Preordained Blog Entry

Too Fabulous

Destiny Unfolds

No Heteros in Space?

Here’s a recent comment I made to another Common Dreams poster, which I believe is worth featuring as my latest blog entry, all by its lone some (you can read that poster’s comment, along with all comments and the original article, by clicking here):

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Brad in SoCal queried: “Why is it so hard to find a true Christian in Christendom?”

Because what compassionate folks exist on this sorry planet (and whom you tag as “true Christians”) are mostly pagans, atheists, and hot, horny gay men. Let go your stereotype view of Christians (that a “true” Christian is the ultimate perfection of man), as that is simply mental detritus spewed by their own particular brand of dogma.

“End the Empire.”

You start by shutting down all churches…which in reality, are nothing more than blood sucking leeches on the body of humanity. For the nonce, they remain immeasurably powerful in their abuse and decimation of noble concepts such as democracy, individual freedom, civil rights, wholesome environment, happy children and universal health care. No church here in Amerika has ever respected our laws as superior to their own religious prattle.

As long as these institutions of higher self-glorification remain outside the law, they will continue to cripple society with psychic bombardments of demon-spawning nightmares (including bigotry memes against blacks, gays, the poor et al), that result in ever-more-frequent and predictable psychotic breaks w/extreme violence, sparing no one within range.

Their first waves of obliteration will focus on homosexuals (as it did the Jews in the Previous World War)…as a sort of “test run” for full-out bombardment across the entire continental land mass.

It is possible they could lose their power in great measure (and almost like overnight) should a determined minority resist these massive telepathic bombardments and shrapnel. However, this seems highly unlikely, considering the incredible universality of anti-gay hatred shared by every single culture that exists at present. Homophobia is indeed the litmus test used by all known extraterrestrial societies, in order to discover the level of habitability of any particular planet. IOW:

Every planet needs to become totally homosexualized, before its occupants can begin to even think about leaving their world to explore the greater ones of outer space.

Uncontrolled breeding and tribal wars based on who owns whose vagina, cannot possibly be permitted to take off and spread like some bizarre, unstoppable, cosmic virus that destroys galaxies in its sweep. And that is why all Republicans need to be driven off our spaceship earth, as St. Patrick did for Ireland: expunge these Reptilian Morlochs from our sector.

A Magicke Knight

Did you see the brilliant orange/silver full moon last night?

Here’s the URL, video’s just 8 seconds long, but what a revelation! If you did not actually see the partial eclipse for yourself, you will be STUNNED, I promise.

Lunar Eclipse Dec 2011: Threading the Needle on the Transamerica Pyramid!

I posted the initial comment on that video, but it needs to first get moderator approval…so just in case it doesn’t pass muster (so to speak),

–here is what I said:

Righteous pic and video, I’m so glad you captured that magnificent moment in the sky. I, too, hail from SF, and was walking home from the Civic Center Plaza, where I just smoked a bowl of righteous ganja with my medicinal caregiver. Just before we parted I said: “Holy fuk, check out the moon!” It was like suddenly the moon had jumped to half its normal distance, and I could see not only the lovely burly orange and cream white shadings, but the actual markings of all the craters, cracks, valleys and mountains there! Lo and behold, like a religious epiphany, there gleamed brightly like pure platinum, a thick sliver at the lower left crescent of the pearly satellite.

Moonshine on my shoulder as I walk home in the brisk autumn air looking back frequently, to gaze upon this magnificent orb of Orange Julius delight. I am a moon child (sun sign cancer), and feel tremendously blessed to have felt the sacred shower of orange benevolence that fell so softly and bright upon each and every soul that was outside at the time, regardless of their ability to project or deny compassion. Thinking that shimmering radiance in the lower left may have been an illusion, that is, a distortion from my aging, rheumy eyes (and recent laser/cryotherapy operation for a possibly-detaching retina in my left eye), I thought to google “eclipse december 13 2011″, and found your video as link #7 on the first page of results. Again, thank you so much for capturing an extraordinary astronomical and astrological moment. It was a magic night for me!

–end of comment

The video in question:

As it turns out, there are also many other videos taken of the moon that night. For your viewing pleasure:

lunar+eclipse+dec+2011

Message to a Long Lost Friend

13 December 2011

My dear, handsome Witt:

Writing this letter today, to prove to you that I strongly sensed your wonderful return in my life was imminent. I’ve since printed it out, and kept it secure in a pocket, that I may hand it to you immediately upon our resurrected friendship, wherever and whenever that may be. Another way to say this is: “My angels told me to prepare for your return…and it will only be a few weeks at the most.” This makes me very happy.

Regardless of the ups and downs of our association, I have always admired and appreciated your friendship, as well as your survival skills living on four wheels, scavenging discarded furniture and other valuable detritus for resale at flea markets, and conjuring up delicious victuals out of dumpsters and trash cans. Those founders of the “Freegan Movement” have nothing on you! (In fact, I’m sure you could provide them with many useful tips! Glad you’ve finally found your own disciples, hey little grasshopper? You will be as God to them! You’ll have ‘em eatin’ right outta your “Witt’s Outrageous 3 meats/3 Cheeses Mulligan Extra Special Gourmet Stew” hands! Surprise ‘em with your utterly delectable vegan version. They’ll never know what hit their tongues, nor ever eat real flesh again.) I especially appreciate how difficult it is in your wanderlust existence–keeping afloat by cunning alone–to accommodate me (or anyone) as your guest, in a renovated bread truck that is your home.

I understand that many years back, you had asked a certain person on the street named Brian (about 6 feet tall, dishwater blonde straight hair, rather ordinary but wide bovine face), if I was still living at 2306 Market. He said to you, “No, he’s not.” Brian’s an idiot, not a real friend…he only knows me a bit from our occasional encounters in the Castro. I never liked him, and am sorry that he misled you. To his credit however, he did approach me about six years ago, and told me you asked about my whereabouts.

Brian said he told you that I was no longer living there (’cause he couldn’t really believe I was, after all those years). He apologized for the misinformation…for the truth is, yes, I still live in that rotten little room in which we shared some rather hellacious good times. As I said, Brian is an idiot. He is a pathetic pinhead who hails from Utah, and decided one day to leave Ogden and never look back (or he’d turn into a pillar of Salt Lake City. He’s still here in SF by the way, looking old and haggard; I wish he’d move back to Moron Land. Get it? “Moron, Mormon”. Ha-ha. How about Morton’s Salt Mines? Ha-ha to the “nth” power.Take my wife…please!) In other words, he’s just a stupid sheeple whom you really should never have relied on, for any information about myself.

Be that as it may, our time apart–though many years at this point (since 1989 I think)–has only made me appreciate you more, with time’s slow passage. We are friends, Witt, real friends. And I’m sorry if any of my own insecurities and neuroses made you hesitate to explore our friendship further, and caused you to be overly careful in continuing what to me, has always been a marvelous adventure.

I realize how difficult it is living out of a truck, and coming to SF to hang with me…considering how Fascist this city has become, and outright hostile to free spirits like yourself, who prefer not to be tied down to renting a unit and becoming frozen for years–perhaps the rest of your lifetime–in the same tiny habitat. I respect and admire your sense of adventure and freedom on the open road. Though I know such a lifestyle is not without hardship, considering how screwed up America has become, in regards to any citizen who chooses to live an alternative lifestyle. (Ironic, eh, considering the 60′s and all that.)

This letter is dragging out, please bear with me, as my angels guide me in how to tell you with what great import and joy i regard your friendship. I have missed you very much, and thought of you every few months or so, with great concern and wishes for your happiness, and hopefully even resuming our friendship where it becomes so much more fun and loving than it’s ever been. Several years back, I even rode my bike out by the Berkeley Marina,

stopping on the way by that roadside bistro where you once parked in the adjoining lot, to celebrate an evening under the stars, by the sand dunes…all three of us. But there was no Witt, no sand dunes any more, and no starry sky. (Yes, sometimes your spirit does call to me, and I know it’s real. And you’re calling to me once more, and thus, this letter.)

FYI, one of the really neat things about you, is you never mess with drugs or alcohol. (Sure wish you’d smoke some killer ganja with me now and then, though!) And your fantastic little dog Wiley…the dingo of bountiful joy and affection named after a Looney Tunes character. It must’ve been one of the worst days in your life, when you lost your quadrupedal buddie to K-9 Heaven. But I’m sure his ebullient little spirit is with you once more, in the vessel of another frisky pup.

Excuse me for being so forward, but I am now 61 years old, which affords me little time for shy innuendos. I love you (and always have; you’re quite the hot dude), and find you to be a most gorgeous and sexy man, with an incredible sense of adventure and “bromance”.

I would be terribly happy just to resume our friendship without anything “risque” going on. But just in case, I figured it would be wise at this point in our lives, to break the ice. I just wish my room were all fixed up real nice and cozy for your return. But alas, it’s still rather a mess since my breakup with another sweet friend, Johnny S., three years ago due to his heroine addiction and father’s sudden death. I don’t know, but I must be the King of Bromance, the list goes on and on and on!

I have spent many lonely years since you disappeared from my life. My old friend John H. moved to Philadelphia in 1996, and my on-and-off “friend” Michael Carl B. died last year in October. (And good riddance to that, I say; he was a nasty old man that hated the devil out of you, and interfered in my life constantly, in most hostile ways.) I do not deserve this, but I must accept that this is my particular path that our creator has chosen, to shape my soul into the best possible person I could be. Nonetheless, I’ve missed you terribly.

The fact of your return only gives me cause for celebration. For it could never have happened if the angels did not see fit to bring us back together. I certainly do not claim to understand the mysteries behind this, but I do have some comprehension of the ways of the Great Spirit.

Now, we are back together again after so many difficult and lonely years. I only ask that you put enough faith in our friendship, to never fear that I would ever want you out of my life. I am sorry that you had doubts about this. I am sorry that dipwad Brian misled you. I also realize that my remaining in the same building as your friend Maxie (and on the same floor, where we even shared a bathroom), may be difficult for you, considering he died from a heroine overdose way, way back in 1987 or so; I really can’t recall the exact year.

Unbelievable to realize that (since Mr. Betza’s most welcome death) I am now the longest-term resident of 2306 (I really don’t want to die here, and become yet one more ghost of Dolores Street Apartments…not when three of the most disgusting people I’ve ever met, also died here, and made my life miserable for a time!) But I am so happy to realize now that you are my hero and good friend, and will rescue me from such a sad demise.

I am more than ready to pack up my few belongings (that would be my netbook, extension cord and a backpack…whenever we pop into a wifi coffeehouse I’ll download some great movies and TV shows we can watch later while holed up in your van overnight), and join you on the Road to Great Adventures. Or, if you’d like, we can keep my room as a convenient rest stop between breaks from our silly highway escapades. Wash the dust off, kick back and enjoy the few good things this cheapskate, backwater, skanky little burg has to offer. (Okay, pardner? Another way to go with this, is to surrender my SRO, thereby freeing up an extra $310 that might be better spent, perhaps on truck maintenance, or doggie care.)

There number about eight fantastically gorgeous and wonderful men I have had the great honor to know over many years (starting in 1969 where I met my first true love Robert Matthew Childers in Columbia, Missouri), share some great times (and fall in love) with, and wished for something more permanent than a few years’ togetherness, then *poof* they’re gone forever, like it was all just a fantastic dream.

You are definitely one of these excellent men. I even wrote an Ice Age Bromance about us, called “Dream on: Encounter with a Neanderthal“. You are also the cop-centurion “DeWitt” in my testosterone inspired homo sci-fi tale, “The Mask of Horus“. Who knows? You might even be the “Pa” in my animated decal “Padonna & Child“. If so, it was subliminally inspired. But now that I think about it, Pa does look suspiciously like you, in that he likewise has your bulky, broad-shouldered stature (though you’re certainly not hairy or bald like this Pa, but I suspect you want to be incognito in the animated gif, perhaps to surprise me years later, such as this very moment).

I love you Witt, and am so incredibly happy to see you again. Let’s kick some ass and have a hell of a good time. You, me, and your little pup Wily III (or perhaps IV or even V by now).

Love, friendship, and sincerest regards,

Zeke a.k.a. Gene

PS: I legally changed my name to “Ezekiel Krahlin,” back in 1996…but please feel free to continue to call me “Gene Catalano.” if that is your pleasure. I did it only to spiritually divorce myself from my blood family; they don’t deserve me. I have never forgotten that cold, starry night when you pulled up across the street late in the wee dark hours, and hollered through a loudspeaker so robustly as to wake up the dead: “Catalano! You awake?” I nearly pooped my pajamas…people heard you more than two blocks away! God bless you, Witt. (John H., you were still living there 2 stories up in 404, you remember that night.)

Fetching Veitch

His name is Charlie Veitch, who claims to be your pure anarchist and worshipper of 100% individual liberty. He neither votes, nor is a member of any political party, as he correctly perceives them to be nothing more than the vulgar dupes of a sociopathic cabal. He hails from England, and is such a darling-handsome fellow, I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve already pleasured myself thinking of that glorious face of Celtic Brilliance, since I discovered his activist videos on Youtube only three weeks ago. Mr. Veitch’s confrontational and theatrical street theater activism is quite reminiscent of the mischievous types of dissent that were the hallmark of the 60′s Free Speech Movement.

Since viewing–and later, meditating* upon–fourteen of his more recent flicks, my life has drastically changed from a most boring and difficult journey (including my entire childhood, sad to say), to one that celebrates every new day, and every frggin’ minute that day contains. Coincidence? I don’t think so…in fact, I do believe I’ve just uncovered one of this planet’s very-near-future respected activists and beloved 21st-century visionaries. Possibly, as President, Premier or King of the New Celtic Nation, which will include Scotland, Ireland, Wales, Isle of Man, Cornwall and Brittany…and perhaps several other slices off the European mainland.

Here is his most recent video, which I surmise may be one of his very best to date (you’ll also get to see his lovely little doggie, a Jack Russell terrior I think):

Here’s another Veitch video, almost as recent, likewise excellent:

Finally, last but not least:

Don’t forget to subscribe to this wonderful man’s channel if you believe, as I do, that he deserves the world’s most respectful and devoted attention. Charlie numbers among the relative handful of heterosexual activists, who is in solid and aggressive support of gay equality. I pray to the Great Spirit every eve, every morn and every mid-day, that Mr. Veitch will miraculously morph into 100% homosexual cravings, and find me the most handsome, fun, hot, and sexy lover in this entire, infinite universe.

And I don’t think I’m the only person (and far from the first, most surely) to harbor such a fantasy about this rockin’ Brit dude of great courage, heart and orgasmic convulsions off the Richter Scale.

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* If you regard jacking off as a valid form of meditation, then yes, I was meditating. A lot.