Just How Dark A Day?

October 24, 2014

What kind of Guardian Dragon are you, Larkin? You say our friendship is an incredible godsend (with beloved enthusiasm, I might add), yet you otherwise ignore me, avoid me, tell me to get the fuk outta your face…and in many other ways, humiliate me in public, and bully me! I published a novel to honor your sweet friendship, and continue to write many tales which you inspire. I send them to you via snail-mail, yet not once have you ever said “thank you” for my kind letters and postcards. Nor have you sent me (via the USPS or other delivery option) any expression of friendship or appreciation of my steadfast devotion. But I admit:

You have also done and said many nice things for me, in addition to your “godsend” praise, over these same many months during which you’ve broken my heart so often I’ve lost count. I choose to respond for the most part, with patience, compassion and humor. Yet sometimes I deem it necessary to retaliate (as I did with those postcards sent to various gay bars), because I just don’t let anyone defame my character…and because I doubt you’d respect me if I did not take action now and then.

Yet I remain in complete faith that your egregious behavior serves a compassionate purpose in the long run. And which I believe is thus:

You are My Most Adored Soulmate, above and beyond even Randolph Louis Taylor. Which is nothing short of a miracle; thus your acknowledgment that our being brought together is a godsend. I thank you so much for speaking those divine words, which put wings to my troubled heart.

There are (or were, I hope with great pleading to Our Higher Self) certain end trials I must go through, before we are brought together for eternity. Some of which require you, My Exhilarating Zilla, to open old sores and rub salt in them, that they may finally heal in a proper fashion. Hence, you drop a hint now and then via a kind gesture or declaration, in between all the hurtful episodes.

And I love you for that. (More than words can truly tell, I assure you Luscious, Lovely Larkin!)

These trials are also part of a long term initiation that I foolishly presumed would end after three or four months from its inception…or at the most, five months. Boy was I in for disappointment…seeing as This Trial Of Love’s Labor has continued unto 22 months with no end in sight!

Yet I grasp your noble desire to drag me over this bed of nails as long as possible. For that is the only way to ensure eternal bliss with your chosen partner. You are My Guardian Dragon, who would not hesitate even one nanosecond to bring havoc and misery upon me, should Goddess inform you that is precisely what I need to experience in order for my soul to expand. And if you make things too easy, I’d never learn what important lessons are required to forge The Greatest Friendship Ever. A friendship that will expand well beyond our personal horizons, and eventually touch every sentient being on this wobbly little planet.

Which outcome, of course, will likewise expand respect and reverence for sexual minorities everywhere. Our tale is the greatest romance ever, and it is not between a male and a female (like Romeo & Juliet), but between two 100% gay men! And a real-live detective story to boot! So allow me to shower you now, with tremendous affection, and this promise:

I will always be here for you, Larkin, for that is Goddess’s blessing to us both. Our friendship, our being brought together, is indeed an incredible godsend!

So I saw you today, Oct. 21, approach Duboce Park around 2:30 PM as usual, walking that sweet smallish doggie that is mostly black, with a white tipped tail and one or two paws just as white. I was already awaiting you for more than 20 minutes, strutting up and down Duboce and scoring the occasional snipe. Just when I was about to give up on you, there you are with a red haversack that mimics mine, and canine in tow.

You seemed not disturbed over my presence as you crossed the street and entered the park. As for myself, I followed obliquely and settled on the grassy mound that occupied the “dogs-on-leash” section. You stood around 22 yards away, flinging the tennis ball to give your charge some exercise…and camaraderie I guess (which you’re very good at, and which I miss like a bear misses berries).

After several minutes had passed, I knew you were about to leave. Thus I stood up, brushed the newly cut grass off my Levi’s, and marched to the top of the mound. Whence I stood a distance, facing you and waiting for your sweet face to glance in my direction. And when it did, I spread my arms in a wide air hug, sending you rays of gratitude.

I did this two more times, after moving each time further away. Till I was situated at the inbound side of the Muni Metro stop.

Then the downtown-bound N Judah careened out of the tunnel to block any view of Duboce Park for a half minute or so before rumbling off. By that time, you were no longer present anywhere in the quadrangle…and which result I anticipated, knowing how clever you are in timing your disappearance from my passionate visions. You are a frustration-and-a-half, yet I comprehend the purpose of your tease, as described seven paragraphs above.

I am begging you, Larkin:

Please don’t leave me struggling alone on Christmas Day, thinking once more about Randolph, and how you don’t care enough to give me comfort on This Most Holy of Days. Bad enough that I must pass through Halloween and Thanksgiving without Your Gracious Presence!

Must Christmas also be just as dark a day?

How Often?

October 17, 2014


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Vagina & Boobs

September 28, 2014


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September 23, 2014

The following three postcards are an extension of the previous and recent postcards I sent to Larkin, including those snail-mailed to the gay bars he attends. If he is angered by this, I can only bow my head in misery. But I have a hunch he will be greatly pleased. Delivered to his personal PO box on September 20th (showing the front first, then the reverse side), notice that I handprinted or wrote everything out, since I exhausted my printer ink and can’t afford to purchase another cartridge. (Not an easy task, for I suffer RSI in both hands, and CTS in each forearm.) Please enjoy:

Postcard Showdown

September 20, 2014

I just can’t stop with the postcards to Larkin! It all started when his patsy of a roommate, Zachary, informed me back in late May, that Larkin doesn’t even open my mail, let alone read it. (See “Letter to Zachary.”) While I believe his intent was to plant a seed of doubt in my cabeza, it still had an impact on This Scapegoated Little Soul. Even though I figure Zachary lied, just to fuk with me. Thus began what I call “my postcard flurry” that continues more or less to this day. I figured Larkin would be more likely to at least read a postcard before tossing it into the trash.

[ FYI, Grimaculous Reader: after recovering from the blow that Zachary so deftly delivered, I resumed sending letters to Larkin, along with these postcards. In good faith that My Bodacious Basilisk does indeed read everything I send. Though not necessarily right away, I'm sure he gets around to each and every one. ]

The original message taped on the front was an excoriating condemnation of Larkin’s mean behavior toward Yours Truly. And it said: “The sin you have committed upon me is unforgivable. You force me to take up arms, but you surely shall fall.” I never mailed it, but just let it linger in a cubbyhole, along with eight other angry postcards. All of which I have converted to loving missives and mailed off (though it sure wasn’t easy). I sent this one out September 10th.

In light of recent revelations regarding our incredible association of almost nine years at this point, I overlaid the diatribe with a poem of compassion. And taped it down several times over and at different angles, that Dragon Squarepants may never discover the original intent. Now, enjoy the reverse side:

Now here is the second postcard (front and back) mailed September 15th. Self explanatory.

[ Jambulorious Reader: please note that from hereon in, I must use generic tourist postcards since I've finally run out of my special "Free Me From This Bond" promotionals. I just loved blotting out Randoph Taylor's face with missives to My Larkin...as one kind gesture of devotion. ]

Now, three days ago (it is the evening of September 19th as I compose this section) Larkin pissed me off once more, so much so that I could no longer hold off what I should’ve done several months back. Pray, what did he do? you may ask. He totally ignored me as our paths crossed on Market Street near my building. I followed him up the sidewalk on the other side, on his way to The Cafe (I presume). Simply in my longing to gaze upon him before he disappeared up the stairs. But he looked back, saw me, so instead of a friendly greeting of any sort, he meandered quickly across the busy thoroughfare to slip into Tacos Club, a hole-in-the-wall eatery. (It is an insult and a heartbreak that he continues to treat me like a pestilence. Especially since he approached me some months back and declared that our friendship is an incredible godsend.) Will he actually read this letter? I can only hope.

September 16, 2014


Enclosed is a copy of the official police report I will file with the SFPD tomorrow. I’ve put off filing it, in hopes you’d make things up by now. But so much time has passed, and you clearly avoided me today, that I cannot take your bullshit any longer.

By the time you get this letter, the report will have already been filed. Processing takes 2-3 weeks, by which time I will have a docket number. Which number I will send you via snail-mail, when it comes in.

I am so sorry you’ve decided to play things out this way, for it will only result in your demise, and my victory. Yet such a victory will only cause me further grief.

Most sincerely,


P.S.: When you exited Lookout, you crossed the street but switched back when you saw me approach. Then you slipped into the taqueria below my residence. You never came out. I presume then, that you exited via their back door which enters the basement of my apartment building. Then you exited the 16th Street side of 2306, marched up 16th, down Castro and crossed Market to enter the Cafe. NEWS FLASH: you illegally trespassed my building.

[ It is most frustrating to inform you, Jeladvective Reader, that the SFPD refused to accept this report, claiming that "Larkin's calling you his stalker is an opinion, not a fact," and "some of your claims are subjective and not grounded in actual events," and "you should just avoid him, this is a civil suit, maybe place a restraining order on him." I think their rejection is absurd and patently unprofessional. They also suggested I contact a mental health agency on the grounds that Larkin may be a danger to himself. How bad does this get for me, I thought I'd already hit bottom some months back? No matter which way I turn to gain even a smidgeon of justice, Larkin always seems to have the luck of the Irish on his side. Damn me for being a Scot! ]

Still PO’d like an alley cat with a bucket of ice water dumped on it, I took one further step, and sent four postcards to him the next day, care of the several bars I know he frequents. On the front I taped the same printout to each card. Then handwrote something different on the address side of each one. I chose the Alcatraz theme for extra impact.

These last two postcards were sent on the same day, September 18th, as an afterthought…an important afterthought:

The Breath of the Buddha

September 10, 2014


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The Falcon Visits

September 4, 2014


A continuation of Facebook messages (see addendum to blog post “A Cautionary Email“) between myself and a good friend of Bryan who was recently murdered in my neighborhood. These two exchanges occurred on August 26th and 27th.

Friend of Bryan:

I agree completely and again thank you for sharing. Bryan was so totally against any type of violence, even defending himself I believe would have been out of character. I had witnessed him diffuse numerous situations just by talking people down. I know that sounds silly, and I wish it had been easy enough for him to diffuse this confrontation. He probably wasn’t clear in his thinking at the time either. I’m reading these news articles that show the video clip of this suspect that they want to question and some mention that there were people that witnessed this attack. How does one do that? How does one stand and watch someone have the life beaten from them and not intervene in some way? Scream, yell, call 911, if there was more than 1 witness – step in and stop it. Did they enjoy this? Did they enjoy watching this? How twisted is society that people think it’s okay to let something like this happen? Just as guilty as the animal that threw the blows. Unfortunately, even if Bryan had fought back, my understanding is the aneurysm was inevitable. If it hadn’t happened as a result of the beating it was bound to happen soon after. If he bumped his head or eventually it would have just happened due to the weakened blood vessels in his brain. Not that it makes it any easier but this is what we’ve been told. I’m still trying to catch up on reading materials you’ve sent me . How did you fare with the earthquake? Did it affect your area significantly? They seem to just be reporting on Napa and the damage to the wineries.


When it comes to watching out for your neighbors, the Castro scores very low. Sometimes people stand around and laugh at someone being attacked.

It’s happened to me more than once. Some will even go so far as to blame /me/ for the violence, for example: a big dude starting shoving me and so I squirted him with pepper spray. When the cops arrived, a bystander ran up to ‘em and accused /me/ of attacking that “harmless” fellow. Yeah, he was 6-foot-2 and under 30…whereas I am 5-foot-7 and 64! But it was obvious to the bluecoats after taking one good look at the goon who tried to knock me down, that I was in the right. Society creates its own monsters, Rikki. Every crazy or dangerous person is a product of the surrounding mileau in which he’s born and raised. America’s cowboy capitalism /forces/ many to behave like psychopaths. Yet I do not believe this is anything more than what experiences humanity needs to go through, until finally that phase comes to an end. Nothing is anywhere near as bad as it may seem. But by the same token, such comprehension of how life operates can never be grasped even one iota…until a person has lived through the required number of trials it takes to get there. It’s sort of one of nature’s “great secrets.” And you kind of have to “earn” the privilege to see beyond the illusion. Yet I am certain that now that I’m writing about it and releasing my gift to the world, that the time is very, very close, for all humanity to grow out of chaos and disaster. Or I wouldn’t be able to broadcast my words across the globe, that is: something or other would block the process. As for the earthquake: I just posted a blog entry about it, and you should see it on your FB page. But just in case, here’s the URL: http://zekeblog.wordpress.com/2014/08/27/tremble/ Isn’t it interesting that Bryan’s passage has put us in contact? Blessings on you always, and try not to get /too/ upset over what seem to be tragedies. For that’s only the first stage; all that comes forth after that will do much to turn this world into a far better planet than it now appears. <3 <3 <3

I was diagnosed years ago with borderline schizophrenia, borderline bipolar, borderline PTSD…borderline everything! It was not any chemical, but talk therapy and Carl Jung’s teachings that finally healed me. Jung spoke of archetypes and the collective unconscious. He introduced compassion into the world of psychotherapy. I use the same methods with those lost gay souls stranded on the streets. Not in any professional sense, but as a gift I’ve finely honed at this point in my life. And it works…though took years and years and years to finally witness my good works grow like bean sprouts. Now (and since the publication of my first novel in December 2013) things are moving /very/ fast, and I can hardly contain my excitement.

Like the great author, Herman Hesse, I am a disciple of Carl Jung, and all my writings use Jungian style symbolism throughout. In that manner, my words become a potent healing force to anyone who reads or listens.




Date: Tue, 2 Sep 2014 15:02:21
The Falcon Visits
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Ellie

Tuesday Sept. 2nd – 2:40 PM

Just moments ago I glimpsed Larkin at Duboce Park’s second water fountain, accompanied with the usual black and white doggie. He had on Bermuda shorts, sandals, light jacket and that red haversack which closely resembles my own. I had just disembarked from the N Judah from my little stroll of the Inner Sunset District, to enjoy the gray skies and chill ocean breeze.

I wondered whether or not to run up to him, or just stand there and holler across the grassy knoll. When I saw he was /not/ coming in my direction, but was about to disappear in the opposite, I chose the latter:

“Larkin!” my echo boomed across the green. He turned his head to his left, saw me waving back. Of course Larkin ignored me and moved on. I was about to scamper towards him, when in that instant a large bird swooped down on the grass just ten feet distant, causing me to halt. I’ve never seen that species in real life, except sometimes up in the Marin Headlands.

It was a peregrine falcon!

A glorious creature decked out in brown feathery shades with splashes of white. The wind fluffed him this way and that, and he looked upon me as if in greeting…or perhaps to warn me to stay put.

I remained frozen to the spot, so I could admire this falcon as long as possible. That lasted about five minutes: certainly long enough to prevent me from seeing My Wyvern a bit longer.

Was he /my/ guardian or Larkin’s…or both? I doubt the falcon’s sudden distraction was a warning, seeing as I don’t cotton to paranoid interpretations. But here is what I believe to be the purpose of his honorable visit:

If more than two weeks pass w/o my getting even a glimpse of Larkin, he is sure to make an appearance some time in the third week…even if from a distance, even if but for a moment. And that is what he did for me today, with the added blessing of the falcon’s salutation.

- Zeke

Date: Wed, 3 Sep 2014 14:47:40
Re: The Falcon Visits
From: Zeke
To: Ellie

On Wed, Sep 3, 2014 at 12:01 PM, Eleanor wrote:

{{ Urban magik! }}

Been happening to me more and more these days.

Several days before /that/ avian epiphany (and also at Duboce Park), I was walking up the path to the other side when from about 60 feet distant, this lady’s sweet old doggie was gazing at me with love in her eyes. I /knew/ she wanted to greet me, so instead of veering to my right on the inside corner by that water fountain, I continued straight ahead. So the doggie could leave her master for a moment and give me a kiss (and I could pet her a bit)…then return to her spot in the cool shade.

The owner was pleasantly startled: “She never does that to anyone!”

“Oh, we noticed each other from across the park,” I smiled back. “It was love at first sight!”

That evening as I returned up Noe Street from 7/11, I saw a large raccoon amble across the street to my side…from about 20 feet away.

“Hey, Rocky, how ya doin’?” I queried as I neared the alleyway between two Edwardians. And there he was:

Clambering up the tall grating that reached well over 12 feet. Each bar was almost an inch thick, made of steel and square cornered. I was astounded how those little paws somehow managed to grip the slippery rods with ease, as he scooted to the top and over with great agility. I called out once more:

“Rocky! I mean no harm, just want to wish you a lovely night.”

Once he reached the ground on the opposite side (took all of ten seconds from start to finish, if not less), he paused as if to look at me, smile and say: “Thanks! You too, dawg.” Then scuttled off to the garbage bins hidden further back and cloaked in darkness. Where I’m sure he collected some tasty morsels to bring back to his pals…as he likely does each and every night.

- Zeke

PS: I’ve also been meeting more gorgeous dudes than ever! One hotter than the last, though I don’t see how that’s possible coz they’re /all/ 10-plus-plus-pluses! Definitely /My/ Kind Of Global Warming.



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