then from places what talk French. Now they talk Franglais, a big, old stew with French and English in it. Caretaker's wife give 'em hot tea on cold nights. They like watery drinks, just like them older vampires. An' actually, night-folk can tolerate light food. They have been known to nibble through social occasions like weddings and wakes an' all. Throw it up after, they do, but that their business. 

Christmas time real big with elfie-folk. An' you know, we calls 'em 'elfie-folk' 'cause a the way they grows. You see, most vampire locked in place when they cross over. Body parts all stay the same, like a statue. Don't do no switcheroo. But elfie-folk different. Guess it on account a all them hormones they got dancin' through they bodies at that age. Ears and fingers keep growin' after 'death.' Not a lot, but a little. Ears get neat tiny points. Fingers get a mite long and artistic-like. Eyes real big, Jaws finely drawn. Pretty hair too, all fluffy and soft-like. Wears knit caps, they does, pulled down Frenchie style. Funny, after three hundred years, more actually, they still 'are' that way. Christmas come, they like music and sparkle and sweet smellin' stuff. Hide in store windows they do. Mostly big, fancy, department store windows. Put on top hats. You know, them big, fat at the top numbers like old time coachmen used to wear? Dribble-dabble theyself with perfume. Wind long cashmere scarves 'round they necks. Act like them wind-up dolls they used to have back in the day. What poo-bahs and nay-wobs used a have in they collections. Nighttime come. Windows light up. Folks walk by an' never know that cunning, little juggler, or the sweet, Gypsy dancer not no mechanical thing. 'Cept sometime when it get real late an' street mostly quiet, elfie-folk sneak out. Sublimate right through the glass they do. Go caperin' off down that sidewalk to nighttime adventures mortal folk don't know.

Never drain nobody to death. Least hardly never. Dance around, 'kiss' folks and fly off. Them what 'been' say it tickles.

You gone be seein' little more a them elfie-folk..... 'cause they got things to do...

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VAMPIRES HAVE THEIR OWN TYPES OF MEDICAL EMERGENCIES.................... 12/9/13

Couldn't blog last night. None of the usual disembodied spirit narrators were around and Tomas had an emergency. Vampires do have what we would call 'medical' issues, some of which can be troubling. Tomas was making calls, trying to arrange last minute passage for Baylah. She wants to be in South Africa for the memorials. Usually his 'familiars' come through for him right away, but his airlines guy was out of town and the wife doesn't know about their arrangement so he couldn't say anything. She didn't know she was talking to a thousand year old Spanish, Sephardic Jew. You can't spring that on people, you know. Finally, he did find a person. Now she's on a small, leased jet somewhere over the South Atlantic. Might make a stop in Brazil, but I;m not sure.

Anyway, Tomas was getting so upset he started diffusing. That happens sometimes. It's like when they want to sublimate through a solid surface, or even through the air (what we perceive as flight). The body nebulizes. Edges blur and the central core becomes translucent. Some vampires have been known to go 'poof' and wink out all together. Do they 'die'? I don't know. We looked in his book. We actually opened up his ancient vellum copy of La Ciencia Vampirismo. I didn't read it. Edith didn't read it. We just opened to the page and put it down where he could see it (as least while his eyes were still working). Most of the writing was in Old Vahmperigo. It's like Spanish and Catalan by way of Provencal French, but different too.  Sometimes cold temperatures 'calm' the particulate (their word for atoms) and draw the body back into focus. So we had to take everything out of the refrigerator... all the shelves and bins too. One broke, but that's okay. There's food in there. I eat. Edith eats. Even the vampires drink cold vodka and crap. Had it all out on the counter. Turned the thermostat, or whatever it is, all the way down and got him inside just before he literally blew away. I thought part of his foot didn't make it in, but Leo said it'd be alright. Look he didn't know. I mean how long as he been a vampire? He was only guessing. But three hours later... yeah, it took three hours... we hear coughing from inside the 'french door' part. Vampires got expensive taste. What can I tell you. I say - Should I open it?... Leo goes - Yeah, open it.... Edith starts going - Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.... But it worked. I opened it and he fell out... all cold and gray. His hair was like a real disaster. And you know how he gets about his hair. But he was alright. The book was right. Wow... I gotta get a peek at that. 

That's why I didn't blog. Let me tell you, when it comes to vampires...'death' isn't easy.

(normal post later)

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TOMAS DOESN'T WANT TO COOPERATE ON A BLOG TONIGHT, BUT HE TELLS US THIS... 12/8/13

Immortal souls experience a certain type of occasional, nagging ennui. We do not want to talk to anyone, or drain the blood from anyone or slit the throat of anyone or martyr anyone. A time to sit in small, dark rooms and doze... Not sleep, but just wander and maybe contemplate and explore. So I am going to do that. It is I, Tomas.

But I will tell you this......

Once, in a remote Ottoman province I saw a local potentate raised to the rank of imperial governor employ a certain rare and intriguing torture device. We sat on low, plush divans, eating the choicest dates and sweetmeats. Well, he did. I didn't, though I did enjoy a cold, fresh, crisp vodka-like distillation made from turnips and specially bred garden slugs. 

Unfortunate individuals were brought in, deprived of their clothing and made to sit in the 'funny' seat. a large, squarely built, throne-like chair bristling with small, but lethal, razor sharp blades. And just like spike-lined fakirs' beds, everything was honky-dory so long as movement was kept to a minimum. But the potentate/governor was a connoisseur of exquisite tortures, thus he liked to shake things up a bit.

Now the seat was canted back. In order to get up the subject must, theoretically, focus all weight on their hands and thighs... the back part of their thighs, immediately shredding them to bits.... not to mention other tender parts as well. Few ever tried. But they did not have to...

After a bit the potentate clapped his hands summoning a jester of some sort. The entertaining gentleman attired in a ridiculous assortment of colorful silk braids, belts and ripped shreds of cloth capered about spouting profane and obviously much loved 'dirty' jokes... classics among the residents round about. The victim in the 'funny' seat tried not to laugh, but resistance was futile. And the reflexive movements caused cuts and slices to open up all along his nether regions. 

Oh, I could see it in the eyes. They didn't want to laugh and some were able to stave off such rumblings. But when that happened the potentate clapped again, producing a tittering band of nubile 'honey' girls wielding colorful feather pom-poms on the ends of long, thin bamboo sticks. They used these weapons like rapiers, tickling the victim all over, thus hastening his laughing death. The blood poured like olive oil freed from a press, running down the body and into a finely polished copper pan.

Afterwards he gave it to me, but failed to understand my penchant for live food.

Though I did like they show..... That's all you'll get out of me tonight. Go do something constructive. tell your friends... leave a comment. thank you...

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TOMAS LIKES A PRODUCT HE SAW ON SHARK TANK.. BAYLAH WANTS TO GO TO PRESIDENT MANDELA'S FUNERAL... 12/7/13

The townhouse is really quite a comfortable refuge. It's not overly imposing from the street (more like an old lane, or mews), just wide enough to let in adequate light. But seeing as most residents are nocturnal, that's not such a big deal. In case you're not familiar with classical Philadelphia residential architecture, I'll describe it. Each floor had four primary rooms. Two face front and two face back. There are smaller spaces, storage rooms, studies and the like, bathrooms, 'safe' rooms and secret rooms. The third floor, a rather charming arrangement of tiny dormered cubicles with light-tight shutters and cozy sleeping dens. The vampires actually prefer sleeping up under the roof. It's quieter and dryer. Should they feel threatened, retreat to the cellar is possible. The walls are stone, painted white. The floor slate covered. There's a deep, raw earth crypt under a heavy, granite slab, filled with perhaps sixteen inches of fragrant rose petals. Tomas and Sarah occasionally sleep down there. Some type of basic simple machinery moves the slab. This lowest level is a second cellar. What we would call a 'sub-basement.' The ghost of the little polio victim sometimes frequents the place, but not always. Sarah leaves little toys for him. The first cellar, finished in a similar manner, has a pantry and a little sitting room, plus what used to be staff housing in the old days. The first cellar has windows. The second cellar does not. And the entrance to the deepest level is via a ladder accessed through a trapdoor in the floor of an ordinary closet. I've never listed them, but I think counting greater and lesser spaces there are approximately twenty two or twenty four rooms in all. Stroll through Society Hill and other nearby neighborhoods. You'll see others like it. The difference being this one fronts a narrow, secluded lane. Oh, and a man from Robertson's comes down once every seven to ten days to change the rose petals. Does he know who lives here? What do you think? The kitchen opens up to a nice cozy garden in the back, but you're already familiar with that.

Now let me go on. Tomas watched television tonight. He likes Shark Tank. Always roots for the little guys. Says if he wasn't so moral he'd slip into Los Angeles and slurp the life out of those inhuman, self-serving bastards. And it's a wonder some local vampire with just a hint of social justice hasn't already done the same thing. Tonight he liked the hat people... two young men possessed of a business that makes dashing hoods and head coverings meant to imitate shamanistic disguises used in ancient, pre-hunt rituals. At least that's how they look to me. Though I must say they are very flattering in a primitive, Cro Magnon sort of way.... fluffy, (thankfully) faux fur, handsome, erect ears and in some cases, leonine paws meant to sereve as mittens. He contacted them earlier via Twitter, but they didn't know who or what he was. Here, I'll give you a clickable link~> spirithoods.com ... I hope it works.

Baylah wants to go to the funeral, President Mandela's, I mean. Not just because she's African, for her people were Ashanti and Tuareg and in no way related to the various kingdoms and feudal holdings of the south. But she just thinks the occasion is important enough to warrant a vampire presence. Tomas said - Don't you think some local night-folk will be there? And besides, official observances will be diurnal , thus baring your presence altogether..... Baylah said - I know that. But as a daughter of Timbuctu and a princess of Old Mali, I belong there. One royal to another. I want to pay my respects. And if I must wait out the sun time in some sheltered place, so be it. His spirit will still be thereabout and he will sense my presence. 

Edith could see she was worked up about this. Perhaps because she was once a slave, while the great departed soul was both the Moses and Joshua of his people. So she lit some green apple candles to calm things. 

Tomas said - I'll have my travel man ( a familiar) arrange it all.... Baylah said - You don't have to do that. I have familiars of my own.... Then she curled up in the chair and silently watched the fire.... a princess in repose.

I myself am yet another unidentified disembodied spirit and I'd like to keep it that way. Let the others share their names. Such displays are not for me. Good night, for I must leave...

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The Lion Sleeps Tonight - The Von Trapp Singers (Music Video) ... that willkravitz (we know it's really Billy Kravitz) who blogs for the vampires has a tie in to this... 12/6/13

Baylah's back at the piano bar. She and the genteel drunks was watchin' The Sound of Music tonight. Piano player still there. He don't sing though, not loud anyway. Plays along to songs in the show. Genteel drunks all hum. You know a lot a dopes thing Eidelweis really IS the Austrian national anthem? And the other dopes who disagree think it's Throw The Jew Down The Well... Maybe not that song, but something just like it.

They watched that show at the townhouse too, 'cause wilkravitz' mother played Sister Margareta on stage. Stage nuns got to sing more. Talked a little more too. Everybody in showbusiness served time with them Von Trapps. Think it like a 'union' thing. Sarah likes that story. She go - Awww.... Cries when they sing Climb Every Mountain too. Tomas say he knowed vampire nuns in Europe, back in the day. Vampire monks too. Used to let their hounds lick up the left over grease after victim burn up. Some a them dogs get vampire-ish too. Them what's in charge don't care 'cause vampire dog don't crap on no floor no more. Then Tomas sing us Gregorian chant. It like old time gospel for them what ain't got no rhythm. This Mister Never You Mind talkin'. I had a brother got himself catched by them Nazis. Jazz man over in that Europe place. Think he in Paris. Everybody say - What you care? No Nazi gone come over here.... But they do come. They come real fast when nobody lookin'. You know French people is easily distracted, 'cause they always doing stuff, like diggin' snails out a they shells, or washin' they cootchies in toilet sinks an' all. When Nazis do come, they start grabbin' folks. Most get sent to camps, 'cept they not really camps, 'cause ain't got no trampolines or weenie roasts. They just waitin' rooms for gettin killed. Lucky folks get gassed. Make 'em breathe in acid crap in big old garages full a naked cryin' people. Spit up lung meat, blood and all. L'il kids too. Them what not lucky burnt up in pits. Make 'em lie down. Shoot 'em up a little. Dowse 'em with gasoline. Drop a match an' go WHOOSH. Folks shriek and scream an' all. Shake a lot. Naked part the same, but rest of it completely different. African folk what got catched not go to camp. Army guy shoot 'em up a back alley. That what they do to my brother. He a disembodied spirit too. But I think he workin' Hawaii.

After show wilkravitz say it alright if night-folk wanna go out killin' folks. He doan care, 'cause Edith make a sweet potato pie an' he want some. Conrad say he want them little suede pants like Nazi boy got. He not no Nazi. He jus' like 'em. Leo tell him to go to hell.

Tomas start speechifyin' in Vahmperigo, but nobody know what he say, 'cause they not know old time vampire talk an' he the only one can read minds. He 'memberin' when them old time Nazis, them 'Crusaders' try an' burn him. Thousand year later he still dream 'bout it. Nobody like a get burnt up. I know, 'cause I an expert on that.

Later, when vampires do go out (not to kill folks. They doan always do that) wilkravitz get his pie an' he glad he watch that show, 'cause his mama once in it back in the day and all.

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