Kind of like worms in that weird old kid’s song

As I sit pondering… the cat walks over to the dog bowl and check it out. There is nothing there she desires.

It is odd how random thoughts go in and out. Kind of like worms in that weird old kid’s song.

 

The worms go in

The worms go out

The worms play pinochle on your snout.

 

Anyway, on the way home this morning, after dropping Clara off for a Mock SAT test, I was thinking about what I’d write today. Junior year in high school is busy. All week long she has been seeing college recruiters and now tests. Mock SAT today (the new test), PSAT next week during school, then the real SAT and ACT. Then the AP tests. Then my mind goes off in other directions. What songs would I include on a play list for old boyfriends? It has been a while since we played wii Just Dance. Garret’s vintage clothing collection that he swiped from his father’s closet is making waves at college. I thought about a blog about wearing vintage clothing and jewelry – should I write it? What would happen if we (Vampires) told the world what we really are? How would that change the presidential debates. Holy crap, now THERE is an idea. I’ll write about that next week for sure. I thought of love letters and graveyards and the drought and coffee and about putting up my Halloween decorations.

Wait… just a second… I will be right back.

I felt a presence outside but refused to lift the shades. And like my bad cat who scratches the walls to wake me up, a ghost, THE GHOST, materialized in front of me. He sat at my table, in the round turret breakfast nook, right across from me.

He did not look happy. In fact he was glaring at me. His black hair hung over his forehead and covered one eyes. Today he wore his black suit, the one he was buried in (in 1986).

Before he could say one mean nasty comment I spoke first.

“Nigel, did you know The Cars have been nominated for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?”

He brushed his hair out of his face, uncovering a bloody gash in his forehead. The gash vanished. He looked perplexed. I know he’d planned on saying something vile or rude. I know he’d planned on using the word fuck, as in “fuck you Vampire.” He is such a lovely and thoughtful ghost (said no Vampire ever.)

After we sat for a while as I sipped my coffee Nigel finally spoke up. “Too bad they didn’t get nominated when Benjamin Orr was alive.”

“Coffee?” I had to ask. Nigel nodded.

I put a cup of coffee in front of the ghost. He inhaled and closed his eyes with a slight satisfied smile.

“Los Lobos was nominated,” I told him.

“Local boys. Good choice. Who else?”

“Deep Purple, Cheap Trick, Yes, the Smiths, Steve Miller, Chicago, Chaka Khan, and Janet Jackson. There were a few others.”

“Janet Jackson? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I kid you not.”

“Fucking Janet Jackson?”

“Hey, you’re preaching to the choir.”

He took in another breath of coffee. His form wavered in and out of transparency and opacity.

“So the Giants won’t be going to the World Series this year?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“I don’t know what happened to my record collection.”

“Did you leave a will?”

“Sure, but not specifics like that. I was only 26 when I died.”

“Do you want me to check it out for you.”

“No, it would just piss me off.”

“Nigel dear, everything pisses you off.”

“Pretty much.”

“Is that a ghost thing?”

“No. It is a Nigel thing.”

His eyes grew black and he glared at me. I knew the rage was building up. Ghosts are such tormented souls, not to mention major assholes most of the time.

“Hey Nigel,” I said. “I’m going to put up the Halloween decorations while Clara is at her mock SAT test. Do you want to help?”

His eyes went back to normal and the rage vanished from his pretty face. “Sure. Sounds like fun.”

“What are you doing for Halloween this year?”

He smiled. “I’m going to be a ghost. How about you?”

“I don’t know. I thought about being Little Hagrid, or maybe a Vampire.”

We both smiled and finished our coffee.

I have to go pick up my child now. Have a good weekend everyone and thanks for dropping by.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

Teenage Jungle

Hey baby, let me finish my cigarette and we’ll take the SAT test together. I hope your score is smokin hot high because stupid boys never get lucky with me.

The beach house

My brother Val and I had gone to the beach house for Thanksgiving. This was 1944, before my marriage or children, when it seemed it was always just my brother and me, plus assorted friends and lovers.

Our brother Andy (Andrew) was somewhere in Europe in a USO show. Our eldest brother Max and my future husband Teddy were in London doing something secret for the American Government. Our parents were in Washington DC.

Nobody knew where our brother Aaron or his wife Verity were. They were the traditional ones who always stayed on the safe predictable road to anywhere – now we had no idea where they were. The last time anyone heard they were in France, but they could have been anywhere. They could have been dead or worse captured but we stopped guessing.

Valentine and I had our fill the night before in San Francisco. The clubs were full of servicemen on leave and women who were tired of waiting for their men to come home and people who had nothing to do with the war or missing love ones. Val was also on leave from his position in the Army – watching and finding out secrets. Vampires are good for that. Almost too good. But we had to get involved. We had no other choice. This was the world we lived in and our country too. It was our home.

We watched the fog roll in as the sun went down over the Pacific Ocean.

A car drove up to the house. We weren’t expecting anyone.

It was Nathaniel Chase. Even back then he was over 400 years old but didn’t look a day over 35. A small black cat followed at his heels.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in San Francisco,” he growled without so much as a hello to us.

“We’re not supposed to be anywhere, at least not until after Christmas,” said Val.

“I thought you were in Canada, or Hawaii or someplace…,” I started in on him until he put his hand up for me to shut up. I knew the gesture well. He’d been cutting me off my entire life.

“Valentine, please get my bag out of the car for me. Juliette I need your help, come.” He headed down the hall to the far bedroom.

Under his coat his shirt was soaked with blood. I couldn’t tell if it was his or if it belonged to somebody else.

I helped him out of his coat and then the suit jacket and shirt underneath. He’d been stabbed several times. “My heart…was nicked. I’ve lost a lot of blood…a lot.”

I held out my wrist. “Take mine. It will seal your heart.”

“I don’t know…Juliette…”

“You’ll die.”

“No. You can bring someone in later.”

“You will die. Take mine. Regular blood won’t help. You know that.”

A regular human man would have died with his injury. He’d been stabbed in the heart, not just a “nick.”

He took my wrist and sank his fangs into it. Not much happened.

“Just take my neck,” I told him and started to unbutton my shirt. “Don’t say no. You’ve done more for me than I can count. I owe you.”

Asking another Vampire to bite your neck is extreme. It is also something that happens in risky sex. It is something you don’t do lightly or with just anyone. There can be consequences.

I put my hand on his chest where the knife entered. Then I leaned in close, cold skin to cold skin and put my other hand at the back of his neck. “Take my blood Nathaniel.”

He pushed my hair aside and put his mouth on my neck. He had my blood and my feelings, my memories, my heart and everything I kept close. I could feel him searching and wanting then blanking it all out. He wasn’t interested in sucking out my souls or knowing my secrets or being my lover.  I’d done this before but it wasn’t to save a life. It was to satisfy a lover, another Vampire in passion and …whatever. But this was intense and in that realm. I felt drained. I was drained literally.

Nathaniel pulled away and lay back on the pillows. His eyes were closed. He took my hand and entwined my finger in his. We sat for maybe an hour as still as death. I brushed my lips against his cheek. He opened his eyes and gave me a slight smile. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

Over the years he’d always been the one to save Val and me. So many times we’d strayed and he was there to get us back on track. He was always there to scold us and keep us in line. So many times I resented his presence and wished he’d go away forever.

I went out to the deck where Val sat with a bottle of wine and a cigar. He looked at my neck. “I gave him blood. Nothing else.”

My brother gave me a hug. “Thank you dear. Listen, the couple down the road are having a party. We can head on over and get you settled again. If Nathaniel needs more tonight we’ll have it.”

So we walked half a mile down the road watching the stars and listening to the waves crashing against the beach. I told Val that I knew who injured Nathaniel but it was taken care of. We were not the ones to extract vengeance. Someone else would do that. It isn’t what Val and I usually do, unless forced of course.

Nathaniel stayed with us for the rest of the month. We spent Christmas having a fire on the beach, just the three of us and Nathaniel’s black cat. Val and I were 85 and 86 at the time but Nathaniel still saw us as silly teens, or at least he saw us as still needing guidance.

Eventually we were all reunited with family and friends.

Anyway, that was a long time ago. It was a time I rarely even think about anymore. Now that my own children enter adulthood I think of more things from my current life. I hope their lives are calm and without trauma. That won’t be the case, but I’d like to think it would be.

So that is it for right now. December is almost here. Today my daughter Clara and I will hang the Christmas wreath and once again wish for Peace on Earth. I doubt if it will ever happen but we can wish and we can each do our part to help.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

Ocean

 

 

 

 

Feel Good! Feel Art!

ART

 

I’ve always loved to be around creative people. Not those who suffer for their art or bores who put on airs of importance… but those who are truly creative in their hearts and souls, in everything they do.

Creative can be a state of mind as well as actually creating art or writing or a million other things we all do each and every day.

Artists are fun people. People who hang out with artists are fun people. Which proves the point that art is fun. Everyone needs art. Art is a good thing.

I can explain the wonder and awe and feeling of being so complete and one with the universe when I’m in the presence of art. It is time travel for the soul. It is the essence of being. It was something that transports.  It is like a high that no drug can match. It is magic.

There is something romantic about most art as well, or at least the art I’m attracted to, be if figural, landscape, modern or ancient.

So the message for the day is: Feel Good! Feel Art!

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

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For more on art from this blog click on the links below:

Musings on the Curious Child

Musings on Life, Death and Art

A Need You Dare Not Admit

 

 

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Madame Recamier

Madame Recamier

 

sleepingbeautyhttp://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/10/05/daily-prompt-beauty-2/