VAMC Interviews

May 21, 2012

[ Free Me From This Bond: Chapter 6 ]

Okay peepulz, here is a snapshot of all 23 pages of my illegal interviews of Nam Vet patients at the VAMC Hospital in Washington D.C., way way back in 1985. If you haven’t read the previous chapter (“Latest Gift”“) please do so now. This will save me from having to repeat myself in this article. Once you read Chapter 5, you’ll have a good grasp on what these interviews are all about.

Don’t know what took me so long to release ‘em after Mr. Hinckle’s failure to follow through! Anywayz, here goes…you will definitely need to click on each page in order to enlarge the image and be able to actually read the contents:


Latest Gift

May 20, 2012

[ Free Me From This Bond: Chapter 5 ]

Allow me to show you the latest gift I will soon present to My Beloved Larkin (click on any image for a larger view):

Folder contains episodes from my latest novel (“Free Me From This Bond“): chapters 3 (Sweet Sue), 9 (Dragon Fire in the Hole)…and addendums 1 (Dragon Prophecy), 3 (Tom Keske), and 4 (Larkin in the Buff). Left out three other completed chapters because they are not pertinent to my bless-ed relationship with my Darling Guardian Dragon Larkin Kelsey…and I am running low on printer ink, which is rather expensive. I am presently typing Chapter 13 (The Phone Call) which may or may not be added to this folder, depending on how soon I can deliver this gift to My Sweetheart, and whether or not there’s enough ink left in my printer.

Photo #3 shows my newest chapters in the left pocket; and in the right is a political comic book about America’s War Machine, and why it is so destructive to its citizens, and to our troubled world at large. Really, it’s intended as a gift of appreciation to Randolph Louis Taylor, and not to Larkin Kelsey. For reasons which should be obvious to you, Sweet Reader, if you’ve been following my tales since Chapter 1 (Free Me From This Bond). The small white envelope contains a business card that promotes my latest novel. Click here to view it.

Photo #4 is addressed to Randolph instead of Larkin, for I know their spirits are intertwined, and that Lover #1 (Randolph) has brought Lover #2 (Larkin), to heal my bleeding heart of great sorrow for the love of a suffering Vietnam Veteran (#1).

Don’t know if you can see this, but in photo #4, in fine-point pen I added (in the lower middle-right): “Thank you for bringing me to him.”

This is in reference to my other Great Love Randolph. But it also acknowledges a near-future prophecy, where Larkin will bring me back to My Beloved Randolph (who suddenly disappeared from my life since 1992) through whatever magical dimension that is his power, which I call Dragon Sorcery. I really can’t speak enough praise, at what a noble and dear dragon, is My Darling Larkin. Suffice it to say: “He is Infinitely Belov-ed by Yours Truly.”

FYI: If you still need to learn about my excellent association with Randolph Taylor, go here:

The Somalian Affair
http://www.gay-bible.org/somalia/

Or, for a briefer account, this poem:

September’s Passage
http://gay-bible.org/truetales/6_septemb.htm

Why it’s called “The Somalian Affair” will become evident, after a little perusal of that Dragon-Divinely Inspired Page.

Photo’s #5-6 are just the reverse side. A skull-theme bandana binds the folder. Those painted feathers BTW, were found in a curb on Noe Street, while walking home. Discarded, no doubt, after a fun day by one of numerous revelers, at San Francisco’s annual Bay to Breakers run.

Wait-a-minute. Oh jeez, silly me. I almost forgot to mention the other items I’ve included in this folder. And which are very, very special (click on any image for a larger view):

On the left side are the original handwritten letters I composed in 1985, while visiting My Randolph after he shot himself, and where he was (hopefully) recuperating. There was no certain conclusion that his hospital bed at the VAMC in Washington, D.C. would not also become his death bed. Those letters were interviews I held with various other patients there, who were also Nam Vets and–after returning back from that conflict–became (like Randolph) anti-war activists.

What I did was illegal (carrying a concealed tape recorder into the building), and could have landed me in prison. Each night upon returning to my hotel room, I’d play the recordings back, and handwrite all the details. The next morning, I’d make a photocopy of this journal, and mail these duplicates to Warren Hinckle, a news reporter back in S.F., who agreed to receive my daily reports. This way, if I got caught, Warren would have at lease some vital info that could blow this scandel wide open.

John H., you remember all this I’m sure…you were still residing in the same apartment building as myself…in fact, I had just moved in there two years earlier. You recall how I had no money to fly out there, until that miracle happened. My first computer ever (a Compaq “luggable”, 28 lbs.!) was stolen by those two rapscallions, who I let live with me for a week before they could move into a new rental. I was so upset, never dreaming I’d collect on my insurance. So I forgot all about it. Then, Randolph shoots himself!

A potent dream where angels instructed me to fly out to D.C., or he’ll die, made me worry how I’d ever get the moolah to do just that. “Don’t worry,” these angels affirmed, “the money will come to you at the right time.” Well, lo and behold, the insurance payment that I forgot all about did show up two months later: $2,850! More than enough to jet out to D.C., rent a budget hotel room, eat out, buy Randolph some gifts, and more.

And you remember how I trusted curly golden-haired Brian Stevens to stay in my SRO and keep things tidy. No guests whatsoever, especially not that byatch Kelly? Boy, did he make a mess of things! (Or really, I should say “she“.)

Sadly, Mr. Hinckle did nothing with my papers; in fact he never communicated with me ever again, despite my several phone calls to him when I got back. As far as I know, he is still sitting on these documents, or more likely, just tossed them into the garbage can.

Those letters are testimonials citing medical abuse and neglect by hospital staff, towards those soldiers who spoke out against our occupation of Vietnam. One such patient who suffered seizures, was locked away and ignored…until he finally died the next day. I believe they also intended the same fate for Randolph. Fortunately, I discovered his whereabouts thanks to the help of a local priest (Father Young, Church of the Most Holy Redeemer here in the Castro)…who had contacts back east. Ministers, priests, rabbis and the like can visit places otherwise verboten to your average citizen.

Once I blew the whistle by publicizing Randolph’s location and begging folks to send him letters and cards of concern, love and support; the hospital knew the jig was up, and they were forced to take good care of him. (How did I expose their skulduggery? By sending my grievous appeal as a letter to the editor to every major newspaper in each of our fifty states.)

On the right side of the open folder, are displayed three cards, all written to Randolph, but never really mailed. I did this sometimes, just to soothe my aching soul for lack of him. The topmost card shows a dog gazing down at a feline. Open this card to find:

This quote is an exact copy from one of Randolph’s earliest letters to me (while recuperating from that self-inflicted bullet wound)…right down to the little sketch of a cat’s head.

The bottommost card depicts two polar bears, youngster riding the back of an adult. Open this card to see:

Below my handwritten praise, you’ll find a photo of yet another card, depicting barnyard animals gathered around the manger of baby Jesus. It is a Christmas card of course, and the very last writing of any sort that Randolph sent to me. For a long time, I had it glued to a red background, and kept it hung on the wall right over my bed’s pillow. Inside, the card read: “May the sweet spirit of Christmas be with you all year long”. And signed, simply: “Randy”.

No return address, but the postal stamp indicated it was mailed from here, in San Francisco! I called the local VAMC and other hospitals, to see if I could track him down. Alas, no luck. I wept. For the umpteenth time since that dear man shot himself, I wept.

Finally, the central card depicts a luminous painting entitled: “The Knight of the Holy Grail” by Frederick Judd Waugh. My quest for Randolph’s Redemption is indeed, My Very Own Personal Holy Grail. Open the card to read:

So there you have it: my recent gift (or gifts, actually) to Beloved Larkin. I entrust him with these papers, and those three undelivered cards. Why? Because I know in my heart, that Larkin’s gift is to deliver me back unto Randoph…in some way which is unfathomable at this time, and is obviously no less than a Major Miracle. Randolph will receive my VAMC documents, and these cards…and thus my Great Odyssey come full circle.

Only now, not with just One Great Love in my life, but two!

I challenge anyone to defy my claim that I am the luckiest and happiest man in the entire cosmos (not just planet earth). Should you be such a one, I warn you right now: your mission is futile!


Laurel’s Dream

May 8, 2012

Laurel Norris’s gift/paraphernalia/kitchen/apparel/board games/puppets/dolls/cards/toys/body care/everything-else shop in the Inner Sunset, San Francisco. 1377 Ninth Avenue (between Irving Street and Judah Avenue). “Great Stuff” will close some time around February 2013. So hurry on up and check out this absolutely unique and fantabulous store of fairytale ambience!

Don’t know why I never dropped into this store until quite recently (late bloomer that I am). But so glad that I finally did! Until this excellent lady closes shop early next year, this will be my only one-stop gift shop and glorious-knicknack emporium. In just two days, Laurel will hold her very last annual bargain day: 25% off any store item, including those currently on sale at a reduced price.

Ms. Norris explained to me why she holds this annual sale each May 11 (which is also her birthday). She is so grateful to be running her very own little shop of delight, instead of working in some office downtown. “That is one thing I’m superstitious about,” she remarked. “Someone could walk into my store with an open umbrella, and it would not bother me one bit. But I must hold my annual 25%-off sales, as my thanks to the universe.”

She first opened her eclectically eccentric variety gift shop in Sacramento, back in 1984…and moved it here to San Francisco approximately ten years ago. Thus is her dream fulfilled: to run her own darling shop in our City by the Golden Gate. I am so glad I finally bothered to walk into her most excellent fantasy emporium (albeit at the end of her business run with less than a year remaining). For “Great Stuff” is truly a delightful milieu in which to dwell, and find that perfect gift you know will delight your beloved recipient.

It will be a sad day in San Francisco, when Laurel closes her shop for good. Sadly, there will be no sales day on May 11 2013, or any year thereafter. In my haste to post these videos and pictures before The Final Sale, I neglected to ask what her plans are, once she shuts down this wondrous shop. Perhaps, Laurel, you would enjoy placing a comment below, to tell us what they are! And thanks so much for allowing me to feature “Great Stuff” on my humble web log.


Six walkthrough videos and seventy-six photos:

[ Video 1 ] [ Video 2 ] [ Video 3 ] [ Video 4 ] [ Video 5 ] [ Video 6 ]


Click on any picture below, for a larger view:


The Phone Call

April 27, 2012

[ Free Me From This Bond: Chapter 13 ]

I must apologize to you, my Sweet & Patient Readers, for a promise I failed to fulfill in Chapter 8 (Dragon Prophecy). Which was to reveal why I was absolutely convinced that Larkin and yours truly would be married in Dolores Park on Easter Sunday, by the honorable Sisters. You will have your answer shortly. Read on:

You’ll remember that night of Easter Sunday, I told my wonderful Parable of the Dollar-Store Bandana to equally-wonderful Allen of the dual clam-shell jewelry display on 18th Street. It was 10pm or so when I returned to my stuffy Hobbit hovel, to relish some of Allen’s superb hashish, and ponder the wonders of that day. Little did I know the greatest wonder had yet to manifest. It was a phone call:

“Aaargh girlfriend! Let’s talk, you wreck of Mother Nature!”

“Larkin! OMG, this is our very first phone call.”

“Ha!” he seemed to be stifling a more ribald guffaw.

“Okay, Sweetness, I…I…don’t get it.”

“This is not our first phone call. For you, perhaps, in a very personal way. But this is not our first phone call. Listen to me, and be careful not to hang up; you’ve done that before. And I know you don’t understand what I’m talking about right now, but pleas…”

I interject: “Oh ho ho ho. Alright. You’ve always been my greatest mystery, Mr. Kelsey. Now you have just added one more to The List. Care to explain, or do I have to figure this one out myself, as usual?”

“Zeke! I really love you. Do you love me? It’s nice to hear that now and then.” Larkin sounds a bit choked up, like maybe some tears are spilling onto his knuckles as he grips the phone tightly in a trembling hand.

“Larkin, how many times do I say I love you, whenever we’re together?” Which is far less than I would like of course…we still live apart. “I’m always more than happy to sing my heart to you, Dearest Little Chipmunk. I love you, I love you, I love you. I don’t understand you, I don’t understand you, I don’t understand you.”

“I know,” sighs Larkin. “I’ve been through this before with you, and it’s Heartbreak Hotel each and every time. Promise me you won’t hang up.”

A cold shiver rides up my spine; I’m a little scared. Maybe I should hang up? My heart sinks: “Okay.”

“That’s why I called, Gene. I know you went to the park today, expecting us to get married. We are telepathic you know, but much more so in my case. And there’s a really good reason for that, which I will explain for, oh, maybe the tenth time in the past two years. And as far as phone calls go, I’ve lost count…but I’m sure we’ve called each other dozens of times by now, maybe even over a hundred.”

“Wow. Just when I thought the day’s excitement was long over, you pull this squirrel out of the hat! Eenie meanie, chili beanie, the spirits are about to speak! I will always love you Larkin. That is carved in Moses’ own tablet; it is the 12th Commandment.” [ Dearest Reader: I've already established some other commandment for the 11th, in a tale I wrote titled "Parable of the Laptop Billionaire". So this one must be the 12th. Sorry for the confusion. ]

“Awww, Zekie-Genie-doodle, you have such a fabulous way with words!”

“Only because you bring out the absolute BEST in me, My Dragon Warrior of the Light. I PROMISE to not hang up. Do go on. Please. PLEASE. Do go on.”

Larkin takes a deep breath. “Alright. You have memory issues…”

“Guess I forgot.” I am the King of Jokes in Bad Taste.

“Okay, Spaghetti Brains, I’ll let you get away with that one, but no more,” says Larkin who is so very dear to my heart, I can’t begin to explain. “Your memory has blank spots that fade in and out, and cover a span of several years.”

I brace myself. I’m very scared right now, and wonder if my love for Larkin is misdirected; perhaps he’s not as nice a person as I wish; and maybe I really should hang up. But I made my promise, and put my faith in love.

“Are you still there, Testicle Breath?”

I almost fall off my swivel chair in hilarity: that’s my Larkin, and I sure as hell won’t hang up. “Yes, muthuh fukkuh, I’m right here for you, ALWAYS. Dish me the dope.”

There is no answer; I wait to see if maybe the phone line went dead. A flash of terror sweeps through me and vanishes. No, Larkin is still there, I can hear him stifle a sob. He finally speaks:

“First thing’s first, Zeke,” he states with deliberate force (and slowly) the following four, transcendent words: “We. Are. Already. Married.”

Happiness thrills me to the marrow, to discover we’re betrothed. I shiver with joy. Then just as suddenly, this sweet reverie vanishes. I choose my next words with care:

“Oh you darling hunk of super-gorgeous, how could I ever forget something so wonderful as marrying a Fierce and Righteous Dragon like yourself? If you’re pulling my tail, please speak up now, or forever hold your pizza!” (I mean, what sort of accident or illness could cause such a powerful loss of memory, that the most important event of your life is wiped out like sand dollars at high tide? OMFG, I truly hope it’s not Alzheimer’s!)

My hand starts to shake violently (I have carpal tunnel), and I drop the receiver. Tears cloud my vision as I fumble to collect it. I suddenly feel terribly alone, as if Larkin were ripped from my heart, forever. But we are still connected; I hear his glorious breath, waiting for me to resume:

“Alright, first thing’s first as you say, so first let me say this: I am so happy to be married to such an outstanding human being, My Beloved Larkin Kelsey. No question I am the happiest man in the entire cosmos, all because of you, My Darling Draco.”

“You make me blush, Genie.”

“And that is such a sweet gift to me, that you do!” My larynx is clogged with hesitation, as the next question arises in my throat:

“Why are my memory banks on the fritz; and am I getting better, I hope?”

“Much better, you’re actually out of the woods and in the last stage of total recovery,” he iterates, as if reciting from a script, well rehearsed. “You were dosed. You were badly dosed five years ago, and almost died. You were on life support for eight-and-a-half months.”

There is nothing in my memory banks to affirm his claim, but I do recall another crisis around that same time:

“Does this have something to do with my slipping a note to you under the wrong door,” I ponder with furrowed brow, “where I remarked that you sure hang out with some nasty scum; they’re dangerous and you should find a way out? And that note fell into the wrong hands, and a big fight broke out at Hole in the Wall…and a week later your room burned down, and you were nowhere to be found, for months? I was so scared you might be homeless…or worse.”

“Very good, Sparky, your memory cells are busting through like a champ. This is the first time you remember that nasty little episode since dosage.” Larkin clears his throat, and continues: “You will very soon start to recall all sorts of things as your memory gaps continue to fade. But some of your recollections will be scary. By which time I’ll stay by your side, to walk you through that dark forest, and into a glorious and eternal life with me, Your Guardian Dragon.”

“Quite a tall order, Oh Belov-ed Draco Who Makes All Good Dreams Come True! Then again, you are quite a tall drink of fizz-pop.” I laugh a bit, then wonder: “I had an awful dream a few nights ago. Could this be one of these scary memories welling up?”

“We’ll see, My Love. Tell me about it. I’m here for you, always.”

So I take a deep breath, before commencing the recollection:

I was strapped down to a dirty, old splintery oak table with thick leather cord. The location was some dark, dank cellar, with an icy chill that oozed a cold sweat from the concrete walls. I could hear rumbling almost over my head, and not too distant, like a train roaring by every 12 minutes or so. I could feel the vibration as they passed. The hellish space was lit by a solitary Coleman lantern that hissed from the burning lignite.

The room stank of rot; my gag reflexes were ready to jump the gate. I could barely make out a large rat in the far corner, nibbling on something fleshy. “Is that a finger?” I mused; I think I wanted to believe it’s a finger. Two hideous forms barely human and cloaked in ragged cowls stood over me; one holding the lantern raised, that I could witness a terror so cruel, I could barely accept what my eyes revealed.

For the other homunculus held a large part of my slippery entrails in his hands. They had drugged me (I assume, as I felt not a single twitch of pain) and slit open my abdominal cavity! Bizarre enough; but the topper was a tiny photo of My Larkin, dangling from an intestinal loop.

And that is when I awoke, trembling and in a furious sweat.

“So whaddya think, Larky,” I finish, “is this an example of a recollection, or just your typical dumb nightmare?”

“Right on Zekester, that is most certainly an authentic recollection.”

“Now I know you’re pulling my tail; I have no scar on my belly!”

“And what a sweet belly that is, to kiss and tickle!” Larkin teases. “Smoke and mirrors boy, smoke and mirrors,” he continues. “They doped you up and created this horrid hallucination. They did not slit you open, they did not remove your innards. That was all Hollywood trickery, special effects. Even the rat chewing on a, ummmm, ‘body part’ was not real; it was a cheap little electronic toy they purchased at an auction of stage props and costumes from old horror films like ‘Willard’ and ‘The Pit and the Pendulum’.”

“Who are ‘they‘, and what was the purpose of their stupid stunt?” I demand, as I hold the phone close to its cradle, ready to hang up. Instead, I put it on speaker and kick back in my cushioned swivel chair; I am feeling somewhat overwhelmed at this point.

They are the same goons you warned me about in that aborted note you slipped under the wrong door,” Larkin declares. “Their intent was to terrorize you, My Brave Boy. Terrorize you from ever wanting anything to do with me, again.” There is a pause and some static clicking on the line.

“But their mischief went wrong,” he continues. “You had an allergic reaction to the tampered horse tranquilizer they forced through your veins. They dumped you in that reservoir up by Twin Peaks Tower. An old man walking his Vietnamese potbelly pig found you, and called 911.”

Good heavens! I think, I thought that pet pig fad died out years ago!

“Ha ha, yeah, me too,” Larkin chuckles.

“Wait a minute, I didn’t say anything, I was just thinking it!” I exclaim.

Told you we’re telepathic; now you know it’s true.” Larkin adds: “But let’s not stray so far from the real issue at hand: your memory and its restoration.”

A sudden “Aha!” ignites my mind like a cartoon lightbulb: “Are you suggesting my fantasy about you as a detective out of Orange County is actually a partial recollection?”

“You got it, pup. Congrats. I’m a detective, I’m your lover, and we got married in 2008, by the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, on Easter Sunday at Dolores Park. And today is Easter. You were invited to the celebration by a Sister you met at the City Health Clinic two days ago. [Dear Readers, don't even ask.] Thus a partial memory of our own marriage, was triggered by the invitation.”

“Oh my gosh, Larkin. This makes perfect sense,” I exclaim. “Explains so well why I’ve been cooking up various ways to propose to you, even after the anticipated marriage at Dolores Park did not pan out!”

Other revelations bubble up in my memory cells:

“So this Cult of the Disciples of the Zodiac Killer that I wrote about, is not a fantasy I conjured up to thrill my readers, but another growing recollection?”

“Bingo.”

“We first met at the Hole in the Wall, right?”

“Yessir. Go on, I need to see how your memory is progressing. This is a joyful occassion, for you have never before recalled the events you just brought up, since you were doped. Try to remember even more, My Beloved Little Dragon of the Fiery Spirit.”

I’m enthralled. If any of what Larkin now tells me is the least bit true, then my life is taking a whole different turn into a reality far more beautiful and blessed than I could ever imagine (except for my tales, but they don’t count; or do they). I am eager to dig up old memories long forgotten, so I lean forward in my chair to reposses the phone and talk directly into the mouthpiece. This is just too compelling to keep Larkin on speaker while I’m semi-reclined in a padded office chair.

Larkin continues to explain how this cult’s nefarious attempt to frighten me away from My Beloved, almost succeeded. For it left me with frequent anxiety attacks in his presence (which previously, I always adored, and could never get enough of; in fact he often had to escort me out the door or another direction down the sidewalk ’cause I was simply mesmerized by his spirit and didn’t realize I was following him to places too dangerous for me to visit).

The cult had successfully implanted a deeply subconscious fear of My Best Buddy, thanks to their drug-induced black arts. This included certain elements of telepathy, where they inspired thoughts of hatred and fear about Larkin, in my damaged brain now more like Swiss cheese than Provolone. These disciples of the Zodiac Killer would frequent the Hole in the Wall (and later, the Eagle Tavern) while I was there, and stand within earshot while feigning to talk with another nearby; and project their whispers of fear-memes into my ears, that would pass directly into my subconscious due to this subliminal impact.

Which explains why I often suffered waves of anxiety and fear in Larkin’s presence (since the drugging); it created a sad distance between us, and made me cease my kind words and thoughts toward him. I even considered at times, moving to Portland or other parts reasonably liberal, in order to forget him; believing he was my biggest mistake ever. Fortunately (thank Dragon) I am now in a stage of rapid healing, and my love for Larkin grows strong once more. Yet minor rough spots remain: flashes of anxiety that cause me to falter in trusting He Who Truly Loves Me Most in This World (and in any other world if you want to be frank about it).

Surely this must have been a grievous burden for Larkin; yet he stands by me through thick and thin…but that is what marriage vows are all about, if the love is true. I can’t even imagine how much sorrow he bore, sitting by my sickbed at Intensive Care, his head on my chest, weeping and praying that I’d come through. Day after day, week after week, month after interminable month.

And you know, I did hear his sobs, his pleas to Goddess Herself and all Her Faithful Minions, from time to time when I emerged momentarily from deep coma into light trance. Though I could not speak, I could not move, I could not open my eyes or give any other outward sign that I hear him, that I love him back dearly. That I had no idea till then, how much this elegant human being adores me with all his heart, all his soul, all his life. It was during such grace-filled moments that I realized this Sweet Man’s Love has saved my wretched soul. And because of this I’d pull out of my coma with flying crullers, and everything would be alright…in fact, better than before. Much, much better. For I am finally in the arms of My Second True Love.

“Jeez Larkin, we’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we?” I remark, after hearing this tale. A tale for which doubts still linger in my heart, for obvious reasons.

“You ain’t just whistlin’ Pixie!” He sounds sad, yet stolidly optimistic.

“Are you my guardian angel?” I have to ask, for he is so impossibly handsome and so impossibly sweet, this could only be a Dream’s Fulfillment.

“Arrrgh, girlfriend! Randolph’s the guardian angel in this novel. I am your guardian dragon who descended from the Lavender Skies of Avalon, to rescue you from These Wicked Sorcerors and bring you back to Randy T.”

Once more, a bolt of anxiety strikes me: “You’re not going to leave me then, are you? I love you now so much, I can’t bear to be without you. For you are the sweetest and most darling friend I have ever known!”

A weary sigh drifts from his cell phone to my land line. “There are some things we can’t have, Oh My Brother of Saint Valentine’s Wound. But my love? You shall always have that!”

“Then I don’t want Randolph, ever!” A steely commitment comes over me. “I don’t ever want Randolph, not without you, too.” Tears slide like rivulets down my face. “How could a loving goddess put me through yet more grief and tragedy?”

“I’m only pranking you, butt-wipe,” he exhorts. “Of course you will have us both! Don’t be such a drama queen, girlfriend!”

I dry what I can of my tears; they are too copious to do a complete job. The telephone receiver is quite drenched.

“Muthuh Fukkuh!” is all I can say, as my heart beats with joy, and my grievous tears morph into Elysium’s Wine.

“Asshole!” he replies with expedience.

A beautiful silence then graces the line that connects our souls to one another. As the blissful reverie slowly fades, I speak once more:

“So tell me this, Mr. Kelsey: if we are indeed married and so much in love, then why on Tinkerbell’s Tampon am I still living alone in this crummy hole in the wall?”

“As opposed to the excellent Hole in the Wall?” he quips.

“Okay, if you wanna put it that way: yes.” I then push the matter: “Makes no sense in my eye, why I continue to barely survive in this hovel with nasty diesel fumes and noise pollution flooding my space like a double plague of army ants and locusts. Not to mention my two south-facing windows that heat up this weary little monk’s cell into a Finnish sauna whenever the weather is even barely warm, and the air lies still.”

I rant on: “When it’s 80 degrees outside, it’s 90-plus in. Forget the really hot weather, when the mercury hits 90 or more! Causes me nausea, weakness, anxiety attacks, and god knows what other health problems. Clearly, I’m not a happy camper. And if you really do love me, how come you haven’t helped rectify this horrid situation? Like: why aren’t we living together?

Not a peep out of Larkin, but his Sweet Dragon Breath is audible.

And so I finish with: “I’m sure you have the perfect answer, just like you do for everything else I’ve asked so far. Give it your best shot, cowboy!”

Finally, the Great Gay Houdini Larkin speaks: “Oh come on, Eugene, I’d buy you a jeep if I could, along with a castle in Scotland by Loch Ness, and all the handsome laddies you want!” He sighs. “We are both quite poor right now; and your memory of why we are has momentarily slipped. Allow me to explain, Oh Hummingbird of Paradise…and please, I beg Your Sweetest Soul: don’t hang up on me?”

So here are the very same words he spilled into my astonished ear, Oh Patient Reader:


ANGUS MAC OG‘S BOUNTY

Once upon a time, there was a Brave Little Dragon named Zeke or Gene (he couldn’t really make up his mind) who cared so much about his homeless and otherwise disenfranchised gay brothers, that he didn’t know when (or even how) to back off when danger came his way, or when he walked into shit flying full force in a gale.

It was Year 2005 when his tender spirit broke in Great Sorrow from his dear buddy Johnnie. Who had gone back to shooting up heroin after 29 days on a detox program. Johnnie turned on Gene with vile words and false accusations, after almost an entire year of a remarkably sweet friendship. (In fact, it was Zeke’s affections that encouraged Johnnie to get off smack in the first place.) Johnnie would even give Gene a hug each and every morn before departing for the day, topped off with a tender kiss on the forehead.

Not for many moons did Zeke know why this wicked turn in their friendship; he only thought it was an effect of chasing the dragon. As it turns out, it was more than that…for Gene finally discovered the true source of Johnnie’s bitterness. His father had died. His dad was only 55, same age as Zeke.

Just two weeks before this tragic downfall, Johnnie had told Gene: “My father is the very best friend in my life, Zeke. There is no one that even comes close to him in my heart, except for one person. And that’s you.”

Gene was so touched by Johnnie’s loving words, his heart sang every single day, and every night as he dreamt. Until…(as you just learned) the Demons of Despair came swiftly to sever this Golden Cord of Brotherly Regard. With great and unjustified hostility, Johnnie exited from Zeke’s life, forever (or so it seemed). Now, Zeke was also bitter; so he began spitting all over the floor and in other ways allowed his once-elegant SRO to become an absolute dump. [ Do not despair, Kind Reader, for in so suffering, Gene shared Johnnie's bitterness which, in due time, shall bring them back together w/Johnnie clean of drugs, and their friendship elevated to a Heavenly State of Affairs. ]

He sought some kind of refuge, where he might start licking his Wounds of Defeat. Heard that a gay bar called “Hole in the Wall Saloon” was a great place to kick back and listen to really good, and LOUD, rock ‘n’ roll. (Hole in the Wall never plays disco crap.) So there he went, and sat in the darkest corner, and kept to himself.

And of course, that is also where Zeke and Larkin were brought together for the first time, in what will eventually turn out to be a most astounding gay bromance. But it didn’t start out that way.

For (unbeknownst to Gene at the time) Larkin was an undercover detective embedded at The Hole in order to bust a group of Hell’s Angels running drugs through all the gay bars South of Market, plus two bars here in the Castro. (One of these two, “The Detour,” has since shut down.)

But Zeke had already fallen head over tail for Larkin, so refused to leave the saloon when Larkin had confronted his new-found buddy:

“Gene, it is very dangerous for you to hang out here, especially when you’re a friend to me.” He lowered his noble orange-haired head and looked at Zeke directly in the eyes: “So, will you please go now?”

With that, Larkin returned to his billiards, leaving Gene in a gloomy space, and never spoke to him again…at least, not for five sad years (actually, three, but memory loss made it seem longer). Zeke refused to leave the Hole; he loved Larkin that much, and at least was rather delighted to watch from afar, Larkin’s antics around the pool table, and listen to rock ‘n’ roll pounding through hyper-amped speakers, and let thoughts of His Johnnie sink into the Moors of Forgetfulness.

Though be assured that, should anyone ever threaten Gene at The Hole (or later, the Eagle), Larkin would abruptly drive them out with great anger. Which eventually cost him dearly, as he was instructed (by SOMA drug lords) to never defend Zeke, or there’d be Hades to pay. And so he did: his room was burnt down, and Gene was dosed with intent to drive him insane.

In a little more time, without either speaking a word to the other (as Larkin would not allow), Zeke figured out the situation (that Larkin is an undercover sleuth), and cleverly became Larkin’s sidekick. He played the lure, the fall guy, and decoy. Which made the Orange County Detective’s work far easier, by bringing these drug-dealing murderous skanks out of the woodwork. Eventually, though, Gene was driven out of The Hole for good, by a violent threat of a sharp blade to his gut, should he ever show up there again. Of course, Larkin was not present at the time, and the bartender on duty chose to look the other way; thus Zeke had no choice but to leave the Hole for good.

So Gene started hanging out at the Eagle Tavern a few blocks away, for he knew that Larkin enjoyed frequenting that space, too. Sometimes, when he could afford it (a rare occasion), he’d buy Larkin a drink. Though only via the barkeep’s hand, as Zeke still could not speak to Larkin, or even get within ten feet of him. About a year later, Gene discovered Larkin working at a tacqueria right next door to his now-verboten hangout, the Hole in the Wall.

So every Wednesday, Zeke would order a small meal and enjoy watching Larkin at work: a 6-foot-4 handsome giant who towered above the several diminutive Mexican workers. An absolutely sweet and sometimes hilarious scenario…of which Larkin was quite aware, and made the most of. Still, Gene was not allowed to speak to him, except to place an order. But Zeke did find endearing ways to compliment him from time to time, without exposing their sweet relationship. Such as (after placing his order which was always chile rellenos) remarking: “Not only is the food here quite good, but the view is outstanding.” By “the view” of course, he meant Larkin’s Glorious Mug, for there was nothing impressive to see out the picture window: just a busy intersection surrounded by drab buildings and the occasional wino and bums with shopping carts rattling on by.

Gene sought additional (non-vocal) ways to express his love for this Orange County Gumshoe, by writing one blog every two or three weeks, about Larkin and how simply being in his presence makes Zeke so ridiculously happy. He’d slip a printout of each episode (secured in a decorated plastic folder), beneath an old newspaper. Since Larkin also cleared tables, he’d be the first to find it. This lasted almost a year, before Gene decided to cease his weekly visits, in order to make clear he was no stalker. Two months later, the restaurant closed. Those blog entries BTW, now compose his online novel called “The Larkin Chronicles“…29 chapters in all!

When the Tacqueria Phase ended, Larkin made sure Zeke could see him within every two or three weeks, by showing up nearby. Say, walking in opposite direction along the sidewalk, and passing by as if neither knew the other. Or some months later, showing up out of the blue, now employed at a local bar (“The Metro,” which has since shut down) right across the street from Gene’s apartment building. [ Darling Reader: may I remind you that Larkin's keen telepathy certainly helped the process along. ]

Zeke could now look right out the hallway window and see Larkin at work, or smoking a ciggie on the wraparound deck; the bar was on the second floor, as was Gene’s SRO. So he’d sometimes visit, buy a drink and enjoy Larkin’s presence once more, from a respectful distance.

Some days, Zeke would even stand kitty corner across the street, and hold his hat to his heart while looking up at Larkin who took frequent cigarette breaks on the sundeck. This way, Gene could send his love from a very safe distance, with no one the wiser. (It was a large, busy 5-corner intersection at Market, 16th, and Noe.) Larkin would just puff on a Marlboro with vigor while looking directly at his Beloved Sidekick, for as long as he could before returning to work. An element of humor in these little scenarios was not lost on Zeke; surely Larkin’s playful spirit was a great balm.

Around this time (of “The Metro”) the funding for this assignment from Orange County dried up, and busting the Hell’s Angels drug runners became a cold case. Larkin was therefore required to return to Southern California, or lose his career. In a heartbeat, he chose the latter. No way was he going to leave his Beloved Amigo vulnerable to these cult fanatics, for Gene would likely be severely crippled (or even murdered) as a result.

So in losing his noble job, he also lost his health benefits, and thus began the rotting and loss of his gorgeous pearly whites. Small sacrifice to pay in his mind, in order to protect the soul of one so dear.

Larkin turned to hustling men in their 70′s mostly, at select gay bars in The Castro…not for sex of course, but for nightly companionship. Fully clothed or in pajamas, he’d hold these lonely (though affluent) elder gentlemen in his gangly arms, and make them feel very much loved and appreciated. Mornings, Larkin would usually fix them coffee and breakfast in his underwear, and tell many cheerful jokes and compliments.

If there’s one thing Larkin excels at, it’s bringing joy to the hearts of aging (or severely disabled) men who otherwise would have no purpose in their lonely lives, or any reason to get out of bed each day. Some suffered major health issues, such as cancer, AIDS and even dementia. Larkin loved ‘em all, to the point where they found life exceedingly wonderful again (or perhaps even for the first time). He graced them with his beauty, friendship and humor…and in exchange received $100 to $500 a nightly pop.

He could’ve gotten so much more because of his startling good looks and talent…but he intentionally sought more needful clientele. For Larkin is truly a lover to his brothers in great need…he uses his Dragon-Given Beauty for all the right reasons. And this is why Gene harbors such golden affection for this Most Courageous and Compassionate Detective: the first man ever to make him forget his other great love, Randolph Louis Taylor.

So now we are caught up to the present time, and the completion of this episode (Chapter 13). Larkin is so close to busting these scoundrels, he can taste it like stale tobacco from an overnight tryst. And Zeke will soon have this novel published and become wealthy beyond anyone’s comprehension (and of course, outrageously, impossibly, scintillatingly famous as well). Their teeth will be repaired by the best oral surgeons and dental technicians money can buy (or simply healed in a flash by Dragonly White Magic). And Gene will open his first home for severely disabled gay veterans, employing his buddies off the streets to be their companions, maintain the building and grounds, and handle the books.


Truly, a Happily Ever After Gay Real Life Fairytale!


Tom Keske

April 11, 2012

Read the rest of this entry »


Sweet Sue

April 6, 2012

[ Free Me From This Bond: Chapter 3 ]


Date: Mar 23 2012 09:11:57 AM
From: Zeke
To: Sweet Sue
Subject: Hello from Zeke

Hello, Sweet Sue! Comcast’s mailbox service has decided to block my posts to you and to anyone else using that service…under the false accusation that I am posting spam. I suspect a homophobe or two in their ranks, trying to screw with me. This is why you haven’t heard from me in a while…and why I’m posting to you now, via another mail service…hopefully, this will get through.

I’ve just completed my latest blog entry, which I really want you to see, as it is a Christian perspective on gay liberation, of the most positive sort. Seeing as I attempt to include various religious and other world views from a gay perspective, in order to elevate our dignity in the eyes of the hetero world:

This true tale may be regarded as my inclusion of a Christian perspective in order to win the hearts of many who remain anti-gay, and use God’s name to justify their homophobia. I would be incredibly HONORED if you took the time very soon, to enjoy my latest achievement, which I consider the FINEST piece of writing I’ve done to date:

http://zekeblog.wordpress.com/2012/03/23/free-me-from-this-bond/

Blessings on you always. I like to think that your impeccable son “Snackboy” guided my hand in the process.

<3 Zeke

*Click here* to view my own tribute to Terry. I finally was able to contact his mom, Susan Crummitt, only after posting the SnackBoy videos on Youtube (which occurred about a year after I published the tribute). Ever since then, it’s been a beautiful and profound association via e-mail; we shall always keep in touch. One day, I will finally fly out to the Metro D.C. region, and personally give Sweet Sue the best bear hug ever…and take us out to a FABulous dinner!




Date: Wed, Mar 28, 2012 at 12:04 PM
From: Zeke
To: Sweet Sue
Subject: Doping Wealthy Dopes

Sweet Sue, I just composed this piece (“Doping Wealthy Dopes”) as a possible solution to the homeless problem in the Castro, particularly as regards the doping of older men by desperate youth. I believe that Larkin was once homeless, and if the economy doesn’t soon pick up speed, he may become that once more. Not that he’s spoken to me about this at all, but I have a hunch. I just emailed it to the Bay Area Reporter (which has banned all my letters for years now, thanks to one police commissioner now retired), and the SF Bay Times. I will expand my outreach later tonight, perhaps even gay papers beyond The City. Cheerz!




Date: Sun, Apr 1, 2012 at 11:47 AM
From: Sweet Sue
To: Zeke
Subject: Doping Wealthy Dopes


Hi Zeke. I’ve rec’d your recent emails. My Aunt died recently and I haven’t caught up on energy, etc. As you know, I sincerely appreciate all that you did to put Terry’s snacks online, that was great. I started to read your recent writings, but when I got to the men urinating on the ice cubes and reading about the size of each others private parts, I stopped. Maybe others appreciate this kind of writing, but I do not. I know as a Christian, I’m to think and meditate on whatever is pure, kind, holy, and this was not. I just do not find it appropriate. In the future, I’d be glad to look over your writings, as long as they are wholesome, uplifting, etc.

I did read the doping weathy dopes piece. It is a shame that people are reduced to being thugs and robbing others, or even think it is o.k. It is a sad state of affairs out there, and I hear your concern. Unfortunately, if any of the Robin Hood gang was successful in gaining any riches from others, they would most likely use it on themselves. Human nature being what it is. Really was not clear or detailed on how you would accomplish this. I know you have been wanting to make things better for others for a long time now.

Love,
Susan




Date: Wednesday, March 28, 2012 2:04 PM
From: Zeke
To: Sweet Sue
Subject: Doping Wealthy Dopes

On Sun, Apr 1, 2012 at 11:47 AM, Sweet Sue wrote:
{{ Hi Zeke. I’ve rec’d your recent emails. My Aunt died recently and I haven’t caught up on energy, etc.}}

Very sorry about your Aunt’s passing.

{{ As you know, I sincerely appreciate all that you did to put Terrys’ snacks online, that was great. I started to read your recent writings, but when I got to the men urinating on the ice cubes and reading about the size of each others private parts, I stopped.}}

Okay. But then, you’ll miss out on the revelation of Christ as a conclusion to the tale. Perhaps you could just skip to the final part, which is all handwritten: a letter to my Randolph back in 1987.

Please realize that my calling requires me to reach out to the gay community’s underbelly…and being all wholesome and sweet certainly does not cut the mustard. I was hoping you’d read through it all, as I know you’d appreciate how I use my writing to help elevate the spirit of the downtrodden.

Also, remember with whom Jesus associated in His social circle: prostitutes, thieves, and all other sorts of underdogs…some of whom I’m sure were gay prostitutes.

{{ I’d be glad to look over your writings, as long as they are wholesome, uplifting, etc. }}

I do have to say that all my writing is quite wholesome and uplifting. Unfortunately, you don’t quite grasp my mission.

{{ Unfortunately, if any of the Robin Hood gang was successful in gaining any riches from others, they would most likely use it on themselves. }}

That is an assumption not necessarily correct, though usually it is. Just remember why Jesus was crucified in the first place:

Precisely to some day achieve such goals as I attempt to achieve…against all odds.

{{ I know you have been wanting to make things better for others for a long time now. }}

Indeed, that is the only purpose worth having in life…whether you actually achieve such goals is irrelevant, for that is in God’s hands, right?

Blessings always, in spite of disagreements. I can’t expect everyone to grasp my point.

Sincerely,

Ezekiel, God’s modern day prophet on behalf of our gay homeless.




Date: Sun, Apr 1, 2012 at 1:04 PM
From: Zeke
To: Sweet Sue
Subject: Doping Wealthy Dopes

A little honesty here:

If I recall correctly, you shared with me a rather risque joke or two some time back…now, I wish I had saved it to show you. And with all due respect, none of my humorous remarks satirizing gay sexuality, are any more harmful than the risque joke(s) you posted to me. Capiche?

The urinal scenes are most hilarious to many people BTW, and if you continue reading, you’ll see how I weave a remarkable tale of brotherly love, in order to elevate our downtrodden, as well as promote more respect by the outside world, that is, heterosexuals.

As a fellow soldier of God, I kind of need to tell you, you’re missing the mark here.



Date: Sun, Apr 1, 2012 at 1:10 PM
From: Zeke
To: Sweet Sue
Subject: Doping Wealthy Dopes

Please please please please please please please please please read the entire piece before you pass judgment. You know I don’t use expletives or risque material unless it can serve a higher purpose (unlike Amazing Atheist).

I am very sure you will be most impressed and inspired by the true tale, once you’re done.

I know you’re a tough cookie, and I am a bit startled that you collapsed under such a light weight (that is merely risque humor–brilliantly executed if I say so myself–and nothing more).

If perchance you should still think my tale is “unwholesome”; that is: unworthy of your pure spirit…then by all means, excoriate me from here to Hell and back again.

Besides: I am so eager for you to read this masterpiece, that if you don’t follow through soon, I just may suffer a severe aneurism.

Blessings and humor always.




Date: Sun, Apr 1, 2012 at 1:04 PM
From: Sweet Sue
To: Zeke
Subject: Doping Wealthy Dopes

Hey Zeke. Just got home from dinner with my Sister. ok, ok, since it means so very much to you, I will read the whole thing.

Will be back in touch soon.




Date: Sun, Apr 1, 2012 at 4:47 PM
From: Zeke
To: Sweet Sue
Subject: Doping Wealthy Dopes

Thank you thank you thank you, Sweet Sue! I am only pushing the margins on you a bit, ONLY because I believe that I have achieved Christ’s message in a most elegant way, that will benefit gay people worldwide.

Will await your opinion, which I highly respect, with baited breath.

PS: I’ve put away my anti-aneurism pills now, ’cause I don’t think I’ll need ‘em.




Date: Sun, Apr 1, 2012 at 6:33 PM
From: Sweet Sue
To: Zeke
Subject: Doping Wealthy Dopes

Hi Zeke. I’ve carefully, and many times read the letters that you wrote. Hands down you are an intelligent and amazing writer.

As far as your target audience here, I saw it as a letter to Randy, and a potential message of hope to gays in their relationships with others. In this regard, I see that you have written to share your love and compassion for another, which is encouraging to others, suffering the same turmoils that you were experiencing. You wrote these to Randy with raw, open feelings and emotion, and elegantly, which I found compelling. That was sad reading that you felt like dying when you wrote these. You repeating these feelings to him.

Did Randy ever respond to you after receiving these? It is so true that we have the dark human side to our nature, yet the wonderful and truly hopeful thing is that we are also composed in Gods’ image, which gives us hope.

Curious what you meant by the dark ways of the white man? And, what does, “burn away into the eternal light” signify”?

Surely, Christ’s message is us to love one another and treat each other with love and compassion, and I agree that part of the reason we may remain in our sinful state is this lack of love towards others, yet the Bible in the Book of Romans, especially in the beginning states that man loves his evil deeds, doing them in darkness, showing that he knows they are wrong. So, it is also that we love to sin. That’s the rest of the story here, and we just cannot blame others, we must look to ourselves first, and acknowledge our sinfulness and turn to the Lord for His forgiveness and complete restoration through accepting the love of God, through His sacrificial death of His Son, for the atonement of our sins. Then, and only then, can we be right with God, and live the full and abundant life that He came to give us. Apart from accepting His gift of life through Christ we are all destined to Hell.

Previously, you had written that the only sect of Christianity that you feel valid is the gnostic, meaning that it is equal with all the other “religions” of the World. Do you still believe that? I know we have spoken of this before. I do not believe that man can do anything apart from the Lord to earn his favor. As the Bible teaches us, even our most righteous acts are filthiness in His eyes. On our own, we can never be good enough, and we will always mess up.

You’ve written here about the joy you know from your faith in Christ? I just wondered what joy your faith has given you Zeke? And, what is faith to you Zeke?

You wrote them long ago. A couple decades. What responses have you received from these letters over the years Zeke?

I will await your response with baited breath. :)




Date: Sun, Apr 1, 2012 at 8:00 PM
From: Zeke
To: Sweet Sue
Subject: Doping Wealthy Dopes

On Mon, Apr 2, 2012 at 11:23 AM, Sweet Sue wrote:
{{ Hi Zeke. I’ve carefully, and many times read the letters that you wrote. Hands down you are an intelligent and amazing writer. }}

Thank you. It is a gift from the angels. I am very PROUD of those letters, the angels have blessed me mightily!

{{ As far as your target audience here, I saw it as a letter to Randy, and a potential message of hope to gays in their relationships with others. }}

Definitely, but it is also: Larkin come to me as my New Love, freeing me from the shackles of bearing a cross for many years for a Vietnam Veteran of great courage and suffering. Ergo: “Free Me From This Bond”. In the end, I let go of Randolph, and confess my love to Larkin. I would say that, in a way, Randolph is my guardian angel who found Larkin for me.

Larkin has always admired my devotion towards Randolph, and is one of many reasons why he loves me so much. In a most amazing way, Randolph reaches out to me through Larkin.

Yes, this is very much a tale of hope for my gay brothers…especially those who have become lost in drugs and pornography and otherwise dehumanizing perspectives. When a minority is so vilified, a certain portion of them can’t help but become so bitter, as to fulfill the very evil with which they are accussed. This is true for any persecuted minority, African Americans being a prime example.

By dedicating my life as an activist for homeless and downtrodden gays, often laying down my life in faith that I will elevate my brothers (rather than being destroyed myself), I have earned these gifts of the spoken and written word. I have earned Randolph’s salvation…and through him, the salvation of all veterans of the Vietnam conflict.

Randolph was raised in the very conservative and old fashioned culture of West Virginia. Though a proud and out gay, he maintained his devotion to Christ all his life. Here I am, a pagan with strong Celtic and shamanic influences, trying to find a way to love Randolph, and liberate him from such terrible ordeals. I had to find Christ in order to find the answer. And I did.

For this reason, I regard Randolph as my guardian angel, for it is in his suffering that was borne upon my shoulders, that I became a much better man, and devoted to Our Father and His Loving Son. They came to me in powerful visions after Randolph shot himself. Angels came to me too…gave me instructions on how to do the right thing by this man. And so I did, but it cost me many years of tribulation. None of which I’d trade for anything, for I am now a hero, and beloved by God, His Son, and their magnificent angels.

{{ In this regard, I see that you have written to share your love and compassion for another, which is encouraging to others, suffering the same turmoils that you were experiencing. You wrote these to Randy with raw, open feelings and emotion, and elegantly, which I found compelling. }}

Thank you SO much for bearing through the raunchy passages, in order to get to the heart of my tale! I knew you’d be impressed. My angels told me to be pushy about it, that you would be grateful I was.

It is in the shamanic wisdom (such as from Native Americans and ancient Celtic belief) that I learned the wisdom of bearing one’s heart in order to heal one’s tribe. I am more like the Christian author C.S. Lewis (“The Chronicles of Narnia,” “The Screwtape Letters,” etc.) who wove Christian morality into a pagan tapestry. Or like the Book of Kells, an exquisite fusion of Celtic belief with Christian…I do the same, only for gays. Thus, you have a weaving of fairytale metaphor with Christian love. Randolph is my guardian angel, while Larkin is my guardian dragon. Two loves, two hearts, two cultures, two religions. All united with Jehovah’s blessings.

{{ That was sad reading that you felt like dying when you wrote these. You repeating these feelings to him. }}

Yes, it is most sad…yet now with enough hindsight, I can share this sadness with the world, to touch their hearts about the gay plight in a homophobic society that uses Jesus Christ’s very own name to persecute them! That’s really sad, eh? But my own emotion is PRIDE above and beyond any other…and God Himself has handed me the Golden Apple of Authorship, that will touch the soul of so many. And bring about a profound change of heart towards sexual minorities. It is a great gift most profound, of which I am enormously grateful.

{{ Did Randy ever respond to you after receiving these? It is so true that we have the dark human side to our nature, yet the wonderful and truly hopeful thing is that we are also composed in Gods’ image, which gives us hope. }}

You are such an elegant author yourself, Sweet Sue, you take my breath away! Sometimes, he responded, but it was sporadic. Nonetheless, I took heart and steeled myself to endure whatever slings and arrows came my way, in order to find a way to bring him true peace and happiness. And I did, I know in my heart I did, though he has disappeared from my life since 1992. I am over the grief, I have only great pride and joy for my dedication…which reward has now come to me in the form of Larkin, and this incredible talent. Which is glorious affirmation that Randolph is just fine, wherever he is, and most grateful of my enduring affections.

{{ Curious what you meant by the dark ways of the white man? }}

I am a shaman in spirit, who channels other spirits, such as angels, gods, animals, and so on. In that letter, I was channeling a Native American spirit…for whom the white man is a very dark force. As you well know.

{{ And, what does, “burn away into the eternal light” signify? }}

It is time for this earth to become the Happy Hunting Ground; mankind has suffered enough. Those who still refuse to practice brotherly and sisterly love, shall be removed from this sphere, and reincarnate to another world where they may continue to grow in their foolish manner, while those who remain can finally enjoy a life of harmony, joy, and fellowship.

{{ Surely, Christ’s message is us to love one another and treat each other with love and compassion, and I agree that part of the reason we may remain in our sinful state is this lack of love towards others, yet the Bible in the Book of Romans, especially in the beginning states that man loves his evil deeds, doing them in darkness, showing that he knows they are wrong. So, it is also that we love to sin. That’s the rest of the story here, and we just cannot blame others, we must look to ourselves first, and acknowledge our sinfulness and turn to the Lord for His forgiveness and complete restoration through accepting the love of God, through His sacrificial death of His Son, for the atonement of our sins.

Then, and only then, can we be right with God, and live the full and abundant life that He came to give us. Apart from accepting His gift of life through Christ we are all destined to Hell. }}

So beautifully written, Sweet Sue, I dare not pare down any of that paragraph! As for “Hell” here is what I’ve come to understand:

There is no eternal hell, only that punishment meted out for whatever sins we have committed. Once the purging is complete, these souls shall also come to rest in God’s heart. There is no person created, that God will ever destine to eternal damnation. That is a belief added on by powermongering preachers who teach with fear. The Buddha said that heaven and hell are a state of mind…and that makes perfect sense. For what good deeds or bad deeds you commit, they will pile up into an ultimate outcome: either liberation of the soul, or more suffering.

Christ’s sacrifice on the cross was to ensure that no one should ever stray so far, as to never be able to eventually be brought up into God’s Light. In fact, I find it to be an abomination to even believe that a loving God would ever condemn any wretched soul to eternal fire. Temporary fire, yes…and for each, a different length of time depending on the sin.

Some Christian churches do believe in eternal hell, while others do not. I stand firmly with the latter. Many folks shall soon be removed from this planet, due to their darkly sinful ways, that this planet may finally know liberation. One could say these losers will be cast into hell. But that does not mean their hell will be eternal…just they need to continue on their path in another dimension, where they can no longer thwart good folk’s destiny here on earth.

{{ Previously, you had written that the only sect of Christianity that you feel valid is the gnostic, meaning that it is equal with all the other “religions” of the World. Do you still believe that? }}

Gnostic Christianity is quite complex, not simplistic like fundamentalist churches. They possess a vast, intellectual sphere that gives birth to great Christian thinkers such as Teilhard de Chardin, who do not spit on other belief systems (such as pagan, shamanic, and so forth), but give reverence to them, as aspects of perceiving the same God in different cultural lenses. I can only feel at home in such Christian venues that allow us to keep an open mind, and befriend those who are non-Christian, including atheists. This is the essence of brotherly/sisterly love…not limited among only those who believe the same as yourself. It may not be easy, but the cross never was.

{{ I know we have spoken of this before. I do not believe that man can do anything apart from the Lord to earn his favor. As the Bible teaches us, even our most righteous acts are fifthiness in His eyes. On our own, we can never be good enough, and we will always mess up. }}

Of course not. But when a man or woman is righteous for so many years, sometimes the angels do shower them with blessings, for all the world to witness. Such as Job, who suffered egregious trials for many many years, yet stuck to his belief that God was ultimately loving. He may have been more tested by Jehovah than any other person in history. In a similar fashion, I have been tested (included suffering horrid cysts that started behind the left ear, and rapidly spread all over my face…from the ages of 16 to 22),

yet remained steadfast in believing in The Good, whether it be through Celtic, shamanic, Christian, or other beliefs. I am, after all, a student of world religions…I love the diverse and colorful ways different cultures perceive Our Creator.

{{ You’ve written here about the joy you know from your faith in Christ? I just wondered what joy your faith has given you Zeke? And, what is faith to you Zeke? }}

The angels came to me regarding Randolph, and gave me the strength to stand by his side, both literally and metaphorically, these many years. Christ Himself came to me, and asserted that my struggle for gay liberation in this world was not just righteous, but most holy. For He showed that in homosexuals suffering the horrid ridicule, vilification, terror and murder by a vast majority, they walk Christ’s path more closely than any other minority. Now, my skills in telling tales that have become so finely honed, certainly reflect the end result of my endurance and keeping the flame alive in my heart, for all my gay brothers and sisters around the world.

Faith to me, is never giving up on your dreams. That the angels are cheering you on, even if you don’t see or hear them. But I am also a most lucky man: for I have seen and heard them throughout my unusual life, even since I was a child.

{{ You wrote them long ago. A couple decades. What responses have you received from these letters over the years Zeke? }}

Oh, I do have some love letters from Randolph. But I’ve written the greatest body of them…in fact, probably over 200 wonderful letters to Randolph, of which I only have copied less than ten percent. They are somewhere, and one day they will be discovered, and put into my Life’s Labor of Love: “The Gay Bible” (or “Final Testament“). In fact, I don’t think Randolph died, I think he just is in hiding for a while, and will soon come back to me. For this is what my visions, my angels tell me. But no, his torment from the bloody conflict tore apart his spirit, I could not expect his love returned; I could only expect my fidelity to grow under duress. I call myself “God’s Little Grunt”.

They tell me that Larkin will bring me to Randolph…and when that occurs, so will the liberation of my gay family. I know this may sound crazy, this is an incredible claim…but as far as I can tell, I speak only truth. And my time has come, my star is rising…with the blessings of Jesus and His Incredible Dad Themselves!

{{ I will await your response with baited breath. :) }}

Ha! Love it. Chapter Two, “Moby’s Dick” contains barely an iota of raunchy queer humor (except of course for the title), and it is a continuation of what occurred in Chapter One. I sincerely hope you will read that too, soon…for I know you will enjoy it immensely. Here’s the URL again:

http://zekeblog.wordpress.com/2012/03/28/mobys-dick/

Finally: I do realize we may have disagreements on what Christ, Hell, and Faith mean…however, I do respect you immensely, regardless…and again am SO grateful you’ve listened to my plea to read Chapter One in its entirety. I am VERY blessed to have you in my life, Sweet Sue. And I apologize if anything I have said regarding my spiritual beliefs may have offended you in any way, shape or manner. In memory of Snackboy, I wish you only joy and happiness.

Sincerely,

Zeke <3




Date: Mon, Apr 2, 2012 at 8:08 PM
From: Zeke
To: Sweet Sue
Subject: Doping Wealthy Dopes

More on My Handsome Randolph:

Another vision has shown that Randolph is my guardian angel, who concocted this war veteran scenario just to create a wonderful romantic adventure for me. So he wasn’t really shot, or suffered that much…it was more like a Hollywood setup, so I could play the hero and become a great author and activist, myself.

If this is true, then I’ve been duped. But what a WONDERFUL dupe it is!

I think what is lost on most Christians is God’s sense of humor, and that of the angels. You must therefore study pagan and shamanic beliefs, to grasp that dimension we call divine comedy.




Date: Wed, Apr 4, 2012 at 2:13 PM
From: Sweet Sue
To: Zeke
Subject: Doping Wealthy Dopes

Hi Zeke. I was curious about your relationship with Larkin now Zeke? I hope he is and continues to be a loving friend to you.

I cannot imagine the persecution and suffering that gays experience. I look forward to speaking with Terry about this.

Regarding those who persecute: yes, maybe some fulfill and return the evil, but what good does that bring? Man wants to think they are better than others. I remember Terry telling an older guy he worked with that was always trying to put him down, out of jealousy, most likely. Does cutting my tree down make yours feel a little taller? Revenge is mine says the Lord.

I do believe we are and can be blessed by God, but don’t think we earn anything by our own good deeds. However, we do reap what we sow. No one can earn another’s salvation. We are each responsible for all of the good and bad that we do in our bodies and will be judged according, not by man, but by the Lord. When Jesus comes again, He will separate the sheep from the goats. I suppose this is an area we will have to agree to disagree. This is so important for people to know and grasp, because it affects their eternal salvation.

Christ loves you Zeke. He loves us all.

I’ve never had an Angel come to me. Well, I’m sure they have. I’ve just never recognized them as such.

You did what you felt was the right thing for Randolph, Zeke. You are beloved by God anyway, because He created you, and only wants the best for you, and all of us.

Well, I just read and concentrated on the written part as you suggested. I knew that it was important to you for me to read them, although I’m really not much of a reader Zeke. Never have been. Now Kenny and Terry are. I remember always reading to them, hoping they would fall asleep and take a nap. :)

Actually, I was the one who took a nap and they got up and ransacked the house. I’m your friend Zeke. So, I wanted to check this out, ’cause it’s special to you. That was really nice to read that you valued my opinion, although I’m pretty ignorant about many cultures and worldly views. You are leap years ahead of me regarding this stuff. It’s just not that important to me. We’re all so different.

Yes, I see how you webbed your writing around the Native Americans in your writing here. It is really sad that man tries to vilify, condemn, and persecute. They ought to take the stones out of their own eyes, before throwing them at others, yet, blinded by their own sin. We are all given spiritual gifts from the Lord.

It’s great that you have identified yours and you are a man on a mission! That’s good that you have called it your gift, as from knowing you, I know it has also been most challenging at times.

You flatter me Zeke. I just know what I know, and also when the Lord leads me I am able and most willing to share His truths with others. It is my responsibility as His child.

I do believe that there will be a time again when the Lord will rid us of Sin again. No more pain, no more sorrow. No more hopes of an illusive tomorrow. That’s a song. I didn’t make it up. God has rid the World before of the sinful and Godless, and He will do it again. When he has had enough, he will show no more mercy. We do differ on our beliefs. I do believe and know that the Lord will cast the goats into the lake of fire, and the righteous will be living with the Lord forever. And, the righteous are those who have accepted the love of God, through accepting the gift of His Son, through His atoning death and resurrection.

Actually, Zeke it really does not matter what you or I believe unless it conforms to what the Lord has said and decreed. Our opinion is for naught. His ways are not fathomable to us. He is a God of love, but He is also a God of justice. We can never be good enough, I don’t care what the Buddhists say. Without the Lord’s Spirit we are not capable of understanding any of this.The natural man receiveth not the things of God, for they are foolishness unto him, neither can he know them, for they are spiritually revealed. God says there is a Hell, which is going to be some sort of punishment for those who die in sin, and the Bible says that it is eternal.

I believe that Christ’s sacrifice was the full payment for our sin, because God cannot be around sin, only what is pure and holy. So, He became a man, lived a perfect life, and gave up His life for each and every one of us. One man died so that all might live.

You feel it an abomination to even believe that a loving God would ever condemn any wretched soul to eternal fire. Again, I really do not think it matters to God what we think. He’s gonna do, what He says He’s gonna do. God said it, I believe it, and that settles it for me. Sin is sin Zeke. There are no little sins or big sins in His eyes. Sin is sin, it is missing His mark, and burdens and grieves Him deeply, and He’s going to discipline or punish accordingly, even if it isn’t what we think is fair.

I don’t relish believing in eternal hell, yet being outside of His presence surely should be eternal hell for us. The alternative is better than we finite creatures can even imagine. Eyes have not seen, nor has it entered into the hearts of man, what God has planned for those who love him.

I would like to believe as you here, but again, it doesn’t matter what we think, it’s what He says. I know there are those that believe in reincarnation, similar to living somewhere else on another dimension. I believe that here is it, and we live our lives as He chisels us to be more in His image. I don’t think He is just going to move us around, and I surely do not understand everything, who does?

I agree that people who think and act without love and acceptance of others are missing the mark, and He will deal with them accordingly. And, yes, isn’t it terrible that some attend Church and think they are righteous, yet it is a righteousness of pride, and not a true righteousness from God. On this I’m sure we agree.

Yes, Job was a righteous man, and showered with blessings. We reap what we sow.

And, he was also severely tested by Satan, which of course, God allowed. And, all of Job’s so called friends missed the mark. I don’t think Job was always holding onto the belief that God was loving. When he was speaking with the Lord, he was saying like why me. I remember reading their conversation, and God was very direct, and was not the wishy washy God, that most people would expect Him to be under the circumstances. That taught me a lot about His nature. There is none not righteous, no not one! It’s nice to see the good in people, but really how good are we? Not so much. If man could be good enough, then why did Christ have to sacrifice Himself for our salvation?

I am not a student of world religions, knowing that pretty much all of them think they can work their way into His good graces, or just think they are too special. I believe all of us are sinful and therefore, separated from Him.

Again, I cannot imagine the horrid ridicule, suffering and even murder of homosexuals. This is wrong and He does not take kindly to these terrific, sinful acts. People are no damn good Zeke, and they will pay for this mistreatment of their fellow man.

For all have sins, and fall short of the glory of God. There is none not righteous, no not one. Therefore, we are all separated from God, until we accept Christ as our Savior and Lord, and live that way.

I’m sure that all of your love for your many gay brothers and sisters around the world will be rewarded by God. And, your love for mankind in general. You have a big heart Zeke.

I would say that you are a blessed man, to have seen and heard your angels throughout your unusual life. I cannot imagine that either. I seldom even remember my dreams, much less experience what you have from the spiritual realm. Somewhat of a prophet, which I know can also be a curse.

Yes, we do have disagreements on these things. You’re a sweetheart Zeke. Thank you for your kind words. You are very special to me too! There is surely no need to apologize for the difference in our spiritual beliefs. We really need mainly to be concerned on offending God.

Love,
Sweet Sue




Date: Wed, Apr 4, 2012 at 3:43 PM
From: Zeke
To: Sweet Sue
Subject: Doping Wealthy Dopes

I will leave your most eloquent writing untouched, and undebated. I prefer its beauty to shine without further badinage. Blessings, I am most impressed and touched! You are a very gifted soul, who perhaps cannot realize at this time, what an outstanding author of the Truth you really are. <3


Moby’s Dick

March 28, 2012

[ Free Me From This Bond: Chapter 2 ]


Date: Mon, 26 Mar 2012 08:07:37
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor
Subject: Moby’s Dick

Ha ha, I really mean “Moby Dick’s”, a gay bar on 18th and Hartford, where I found Larkin playing pool. Had no idea he’d be there, I just thought to poke my head in and see. I am so happy, Eleanor, that Destiny deems fit to keep bringing us together.

He was quite happy to see me, and I offered to buy him a drink. He said “Coke and whiskey” or something like that. I said (not knowing very much about drinking booze), “My budget’s really tight, end of the month and all, as long as it’s under ten dollars.”

He just walked to the bar, and said “Never mind” and bought himself and his opponent a drink. Well! He’s like that: a man of action and few words. So I just went to the bartender (who was SO nice to me; I’m not used yet, to the gay community returning all their love to me, so it’ll take a while), and ordered a coke and whiskey (that’s not what it’s really called, but I was drunk and forgot).

Went back to the pool game, which is situated in a second room with a raised floor, and laid down the drink next to the first one and said: “Here’s your second, ’cause I love you muy mucho.”

So much more happened that night, and I will write it all down soon enough. Just for the nonce, I wanted to tell you how beautiful my life has become, thanks to his friendship. BTW, he lost his gorgeous smile: no dental insurance like me, he’s lost a few teeth. I told him I’m sorry, but I’ll soon be rich and make sure he gets back that knock-out grin, and so forth. (“Meanwhile, why not drop over my pad to admire these rare etchings I just imported from Kashmir?” I offered.)

He called me over between games, where he was playing some sort of video arcade. Don’t know why he called me over, or what he said, but I looked closely at the screen, and remarked, “I’m not good at those games, never make it beyond the third level, I play that at home sometimes.” Then I told him what a good man he is, and how my life is so blessed because he’s in it. Then he interrupted and said, “You can sit down now.”

“Okay” I replied, and went back to the bench. So I watched him play the next round, where he later took a break for the restroom. And his opponent said to a friend there, “Larkin’s a really good pool player.” Then I approached and said, “Let me tell you about Larkin. He’s my boyfriend, and he’s a good man in so many ways, not just pool.”

Then returned to my spot on the bench.

Few minutes later, the game was over (Larkin lost), and he gave the opponent a really nice hug. He loves to hug.

Then I walked up to him and said, “You know, Larkin, you readily hug anyone who’ll give you that chance. Yet I haven’t had a hug from you since April 20th, 2007…so, can I get a hug from you now?”

He then spread his arms wide, and I reached up to embrace, but he backed away and said, “No! Return to your little spot; I want you over there,” he said, pointing to my jacket on that bench across the room. “No hug tonight.”

I was floored, and limped back to the bench. This is my Larkin. I am so happy.

Don’t remember leaving the bar, or even saying goodbye to him. I just woke up a few moments ago, with a gorgeous black dude in my arms. I gotta stop drinking so much.

Love ya, El.

PS: Larkin informed me that Hole in the Wall 86′d him some time ago. And I said, “I’m so sorry, you were the heart and soul of that place. They were jealous of our friendship, there wasn’t even any sex involved, it was a ‘bromance’. And here I was planning to reconcile w/Gary, in order to hang out with you again. I’m preparing a gift for you, that I was gonna mail to ‘Barkeep Gary Clayton’ c/o the Hole, and trust that he’d present it to you. But that’s not gonna happen now. So, if I’m standing on Castro and 18th with this gift, waiting for you to walk by, will you take it, or just skedaddle along like I don’t even exist?”

He didn’t reply, just kept tapping on the video screen to get the colorful marbles in some kind of weird alignment. So I continued: “Either way, I want you to know how much I love you, and the happiness you’ve brought into my life.” Then returned to my little spot on the bench, hugless.



Date: Tue, 27 Mar 2012 08:30:21
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor
Subject: Re: Moby’s Dick

Quoting Eleanor:
> Did what you recount here just happen recently???

Yes ma’am. Last night. Last GLORIOUS night. *joy*

Earlier that day, I had strolled South of Market and passed by the new location of the Hole in the Wall Saloon, slowing down my pace in hopes that Gary would see, and invite me in. I was planning for some sort of reconciliation. Alas, no go, so I continued on my way to Trader Joe’s, and had a tasty jack cheese & avocado quesadilla (with a Diet Pepsi) at a tiny outdoor stand called “Urbano – Mexican Style Street Food”. Add two small containers of mild salsa to kick it all up a notch. (Where’s a spice weasel when ya need one?)

Then I returned to Hole in the Wall, only this time across the street, where I stood about nonchalantly, again in hopes of luring Gary out. Several patrons stepped out front to smoke and chat; none of them were familiar to me. This was around 4pm Sunday.

You see, El, it occurred to me to send a printout of “Free Me From This Bond” to Gary, along with the following gifts (which he would hopefully pass on to Larkin):

A talking Scooby-Doo birthday card. Don’t really know when his birthday is, but I’ve missed so many (he’s 49 now, I think), that I want to start catching up.

A T-shirt I ordered from ThinkGeek.com, depicting a zombie with statement: “Zombies are people too.” Though the “are” is crossed out in blood, replaced by “were”. Check it out:

I had actually intended that shirt for a street buddy, Tony…but that’s a story for another time. Haven’t seen Tony for several months now; I actually offered it to another street dude I had over a few nights ago…absolutely cute, a real firecracker. (He left his knapsack and skateboard here; said he was gonna step out to buy some milk, and that’s all she wrote. For now.)

Two DVDs, the first one containing four ripped movies: “Clueless,” “Moneyball,” “Exotica” and “The Notorious Newman Brothers”, which latter you can view here:

http://www.oneddl.eu/vodo/vodo-the-notorious-newman-brothers

FYI, I adore “Clueless,” one of the sweetest stories ever filmed. I always bawl tears of joy through the whole thing. It touches my heartstrings in the sweetest way, just like My Favorite Dragon! Since Larkin is as big a fan of baseball as he is billiards, I figure he’ll enjoy “Moneyball” immensely. “Exotica” is an intriguing, quasi-mystical Canadian film about the lives of people who work at, or attend, strip clubs (including a gay pet shop owner). “The Notorious Newman Brothers” is a delightful Indie parody on Mafia thugs, scintillatingly goofballish.

In addition to those movies, DVD #1 contains a collection of excellent music videos downloaded from Youtube (of course), and a slew of animal videos of all sorts: ducks, dogs, cats, goats, cows, birds, squirrels, ferrets, and on and on it goes. Really a great balm to heal depression. Though I strongly doubt I’ll ever be depressed again, at least not in any deadly critical way!

DVD #2 is a 5-CD collection of Laurie Anderson songs. I love Laurie Anderson, don’t you? Have you ever heard her piece, “The Ugly One with the Jewels”? Oh, here it is on Youtube:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RFIpxaAzi9k

OMG, Laurie is simply, tremendously original and a sheer delight.

Let’s see, I’m not done with the gifts yet: also included are eight recent blog entries: “Yes Virginia, Santa Claus is Gay,” “Campitupalosaurus,” “Casper Titchworth,” “No Heteros in Space,” “A Rotten Deal,” “Kalmykia: Europe’s Only Buddhist Republic” and “Message to a Long Lost Friend“. Oh, and one not so recent: “September’s Passage“.

Lastly, “The Book of Dragons,” which reviews (and details) you may read here:

http://www.amazon.com/The-Book-Dragons-Michael-Hague/dp/B00375LL0I/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1332809192&sr=1-1

So many rich and awesome paintings of various dragons around the world are included in this delightful tome, along with dragon folklore from Iceland to China. On the inside front cover I wrote in fine-tip black marker:

“To My Beloved Larkin, the Dragon Of My Dreams. From your Bromantic Sidekick, Ezekiel (or) Eugene.”

Interesting that it occurred to me a few days ago, I should get him a book about dragons…since he is the Dragon of Hole in the Wall. Not thinking about it when I stepped into Pegasus Book Store on Shattuck Ave. Berkeley, I inadvertently laid my hand on The Book of Dragons in the mythology section! IOW:

Pegasus delivered me unto the dragons! Yikes.

Remember my painting of “Unicorn w/o a Horn” that I held onto for several weeks before shipping it to Randolph…so exquisite I kept showing it to people, including on campus (Merritt College, Oakland) where I was studying computer science: everyone was delightfully stunned. Well, I had a most intense vision of Pegasus while waiting for the acrylic strokes to dry (late into the night). He was so radiant and sweet, I wept on his shoulder…then he told me something amazing:

“Leave all your sorrows to me. I will bring Randolph back into your loving arms, on wing-ed saddle.” And that’s when I ran upstairs with the freshly painted sky-blue cotton sweatshirt, and knocked on Anthony’s door at 4:40am, weeping tears of epiphany.

These gifts are toted in a bag from the Disabled Veterans National Foundation (discovered in a Salvation Army discard bin) , in consideration of My Randolph’s tragedy…and the fact that Larkin is a most courageous soldier in his own right, surely deserving recognition as meritorious as the Purple Heart and the Congressional Medal of Honor.

Between breaks in composing this missive, I stepped out with my gifts in hopes of finding Larkin back at Moby Dick’s tonight, or perhaps another nearby bar or saloon. But nope, didn’t happen. So here I sit now, completing my latest Dragon Prophecy.

I have one photo of Larkin BTW, taken some years back when he was (I think) on a gay baseball team out of San Diego. Got it off the ‘net when searching for info on him for the Larkin Chronicles.

Second from the right; as cute as he appears in the pic, he’s even more fantabulous in person. He’s just too rockingly gorgeous for words. I’d say he’s one of the most attractive males on the planet. Like a young, virile Randy Travis and, as ridiculously gorgeous as that is, My Favorite Dragon is a thousand times better looking. Besides, Mr. Travis does not possess a fine, scaly skin of shimmering emerald and ruby; nor does he sport a tail so long and powerful, it could knock over the Transamerica Pyramid Building in one fell swoop. And I haven’t even begun to describe the wings!

At night, when fanned out in full glory, the winged silhouette closely resembles the Brooklyn Bridge, with a span just as wide, perhaps a tad more so. The top side of these wings are, of course, encrusted with those glimmering evergreen and cranberry hued scales that deflect the light of the Milky Way in such a manner as to glint an overshade of purple and gold here and there.

Now, the underside of these wings is something else altogether spectacular: they are lined with a pearly white membrane with subtle shades that swirl around like the thinnest film of motor oil floating on a pond of milk and honey. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that these luminescent underwings are responsible for the majority of UFO sightings. But most folks are gullible, and prefer to believe in fantastic explanations, than one so mundane as a dragon.

There is another photo of Larkin that once was displayed for a time at the Hole in the Wall: he was naked as a jaybird, full Monty and totally erect, with the American flag draped over his shoulders and an outstretched arm. This man is so handsome, Eleanor, you wouldn’t even think of sex when gazing upon his birthday self. You would only see the work of Goddess’s Hand, and realize he is Her intended example how the perfect male should appear. There is more grace and courage in that man’s little finger, than in a thousand Navy SEALs.

Can you imagine if I hadn’t discovered Larkin at Moby Dick’s? I would’ve been hanging out by Hole in the Wall for no useful purpose. And Gary would’ve received my blog printouts and gifts, and kept them from Larkin, or even tossed them into the garbage. Destiny is on my side!

Who is more handsome than My Dragon Larkin? I cannot imagine. I cannot imagine that the Universal Mind has even gotten around to it, or given it much thought…for not even Our Beloved Creator (pbuh: “peace be unto her”) can imagine anything more pleasing to the eye than Larkin Kelsey.

To be continued…



Date: Tue, 27 Mar 2012 19:00:41
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor
Subject: Moby’s Dick

Quoting Eleanor:
> Ooooh-eee! I get the picture! Celtic royalty!

Very astute observation, though I’m surprised you could read that much out of such a small image. Attached is a photo of Youtube activist Charlie Veitch, who resembles Larkin far more than Larkin does, himself, in that first pic.

Such a noble face and dynamite profile. And clearly: Celtic Pride all the way. I’d say that Larkin looks like a cross between Charlie Veitch and Randy Travis.

Are we having heart palpitations yet? Quick, bring the smelling salts!

Oh, well, I might as well attach another photo, this time of Randolph Taylor…who is also another radiant Celt, of Irish/Scot descent. Gorgeous just doesn’t say enough.

Obviously, I don’t lack for male beauty in my life. Just male booty. :\



Date: Wed, 28 Mar 2012 11:23:56
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor
Subject: Moby’s Dick


El, I just composed this piece as a possible solution to the homeless problem in the Castro, particularly as regards the doping of older men by desperate youth. I believe that Larkin was once homeless, and if the economy doesn’t soon pick up speed, he may become that once more. Not that he’s spoken to me about this at all, but I have a hunch. So I think this letter to the editor fits quite well into my “Moby’s Dick” work in progress. I just emailed it to the Bay Area Reporter (which has banned all my letters for years now, thanks to one police commissioner now retired), and the SF Bay Times. I will expand my outreach later tonight, perhaps even gay papers beyond The City. Cheerz!

DOPING WEALTHY DOPES

Dear editor,

Speaking of the sharp increase of young homeless dudes doping up middle-aged men at the gay bars here in the Castro: What do we expect, in a sucky economy that’s crashed and burned almost as horribly as the Great Depression? More desperate people robbing from those with excess wealth; that’s what. And until we evolve into a truly equitable society (at least within our own LGBTQQ family), that is how things shall remain. But what isn’t being reported, is the fact that many of these young men (with a few pathetic exceptions) are decent human beings who need some real kindness and financial support.

They might steal, but they’ll never make you miserable, or commit bodily harm. I know, because I have been a “victim” of these darling scoundrels at least several times, just in the past year alone. (Now, please don’t cite me the occasional exception of some lunatic who actually does get a bit violent, and damages your furniture or even socks you in the eye; they do not represent the majority of the robbers in question.)

Thus far, I’ve been ripped off of one laptop computer, two android tablets, all the quarters in my change jar, several twenty-dollar bills, a miniature remote control device for my seven-inch screen portable TV (but not the TV itself), and my entire Futurama DVD collection. A grand total of approximately $1,450. Whoop-de-doo. (All my computers BTW, I purchase refurbished, so their possible loss will never be an earth-shattering trauma. I highly recommend TigerDirect.com for such purchases.)

I am certainly far from affluent, unlike many of you “homo-owners” who reside here in the Castro, or visit. In fact, I can barely keep my head above financial waters, living on just a disability stipend in an SRO unit overlooking Market Street, near Noe. (If it weren’t for rent control, I’d most likely be out on the streets myself.) So any sort of theft impacts me far more than it does most of the victims of these thieving cherubs who promise eternal love in exchange for a drink or two.

The tragic fact is: our queer community has become infested with a terrible disease called “Libertarianism”. And by that, I mean “corporate-worshipping right-wing Republican anti-universal-anything capitalist pig elitists”…which same disease has seriously impacted all minorities, not just ours. The long term result of such an infection, is a rather large increase of poor folk, some of whom migrate to wealthy gay neighborhoods in order to hookup with older men, and/or burglarize their premises in order to survive or get a taste of some of the luxury they are otherwise denied. (Through no fault of their own, I might add.)

What little our community does for the sexual-minority homeless is limited to youth. IOW: once you hit 22, it’s screw you, and a helping hand to the misery of these cold, harsh streets and a friendless (and often dangerous) existance among a much larger crowd of homophobic thugs who rule the roost (even in the Castro, which has a false reputation of “gay friendly”).

Because the majority of wealthy queers in San Francisco do not listen to the strident pleas (on behalf of our poor) by wonderfully liberal folks like Tommi Avicolli Mecca, mugging and theft of our upper classes shall continue, and even increase. Because so many of you wealthy homo-owners only think of sex when taking home a sweet but desperate young man who’s learned the ropes on how to survive off our community…you do not have any right to whine, let alone put them in jail. Instead of befriending some of these glorious souls currently stranded, and using your excess wealth to improve their lot and give them real happiness and meaning in their lives, you fat elitists cling to your material possessions like barnacles to a cruise ship.

And seeing as your Republican kind are so powerful in both finance and politics, it is highly unlikely Mr. Mecca (or any other brave hearted liberal) will see his dream come true any time soon…at least, not via standard channels. But after meditating upon this serious issue, I’ve come up with a solution, albeit radical (though harmless):

We can actually befriend these homeless waifs, and organize a sort of Robin Hood gang that uses every possible legal maneuver, to seduce our wealthy older queers to coughing up a chunk of their bank accounts on a regular basis. Said profits will be funneled into housing, food, medical care, education, and so on…that we may assist our street crowd towards a decent life. Another benefit will result, in that we can then easily weed out the homophobes among the homeless population, thus making things safer all around, even for the very same affluent homo-owners who spit on anyone with less than $300,000 to their name.

I have homeless friends on these mean streets, some of whom initially robbed me, but now show me great love and respect. Simply because I did not play the Outraged Wealthy Queer card; I did not report them to police; I did not arrest them. And surely, were I rich, I’d be opening up homes for these incredible street urchins so sorely regarded by narrow-minded dolts who, I’m sorry to say, control so much of our queer community. But, being 61 years of age and in robust health, I certainly do have the energy to consolidate this street project to aid our most disadvantaged and abused.

I’m sure I’ll take a lot of flack from others for my bold proposition. But the time has come for progressive, even radical, solutions to be acted upon…and sweep away the detritus of right-wing ideology that has so badly damaged what remains of true community and compassion here in the Heart of Gay Mecca.

Sinqueerly yours,

Zeke Krahlin
Gay activist & homeless advocate since 1983,
a.k.a. Jehovah’s Queer Witness


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