Vagina & Boobs

September 28, 2014

!!! WARNING. ADULT MATERIAL !!!

If you are underage, or in any way forbidden by your government or religious laws from viewing X-rated subject matter, please do not go there. If, however, you are not restricted by any laws in your geographical location, by all means click on the image above, to read my spicy tale.


Trinity

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

Larkin,

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,

Zeke

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

!!! WARNING. ADULT MATERIAL !!!

If you are underage, or in any way forbidden by your government or religious laws from viewing X-rated subject matter, please do not go there. If, however, you are not restricted by any laws in your geographical location, by all means click on the image above, to read my spicy tale.


The Falcon Visits

September 4, 2014

MORE ON BRYAN HIGGINS

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.


Zeke:

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.


POSTCARD UPDATE – 29 August


MORE STICKY NOTES TO NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR – 31 August


MY LATEST EMAIL TO ELEANOR

Date: Tue, 2 Sep 2014 15:02:21
Subject:
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
Subject:
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.


FINALLY: 1 MORE POSTCARD TO DRAGON SQUAREPANTS


Don’t Mess With My Buddy!

August 30, 2014

[ Spaciotemporal Reader: this little masterpiece of sci-fi parody is dedicated to Stanislaw Lem (1921-2006), whose exquisitely hyperbolic tales of futuristic intrigue eventually drove me insane. Click on his link to learn more about this incredible author out of Poland. I greatly recommend a movie just released based on the above-featured novel, called "Congress." Click here to discover a synopsis and reviews about this astounding film. While the tomatometer rates it 76%, I give it a 92. ]

It was somewhere in the Crab Nebula that I visited a particular planet as The Milky Way’s Ambassador, and planned to vacation there for approx’ly two months. It was the year 2076. You may be reading my report years before that time, because this dispatch has been teleported to key moments in the past, but no earlier than 2014. By which time I had simultaneously become president of Athenia, world’s first gay nation (formerly Northern California), and Earth’s Star Spokesperson thanks to the Reptilians of the Andromeda Galaxy who chose me for such a position because they consider moi the most compassionate sentient being of this world and its galaxy.

I co-presided as Athenia’s commander with My Ultimate Soulmate, Larkin Kelsey, who was too preoccupied with Dark Matter Intrigue to accompany me on my journeys through the Crab Nebula. Now, this may seem peculiar to you, as Larkin is highly telepathic and can also travel anywhere in time at the snap of a finger. Yet in spite of his remarkable abilities, he is compelled to obey the dictates of An Even Higher Force: a force which rules over, and contains, every aspect of this universe, and all the multiverses ad infinitum. For lack of a better term, let us call this force “Universal Mind.” And this force so deemed that I must embark upon my journey as sole missionary.

The moment I stepped out of The Enterprise v1.2, the first thing that struck me was the planet’s extraordinary sky: like a rippling zebra skin, black elongated clouds sailed seductively against a background of light-gray firmament. Or like the comforter on Leisure Suit Larry‘s water bed, if you switch your perspective from up to down.

The Grand Poobah of this world welcomed me with open tentacles, and escorted me to all their finest hotels, restaurants, theme parks, media outlets, prostitution clubs (from which I refrained the attainment of full orgasm out of respect for My One True Love), 5-D entertainment centers and the average homes of Nebularean Residents. I must say here, that my greatest delight was visiting these domiciles of average citizens, for their hospitality was beyond any Malibu Integral Massage Therapy I could ever imagine, as it came with the most splendiferous arse-rimming perks.

Some days later, the Grand Poobah approached me to offer phenomenal pleasures beyond what I have yet known. He proudly spoke the following declaration which mesmerized me into such fevered temptation, I lost all reason:

“Sensations many you have great in your world that to heights of ecstasy bring you unbelievable. Yet assure you myself, kind vertebrate, that Nebulareans we can titillate your soul in ways never known before you’ve. We expose you can to incredible levels such of ecstasy erotic that again never you will return to former enjoyment ways of seeking!”

Of course I was greatly seduced to dive right in (considering all the sensual amenities already provided me in barely a week since my arrival), but a tiny alarm bell dinged in my cranium:

“But there is one man I love so much, I couldn’t bear to discover any pleasure that would make our delight in each other fade from my heart!” Of course I meant Larkin whose joy in my friendship is the jealousy of 42 thousand galaxies and 574 dimensions. “So with all due respect, I will refrain from your magnanimous offer.”

The Grand Poobah immediately flushed a refulgent pink, but quickly recovered to a sour green. “Course of, perfectly comprehend me. Forgive please indiscretion this. Cultural some differences never be bridged can, and would I dream not broaching social barriers your own.”

The Poobah promptly vanished, and I found myself escorted to an egg-shaped room by His Doppelganger Guardians, where I awaited the descent of The Enterprise v1.8. Which starship beamed me up and returned me to Planet Earth in the wink of a Tralfamadorian‘s orbital socket.

War swiftly broke out between Planet Earth’s Intergalactic Federation and The Crab Nebula’s Union of Soviet Socialist Face Suckers. In less than one week after their initial salvo, the entire Crab Nebula and 18 surrounding galaxies (plus four energy-sponging black holes) were obliterated into subatomic dust. A piece of wisdom you should all bear in mind:

Larkin Kelsey commands the entire fleet of the Andromeda Galaxy, which Reptilians were the first civilization in the entire history of the universe, to leave their home planet and terraform all other worlds. Their technology and understanding of Universal Law far surpasses that of any other sentient life anywhere in the cosmos (or any other cosmos). So when you try to turn me against My Dragonly Heartsong, there will be hell to pay. Or IOW:

Don’t mess with My Buddy Larkin.


Tremble!

August 27, 2014

Dream about Larkin – 24 August

I am sweetly blessed by last night’s dream/vision of Larkin. I had managed to doze off with the help of Royal Gate, around 1:25 AM. Slept like a log, if you understand how light sleepers like me (living over one of the noisiest street corridors in the city) usually have a most difficult time of it. And for those who think sleep deprivation is a stupid joke upon the low-income (or at best a plot line for the latest heterocentered sitcom)…please know that a prolonged period of wakefulness causes disruption of sane faculties, and distancing of family, friends and all other loved ones. Or IOW:

This is no laughing matter, you evil dickwads!

Yet as a gay-focused shaman, clinical insomnia inspires visions that can only be acquired by such psychic starvation. Thus gave me this awesome, sweet dream last night:

I step into an obviously gay bar, though it’s barely more than a converted two-door L-shaped garage that is nicely carpeted, and decked out in astounding bric-a-bracs, paintings and other sorts of art (such as miniature Athenian statues, Spartan relics and Corinthian columns).

Comprising the foot of this “L” is a back room that allows four drinking customers on the long side, and two more on the short. Larkin is seated against the wall on the far end of the counter, with one vacant perch to his immediate left. Someone’s leather jacket is slung over the chair in disarray, yet I sense that I can freely claim the seat as my own.

Seeing as he does not gesture that it’s a bad moment to be seen with him, I occupy that vacant spot with tremendous pride. He neither hugs nor greets me (as I so strongly desire), yet his eyes sparkle with a welcoming joy beyond measure. I glance back at him in gratitude, awash with his subtle compassion. His fiery golden irises sparkle with joy at the mere presence of Yours Truly, and I almost dissolve in ecstasy. (No question he is not about to humiliate and drive me out by wicked slander…as were his previous interactions since early 2013.)

[ Among the myriad important lessons Larkin has taught me, Oh Drymarchon Reader, is this: to enjoy the company of one so beloved, it is not necessary to utter a single word. In fact, verbal exchange tends to water down the miracle of such bonding. ]

When the bartender (a handsome, spiky gray-haired fellow of approx’ly 62 years old but nonetheless “cute”) arrived, he began flinging little receipts like fortune-cookie strips though with more cardboard-like resilience, to each of his customers including myself. I wondered what-the-fuk is going on, so pick up one, then two, receipts:

“Next drink, $3 off!” (and the other) “Next drink, $2 off!”

So I order a vodka-tonic from the barkeep, after handing him a “$3 off” ticket. At the same moment I’m grasping for my wallet, only to discover that it’s not there, so I probably left it at hovel. I sigh and apologize to the mixology PhD:

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. But it looks like I forgot to take my wallet when I stepped out. So please cancel that order.”

He does, and as I depart for The Stygian Outlands, I pause just before the exit, and prod my pants once more…only to discover my billfold in an extended pocket towards the rump side of my khakis. Realizing that I could now enjoy one or two tonics alongside Larkin’s angelic presence, I turn about to regain my seat.

Yet the greater bar landscape just short of the entrance, is now obstructed by a curved, metallic fence like a tractor grill: no space to get around it, but for a narrow wedge clogged up by lingering patrons. Though strenuous, I manage to force my way back to the bar (after more than 5 minutes’ struggle)…wondering if it really is later than I thought, and last-call already happened. Finally return to my chair, with a stranger’s jacket still hung loosely over the backrest…though Larkin is nowhere to be seen. I’m more than elated, however, to occupy a space where he had only recently sat beside, and graced me with sweet attention.

The same bartender who flung out the bargain slips is no longer there, replaced by a shorter dude who turns out to be a butch dyke of slim stature and close-cropped hair. So I lean across the bar to make my appeal:

“Look, the barkeep before you was offering 2-and-3 dollar reductions on well drinks, and I was about to order only to discover I left my wallet at home…or so I thought. But before stepping out, I found the wallet in another pocket. So here I am a few minutes later, wondering if you can provide the same bargains. But if you can’t, no problem, I’m glad to purchase a coupla drinks at full price.

The friendly (and handsome) dyke kindly shrugs her shoulders to declare: “I can do that, no problem!”

That is when I woke up late at night (around 3:15 AM) beneath the glaring street lamps that infuse my windows. Two faux wax candles (one placed on the topmost shelf of Desk #2, the other on a colorfully decorated hexagonal cabinet just three feet tall and to my immediate left) flickered with a honey-yellow light powered by two double-A batteries in each base. And I thanked Our Creator for this lovely vision.

I stirred cozily in the bedding, wishing to resume the dream. But seconds later, my building began to rumble. And I realized: EARTHQUAKE! I trembled a bit, wondering if I should move or stay…knowing that if the windows shattered, I’d be a goner. Nowhere to escape to a safer spot, as I inhabit a humble SRO. But no sooner did this cross my mind, than it ended. Though it was quite a roller. (Later I learned there was a 6.1 temblor north of here, epicenter 60 miles away, near Napa, at 3:20 AM.)

Then, instead of panicking from the tectonic rumble (and getting up to have a smoke and turn on my laptop for distraction) I rolled over swaddled in the peaceful thought that Larkin manifested a quake solely to express his profound adoration of This Weary-But-Lovestruck Soul. It wasn’t till the next day, late in the afternoon, that I recalled something I said to Jonathan four days ago:

“My world always rocks whenever I see Larkin!”

I have never before described My Most Treasured Amigo in that way. Yet somehow he knows that, and sent me a direct message through the dream, quickly followed by an earthshaking event.

[ Gracilariidae Reader: some might claim that I'm compensating for the loss of a friend by cooking up a vision in my subconscious, that I may prolong a joy that truly once was there, but is no longer. However, I beg to differ. It is my firm belief that The Earthquake Dream is a genuine omen. And a good omen. That Larkin felt my heart-tugs to end these trials, and bring us together once more, in blissful bromance. So he, in His Own Dragonly Manner, manifested this dream and brought it to artistic perfection with a real-life earthquake. I am either greatly loved, or greatly cursed. ]


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