Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: 51ST BINGO BOY episode 12/22/12... 1/12/15

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: 51ST BINGO BOY episode 12/22/12: BINGO BOY - post 51 Welcome. Welcome, Oh, best beloved. Witness the first day of the New Beginning. Yes, I heard many of you saying we w...



This is a peek into our BINGO BOY story arc and this episode is narrated by the disembodied spirit of an ancient Mayan nobleman. That's what some dead folks' spirits do when they pass on... find work as muses or narrators. Who do you think tells you the stories in them books?



This tale's all about a rough, crooked bingo hall and all what works there...shills... kids collecting quarters... number callers and bosses... But they got dreams... And they got complications. 



Please click on up top where it says 51st BINGO BOY EPISODE... part takes place at the Jersey Shore, if you like the Jersey Shore. Part takes place in like a jail cell down a little row house cellar.



Even got a cute, pudgy baby in it... Not the jail cell... the story...Please jump in.. Look around.. Click 'OLDER POST' to see older episodes or NEWER POST to see newer episodes.... this was a NaNoWriMo thing, but people say it'd make a good movie



BINGO BOY by Billy Kravitz (that is if they let me direct)



How to Make A Vampire III comes back next time.



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HOW TO MAKE A VAMPIRE Part II.. 1/19/15 plus, watch this too... Goth Andrew De Leon Amazes The Judges With His Voice

The world, or rather 'all worlds,' the omniverse, I might say, is quite an unusual place. So please, do not be self-limiting. Don't let others plot your course. Do that yourself. 


Jonathon experiences many things this night. He is emotionally 'busy.' That's why I'd like to ask you all to permit me, Johannon, his faithful servant since the beginning, to channel this. You know me. I've done this before... one of the disembodied, spirit, narrators and all that. Let me say the words...


And they assembled in the underground 'station,' a never used, subway stop, deep beneath the streets of Philadelphia. The mole-folk were there. Sarah was there. The elferinos and elferinas saw it all too.


I suppose there were other spirits in attendance. Nobody counts the ghosts. But that doesn't mean we don't see things, even if we fail to see each other. Now let me tell you what I saw...

Flickering light from the many homemade candles gave the place a neolithic look. Such an assemblage... wide-eyed, grey skinned mole-folk, pubescent, elfin vampires, other more mature life-eaters and God knows what else was in there. I suppose the ghosts buried alive during the cave-in when they built the place (or at least some of them) were there. I saw two or three eighteen nineties mustachioed navvies (laborer, ditch digger) myself. One with a half crushed skull and eyeballs dangling from optic nerves looked interested. His buddy, flopping along like a seal on mashed arms and legs seemed intrigued too. I don't know what fixed-in-place entities endure. They are like sentient pieces of furniture... abiding and absorbing every worm, dust mote and beetle. Apparently the entombed navvies can move about a bit. They have a certain 'radius of operations' so to speak, perhaps governed by their spirit-strength at the time of their deaths? A student of the ethereal world I am not. I just 'live' here. Thank the Lord I am not fixed in place, but rather tied to the physical form of my 'charge.'... I am tied to Jonathon, also known as Tomas. And that arrangement is largely consensual. Nine hundred and fifty years (roughly) a body servant. I saved him when the Crusaders burnt that Provencal synagogue and was there (in spirit form) when a vampire found his sooty, barely living form in the moonlit ruins. But enough about that.

Let me focus on what went on in that never-used subway stop.....

All eyes looked up at a point in the center of the rough, moldering ceiling, originally painted in a rather Maxfield Parrish sundown motif.  Though most of the image planed down like snowflakes long ago. Right where the nucleus of a streamlined comet used to be came 'a something.'.... a dark presence... a huge drop`of tar-like excrescence that grew and hung there fat and pendulous for an instant, before plummeting down to the (what was once) polished concrete surface with a sharp, concussive force.

Inky fluid splashed everywhere, peppered with tiny bits of pulverized cement. Everyone moved back, as noxious smoke rose from the spreading stain, coiling into a column and condensing into a 'human' form....

Jonathon (standing by Sarah) froze... 'Papa,' the very same being who saved him from the smoking ruins all those centuries ago was back. And, you know what?... Jonathon was resigned. Sarah was too..

And who is 'Papa?'.... Well, maybe 'What is Papa?' would be a more natural question. If you've been attentive, you know he is a vampire. Though that breed has many variations. This one is said to resemble a thirty two, or thirty three year old Richard Gere. At least that's what Sarah says. And he's twenty eight thousand years old, 'mothered' by the great Renate, herself even twelve millennia older. They move in and out of the world capriciously. We see much more of him than her. 'Renate' is not her birth name. No one knows that. She just picked it up somewhere. Imagine her time... her mortal time, I mean. Among the first 'modern' humans to venture into Europe, or that part of it uncovered by ice. Vampires, you see, go back to the Neanderthals. They have this 'prayer.' They say --- 'Each but a link in a chain. May no one know the source. 

Sometimes Papa's benevolent. But only sometimes. He did save Jonathon, after all. But he did destroy the Etruscans and Mohenjo-Daro too...

So there he stands, dressed in full Highland Regalia, of a type worn in Jacobite times ... seventeen forty five... last gasp of the Stewarts and all that....

Papa can do many things... a 'man' of many appetites.

And now he's back...

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HOW ABOUT ORB THEORY INSTEAD OF STRING THEORY? (more vampires next time) 1/9/15

This is an outgrowth of a Twitter discussion. HOW TO MAKE A VAMPIRE Part II will combust upon this screen next time. I just want to get this down before the omniverse shifts and shuffles my thoughts.

OK - The Kravitzanian Theory of Matter

Everything we see or feel is made up of an infinite number of orbs. The space between alpha orbs is filled with beta orbs and the space between beta orbs is occupied by gammas and so on. The chain goes on forever. The space between ALL orbs is filled by even tinier orbs. 

Every orb, regardless of size rotates, but the angle of rotation relative to its neighbors constantly changes. Thus electrical charges (extremely microscopic in nature) constantly change and fluctuate too.

This does not negate theories governing everything from atomic particles on up. What some theorists call 'strings' are charge paths winding among the orbs. Atoms are made of orbs. 

Empty space is completely filled by stationary orbs... orbs that do not spin. However, when rotating orbs rub up against stationary orbs their motion causes the stationary orbs to begin spinning too. I don't know if the 'new' motion is inversely or adversely proportional.

Thus no point in the universe is empty...merely inactive. Maybe dark matter is inactive matter. The framework is there. The orbs are there, but (at present) no motion or charge moves them.

I don't know if orbs are hollow (probably not), or filled with a series of even tinier orbs.

Thus every possible point in creation can rotate in every possible direction. Electrical charges generated by each infinite point can flow, or discharge in an infinite number of directions too... a clockwork, roiling 'ether.' 

Perhaps entropy is the accretion of countless irregularities on the sub atomic, orb level?

Does ANY of this make sense? I'd be interested to see if actual physicists stumble upon this and read it. 

A valid (on any level) thought experiment, or just wee hour ramblings?

Great discoveries have begun with less.

Please share this post with those who might know... or at least know more than I.

I appreciate any help you're willing to give me.

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HOW TO MAKE A VAMPIRE PART 1... 1/8/15

JONATHON SPEAKS ~~~~~

I sat there waiting for the phone to ring. Edith did her best to stay out of my way. Billy played Legos with the little polio-victim-boy-ghost in the basement. The poor little tyke can't manipulate matter, but he tells Billy what pieces to snap together and what colors go with what. That's how he makes houses. He likes little houses... cottages really. We never take them apart. There's a whole village on an old ping pong table, with a narrow gauge electric train running through it. It's like the one Beetlejuice had in that movie. No, not him. The couple, Gena Davis and Alex Baldwin. But ours is all Legos and even if he didn't snap it all together, our little ghost-boy made it just the same. 

I wear simple clothes... jeans, long sleeved t-shirts, sweat shirts. It's cold outside...icy, in fact. Can it harm me?... No... But it chills me and I don't like the way that feels. 

The phone RINGS... I answer. It's time. I hang up, slip on my scarf and peacoat and go out onto the street to wait  for the car. I see Edith come to one of the livingroom windows and peek out. She's concerned. She wants it to go well. I nod to her. She nods back and closes the drapes. How still everything is. Seven degrees Fahrenheit will do that. Cold air fills my lungs. I exhale steamy vapor. Soon I'll be cold blooded... not icy like fish or amphibians, but not like people either. We have an infer-red sauna in the townhouse. Before all this mortal stuff started a few months ago, I could stay in there a good long while. I like the sauna. When I'm night-folk again it'll be a great comfort. 

A woman goes by. I've seen her before... a nurse going into work. She carries a gun. I know she does. I spoke with her a few times when I was vampire. She sees me. Probably figures I'm a smoker, stepped outside for a late night cigarette.  That's what I told her. She nods, smiles and says 'hi.'... I do the same.. She goes - Brrr! stay warm.... I go - You know it.... She hurries by. Works just a block and a half down. She don't live far. They pay her good, but not enough to keep a car in town... not enough to rely on taxis... so she walks... Such is life... and it 'ain't' fair.

A conservative, black, Cadillac sedan rounds the corner and stops. I recognize the driver. He's a 'familiar' (a helper) so I get in. We don't say a word. He takes me through the stage set city and lets me out by the Sixteenth and Locust Street subway entrance, not too far from The Warrick Hotel. Night-folk use this entrance all the time. Ladies in the glass booths know us. Nobody makes trouble. I go down, pay, she lets me through. At the end of the platform there's a door, a heavy, green metal door leading down to the deep network of unused tunnels. You have to pass through a series of dark, narrow, passageways and stairways, but you'll get there, provided you're a friend. I have a key for the metal door. That's how I get in. Do they see me open it and go through, on the surveillance system? Of course they do. But I told you. They know us and we know them. Favors go both ways.

To mortals this would be terrifying. There's no explanation for it, but batteries don't work here. They say it had something to do with magnetism in the walls... the wrong kind of rocks... the wrong type of concrete. The wrong type of story. That's not what it is. There was a cave in along this route in the early days. Fourteen workmen died... buried alive. Took weeks to reach them. Couldn't even close their eyes. The dirt came down so fast they didn't even have the room. Back then some of the workers were fourteen years old. Are there fourteen ghosts? I don't know if there're fourteen ghosts, but there are a few. I feel them biting and scratching and breathing, as I pass. Still, that's just an illusion. They can't move anything. I hear whispers. I hear pleading and crying. True mortals couldn't take it.... It's too dark... too confining... to remote... But I am not a true mortal, so I continue descending. 

Soon I hear footsteps... soft, scrapings. Then I see eyes, orange iridescent coins against the dark. One of the mole-folk has come to meet me. They tend to shuffle, to avoid tripping, thus the scraping. She holds a candle. I can smell the mixture of rendered pigeon and rat drippings used to make the tallow. She whispers - This way. Follow me. We exit the narrow tunnels and enter a large one, originally meant for the trains. Flickering shadows move across the rough ceiling and walls. Other mole-folk, each with their own candle come forth from their hiding places... My 'honor guard.' I'd expected to be transformed in a tunnel closer to home. Maybe the pit here is better? We use this entrance all the time, but I thought we'd double back.  They took me to the platform... to what was to be a 'stop.' Dozens of candles gave the place a tomb-like feel. Mole-folk gathered in groups, waiting for the show, or as much of it as the vampires would let them see. 

Then Sarah stepped out from another room, perhaps a storage chamber or water closet... She walked toward me, but didn't say a word. Baylah was there too. She just looked at me. I saw the elferinos and elferinas (our elf-like, pubescent vampires), but they stayed back in the deepest shadows with the mole-folk. Something wasn't right. Even the air... Even the very ether felt wrong.

Moments later I saw a form sublimate down through the ceiling. That's when I knew....

'Papa' was back....

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The Vampire, Jonathon PREPARES TO RENEW HIS VOWS... 1/7/15

JONATHON SPEAKS ~~~~~

Because of the heart problem and all they rushed things. I didn't want to have a pit this time, but there's no way to get around it. You need a pit. It's SO pagan though (few seconds of silence). I don't like that part, but... I want my powers back. Am I weak? Should I just go on with whatever physical life I have left in this body and be done with it?.... What a joke. As if I'm going to do that. I'm not gonna do that. Sarah and I will trade the blood, do all the ancillary things... and I'll be back. Jonathon ben Macabi, also known as Tomas de Macabea, will be night-folk again. I don't feel like I ever stopped. These weird, incongruous months are but an interlude, like that bathroom, orange aid, candy break they give you in the theater.

We're having it in the tunnels. Baylah set it up. I wanted to go. I'm the one they're used to. The mole-folk know me, especially Aura and Sylvia, the mole king's daughters. But considering the heart ailment, they thought it might be too much. 

Let me reintroduce the mole-folk for those who may not know. Beneath the network of subway tunnels lie another network of subway tunnels. But the deeper level was never completed nor used. Many large cities have superfluous subway tunnels... S.S.T.'s they call them, zig-zag webs of partially finished infrastructure hidden in the dark. Some stops have Jazz Era restrooms with trickles of water and storage closets filled with hard, dry, soap powder. You know how those hand dispensers used to work? Station Number Five (they never named them) has a big, deep, rectangular shaft in the corner, originally meant for electrical generators, or some other piece of machinery. But the metal goods were never hooked up. So, waa-laa... there goes our pit... twelve feet square and fifteen feet deep. You'll see what happens down there. I'm not proud of it, but it is necessary. 

Oh, let me tell you more about the mole-folk, before I forget. During The Great Depression, poor, homeless persons discovered the unused tunnels. One by one they tricked down there and after a bit they had a culture. Raised mushrooms along virgin tracks. You know, after a few generations, common rats become something akin to domesticated rabbits. Not that they look like rabbits. But if you clean them up in the weak stream from the Jazz Era restrooms and use boards from never sat on benches to make fences you have a ready made protein supply. Works the same way with pigeons. Then you get 'almost' chickens. I think they grow some sort of tuber for starch. They render the fat from the rats and pigeons for candles. Some never come to the surface. Others return on a regular basis to find things, like pilfered wallets. They use the money for basics, like underwear, tampons and clothes. Everybody wears jeans, t-shirts and sweat-shirts. Keep it simple.... white socks and canvas sneakers. Some sinks got enough pressure for washing. That's how they stay clean. Once in a while they bring back toys and books from the dollar stores for the kids.... 

I used to frequent those tunnels. Cool summer sponge baths in old zinc tubs with Aura and Sylvia. Mole-folk have big, reflective eyes, the better to catch every photon.... They have pale complexions too. Whatever color their people were when they lived up in the light, down here they fade. Life in the flickering shadows will do that.

I prepare for the transformation, paying special attention to my skin, for how it is now is how it will be forever. A barber from one of the best town clubs is here to attend me, leaving just the right amount of stubble for an angular, interesting look. My long, dark, wavy hair gets a trim. He calls it a 'shape up.' I'm clean, fit and ready. Please excuse the superficiality. Don't think all the other feelings are not there. This is just how I cope. 

Will the mortals go? Will Edith and Billy be there?... No, only vampires can see it. That's just how it is. Look, it's shocking. What do you think goes on inn that pit? Some of you know. I'm aware of that. Some of you have been here since the beginning. Some of you know everything. It's like The Truman Show, but we're used to it.

(tears up)

Let me be serious, though. I just want to be quiet. I just want to sit here. I just want to think. Alright, I want to pray. But I didn't want to say anything. I didn't want to offend anybody, because some of you aren't 'into' that.

Baylah's getting the girls (why am I telling you this?). One for 'First Food' and one for something else..... I'm going through all this again. (trembles) And when it's done, I'll keep my vows... 'Not the Shepherd, but the sheepdog'... 'Cull the wicked. Help the worthy live.'....

Soon the phone will ring and I'll leave. And when I return, I'll be different.....

Not so much 'different,' as restored.

Everything happens for a reason...

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He Walks With Me - Avett Brothers .. Jonathon's Last Mortal Night.. 1/5/15

JONATHON SPEAKS ~~~~~



I have a little room. 'My chapel,' I call it. I pray in there and listen to music. You know it. I hear Kol Nidre in there during The Biblical New Year and Mendelsohn's Elijah Oratorio during The Passover. I listen to a lot of things. One of my favorites is actually a Trinitarian hymn called He Walks With Me. A lot of people know it from the movie. A lot of people know it as The Places In The Heart song. They sing it at the end, during the final scene, where all things are made right. I've known about it for generations. Before records, I had sheet music. Shape singers sang it before The War Between The States. I'd visit evening services in different places. I'd listen, all by myself in the back, and think how right for Pentecost it is. Please know I speak of the Unitarian Pentecost. I speak of The Revelation At Sinai.... the time God spoke to the faithful... all the faithful. You see, that nineteen fifty six Ten Commandments movie got it wrong. The Lord spoke to everybody, not just Moses. They all heard. They all saw. And please forgive me for preaching, but this night is important to me. I am mortal for the last time. Tomorrow night I will be changed. I will be translated. I will be 'vampire' again.  And I want to remember my

'call.' So I listen to the song and I remember Sinai, the night when God spoke to all assembled there... those in the flesh, those in the spirit, all who believe and all who will believe. You might of been there and just not know. You see, Sinai sneaks up on you. One day it all comes rushing back.. And it wasn't just The Ten Commandments... It was the whole thing.



Edith made me a special dinner. We had hot, tuna melt sandwiches on thick slices of crusty, whole wheat bread. She makes good tuna fish. Chops little pieces of celery and sweet onions in it. I used to watch her make it before, when I was vampire, before this mortal intermission thing. She made it for herself and Billy and maybe for any other mortals we happened to have in the house. She'd make egg salad too and macaroni and cheese with crumbly, bakes bread crumbs on it. I've had it twice before, but this will be my last time.



I ate it with her and Billy in the kitchen. We watched Extra and Access Hollywood on the television. Edith likes those shows. She alternates. One night it's them and the other night we have Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. If her favorite contestant is not winning, she does a 'power' spell and hoo-doo's them to win. I say - You know these are filmed months in advance. What good's a hoo-doo gonna do?... But she says - I send it back in time.... and gives me a 'how stupid can you be?' look. But I do have to admit her people usually win. 



(tears up a little) I like it here. I love our 'family.' Night-folk are sentimental. I can't help it. We're all like that... at least the 'noble' ones anyway. And even though I've been mortal these last few months, I'm still like that. I can't help it. But I feel so weak. I walk around the city and see how pathetic so many people are and there's nothing I can do about it. I give them money. I do that. You know that part (sigh). But I want to do more. I want to go back to 'culling.' I want to kill the wicked. And I don't judge. I'm not the one. It's the 'visions.' We have visions. I know I talk about that a lot. Only do you know how hard it is sharing all this with you almost every night and not knowing who's a new reader and who's a long time reader and who's just looking for porn, or 'mommy' blogs, or free coupon blogs..... (sits quietly for the longest time... someone knocks on the door)... WHAT!? .... Nothing. Are you alright? - says Edith... YES, I'm alright. I'm alright..... OK, just checkin' - she says and goes away.  Jonathon looks right at the readers and says - I have a heart problem. This body has a heart problem. They just found out. Doctor Fanklin asked if they could examine me before my translation. That's when they knew. Just surfaced. When I'm a vampire, it won't make any difference. Sarah wanted to do it right away. But I said - Please, give me a night or two. Let me think..... They make me take these aspirins all the time.... I just want to think. I 

just want to be in here by myself and think 

about my family, my 'real' family. I want to think about them while I'm still mortal. Makes me feel closer...... (then he closes his eyes. looks like he's praying too. maybe mouthing something in Old Spanish, or Liturgical Hebrew, or Classical Arabic... 



Sarah listens from the other side of the door. She's worried too...



He turns up the music... not loud... not blaring, but just a little.



She goes away...



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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: The Book of Sarah

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: The Book of Sarah: I was unable to communicate with you last night. I just needed quiet. I did not go out. That is very rare. My eyes were open. I knew it was ...

This portion of our tale originally aired during the early nights. October or November of 2010, I think it was. 



Little Bastid Annie was still with them. Papa was still an imprisoned vampire specimen, held deep in the caverns beneath the streets of Rome. But his soul flew free, infecting Little Annie with an evil itch. And Jonathon, also known as Tomas, was there to see it all.



Do you want to know how vampires speak surrounded by their own? They have a cadence, you know, a certain sound, a rhythm. Bards knew it. Shakespeare did too. Consider the prose of Dickens, if you want to feel the like.



Or click on the phrase up above... the one that says the Book of Sarah. Two souls saw this darkened song when it first rose from the screen.



Read it now... at your leisure, to find out what we mean...



El mundo vampirido is real. We simply pretend that it's fiction...



<over 800,000 words. night-folk truths as found no where else>



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