A DRY WHITE FLUFFY SNOW HIDES OTHER THINGS... 2/17/15

<continuation of our 'entity' thread from a few nights ago>

Salutations, best beloveds. It is I, Zebulon, the disembodied spirit of a thirteen year old boy stoned for witchcraft in Hasmonean Jerusalem. That's the Hellenistic, though thoroughly Jewish dynasty existing between the ouster of the Post Alexander, Syrian-Greeks and the coming of Rome. Jews had names like John Hyrcanus and Aristobolus the Second, frequented gymnasia, yet studied Biblical Commentaries. Some free thinkers actually journeyed out to Bactrian ashrams. They say, certain phraseology in The Liturgy comes from those times. But I died as a child, barely sampling that world. Once I saw one of the Nephylim, though... Our word for aliens. A vaguely man shaped nimbus of silvery light. It came through the roof one hot summer night ( we slept on a terrace up there to escape the heat), stared at me from a featureless face, emanated what I assumed to be otherworldly syntax and continued up toward a dark, gunmetal colored vehicle. Everyone else was sleeping. Yeled, our Saluki (like a levantine Afghan hound) was up, but nothing phased him. A hunter he was... a watchdog he was not.

And now I watch and narrate the lives of others. All seems quiet around the townhouse. Edith boils pasta. Vampires, for some reason, enjoy the smell of boiling pasta. She and Billy eat it later. They haven't seen (or felt) the entity. But that doesn't mean he's not there. You see, he hasn't made up his mind yet. Does he want to effect a permanent (really just a long term) transfer, or a routine, quick 'try on?' That's where he infuses his essence (or energy) into the unlucky host. Believe me, for the host, it is not pleasant. All sensation stops. There's no interaction with anything. No sound, or sight, or taste, or smell, or touch. Just thought in a featureless, intangible darkness... Rather like the consciousness that sometimes occurs after death. Some spirits tarry too long in the body, you know. And then it's hard to break free. Indeed, they don't even know where they are. They say some stay that way forever.

But the 'interloper' has a good time. They're in the driver's seat. They control things... How wonderful physical sensation is. They see, feel and taste and all. When they're done and ready to move on, some 'release the corpse' via a swan dive from a great height, thus explaining various 'jumpers' around local bridges and skyscrapers. 

And this entity's eyeing our Billy. Long term, or quick visit... either way, it's no good.

It's snowing now... one of the first dry, powdery snows of the season... Not too much. Maybe four inches. The city sleeps, snug and still beneath a clean, fluffy comforter. A bright, white, winter night. ... or early morning. Like a cityscape on a sound stage made by God.

Billy sits in the den tapping this out. I 'write.' He 'channels.'

Does he grasp the situation?

Well, after associating with night-folk for almost four and a half years, what do you think?

Stay warm...

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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: THE PHOTOLUMINESENCE OF LIFE IN THE ABYSS

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: THE PHOTOLUMINESENCE OF LIFE IN THE ABYSS: I could feel the cold. Temperatures at that depth hover near freezing. But my body was immune to it. Hypothermia does not effect us. I supp... Here's a scene from our MARIANNE IN BRITCHES story arc.. An elferina (girl transformed whilst in her early teens) regales wealthy, Society Hill matrons and their husbands (who paid ten thousand dollars each for the privilege of attending these sessions) with recollections of her paranormal life. this scene details what happened to her in the seventeenth century, when she was sealed into a leaden cask and thrown overboard into the sea.... If you like this episode, click NEWER POST or OLDER POST or (if possible) just scroll down for more... there's enough up here for at least six lengthy books. 



As always, PLEASE KNOW that this is not the post. Click on the title up above to go there and see that. Don't roll your eyes because I said this. You won't believe how many people don't get it. I understand, because I don't get much about the digital world either.



Oh, Society Hill is an old district of meticulously maintained colonial and federal townhouses in Center City, Philadelphia... In a sense, like traveling to London without traveling to London... and it's got ghosts coming out the wazoo.



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A VAMPIRE AND A THREE HUNDRED AND EIGHT YEAR OLD PATRIOT HAVE MIDNIGHT BREAKFAST 2/13/15

It is I, Doctor Franklin. Let me tell you what I know. Jonathon came to see me. We didn't meet at my complex under the Navy Yard.  That didn't feel right, although the 'thing' obviously knows it's there. But to me, it felt like drawing the fox to the hen house. So we went to a diner for a midnight breakfast. I ordered waffles. I love waffles... with peaches in medium syrup and a bit of whipped cream. The vampire asked for a pot of Earl Grey tea. He likes tea. There's something about diners late at night.... Like an oasis of warmth amidst the cold, dark city. 

We sat in a corner booth. Everyone looks strange under florescent light. Vampires fit right in. But do you want to know the truth?They don't really look different at all. Whatever 'force' it is that preserves them does a good job. Still, Jonathon was worried. You could see that. Billy is 'family' after all... not night-folk, though he did bring them into your world via this blog... Well, I told him what I knew.

The thing is a 'bashi-bazouk' - I said. An old spirit, unattached to any ethereal hierarchy. A 'loose cannon,' if you will. The name, an old Turkish term going back to Ottoman times, also means 'broken head' or free thinker. Bashi-bazouks do their own thing. And they lie. Maybe they don't know they're lying? Maybe thoughts become reality in their realm. But it's just the way they are. He's old. I can tell you that, but no where near as old as the galaxy. They all say that. 'As old as the stars' - It's a thing with them. I'd wager a guess he's seven hundred and fifty thousand years old. Know how I know that? They leave a signature... a residue of nothingness. Call it negative energy, or vacuum echoes. It's the stuff that powers those new engines they're testing. You know, if all goes well, relativistic space flight is only a few decades away. And that's not just my group. Nasa is in on it too.

I got the residue from the wax shard you gave me. Think it was part of Grougho Marx's chin. He, the entity, I mean, stole it from a wax museum in Niagara Falls. And I don't know how he did that. Entities, for the most part, cannot effect matter. Now it is possible he 'whispered' into the mind of a human helper. That person might have brought it here to Philadelphia for him. You say he 'inhabited' the artificial facsimile and actually staggered down the street in it?.... I'm at a loss. I can't explain it. Nor can I tell you what brought him here. Why doesn't he just try to find a way to occupy the body of his helper? They do this all the time... entities, I mean. Your Billy isn't his first fixation.  There were others. Then, after a while, whatever it is that plasters the spirit to the flesh wears off and it all turns to mush. Bones break through the skin. Finger meat falls off. Eyelids wither and die. Not like normal decomposition. Everything just turns to a frothy, bloody mess.

A bashi-bazouk... that's it. That's what you have.

Can we prevent it from doing what it wants to do?... No.

But...  we can change it's mind.

It's strange, Jonathon, for your first nine hundred and forty years you didn't know this. Oh, you may have tasted a bit here and there, but it never meant much. I can tell. I'm only three hundred and eight years old, but I study everything. And I'm talking about magic. But for the last year or two, you've been in the thick of it. And not just at The Vampire Revels or visits to The Hermetic Order Of The Golden Dawn. I mean every day.

But I can't tell you why..... You know, the 'sea hag,' the old mermaid died. She was in her tank. We made it as nice as possible. There was a little island. There was a little beach... holographic island scenes and everything. Spent a lot of money. You'll have to excuse me for tearing up... She sang... She sang her sea song. You know what their language sounds like. We stayed with her. We listened... Gave her some fresh herrings and she died... Floated under the surface... about a foot or two down, looked up, smiled and died. We never even knew how old she was. That's how it is.

Then the waitress brought his platter. Doctor Franklin thanked her. She smiled at a customer who was just another old, white haired guy in a heavyweight, green, Eagles sweatsuit. After that he quietly began to eat, while Jonathon sipped his tea and studied the quasi-hipsters scattered around the place.

3AM est in Center City, Philadelphia...

Have you done your magic today?...

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BILLY IS HELPLESS AGAINST THE ENTITY... 2/12/15

this will have to be a short post and please forgive all the typos. It's Billy (the one who set up this blog for them). I'm scared. That 'entity' thing is after me. It wants me. It wants my body. I don't leave the house. I stay near the vampires (mostly Jonathon). Even when he sleeps during the day, I stay upstairs. My room (under the eaves) is right above his sleeping chamber. Maybe eleven inches of joists and floor boards and plaster (this is an old residence) separates us. I hope and pray his strength can save me... Sarah's too. Edith gives me charms... little things she makes from fish scales and chicken bones... old Piney stuff... What's that gonna do against an entity that goes from here to Pluto and beyond? Edith says size don't mean nothing when it comes to spirit beings. They all exaggerate...'I fill the firmament' and all that. she says - who the hell cares? air is just air... I tell her hurricanes are just air too.... she says - That thing mostly out in space. No air there. Just a whole bunch a nothing.... I googled 'the vacuum of space'.... Article said - they now know even the emptiness of space is filled with electronic eddies and echos of events ocurring elsewhere. And that energy produces matter-like particles. So every place got something in it. Dust is everywhere. 

I pray. I look up 'afterlife' to see what that's like. But how's somebody supposed to write a Wikipedia about something they (or anybody else for that matter) have ever seen? One guy says there IS no death, just life-life-life-life-life up to the very end and then it just stops. Like when a roll of toilet paper runs out. Ain't no ghost toilet paper. what was is all used up. Ain't no death. Ain't no nothing. Not even a split second where you can say - Son of a bitch. Look what's happening. Just go BLIP! and that's it.

Other people say there is a world to come. they say energy can neither be created nor destroyed. Life is a type of energy, so they gotta have a place for us somewhere. Even Albert Einstein believed that. But he also used to mess his hair up and stick his tongue out at reporters, so who knows?

And how do they reconstitute families in heaven? Are we all the same age? Do we live with our parents or our babies? Must be a lot of aliens up there too...like quiet, reverent spider people... or wet, mushy clam people or clowns that don't wear makeup, but just have skin like that. Heard that in Killer Clowns From Outer Space. Made sense too.

I know they called Doctor Franklin. Jonathon has a special number. they use throw-away discount store phones. Safer that way. I hope he can do something. I was in a fetal position all day. Edith wanted me to eat. Got me the good chicken nuggets from Wendy's. I could eat twenty of them any other time. that's only nine hundred calories. For a dinner it ain't so bad. But this time I only ate seventeen. You know how it is. 

Will that entity thing kill me? I had a dream. I was smoke...just a little cloud of smoke... a column really... and I saw my body walking away from me... Tried to move toward it, but the breeze wouldn't let me. Tried to call out. But smoke ain't got no voice box... then the breeze got stiffer and blew me away... No thoughts... No words.... No colors.... no dark... No lights. Just like it was before I was born.

It's 4:45AM est here. I'm sitting up in the bed, all wrapped up in blankets. Wall's cold. Bed's up against the wall. I like it like that. Real cozy with all the blankets. Got a little lamp on next to the bed.... a carved, ship's wheel lamp with a nubby, light brown, linen shade. Sometimes I hear someone running up on the roof. But that doesn't scare me. It's probably just an elferino or elferina. They come around here too all the time. Everybody likes them... even when they go a little crazy. If you do not know who, or what they are, google elferino or elferina by me, Billy Kravitz... Wow... I put so much up here, over 800,000 words, enough for six long books. 

Wonder who'll read it after i'm gone. 

Will my body still be walking around?... And what's gonna be in it?

I'm gonna stop now and curl up under the blankets. Got a Bible under my pillow. Jonathon once gave it to me... all in Hebrew, from when he was in Jerusalem. I can sound out most of the words, but don't know what they all mean.... Know the big parts anyway... the big prayers... My God is near. I know not fear.

Maybe it'll help me?

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THE ENTITY SPEAKS DIRECTLY TO YOU... 2/11/15

I share this with you, the humans, or primarily humans who read these posts. I need no disembodied spirit to funnel words and ideas into my brain. First of all, I have no brain. Second of all I AM a disembodied spirit. 

But I want you to have a sense of my size, experience and capabilities. Right now, the one they call 'Billy' types this. I suppose to him, I am a disembodied spirit, but this revelation is mine... not his. And as I interact with you thusly, the 'tail' end of my being undulates out beyond your Keiper Belt. At times the very 'tip' of my presence (much like the end of a whip) 'cracks' into adjacent dimensions. Extra-dimensional organisms may experience a huge flash of light, rather like a monstrous aurora. I'm sure their scientists fashion 'rational' explanations. That's what limited intellects do... or perhaps intimidated intellects. God knows you have a lot of those. My 'head' ... the part of me in your vicinity, stretches from Earth's farthest, sunward Van Allen Belt to the orbit of the Moon. I am a diaphanous serpent... when I want to be. But to be truthful, size...my size... doesn't matter. I can contract down to the quantum realm. That's where the magic happens. 

How people talk about that thing... magic, I mean. Though it's nothing more than forces... great universal tides. Magicians are simply those who make friends with such things. They ask and they receive. 

I cannot do that. My talents run toward obfuscation and camouflage. I can fool, but can't create. And I don't know why. They don't 'hear' me. It's like I don't exist. Maybe we're just not compatible? Creation guards its secrets well. Who guards creation?

But I will have my avatar... my switchboard into your plain. I will 'see' through human eyes and 'taste' with a human tongue. Odd that the very one typing this communication will be that chariot. Yet he doesn't know. I work him like a puppet. I say - press this key. press that key. forget and go on. He, the one they call 'Billy,' functions in a quasi-sleeping state.... and I am the sandman. 

It's 3:45AM est in Philadelphia. The vampires are out on their rounds. In one hundred and fifty minutes the sky will begin to lighten... maybe a bit sooner. The night-folk will return and slumber through the day. The one they call 'Billy' will sleep too. But I have no restrictions. There is no 'day.' There is no 'night.' There's but light and shadow. For when you experience night here on your world, does not the Moon know day?

(figurative yawn) Oh, I have seen so much. Once I told all manner of biting fly to reproduce in a much accelerated fashion and feast upon the bodies of beings on another world. Obviously these were not your flies....
And the souls of that other place knew torment and misery til they sang hymns and walked into fires to escape it all.

Billy trembles. He needs true sleep. I will let him have his rest... 

My presence wanders into the kitchen and watches Edith play solitaire . The little ghost boy from the cellar watches too

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Billy fell over on the floor, so we have to stop now. 

BAD DREAMS ENTITY STYLE... 2/10/15

I don't let 'em put no name on this til after we done, 'cause how you know where a river gonna go til it get there. So you gotta know the name you see went up after we finished. It is only honest for me to tell you that. Jus' incase tou don't recall the cadence of my speech, I am Old Mister Never-You-Mind... one a them disembodied spirits that tell this tale... "Narrate' the term they use. Well, I one a them... a narrator. Some nights we don't announce who doing the talkin'. But we always here. Any big headed son a bitch what tell you he write a book, a liar, 'cause all he do is tap it out, if he got a keyboard, or scratch it out if he got a pencil... maybe some yellow, legal pads too, so I've been told. He a secretary. Some other soul do all the thinkin'. That how God set it up. He go - OK, you see it. You say it. You write it. You read it..... And all them 'yous' is mostly different people, 'case you can't tell.

We got lot a books born where I come from. Hatch 'em out like turtle eggs, or tadpoles. I am an old, dead Creole-Cajun 'gentlemen.' Lot a you know me. Lot a you don't. Got myself burned up by gangster-men. Tie me to a chair. Dowse me wit' gasoline and light me up. Wheee! Everybody laughin' an' clappin'... doin' them Spanish foot stompin' dances... I screamin' and screamin'... Them what say fire burnin' pain go way after first layer a nerves die is a lyin' bastid... 'cause under first nerves is more nerves what go all the way down to the bone. Plus burnt up pee-pee parts don't tickle none either. 

Look. lemme switch gears here an' tell you what went on in that townhouse. 

Jonathon come down holdin' his right eye. He go - Shit! I can't see! ... Sarah (she his wife) help him sit down on a sofa..... Edith (she the witchy-woman housekeeper) run in and go - What you mean? Vampire ain't supposed a go blind! ..... He shakin'. He scared..... Sarah go - Get him some vodka.... Jonathon go - NO! I don't need no liquor! Lemme be! Lemme be!....Please excuse me talkin' in my own voice, but that how I do..... So he just sit there, holdin' his hand over his eye an' rockin' back and forth real fast..... Broken, old, wax, monster, Groucho Marx lookin' thing still set across from sofa on another chair. Nobody pay it no mind. Figure that entity bastid ain't in it yet.... But they wrong.... Lights flicker. Not just in den, but all over the house. An' gas fireplace whoosh on.... Then it start makin' faces. Big fat, red, wet human tongue start pokin' out a cracked, wax mouth. From nowhere, Edith's hair goes up in flames. Can't even see her face. She starts screamin'! They jump up. Sarah grabs a pot. Fills it with water. Billy races down from his cozy, little room under the eaves. Then eight heartbeats later it's over. Ain't no fire. Edith ain't even burned. Red tongue gone too. Everybody shakin' an' cryin.' Sarah spill all the water back in the sink. 

Thing in the chair go - You assholes better set down and shut up! (only it use different words). I can't change nothin.' I can't manipulate matter. But I do 'mind whisper' real good. (looks at Jonathon) Get that hand away from your eye, you big dumb nut. You not blind. (Jonathon blinks, sighs and complies.) Now pay attention! Y'all gone help me. Y'all gone get me all fixed up. I will have that body. Don't cross me, or I will f#ck you up. I have made whole planets, bushel baskets full, piss theyselves and die, 'cause they see a big scary, two mile high tidal wave loom over the horizon. 'Cloud kissers,' they call 'em. You know what it feel like gettin' smashed underneath all that water? You wanna know?.... They shake their heads... The entity continues - An' when I stop and go 'OK, party's over,' they still dead. Don't make no difference where they be. Everybody see the water, an' that a horrible thing. But it not real. All just a optical delusion. That what I can do. An' don't think I ain't got dreams what can can finish off vampire too. Y'all wanna be forever in the gut of a giant cockroach? Lemme know. Edith!...... Housekeeper go - Y-y-yes?..... Thing go - Get them assholes some a that alcohol y'all drink 'round here. I want 'em real calm when we make our plans....

Then it look at that Billy guy what set this blog thing up for 'em. Glass eyes lock on real good. He make like he don't notice, but he do...

An' Edith give him a drink too....

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A SINISTER ENTITY GROWS IMPATIENT .. 2/9/15

<back to Jonathon and the entity>

Edith wanted to remove the grotesque wax figure. She was the one who had to look at it all day. I suppose their 'blogger,' Billy had to deal with it too. But he'd hide up in his cozy, little room under the eaves all day typing away and tweeting to people. Sometimes he just slept, or ate whatever food he had in the tiny refrigerator up there. For a city room, it was very quiet. Occasionally the little ghost boy from the basement came up to visit. Billy'd tell him stories about an addled knight named Sir Bertram Buckleberry. I don't know where they got the name, but the ghost boy liked it. Then, when he wasn't upstairs (Billy, I mean) he'd bundle up and go out, usually to a coffee bar, or a book shop, or a walk-about.

No, Edith had to confront the sinister, broken, Groucho Marx thing herself. Once she threw an old table cloth over it. But she swore she saw the head move under the creamy damask.

So she'd sit in the kitchen. There was a scaled down seating area adjacent to the backdoor... two small club chairs... a table... a lamp. She could see the twenty one inch, flat screen TV from there too. And the powder room was right nearby. So that's where she stayed. Housekeeping duties would have to wait until the broken, human effigy sitting in the den was gone. She did fix dinner for Billy and herself. Well, what she called 'dinner' was his late lunch. Though Edith hated handling knives now, especially the big, sharp kitchen knives. She'd hear noises... muffled words...a quiet, whispering, steady voice telling her to take a knife (one of the sharp ones) and force it into the flesh of her neck til she felt the tip puncture her esophagus.... It would cajole and plead and cry.... She caught herself raising the knife and staring at her reflection in the blade. What would it be like to saw through the gristle of her own food pipe?..... Steve Harvey saved her. He said something on the TV that caught her attention. She put the knife down. Now light can be grey and low on a Philadelphia winter afternoon. Shadows can play tricks. But Edith swears the thing on the chair in the den looked at her. She said a Piney Prayer, threw a hoo-doo and tried to ignore it, though the gaze was still the same. Worst of all... it tried to smile.

When Billy came down a bit later to see if she wanted anything at the market (vampires do drink tea and coconut water and things like that) she grabbed her coat and scarf and said - That's alright. I'll go..... Then she ran out into the cold, damp air and didn't come back til sundown. Billy said - It's a quarter to six. What took so long?..... Edith nervously put everything away and said - Nothing. sometimes it just takes long. That's all.

Billy said - Should I ask Groucho if he wants a piece of cheese?....... They always bought blocks of Cracker Barrel cheese.... Edith said - What are you playing around for? That's not funny.

But Jonathon and Sarah didn't come down til seven fifteen. Vampires always rise with the darkness. That was six o'clock... maybe ten after six. Also Jonathon was blind in one eye and that wasn't funny at all.

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