SOMETIMES I JUST WRITE STUFF, OK? ... 3/17/15

This is not my regular post. That will come a bit later tonight. This is just a dialog (monologue ?) .. a message for other bloggers and writers. Basically, just some musings I'd like to share. I don't know how to put up graphs and charts or photos. All I can do is feature music vids from You Tube. I do that from time to time for 'atmosphere,' or to provide a 'score.' But this won't even have that. 

OK, here it is---
1) Don't edit yourself. Put it ALL on the screen. Listen to the characters talk and just write it down. It's not strange. It's unique. Don't get too hung up on grammar or punctuation. You know... within reason, but what do you want to be, a writer, or a secretary? Only supercilious nerds will call you to task for minor infractions or inaccurate spelling. Besides, even Shakespeare never met an extra 'e' he didn't like. Play the keyboard like a musician, not like a mathematician.

2) Support everybody. Follow as many people as possible. I don't know much about Face Book. Most of my references are based on Twitter. Retweet as many posts as you can. New voices CRAVE exposure. So put your efforts where they'll do the most good. I know Twitter has a FAVORITES thing, but nobody SEES that. It's like the opposite of a MUTE.. like saying - here's a gold star that nobody else will ever see.. OK to use in conjunction WITH a ReTweet, but alone ?... let it go. And when I say 'follow everybody,' I mean everybody like you... creative types --- writers, actors, flame swallowers... Don't follow people trying to sell big lists of followers, or people who just don't appreciate you...... 

3) With that we come to BIG NAME, or 'celebrity' accounts. What do you get from that? Many are manned by assistants, or interns (not all, but a lot) and you're just there to read their billboards. A little one sided. Follow stars who at least interact every once in a while and retweeting your gushing praise doesn't count as interacting... You gotta know that. Approach them the same way you would interesting people who aren't well known. Ask about viewpoints, creative philosophies, where they got their first big break. Don't beg for a 'follow' 'cause you're their biggest fan, or your dog just ran away with a bunch a drunken carnies. They don't care. They ARE drunken carnies. (boy, don't that life look fun from the outside?)

4) That's all for now... David Letterman just came on... and CBS is gonna  publicly throw him into a volcano soon, so I don't want to miss it... Not the volcano part, but all the episodes leading up to it... I'm pretty sure they give him a pain killer first

5) OK, now I'm done. Fiction post comes later... Paul's playing I'M A SOUL MAN... God, that band is good.

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THE STRANGE JUVENILE BEING KNOWN AS ANNIE COMES BACK... 3/17/15

THE TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN, LATE AT NIGHT.

A thin, little girl, perhaps nine or ten years old, with stringy, light hair sits at the table eating soup. She is Little Bastid ANNIE. EDITH watches her from across the table. The room is dim. A small flat screen TV plays in the background.

EDITH - Is is good?

ANNIE nods.

EDITH - You want more? I got plenty...

ANNIE shakes her head.

EDITH - ANNIE.... how'd you get here?

ANNIE - They brung me (continues eating)...

EDITH - Who 'brung' you?

ANNIE shrugs.

EDITH - Does your family know? You were with your family, right?

ANNIE nods and looks around. EDITH gives her a paper towel. ANNIE wipes her mouth.

ANNIE - I guess so....

They sit in silence. ANNIE stares at the TV, focusing on a young couple touring houses.

EDITH, the 'witchy-woman' housekeeper, studies the girl... ANNIE begins to laugh, though nothing funny happened on screen.

EDITH - shh... shh... shh...

ANNIE - (looks at her) You want me to tell you stuff?

EDITH - Yeah... if it's true... Is it true?

ANNIE - (nods) Yeah, it's true..... You got any cookies?

EDITH - Yeah. You want some?

ANNIE - (shakes her head)No, but I might like want some later. Is it alright?

EDITH - Yeah, sure it's alright. You know that.....

More silence.....

EDITH - Why were you laughing?

ANNIE - (shrugs, then speaks) Want me to tell you what they looked like?

EDITH - Who?

ANNIE - Them what brung me.....

EDITH just stares.....

ANNIE - I didn't come in no train. I didn't come in no plane, or no automobile, either...

EDITH - That don't mean nothing. Folks travel a lot a different ways 'round here. You know that....

ANNIE - (nods) You got any deodorant? You know, I wear deodorant now.

EDITH - Do you? That's nice. Yeah, we got some. It's 'store brand.' I buy what's on sale though. That's just me. CVS stuff. Is that OK?

ANNIE - I don't care... You want me to tell you 'bout who brung me?

EDITH - Yeah, sure, of course I do. Who brung you? Annie, are you still 'regular?' Show me your teeth...

ANNIE - (raises her upper lip) See? No fangs.

EDITH exhales.

ANNIE - There was four of them. I told you, I can't tell you their names, because I don't know their names. But I'll tell you what they looked like. One was all in white. One was like in a fiery color. The other guy was coppery... Real shiny and real coppery. I can't remember the forth one. I keep thinkin' a lion, but that's from The Wizard of Oz.

EDITH - (recognizes the Arch Angelic references) Does your family know?

ANNIE - I don't know. They know I'm not there. First I was on the shootie-chutes and then WHOOSH! no more shootie-chutes. Hope the fat kid next to me don't get in no trouble.... You got any Entenmann's? Like for desert... 

Edith - Yeah, we always got Entenmann's . Billy lives here. Gimme a minute....

She gets up to go get the cake. JONATHON returns from a night out, enters the kitchen and sees ANNIE...

JONATHON - Oh Jala! (Old Spanish- Al Andalus Arabic for 'Oh God!)

ANNIE giggles and makes a face. 

Edith gives her the cake.

< in case you don't know, Little Bastid ANNIE was a strange mortal child, before becoming a vampire and then, through desperate means, mortal again... now she's back>

<more next time>

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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: a continuation--- AND THE VAMPIRE STEPPED OUT OF T...

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: a continuation--- AND THE VAMPIRE STEPPED OUT OF T...: The monk-not-quite- a monk felt the breath against his throat. He laid down upon the bare, gray mattress and stared up into the darkness. T...The child-vampire, Annie (when she was still with us) creates an ally.

Then, later, she finds a way to regain her mortality (with help from various sources). She's out there now... and she hears voices too...



Read this entry... and scroll down to see what comes next, or click NEWER POST if your screen is set up that way



Prepare for the return of Little Bastid Annie.



<more next time>



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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: a good place to jump into a tale-- THE IMPERIAL CITY.. a venue for the strange & mira...

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: THE IMPERIAL CITY.. a venue for the strange & mira...: We were there. We were in the Pantheon and our guide was a former emperor. Votive flames illuminated the many idols spaced 'round the p...Can't post. Not back at the hotel. Doing this on friend's phone, or rather he is. Here's a nice place to jump into one of our story arcs. Hone your skills... We all have them... Think... focus... Make it so. A side trip during the visit to THE HERMETIC ORDER OF THE GOLDEN DAWN house in London.... Gotta stop. Friend getting an attitude.



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THE RATHER ECCLESIASTIC, VAMPIRE, JONATHON, CRAVES WORLDLY FAME.. 3/12/15

Jonathon speaks tonight. Billy is still indisposed. Much better, but not really able to produce much that you would want to read. His mind wanders. Such was his ordeal.

But I will use this time to assert myself a bit and put forward my own ideas and viewpoints. I know it sounds strange, but I want some independence. I want a Twitter site of my own. No Billy. No filter. Just me. How this is done, I know not. But I have watched others at this device (thus my typing tonight) and am quite sure I can learn. 

You might be surprised by the things I say. Oh, I have communicated before right here. But Twitter is a different thing.. So immediate and real... a conversation with the world... And I do know a lot about the world.

But what's this 'avatar' thing and how do I get one? It is known that in the long ago days of the blessed Daniel and Nehemiah (who have I left out?) Persian Jews traveled east to confer with Dharmic believers in Bactria and the surrounding principalities. Although their realization of the Divine was quite different, their morals and philosophy were not. Indeed, we learned a lot from them, as the last books in out Holy Canon attest. 

Avatar meant (still does, I think) an earthly illustration of the 'godhead.' We had fits over that term. He who made all (and that includes every galaxy and universe) Is One and inviolate. Thus we, His sentient, soul-filled children, regardless of form, are one and inviolate too. But we persevered for conversation was of the highest order and the food, being vegetarian, posed no problem to 'our side.'

Well, getting back to that 'avatar' thing...divine, I am not.  Indeed, in the past, Sons of Israel, as well as Sons of Ishmael, made not graven images, lest simpletons used them for idols. But now one sees representations of humans and animals all about us. Even Ishmaeli kings grace magazine covers. So I, obviously, want to share my countenance with the world... whether via photography, or more painterly pursuits I have not yet decided.

Perhaps I will contact, or be contacted by one of you... a person who reads this... and if God wills it, that person will be an artist. Maybe an arrangement might be reached, where that new found ally would supply likenesses in exchange for illustrative credit. I am told this blog thing is evolving toward book form, so such a relationship would prove beneficial to us all?

How vain I am. How vain all night-folk are. I hope you do me justice.

As they say--- So let it be written... So let it be done.

It is midnight here and I am finished --- selah.

<more next time>

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What Holds you Here?... 3/11/15

Everyone is at risk. The phenomenon is well documented. No one knows the cause. No one knows how to prevent it. I'm talking about 'winkers,'... people who are there one minute and gone the next. It happens in that instant when you look away, or leave the room to get pretzels. The neighbor lady was right there, leafing through your OK Magazine and eating Girl Scout Cookies. But then... when you return, the Samoas are there. The magazine's on the floor, though the neighbor lady's vanished. She's not in the powder room, nor snooping through your mail scattered atop the dining room table. The door's locked. Your husband is upstairs sleeping and the kids are safe in 'juvvie' hall. They're coming back, but she ain't. The universe just winked her out of existence, or transfered her somewhere's else.

We do know that atomic particles can be instantaneously sent from one point to another. At times it happens spontaneously. Now you see it. Now you don't. This is like that, except the particles are a bit larger.  And I'm not talking about alleged government experiments, such as the one in the Philadelphia Navy Yard circa 1943. Doctor Franklin supposedly knows something about that, but he won't tell you anything.

I'm talking about S.M.T. ---- spontaneous matter transference.... the mysterious 'little sister' to spontaneous human combustion. I know a lot of S.H.C. stories stem from the accidental witnessing of vampire feedings. Victims always ignite into 'cool' blue flames and burn to ash. You know how many drained lifeless bodies they'd have on You Tube otherwise?But even so, SOME cases appear to occur in and of themselves. And certain instances are never explained.

Imagine walking along a city street, taking in the scene, checking yourself out in shop window, humming little tunes, when ZAP!... your eyes behold the orange skies of Mars, as your skin instantly freezes and your lungs turn to glass..... Even worse, you solidify deep within a twenty two hundred degree magma chamber. How long would it take to die? How long does it take for a brain to burn?

Now, to be truthful, no one ever disappears while being watched, even if just momentarily... a stranger's glance will do. It's like the old scientific maxim --- measuring something both validates it and alters it at the same time.... They 'look' therefore I 'am.' Maybe that's why so many people crave fame? To be seen is to exist....

They say perfectly preserved, dead bodies have been found sealed within seams of granite, hundreds of meters beneath the surface. And desiccated naked bodies (four to be exact) were reported by crew members on Apollo Fourteen half way to the Moon.

Que sera sera.

What will be, will be.

Wasn't supposed to post tonight.Lot a chores today...busy and all that.

But this just busted into my mind and I wanted to share it.

Good night...

See you in the morning.

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A PRIVATE SCREENING... A NIGHTMARE.. 3/10/15

Empty movie theaters are good places to see ghosts. Actually, you'll do more than 'see' them. You'll encounter them. The energy of the room brings them out. It helps when they're actually running a film... Not the ghosts... the projectionist. 

Go on a weeknight. Buy your ticket and take your seat. Most times, you might wind up sharing the place with a few other patrons...slackers... bohemian couples... Nobody goes to movies on a week night. They're all at Starbucks, tapping out 'The Next BIG Thing.' But every once in a while you'll get lucky... No one else will be there... no one in the flesh anyway. The girl in the ticket booth knows. So does the old man selling candy. He whispers to himself and chuckles. It's so quiet in there, except for the hum from the florescent tubes in the glass candy counter. The ticket girl bows her head and goes back to her book... a small, military issue, World War 2 issue Bible. She moves her lips, as she reads. Sometimes she just nods.

You enter the auditorium, or whatever they call it. Sanctuary Cinematique would be a better term. It's dark, but not too dark. you can still see the life sized, bas relief, mer-folk on the walls.... the heavy, velvet curtain and the gold leafed proscenium arch. No one else is there... just you and the exit signs. You take a seat... right in the middle of the last row. There are two aisles... maybe eight seats on the right and left sections and sixteen in the middle. The wall behind you is carpeted. 

You put your things down as silently as possible, lest something notice you and eat your popcorn in a slow and sounsless manner.
A door opens... the one to the left aisle. You press back in the seat. Someone enters. It's the old man, the candy butcher. He makes his way toward the front, crosses to the right aisle and goes back up. Did he stop and say something into an empty third row? Hard to say. He leaves. It gets darker. The heavy, velvet curtain glides open. Did someone sniff? Was it you?... Hard to tell.... 

A short subject comes on... an old somewhat faded film about polio, circa nineteen fifty two. There are little children in iron lungs. Somber parents visit, sitting by the exposed heads. A lacquered up actress reminds all to give to The March of Dimes. Can you imagine? All they wanted were dimes. They always show unusual things like that. The place is known for it. God knows what their library must be like. 'Someone' crinkles cellophane. Was it the start of the 'coming attractions?'... Who knows? 

Everything's from the vault... old fifties teasers... clips from Father's Little Dividend and Stalag Seventeen... Black and white film stock has such a dream-like aspect, especially when it's slightly worn... A shadowy figure peers from the screen... only for an instant... but definitely not part of the frame... Just a face and a body... Spencer Tracy walked right through it....You might want to leave, but for some strange, intangible reason you don't, though you fold shut the popcorn and put it away....

The feature starts.. Fred Astaire in Royal Wedding... Smiling dead people, singing and dancing like the living..... You doze off... for just a moment, but you do doze off, only to wake with a start.... Something was next to you. Fred Astaire danced on the ceiling... then the dark shape evaporates... an iciness on the back of your neck.... a weal on the inside of your wrist..... Odd, but it doesn't trouble you...

The image on the screen freezes... a splendid coach and a beautiful palace... Someone takes your arm... You rise and glide down the aisle... or pass through the seats... It's all so fuzzy... Tiny voices tickle your ears, urging you on... little whispers... distant giggles. Yet discordant words bleed through... Go back - they say... Wake up - they plead....

All the weak, little lights placed about the movie house go dark... There's just you and the screen.... A figure, a thin, waxy figure, exits the coach and moves toward you... He wears a dark shroud. Then he smiles, cracking his face into a multitude of tracings and wrinkles. The eyes are black and lustrous, like small, dark marbles. And there's no color... no color anywhere, save for the dark, red, scabby look of his gums.

Why does he smile? Why does he have to smile like that? You see a face... a small head... there at the back of his throat. But this one doesn't smile. Then he takes your hand in his chicken claw appendage and gently pulls you in... Just before you break the membrane 'tween this world and the next, you say thank you...

What comes next, I cannot say... at least not for where you are...

A bit later, the girl in the ticket booth closes her Bible and calls a mortuary. Soon they bundle your body into a hearse and roll away.

The old candy butcher waves goodbye...

Never see a movie all alone.....

<more next time>

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