Re: [MCN-Announce]- Easing Into Nirvana [my latest blog entry,and final chapter of Brindlekin Tales] From: Zeke Krahlin To: Arnie Worster Date: February 24, 2021 6:32 PM
Darn, Zeke. I’m sorry.
Did you read the epilogue at the end? It’s based on my faith that all wrongs shall right themselves soon enough, and that I have every reason to believe the pups will be returned to me. This is certainly NOT the final twist in the plot…on to Book 2!
Re: [MCN-Announce]- Easing Into Nirvana [my latest blog entry, and final chapter of Brindlekin Tales] From: Zeke Krahlin To: Arnie Worster Date: February 24, 2021 7:14 PM
I did but it still sucks for the time being
THANK YOU! Yes, it sucks, but that should never be the final conclusion of such tragic scenarios. For in so concluding, one has surrendered to one’s OWN dark side. The whole point of these tales is to demonstrate to the world, the ultimate benevolence and positive results that comes out of devotion to The Good. So of course, this is not how it ends. But also “of course,” one who desires (or is chosen) to BE such a living example, must be run through a most painful and prolonged gauntlet. The Book of Job is a perfect example of this, for those who look to the Bible for inspiration.
Have a wonderful evening, you and your darling pooch…and thanks so much, again, for reading the epilogue. My tales are PROFOUND, and will accomplish much good for this planet…even unto an ASTONISHING degree! And to think it is two, adorable pups who’ve brought me to such heights! Canis familiaris is truly man’s best friend. Please hug your furball for me, tonight.
FYI: I am shutting down my GoFundMe account within a few days, as donations are no longer sought. But thank you for the generosity you HAVE shown, as well as for your kind concern. Some day I’m sure I will have the tremendous honor of meeting you in person. That day will be the result of my Brindlekin Tales rocketing to global applause, with floods of money allowing me to travel and visit some of my fans, especially those who came first. Maybe I’ll even be nominated for the Nobel Puppy Prize. :)
Subject: Speaking of the Nobel Puppy Prize! From: Zeke Krahlin To: Arnie Worster Date: February 24, 2021 7:29 PM
Just for fun I googled “nobel puppy prize,” and look what I stumbled upon:
Now ain’t THAT a kick in the ass…a GOOD kick in the ass, I mean. I’m wagging my tail over this, right now. Woof, woof, woof!
Re: next chapter From: Zeke Krahlin To: ThunderSparrow Date: February 24, 2021 9:38 PM
So sorry about the loss of your beloved pups. I hope you continue to find peace and comfort in the Buddha amid the many challenges of your life.
Thank you, ThunderSparrow. If you read the epilogue to my last chapter, you’ll see I absolutely DO rest in the Buddha’s wisdom. In fact, many of the tales illustrate what I call my “Bodhisattva Premise.” So I’m good, I’m there already, and the pups’ removal from my life is but a temporary situation, as more twists and turns enter my amazing but convoluted path towards Canine Nirvana! Arf, arf! :)
Also, jump back to the top of the home page, then slowly scroll down all the way to the bottom. Notice that it is a magic sword containing all the sections of my website! With a bejeweled hilt at the top, then the blade, then the point, then lightning, then the altar.
Lovely dreams to you!
Re: NEVER MIND, FOUND IT! From: Zeke Krahlin To: Arnie Worster Date: February 26, 2021 4:43 PM
Good I probably still have them if you have a need
Okay, thanks, but they are now backed up to both an external hard drive, and to the cloud…so I’m sure everything’s copasetic now. Here’s a new strategy I just came up with:
Only moments ago I ordered 500 of the following business cards I designed myself ($31.45 includes shipping and tax), and here is how it looks:
I will stroll around the Castro, plunking these cards here and there, 25-50 at a time, spread across a week or a bit more. The idea is to catch the interest of at least SOME people. Then, as those who love the tales spread the word, more and more local denizens will know what’s going on…and by their own inspiration, see to it that the pups gain protection w/o my attempting to do so on my own. (Seeing as Deek will avoid me like the plague for now on, I guess.) They may also REPORT him for animal abuse, and have the doggies taken away. But they will also know who I am, and let me know if that occurs, so I can get to the SPCA and adopt them myself. I already have a good friend up in Mendoland who will gladly COVER the adoption expenses. Or, perhaps, Deek will feel highly motivated to treat them better, since so many eyes will be watching. At least, that is my hope. All real names in my tales have been changed, but it’s easy enough to know what’s up. The mistreatment by my building manager and a few other locals will also become exposed to the light of truth. The are OTHER interesting outcomes that will probably develop from this little adventure, but I’ll let YOU muse upon that for now.
Estimated delivery time for the business cards is March 9th, so the days from now till then will be excruciatingly slow for yours truly.
Subject: All is not lost… From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 26, 2021 9:42 PM
…not by a long shot, good doctor! Book 1 is a joyful collection of tales for the most part, but ends abruptly on a tragic note…as if struck down by the Morlockian Wizards Themselves, dragging the pups along with them into their dark, subterranean lair. The curtain opens in Book 2 on a gloomy stage with but one candle for illumination…and it flickers directly from mine own heart.
I remember when Flaco dug that hole in a corner garden across the street, and plunked herself into it, secure behind some drooping, broad leaves as she watched the world go by. But mostly, she gazed upon my own sad self with joy, as if to say: “Do not worry, Zeke, everything will work out just fine, you will never lose us!” That was on the eve of Halloween last year, when my tales took off! My fear (that I would never see the two pups again, after that evening) proved wrong, and her prophecy, correct. For since then, we spent many wonderful weeks together, Flaco, Lucky and I, culminating in 47 blessed days of their sweet company as my roommates. Yet now they are gone, as if my fear were true all along!
One cannot POSSIBLY imagine how they’d be brought back to me, as Deek will most assuredly avoid me and my neighborhood at all costs. Since once the pups sight me again, they will become exuberant like never before, to be, and remain, with me. And they will BOTH most likely howl with grief in seeing me depart without them. Which will THEN cause Deek to turn his anger against these darling creatures. Yet, as each day passes, grow greater the odds he will lose the doggies one way or another. Or, in a foolish, bipolar, meth-induced delusion, give them up to a stranger for money or drugs, or both. For which he will suffer tremendous remorse once he snaps out of it some days later. And that is PRECISELY the hell I’ve been desperately trying to save him from, all along! Not to mention sparing those brindlekin from a horrid fate, as well. On top of that, Deek is ABUSIVE and NEGLECTFUL of those pooches…thus my brave attempt to protect them from their original owner, risking hostility, eviction and jail time in so doing.
But now that he has won this round of “Battle of the Bodisattvas,” by presenting a likely-forged SPCA registration form to the police, there is no way I could ever bring the brindlemutts under my wing again…even if Deek SHOULD ask me to do that, for whatever reason (such as some crazy stalker threatening to injure or take away the dogs). As he could easily betray me by running off to another cop, with the false accusation I stole them again. He is a vengeful little twit, that’s for sure!
As for my own disposition, I am perfectly fine, despite the shadow that hangs over my world these days. Flaco & Lucky remain beside me in spirit, like two angelic sprites guiding me toward the exit from this Stygian cavern and through the Gates of Avalon. I’ve seen them through the worst of the cold weather; the days are warmer now…and that SURELY counts for something. Their love has transformed me in tremendously positive ways, and I owe them my fidelity in return…thus I do NOT cave in to remorse, and slink away from this impossible challenge, like a spineless toady.
For my salvation lies in the Bodhisattva Premise: that all my enemies, including Deek of course, are simply angels themselves, playing wicked roles that I may triumph, and emerge the hero of these frightening scenarios they have so skillfully composed. In such a case, then the only LOGICAL conclusion is that the pups are perfectly fine, like trained animals in Hollywood films who only PLAY at being injured or threatened. Because in real life, they are VERY well cared for. As The Premise also implies:
WE HAVE NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT.
So I can choose to flip my perception like a coin: either picture Flaco & Lucky abused, lonely and cold (and subject to Deek’s dangerous mood swings), or picture them as well provided for and loved, with access to a cozy home whenever they and Deek are out of my sight. But in so switching one’s perception, do NOT interpret that as meaning this will influence the outcome for good or for bad. For the POSITIVE is inevitable in this case, and in any OTHER case under the sun! Switching off the negative images nonetheless serves an excellent result: your own peace of mind. I believe I covered this before, also suggesting that there may not even BE any homeless…but that they, too, are bodhisattvas acting out their role as vagrants, in order to test humanity’s call to compassion. I originally named my theory “Neo-Christianity,” then “Neo-Positivity,” and finally, “the Bodhisattva Premise.” But they all come down to the same thing, which is a decades-long meditation on the concept that (as the Buddha claimed) “we have no enemies, only teachers.”
There are many hints in my life that this is so, gathered over the years…some of which I have already listed in a recent email TO you, Dr. Wattson. But here are six more:
Deek appears to have some well-off people in his life, else how could he just show up now and then, with a prize pedigree canine, as he has TWICE in the past two years? It’s not like you could pick such pooches up from just anywhere. Most recently was this past Exmass Day, which evening he showed up with a stunning blue pit bull. A large dog of very sweet nature, shivering and confused about being in the cold, dark night and on the streets…as if he was brought out from someone’s home, just to fuck with my head. For Deek returned it to whomever gave it to him in the first place, shortly thereafter! Then there was “Gator,” an exquisitely handsome mastiff bulldog, also of a very kind demeanor. THAT relationship lasted several months. He has also expressed less love for Flaco, than for Lucky…which aggrieved me no end. How could he say that about such a joyful, lovely little doggy? I suspect this is all an act on his part, to rattle my nerves, thus causing me to grow stronger in how I deal with life’s slings and arrows.
He also seems to know any number of well-dressed men, whom I meet occasionally, hanging out with him. Most are African American, but not all. They strike me as very polite and well educated. But Deek reveals NOTHING about who they really are, and what their relationship IS, with him. After all these years, I know hardly anything about his life outside of our humble sphere.
His frequent, pointless little dramas seem to serve no purpose other than to induce anxiety in my own, concerned self. The Bodhisattva Premise suggests this is not necessarily due to the neurosis of a disturbed person, but could be, instead, the actions of a spiritual guide intent on shaking me awake into a better reality, via carefully timed and orchestrated crises he creates. Which I must then learn to overcome…and in so doing, am better for the experience.
Deek’s calmness during his abduction of my pups was most unusual. In fact, we were BOTH placid, even in the heat of the climax when he scooted off with BOTH dogs at his side. This is because NEITHER one of us cares to cause the doggos any trauma. If Deek were truly nuts, would he be able to maintain such a peaceful aura amid conflict?
The poetic cadence of a long string of remarkable events, and the ridiculous dramas played out therein, are surely extraordinary. I mourned the probable loss of my canine friends in chapter 1, but then they returned shorty after. I danced with the dogs FOR THE FIRST TIME just four days before losing them back to Deek. And all the other up-and-down episodes in between, perfectly timed and played out as if a superb author had composed them…not some bipolar meth freak!
The many crises over such a prolonged period of time have SHARPENED my writing skills at an unbelievably accelerated pace! And that was what the bodhisattvas intended, among other good things…at least, that is what I believe to be the case.
There are even MORE examples I could lay out, but my purpose in listing them here, is NOT to convince you, or even myself, of the rightness of My Premise. But I AM wondering how to proceed in this next round of the game. Should I reach out to the homeless? After lengthy deliberation, the answer is no. The only POSSIBLE street person I’d trust is no longer around, as far as I know. You might think I’m talking about Boulevard Joe, but he has since proven himself incapable of following through on anything of import. So who am I talking about, then? That Phillipine dude, Jay. For he came up to me one night and, before I could even expel a “hello,” he declared, “That guy Po’ Boy needs to show you some respect!” But that happened when…mid-December? I’ve only seen him twice since then, at the end of that same month. He’s a very good fellow who I know would make a GREAT ally, thus could possibly turn some of Deek’s friends away from his schizophrenic madness.
Getting my tales out there, especially here in the Castro, COULD go a long way in righting the wrongs heaped up against me, as well as getting some real protection for the dogs through others, since I can no longer do that myself. And that is why I came up with the idea just this afternoon, of distributing business cards throughout the Castro, promoting my Brindlekin Tales with a link TO them, that is easy to type, and to remember. Well, I assume you’ve read my post to Mr. Worster by now, so you are well aware. As a matter of fact, the idea had started simmering in my occipital lobes while I was in the middle of writing this email. So I stopped mid-post, in order to design the business card, then order 500 copies from VistaPrint! After completing that task, I found a new email from Arnie Worster, so I told him about it, then forwarded a copy to you. And once having accomplished all of THAT, I finally resumed composing this letter! Furthermore:
Since I gifted the two leashes to Deek when I gave up the dogs, I have ordered new ones, in good faith that they SHALL come back to me, by hook or by crook or by halo. I didn’t order new collars as well, even though they also went to Deek, as I already have those lovely harnesses. Another tenet of the Bodhisattva Premise is this:
You cannot go by ingrained assumptions, even if based upon an entire history of previous experience. For the greater secrets of life are, and MUST, remain hidden and inaccessible until your time has come for certain ultimate truths to be revealed. Now let me end this missive with a one-sentence summation, that will most likely be quoted octillions of times over, across the span of the next hundred centuries, or longer:
If I am grasping at straws, then may they be spun from threads of pure gold by Clotho herself, with Lachesis binding them into a weft of joy, while Atropos stands idly by in humble refusal to apply her shears.
Your most appreciative comrade,
Ezekiel Joseph Krahlin-Holmes
Subject: SFPD-BRM Officers Save the Day! From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 27, 2021 7:29 PM
Not that I never fantasized something like this ever happening…for I have, in many intriguing scenarios over the past three decades or so, of which the stolen-pups escapade is but the most recent. Yet it DID happen, finally, late last night around 3:30 AM…so there ya go, Dr. Wattson, a fairy tale come true! With a sweet touch of the Damon-Runyon, kindhearted gangster trope tossed in. So please, grab a cushion and a seat, sit back and allow me the immense gratitude of relaying to you, this astounding gem of an episode that only occurred to me less than half-an-earth’s rotation ago!
I had just retired to my pupless cot, with smartphone astride my head and playing the latest scary podcast from Stitcher. At first, I thought it was a voice in a dream as I drifted off to sleep, a young woman’s voice calling up to me through the window, in a muffled tone: “Zeke? Hello, Zeke, are you awake? Zeke Krahlin?” Of course, it took several moments to finally realize someone really WAS summoning me from the sidewalk below. The fact that it was a FEMALE voice calling out, made it especially unreal, and thus more convincing as a voice in a dream than in the waking world.
Upon coming to my full senses, I urgently flopped out of the cot and landed smack-dab and face first upon the dirty, softwood floor. For a cot is not a good nest to exit from in haste, unlike a standard bed…due to the concave nature of the canvas stretched over the frame, and the ridge of the frame itself. You have to actually sit yourself up first, with legs flung over and feet planted firmly on the floor, then grab the frame’s edge with both hands, and HEAVE yourself forward with a mighty shove before you can even HOPE to leave its deep embrace, and find yourself standing erect.
“Hello, Zee-eeek, anybody home?” she called out once more as I gathered myself up from the floor and dashed to the window…to gaze down upon not one, not two, not three, but FOUR smiling police officers, one of whom was a woman. She eagerly gestured at me to step outside! Well, Wattson, I was truly flummoxed, yet quickly tied a bandanna around my lower face, donned my Persian slippers, skipped the smoking jacket and queerstalker cap, and rushed on down the stairs in my sweatpants and T-shirt, into the lobby, and out the front gate.
“Hello, Zeke, we have good news for you!” spoke another officer. “Do you mind, though, if we talk on the other side, away from the lobby camera?”
“Uh, yeah, of course,” I obliged, confused over what would come down, though I sensed nothing foul.
So we turned the corner to the back of the building, which is on 16th Street…a much more private spot, because dark and away from pedestrians. Though we didn’t stop walking up the hill for about a third of the way, because of aNOTHER camera planted by the fire escape and pointing down towards the intersection at Market Street. It was during this brief stroll that I noticed their unique SFPD patches, which flashed an eye-catching luminous pink as their arms swung. The moment we finally stopped, I took a closer peek at the patch:
It was the standard SFPD insignia, but with a blue rose inlaid over an upward-pointing pink triangle in the center! The exact design I had fashioned way back in 1997, though theirs is much more artful, for it shone from an inner light which source I could not discern. I then leapt back and gasped: “The Blue Rose Militia!”
I certainly can NOT duplicate its elegance in this letter, but I CAN give you a rough idea of this astonishing patch, with the following image:
And here’s a smaller version of that same pic, to give you a better idea of how exquisitely subtle the design appears, when worn.
The kindly peacekeepers began to chuckle among themselves, before the copper-haired, tall, lanky one cut them off and said:
“We have your back, Zeke,” then lowered his frame a bit to tap me on the shoulder and affirm: “Arwyn misses you very much, and looks forward to the day, very soon, when you two lovebirds can be together once more!”
A rush of sheer joy shivered up and down my spine, and I almost fell to the concrete in a swoon of ecstasy. But I tilted myself against the wall, to maintain my balance, and uttered in gobsmacked awe, this lone syllable:
That same cop countered with:
Well that did it, here came the tears and my failed efforts to wipe them away, because the flow was just too copious. As I shuddered in sobs of elation, realizing my dreams coming true, they further explained with gusto, that:
Yes, they ARE the Blue Rose Militia, inspired by my proposal in 1997, and have long since expanded worldwide, including all the most homophobic countries, which are those run by religious fanatics, either Muslim or Christian. A clandestine organization of course, even to myself until this very moment. But they HAVE been watching over and protecting me all those years…gathering ALL my writings off the Internet, including those that came BEFORE that landmark year!
And, yes, they WILL soon make themselves known to the world, and, yes, they have troops of brilliant white-hat hackers who are about to usurp all major government, religious, corporate and military agencies across the planet, in a totally bloodless coup.
And, yes, my books will very soon appear in every bookstore in every nation…and will all be considered part of a greater family of books to be titled: “The Final Testament.”
And, yes, I shall occupy a lovely, rambling mansion with loyal, handsome guardians to do my bidding, as well as protect me and those I love. But for a little while longer, I must remain hovel bound.
They described SO much more than what’s listed above, and in such rapid sequence, it dawned on me they’re not speaking at all, their lips are NOT moving…this is TELEPATHIC! At any rate, they regretted having to leave me alone for the nonce, but have one more surprise. With that, a limousine showed up out of the blue and parked right alongside us. A passenger door swung open, and out hopped Lucky & Flaco, yapping with joy as they jumped into my arms and almost knocked me over!
“You do not have to worry about Deek bothering you ever again, Zeke,” spoke the lesbian peacemaker, this time moving her lips.
She then handed me a registration form from the SPCA, stating that I now own both pups, who have finally been chipped, vaccinated (and Flaco spayed), and all future veterinarian expenses will be covered by the Blue Rose Militia. At the bottom was my digital signature, so I didn’t even need to sign it right then and there, myself. After waiting a few moments for me to peruse the document, she added:
“Nor your building manager, nor those nasty residents of 208. We’ve got that all taken care of.”
I dared not ask for any details on this matter, but just stood dumbstruck, while embracing both pooches as they licked the tears from my face, and wagged a little whirlwind with their curly-fry tails.
“But we ask of you one small sacrifice in exchange!” piped up the bodacious Asian fuzz standing off to my right.
I paused my petting of the brindlekin at that moment, for fear of what that request might be. Which was:
“That you wipe out all evidence of your Brindlekin Tales from the Internet, for the time being.”
I thought, “Whew! Is THAT all? Yeah, I can do that…these dogs are worth everything to me. SUCH an easy sacrifice in exchange!”
“Yes, Mr. Krahlin,” he nodded in agreement (as his mind heard the words my tongue failed to convey).
“For you SHALL have much power, wealth, love and all else that a good person like you deserves, anyway. And…this mandate is but temporary, for your Brindlekin Tales SHALL be published along with all your other books, some time into the holiday season this year…err, I mean around Christmas, but it won’t be called that any more, and the date will shift a bit, to December 30th, because that’s Randolph’s birthday…and, err, it will be called ‘Brindlefest’ from now on. It is just that, at this time, exposing those stories to the public may interfere with your militia’s present activities. I’m sure you understand.”
“Uh, yes, YES,” I shook in some sort of queasy epiphany as I thought the words, “I am truly honored.”
“It is your good works, and what comes from your heart, anyway,” the female officer chimed in, “not what you have or have not achieved superficially.”
They then bid me sweet adieus, assuring me that I will not be alone in this world much longer…and I gleefully brought the pups back to their TRUE home. At least for now, until we move to that mansion with acres and acres of backyard to please any little doggy beyond his and her wildest dreams. And guess what happened just this morning?
Looking out the window, I saw Myrtle and her nasty son, Adisa, packing away large boxes into a U-Haul truck. I have yet, however, to enjoy witnessing the departure of the building manager.
I hope you enjoyed this little fantasy of mine, dear Wattson! More coming up soon, as I speculate further upon the many possible ways I shall be reunited with my brindlekin!
Yours in confidence,
Ezekiel J. Krahlin-Holmes
PS: I found this little ducky tucked away beside a tree’s roots on my return from the corner grocery and grog shop where Morey clerks. It’s barely an inch wide and an inch high, and I found it just minutes before completing the tale above. I’m a lucky duck!
Re: Adorable Kitty GIF Animation! From: My Dear Wattson To: Zeke Krahlin Date: February 21, 2021 2:58 PM
Here’s my little Butterball Beast, assisting me while I slave over a hot keyboard:
Re: Adorable Kitty GIF Animation! From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 21, 2021 4:18 PM
Here’s my little Butterball Beast, assisting me while I slave over a hot keyboard:
Sweet pic: the author at her desk, while her cat secretary clicks on spellcheck to guide her along. Adorable little paws…I love doggy and kitty paws!
Re: Adorable Kitty GIF Animation! From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 21, 2021 4:08 PM
I know. Their innocent little paws.
Flaco usually lies down next to me on the cot, while I’m typing away with keyboard in lap. After some while, she’ll often plunk a paw on my knee. Not lightly place it there, but apply a solid “plunk!” As if to check in with me, make sure I’m okay, that she loves me and, because of that, I have nothing to worry about. I stop then, to give her plenty of hugs and kisses, which she so much favors. Putty in my hands…that’s how much she adores and trusts me! Sometimes when I stand by the cot, smiling down, she’ll raise herself up on hind legs and place those dainty paws upon my thighs: one paw for each leg. Then I’ll hunker over her, hold her in my hands and gently tilt her backwards, whereby she’ll just plop on her back and onto the bedding, legs stuck up in the air while I rub her belly. And sometimes when we sleep, I hold one of the dogs’ sweet paws in my hand.
She also likes to STAND on my lap (paws on my chest or shoulders) facing me while she gazes directly into my eyes with unconditional affection. During this time, she’ll sometimes raise a paw and press it right upon my cheek, lips, nose or eyeball! She’d keep it there, too, if I don’t gingerly remove it…but sometimes I grin and bear it. I chuckle whenever she does that, as she means no harm; it’s just another endearing way she shows love.
When posed thusly, she occasionally starts licking my face (or even my bald pate and ears) with one paw firmly pressing down on my visage. She even licks my eyelids! Fortunately, she never sticks her tongue up my nostrils, like some tiny pups do. She’s like a doggy dermatologist giving me her professional skin-care treatment. Especially sweet is when she sniffs about my ear, little chuffs and huffs from her pointy schnoz as it examines by scent, both the perimeter and contents of my ear. This gives me shivery tickles up and down my spine! Then, when she zeroes in on a spot she deems needful of her attentive tongue, goes at it with dainty, focused licks. She’ll pause now and then for several seconds, in order to reset her olfactory radar before resuming or moving on to another location.
Then there are times she’ll stretch out on my chest while I’m lying down, sometimes facing me, sometimes settled towards my feet…and be very still as she gazes straight ahead, front legs pointing forward. At such moments she is the Sphinx and I am Egypt.
Flaco often intrudes herself upon me, when I’m giving Lucky his hugs. She’ll squeeze herself into my embrace with much strength, shoving Lucky away by the force of Newton’s Second Law of Motion alone. Or if Lucky’s on the cot and I’m rubbing his belly, she’ll immediately rush over and PLOP herself right on top of him, as if that made him suddenly vanish! But Lucky doesn’t mind; he loves his sister and allows her these momentary bouts of jealousy. He’ll either just lie there patiently, under her weight, or move to another part of the bed without any resentment whatsoever. Of course, I make it up to him shortly thereafter, or rearrange my arms so that BOTH pups receive my kind attentions in such a way that Flaco couldn’t possibly sabotage us any further. During such bouts of competition for my affection, neither mutt growls or shows anxiety in any other fashion. Just as they never fight over food, but gladly share with the other.
But Lucky often gets back at her for such antics; he’ll grab her tail or a hind leg firmly, and yank on it until she jumps off my lap or from my embrace and start yapping it him. Whereby they end up play-fighting and romping about the cot.
Lucky’s chunky little paws are exquisite to behold…along with those stubby legs they’re attached to! Such beautiful, muscular curves from shoulder down to the ankles, ending in those remarkable paws. Lucky is a hunky bundle of cuteness; there is not one square inch of him that does NOT radiate cuteness. But the paws really are the brindle frosting on the cake!
Re: Adorable Kitty GIF Animation! From Zeke Krahlin To My Dear Wattson Date: February 21, 2021 4:57 PM
People who don’t nuzzle and cuddle and canoodle with dogs or cats don’t know what they’re missing.
This kitten likes to leap up onto my back when I’m bending over the sink brushing my teeth; then she curls around my neck and puts her purring, vibrating furry nose into my ear. How well I know those shivers!
An exquisite delight, this bonding with a loving creature. I just took an amazing pic of Lucky.
Sleeping with the doggies is a piece of Avalon, right here on earth! They just radiate kindness and joy while nuzzled up against me…as if I were their greatest happiness. I love it when they get up at night for a moment, to rearrange themselves, as they always drop firmly upon me, like a friendly dead weight, and slide into position against this or that part of my body: the back, a leg, a foot, an arm, the chest or my head. And they never gripe whenever I need to reposition myself; they just go with the flow, simply blissed out to share their doggy dreams with THIS lucky human. Lucky is surely the right name for this pup! Just as Surely is lucky to have you and Erwin!
Subject: I Discovered a Safe Place for the Pups to Exercise! From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 23, 2021 11:25 PM
My Dear Dr. Wattson:
(I was in the middle of composing the following email to you, when Deek and the two police officers called up to my window, with the sad result of my having to give up the pups. This will compose the final chapter of Brindlekin Tales, with our email exchanges aBOUT my surrender wrapping it all up. Ironically, I planned to call my next chapter “Easing Into Nirvana,” with this letter included. I have decided to KEEP that title, and the chapter should be released shortly. Anyway: once the confrontation was over, I returned hovel to finish this piece. So here it is.)
I discovered it just six days ago, as we strolled through a different neighborhood about five blocks from my residence. I’ve started going there about a week ago for our nightly walks, because highly unlikely to have run-ins with effed-up, noisy crazies or just the usual, dumb and rude troglodytes. So yesterday, I finally stumbled upon a sort of cul-de-sac composed of dirt, grass, bushes and several large, shady trees…and is large enough for two little doggies to have a rollicking good time!
It’s around fifty feet long and forty wide…and is actually a short but wide alley leading to a children’s playground that is fenced off. No one ever seems to go there, not even dog owners; and the pooches cannot unexpectedly disappear from my sight, because the cyclone-fence gate is shut, and no part of it has any gap through which they might slip. It’s also lit up at night, and in a very lovely, peaceful neighborhood…so what’s not to like?
To get there, we have to hike up a steep, wide hill on the other side of Castro Street…the part where it diverges into Divisadero, and is actually outside of the district. It’s a wider, busier thoroughfare than the rest of Castro Street, and extends north above Market Street for three blocks until merging into Divisadero. But, thanks to the Pandemic, it’s not even very busy during the day, and a ghost town by late evening! All of a ten-minute walk to arrive at our newfound doggy park! Here they are chasing after each other in circles, having a wonderful time of it:
So rewarding, to release them from their master’s hand, and watch them romp about, running in circles from one side to another, play-attacking and sniffing freely about! They didn’t even bark once…just had a delightful time snorting at each other and imaginary shadows. Even better: when they had their fill of exercise (a brief five minutes or so), they happily returned to me when I called them over and clicked their leashes back on. This morning I decided to check it out during the daytime, but we went up a different street one block further north, which turned out to be a dead end.
But what a lovely dead end it was! Beautiful Edwardian homes all lined up like out of a fairy tale, thick with huge, leafy oaks, and a wide, slanted slope on the north side, covered in thick grass and trees that abutted against another cyclone fence demarcating an elementary school. Though it was silent: no children laughing and hollering, no teachers’ commands…no sounds at all to indicate it was open for business.
I examined this slope that extended over a block in length and about fifteen feet wide and–while quite slanted by almost sixty degrees–it was still viable for my diminutive quadrupeds. In fact, even a biped such as myself, could manage to stroll through the shady, green berm, though with care. It was separated from the sidewalk by a thick, concrete ledge that gradually increased in height from this end where we stood, starting ’round two feet to almost four by the time it reached the corner end. I decided to rest my butt on the ledge, while deciding whether or not to let them run off-leash. I signaled to the brindlekin to hop up on the ledge: Flaco readily did so, but, as Lucky hesitated in doubt, there suddenly appeared out of nowhere, this forty-something fellow and his large but elderly German shepherd, standing but two feet away! (WTF…why do these surprise and unwelcome encounters keep happening to me? Not a single warning, not even a little sound to reach the ear! Deek’s surprise abduction, crazy man accusing my pups of being “killer dogs,” strangers rushing up, unbidden, to pet the dogs w/o first asking, but so quickly as to be impossible to pull them away, thus they madly bark with hackles raised…and on and on it goes. These mutts are street-wise, not raised in a loving home where they grow up to believe every human is friendly…they know better!)
At their appearance (which neither Lucky nor Flaco seemed to notice, either, until it was too late to move ourselves out of annoyance’s way), the pooches started to bark, though not so wildly as they’ve done before when they espy another canine’s approach. Flaco’s leash somehow slid my hand, whereby she ran up to the owner and kept yapping, though from a safe distance. Lucky, however, remained standing beside me, and did NOT pull forward on the leash. It was obvious at that point, that no fight or harm would ensue, as the shepherd remained calm, along with the owner. I finally reclaimed Flaco’s leash to pull her back, and apologized:
“Sorry ’bout that, but I adopted them off the street and they’re still learning not to get excited about every little thing.”
“That’s alright,” the man kindly replied, then escorted his own dog to the several steps that lead to the idyllic berm, and released it to wander through the greenery, while he walked towards Castro Street, parallel to the shepherd’s own, slow gait. Don’t know why he didn’t first give me a friendly warning about their approach. Especially bothersome, since I was about to unleash my OWN doggies for a romp in the shrubs. But some good things came out of this encounter:
For one, this further affirms that my pooches are definitely NOT biters in any way, shape or form. For two, the man’s directing his shepherd to stroll along the slanted berm showed me that, yes, it would be perfectly fine for my own canines to do so. Ergo, he was just another bodhisattva who suddenly appeared to show me, through action instead of words, two important aspects of my muttly venture. Turns out he lives just across the street, BTW.
Once they departed, I released Lucky & Flaco to explore the copse. But they contained their little exploits right along the ledge, running back and forth for a length of twenty feet or so…IOW, remaining nearby. In her glee, Flaco leapt from a higher part of the ledge and onto the concrete with a “thunk,” as she fell on her side. Not the least bit dismayed, she promptly attempted to hop onto the berm again, tail wagging in crazy joy…but tumbled backwards on her brindle butt. Lucky quickly followed suit with the same, clumsy result. Not wishing injury upon themselves from euphoric mishap, I intervened by guiding them back to the low end, and up the steps where they could easily resume their advemtire. And walked behind them, to prevent any further spectacular plummets to the sidewalk. They got the point and didn’t do it again. Instead, they’d return to the steps, where they could either walk down them, or carom off the lowest section. What speedy learners they are!
[Gracious reader: all of what was writ above, occurred before I had to return the pups to Deek, tonight, February 23, 2021. Sorry to shock you like this; it certainly was NOT expected at all by yours truly! But allow me to complete this piece, ending this chapter with the episode wherein I had no choice but to give them up.]
Now get this, Wattson: I stumbled upon a SECOND “secret” spot I discovered just yesterday, that is barely two blocks from the first, and even MORE green and idyllic. It’s on the opposite side of the tennis court, which abuts that playground. Here’s a quick video scan:
And here’s our walk on the way to Spot #2…I love how Lucky kicks up his chunky legs after relieving himself! Notice they have new harnesses, which just arrived from Amazon last night:
And two videos of them getting their “exercise,” which, sad to say, is just mostly sniffing about and exporing the new environ. Well, when they DO run around they don’t bark at all, except maybe at a bird or two. And they return promptly when I call them to snap the leashes back on:
They are also rarely noisy at all in my hovel: a bark here or there, including whenever Flaco demands my attention. But that’s more a “grrr” that builds up into an adamant yap, if I take too long to show attention. Then there are the fire engines and ambulances with their shrieking sirens…but they don’t start howling until (and only until) they get really close, and prolonged.
And a couple nights ago, this dog started whining loudly outside. Turned out she was locked in a vehicle, with the window halfway down. She’s a Siberian husky that belongs to the Hohokum smoke shop below. Lucky & Flaco raised their ears, ran to the window to look out (standing on their hind legs), but barely made noise themselves. The just returned to the cot and its plush bedding as I pecked away on the keyboard. You will be glad to know that, less than a minute later, a smoke shop clerk removed the husky from its tight quarters, and hitched her up to a parking meter, where she quieted down.
They used to dance about my legs whenever I delivered another meal to their dining spot…but these days, they don’t budge an inch off that cozy bed until I place the dishes on the floor. I guess I’ve spoiled them rotten. Here’s a pic of them awaiting their next repast, as I prepare their usual kibble with gravy-blend canned food and some ground up duck breast treats:
So blasé about the whole food thing, any more! But they’re eating well, regardless. Often, one or the other doggy isn’t hungry at the moment, but eventually gets around to it, even if an hour or two late.
Flaco likes to knock over the waste basket the moment I step out. Before I even put the key in the lock before departing, I usually hear it plop sideways to the floor! Now, I keep nothing in there that will do harm, or even be a mess to clean up. Upon returning, I just chuckle and say, “Oh no, not again!” And they both wag their tails with innocent delight. Why impose anxiety upon harmless fun? So I started placing the basket upon the sink before stepping out. Unfortunately, that didn’t work out either, as you can see in this pic:
So now I place it atop one of the stacked storage bins. But not sure if THAT will be a solution in the long run, either, as she HAS jumped onto that bin a few times before. Well, we’ll just have to wait and see.
Did you know that chickweed is all over the city, and dogs love nibbling on it, AND it’s healthy for them? Several days ago, I decided to take a snapshot of this plant, to discover what it is, and why dogs love it:
I got my answer on Reddit, that it looks like chickweed. The image matches perfectly, pictures of it on the web. And here’s an article about dogs and chickweed:
Here is a video of Myrtle’s son, Adisa, teaching his young friend how to kickbox, right below my window. It isn’t just his macho posturing, and that it’s right out there in the public arena disturbing the peace and quality of life…but notice that neither is wearing a mask:
Subject: I GAVE THE PUPS BACK TO DEEK! From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 23, 2021 10:12 PM
Police came over with Deek, who stood halfway down the street while I talked with the cops. They showed me a paper from the SPCA, with one dog, Lucky, in his name. Had I held onto the pups any longer, I’d run the risk of a criminal charge…and our verbal contract recorded on my smartphone would probably NOT go over in court. I had no choice. A sad day this is!
So I brought the doggies back downstairs and into the lobby, with Lucky playfully nipping at my heels, and Flaco looking up at me with so much affection. Then I handed them over to the officers, and told them the leashes and collars are my gift. One said thank you, that’s very kind.
But I am determined to hold strong, in faith of my good karma and conscience, that somehow they will return to me…preferably through Deek’s hands, though I don’t really want to see him again, ever. Thus flips another page.
Re: I GAVE THE PUPS BACK TO DEEK! From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 23, 2021 10:24 PM
Oh, no, no, no! That FUCKING asshole!! How could the cops have facilitated this?? I’m shocked and outraged. The pups will be in danger. Flaco will be impregnated. It’s a disaster.
Yep, it’s a tragedy. And on top of that, certain people in my building will gloat. One of the cops said there is not just the dog’s welfare to be concerned about, but Deek’s as well. And he may need them as therapy. (Right, “therapy” in the form of abject neglect, cruelty, and violence upon the doggos, to release his pent up, meth-induced anxieties.) And that his abusive acts still give me no right to claim ownership…it’s a civil complaint, and I’ll need to report him to Animal Control. Well, this is total bullshit, because I know the “authorities” won’t lift a finger. I’d need photographs, witnesses, and other proof…all impossible to achieve.
This is a case where the cops can’t intervene, because a civil issue. I AM shocked that, with all of Deek’s sloppiness with losing papers, ID and everything else, that he actually HAD registered Lucky. He didn’t Flaco, but what’s the point in demanding I keep her? She loves her brother. Maybe I made a mistake in not doing so. This is a Great Test of Faith for me, to not cave in to remorse, regret, or despondence. Or even hatred. They WILL come back to me, some how, some way…even though at this time I don’t see how that could ever happen. Life has shown me that it IS fair and just, and that those who clearly understand this (which I do now, after all the incredible scenarios I’ve been through since late October) have an OBLIGATION to NOT obsess over negative emotions or horrid outcomes. Things WILL work out.
Nonetheless, this is OBVIOUSLY the final chapter of Brindlekin Tales. Let us hope Book 2 will soon emerge, with Flaco & Lucky back in my arms…and with Deek in a much better situation, both physically and mentally. FYI: I’ve composed this entire reply while hearing Lucky’s sweet barks in the distance, probably at the corner of Market & Castro. I thought to bring a couple of blankets out to Deek, but decided against that.
Your comrade in arms,
Ezekiel J. Krahlin-Holmes
Subject: Now i Wish I Had Thought This Through From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 24, 2021 3:44 AM
That was a forgery, Wattson! Zach has well-to-do friends with roofs over their heads, running scam operations up the wazoo. They could have easily duplicated an SPCA form. One of the cops asked if I called them, to find out if Lucky were registered in his name. But I already tried that, and no one picks up the phone, and they don’t have voice mail.
The light was dim outside, and I didn’t have my reading glasses, so I didn’t really peruse the form he held out to me, other than seeing the official SPCA letterhead. But if I ran back upstairs to get my glasses, so I could examine the contract thoroughly, how could I tell whether or not it was forged? I doubt the peacekeepers would’ve taken kindly to that! Don’t you think it odd that, with all his sloppiness, failure to keep papers, tickets, ID or any other sort of item (he even keeps losing ten and twenty dollar bills he loosely pockets), he somehow manages to present the police with a fresh, clean copy of an SPCA registration? Be that as it may:
All these scenarios I’ve been through, like running the gauntlet, are too hokey to be anything BUT contrived. This is more like an initiaton into a secret society–where I’m getting hazed for a period of time–than it is any sort of malicious action. Deek is in on it, the cops are in on it, Arwyn is in on it (as I believe he is the writer of this script), and Hera only knows who ELSE is in on it. Donald J. Trump?
One twist in the plot after another since October 30th…and most certainly, Deek’s Pyrrhic victory is NOT the LAST twist! Surely, my turn shall come around again, soon enough. These are bodhisattvas PLAYING with me, and nothing more. All I need do is…
Just relax, have faith in the good, and things shall unravel in my favor. If I am correct, Deek has done not a single mean thing to the pups; just acts like that in front of me. And the doggies seem completely affable, indicating he’s actually very good to them when offstage. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from these remarkable scenarios of recent vintage, it’s this:
THERE IS NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT. NOT EVER!
And that, My Dear Wattson, is the key to solving ALL mysteries. My charade of appearing brilliantly deductive is merely a cloak to conceal that simple truth. That by playing detective, I may find SOME excitement in my life between injections of my “silver bullet,” when Pterry Pterodactyl appears once more to take me on my next paranormal joy ride of high stakes and cutting edge ectoplasmic forensics.
For it seems to me that the Blue Rose Militia, the world’s first LGBT militia I proposed via cyberspace way back in 1997, actually DOES exist. As a secret society, still, possibly under the leadership of one Arwyn Miles…though Randolph Taylor may be in on it too, as I strongly suspect. I even described it as a “ParaNormalMilitary” organization in my original essay, which anyone can read here:
Deek is, I’m sure, a longstanding member of my militia. And to begin his clever charade of nine-plus years, disguised himself as a homeless waif and began pushing a shopping cart through the Castro, on sidewalks where he knew I’d most likely appear. And of course, it worked.
How many are actually reading my WordPress blog, that I don’t know about? The service DOES tally the numbers…but I surmise that the Blue Rose Militia has many superb hackers in its ranks that could easily find ways around that, to conceal their views. A simple technique to accomplish that is to have just ONE soldier load my latest blog entry, then download it to his system, whereby he can email a copy of it en masse. Well, it’s very late now, 3:43 AM…so it’s time for me to hit the sack and, this time, sad to say, without my lovely brindlekin.
Re: Now i Wish I Had Thought This Through From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 24, 2021 12:44 PM
I agree that the papers must have been forged.
Of course they were. The SPCA doesn’t use high security documents…just easy-to-duplicate printouts.
I like your attitude toward all of this, but I’m still very worried. About you, and about the pups.
Thanks, but worry doesn’t accomplish anything constructive, it just wears people down. I am not worried about either the pups, or myself. I may not understand how things will work out in my (and the doggies’) favor, but they most assuredly will. (And for Deek, too.) After all, have not these extraordinary adventures I’ve been going through since late October, taught me one thing more than anything else? TO NOT WORRY ABOUT A THING, ALL SHALL BE RESOLVED, AND WITH COMPASSION FOR EVERYONE INVOLVED.
I can conjecture any number of ways that wrongs shall be righted, but surprising twists and outcomes are part of this board game I call “Battle of the Bodhisattvas.” The ironic implication OF that title, is that bodhisattvas don’t EVER go to war, or even fight…that is, not in the mundane sense. They ACTUATE scenarios guaranteed to lead to happy resolutions, even if they don’t appear that way at the beginning, or in the middle, of the game. Any actual “battles” they perform, are mere intermission dressing between players’ rounds. But I’ll tell you this, my good doctor:
I certainly know the WRONG way to deal with such tragic crises is not just through worrying, but through fantasizing a morbid outcome for one who plays your enemy. Not that you would LOSE the battle in so doing, but it makes for a miserable gameplay for your OWN wronged self. And what is the point of that? SHOULD a bad outcome ensue for your (perceived) enemy’s malicious action, that is the mandate of Kismet, and not one you hold any sway over. Nor should you be gleeful about that, either. Some people who’ve lost a loved one to homicide actually FORGIVE the criminal…which is precisely the RIGHT thing to do.
Nonetheless, it’s perfectly fine to retain disgust over someone who’s done you wrong…just don’t let that emotion control your behavior. If you can’t stand to SEE that person, avoid him or her as best you can. Which is what I now do with Kevin, our building manager. And if you should lose a round or two (or even more) in this board game, and your opponents mock and deride you…give them no mind. For the game is NOT yet over, with surprising twists and turns still ahead.
But yes, I AM grief stricken and angered over the injustice that has been done to me and those innocent brindlekin. I do not pretend otherwise. Yet it is these lessons of FAITH I have recently experienced, that give me the upper hand, and a firm grip on the wheel, no matter how rough the storm. A compassionate resolution MUST be how the game ends…and that includes for Deek, as well.
I have no idea what comes next, which way the dice will roll, which card will be played, or which piece my opponent will move. As for yours truly: I decided to throw in my Surrender Card, in response to a second visit by the SFPD. It is a move that often has hidden powers, of which even the one who played it, does not know WHICH powers that may be, until two or three moves forward on the board. It is a somewhat unpredictable hand to play, but usually grants its possessor considerable leeway and opportunity, should that player neither panic nor gloat before the results manifest.
True love and kindness have a way of reaching out beyond space and time…and that is how it is with the pooches. They have my infinite, unconditional love and I have theirs. And it is just this power that overrides ALL obstacles, no matter the odds. So the most WINNING attitude of all, is to know this in your heart so rightfully, that you already celebrate your momentous victory-to-be in the name of all that is good and just. And that, my dear Wattson, is the way of the bodhisattva!
There may be something immediately beneficial coming out of my pups’ disappearance (assuming, of course, they are perfectly happy and fine anywhere else; which I believe to be true), which is:
I will no longer have ugly confrontations with Kevin, and his aspersions thereof…at least, as regards the dogs. He will come to realize on his own, that the pups are NO LONGER HERE, because I have absolutely NO intention of informing him myself. Let him stew in his own, skanky juices. And the false accusation that Myrtle’s son Adis was bitten, now rings more hollow than ever! So it may be for the best that Lucky & Flaco are gone for now, as they then can’t be taken away by some city agency per Kevin’s managerial order.
What will I say to the few others who’ve admired the pups, and my adoption of them? I think, perhaps, it’s best right now to just say they’re currently at a friend’s home with a backyard. Dieter (long term resident with a wheelchair due to bad knees), though, has been so kind to me and the doggies, deserves to know the truth…he’ll understand. However, he DOES talk with Kevin at times, so maybe I’ll hold back.
Morey, however, I COULD discuss this with…he’s the one who clerks at the corner store two blocks up Noe Street…and has often expressed kudos over how well I take care of Lucky & Flaco. And he WAS open to my suggestion of a secret society putting me through an initiation of sorts, and my proposal years ago of forming the Blue Rose Militia, the world’s first and still only GAY militia…which I believe IS that covert cabal. “You never know,” he kindly said, “Anything’s possible!” And that, after my mentioning that Deek may also be one such acolyte!
So I may have more allies than I realize. Actually, around here, even ONE true ally would be fantastic. I believe that he or she IS out there…along with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of others, though hidden even to me, for awhile longer. And, if so, they read ALL my Brindlekin Tales and know exactly what’s going down this very moment. Some of them even play my enemy, as I have iterated often in these tales that demonstrate my Bodhisattva Premise. Such as Deek, or Arwyn, or the building manager, and so on. This suggests that I really HAVE no enemies, just tough taskmasters. For as the Buddha once put it: “We have no enemies, only teachers.”
Right now I’m in the middle of my breakfast as I type this out. Newspapers remain strewn across the floor, that I freshly laid down yesterday, and the brand new harnesses which they’ve only worn once so far, remain atop a storage bin. I just don’t have the heart to remove them; I doubt I ever will. I still expect to see them snoozing on my cozy cot whenever I turn around in that direction…especially at night, because of shadows and my aging eyes specked with floaters. And I sometimes absentmindedly reach out to pet them, while at my work station. I don’t think THAT will ever go away, either. Nor do I want it to.
Yours in fond friendship,
Ezekie J. Krahlin-Holmes
I realize that people love a GREAT story, especially one that makes them weep copiously. Thus, my bodhisattva teachers (or guardian angels, if you prefer) have seen fit to set things up that way…though very much against my wishes. For why should two, innocent little creatures be put in the middle of all this? I know they will miss me very much, and wonder why I abandoned them, and where am I? So if this final chapter doesn’t bring tears flowing down your cheeks and an ache in your heart…well, then, I’m at a loss. For I never PLANNED it that way. Nonetheless, I refuse to believe in a tragic ending to my Brindlekin Tales. Thus, there WILL be a Book 2, with a happy ending to boot!
For I know in my heart, these spirit guides are most compassionate, and have other plans in store for the pooches, myself, and even Deek. It is MY obligation to NOT bear malice towards him or anyone else, for he is ALSO a victim of this harsh world, and is incapable of appreciating the incredible sacrifices I’ve already made on his behalf, over a long span of nine years. But know I should rest confident that apparent wrongs shall right themselves in due time…and I believe it won’t be long from now, at all. It is ALSO my conjecture that the dogs will be perfectly fine through it all, some how and some way…even if I, myself, do not fully grasp how this could be. WORRY doesn’t do anyone (or any doggie) any good. And I am absolutely CERTAIN, after all the amazing adventures I’ve been through recently (extraordinary for anyone so blessed to experience, maybe one in a million), that dogs have angels watching over them, too. For it is the wisdom of the Buddha that advises us to remain centered, and never cave in to emotional extremes from either end of the spectrum. Be calm and at peace, no matter how rocky the circumstance…and you shall pass through any crisis with grace.
I was planning to include in this chapter, OTHER mini-episodes about the pooches, but it all now comes to a screeching, tragic halt. Thus ends Book 1 of Brindlekin Tales, on a very sad note. Now, before you close this book, allow me to leave you with a most gracious psalm from the Old Testament, which is numbered 91:
Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”
Surely he will save you
from the fowler’s snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
You will only observe with your eyes
and see the punishment of the wicked.
If you say, “The Lord is my refuge,”
and you make the Most High your dwelling,
no harm will overtake you,
no disaster will come near your tent.
For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;
they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
You will tread on the lion and the cobra;
you will trample the great lion and the serpent.
“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
He will call on me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.
With long life I will satisfy him
and show him my salvation.
Here’s a quick scan of the second “secret” spot I discovered just yesterday, where the pooches can romp around and explore without interference from other dogs and owners. It’s barely less than two blocks from the first secret spot…how handy!
This is on our way to the second secret spot. Notice the pups have new harnesses! They need a little adjusting, which I’ll get around to later. I love how Lucky kicks up his chunky legs after relieving himself.
This is another “secret” spot where the brindlekin can get some exercise without other dogs or people present. “Exercise” in quotes, because all they really wanted to do was sniff around and explore. Oh, well!
Just sniffing about, high on the scents of chlorophyll and dirt! I did manage to get them to run about for a little while, but it was less than two minutes. They DO chase after birds…so maybe I can trap one and train it, to get them motivated. Ha-ha, just kidding…chirp, chirp!
An unexpected benefit of this current plague (at least from THIS antinatalist’s perspective), is that children’s playgrounds are now empty, thus my pups have access to them, without my having to worry about the usual dog parks with so many irresponsible pet owners and their sketchy canines! For that reason, I NEVER take them to such parks, but keep them leashed while outside, at all times. I was hoping to find some little spot where they COULD run freely, and I finally found one! But they don’t seem to get the hint, that they can romp about to their heart’s content, as this video and the next one so clearly show. But the third one is the charm!
They STILL don’t get the hint that they are now free to run about and play! This is a safe, lovely little park totally void of any other dogs or people. And the first time I’ve ever let them off the leash in public, since I adopted them back in early January.
At last, they grasp the concept of running about unleashed! What a delight to see them revel in this newfound little patch of earth, sand, trees and grass. This is the first time I’ve ever unleashed them in public, since I adopted them January 7th.
Subject: Prophetic Insights & Speculation From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 17, 2021 6:59 PM
Regarding my “avatar” nature, and the extraordinary implications therein, here are some recent thoughts:The culmination of my destiny is NOW…that is, starting this year and reaching a climax before year’s end. All signs point to that, based on the extraordinary circumstances now unfolding in my life, which began on the eve of Halloween last year. DOCUMENTED in Brindlekin Tales, with the first chapter, “More Than a Hole in the Ground,” date stamped October 30th, 2020.
1. A major trigger for this culmination comes from the extraordinary inspiration of two amazing little doggies now in my life, of which Brindlekin Tales is THE major evidence, through the telling thereof. I do not exaggerate when I proclaim that Lucky & Flaco are a gift from the gods (through the hand of my most irksome friend, Deek, who is homeless). And by “gods,” I mean something akin to those in Greek mythology (probably reptilians playing those deities because they know how much I love that genre)…though ultimately an invisible consciousness spread across the cosmos and beyond, that I prefer to call “Universal Mind.”
2. I don’t think my fame and empowerment will come through getting my book published…or any other usual, normal channel. But will, instead, be the result of more and more people turning onto my WordPress blog, Youtube Channel, Twitter site, and/or my Facebook posts. My newfound admirers will then start flooding my GoFundMe account with a rapidly increasing amount of funds that will climb into the millions. And I will suddenly receive so MANY gifts via my Amazon Doggy Wish List, that I will have to start HANDING OUT most of them to OTHER folks with canine pets, especially the homeless. This stunning rise in popularity will also lead to burgeoning donations through a PayPal account that I have yet to open, and similar services for receiving money from my fans. Most of whom will be ecstatically overJOYED to contribute a small percentage of their income each month, just for moi, withOUT any specific goal in mind, such as my doggy charity.
For they simply KNOW that I will spend (or redistribute) the monies in the most compassionate ways possible! Because that is the kind of person I am, and PROOF of that is all over cyberspace, and has been since the day I joined the Internet, back in the mid-80s when it was all about BBSing.
3. But I also surmise something UNSUSPECTED will likely rocket me to stardom, instead…a surprise if you will, for that is part of this game so cleverly devised by our Reptilian Guardian Angels. So there is no point in conjecturing the possibilities, since they are INFINITE. However, I have had visions over many years of my book (or books) showing up all of a sudden, one day, in the windows of every bookstore around the world! Without my ever lifting a finger to make this happen. IOW: I have a lot of allies working on my behalf, on an international level, that I don’t even know about. That incredible vision first happened YEARS ago, back in 1997…and I wrote about it, here:
4. A network of kindred souls shall crystallize across the globe this year, with Arwyn and myself at the helm. You shall also be a major figure within the network, as my most trusted military advisor, or, as I called you in my tale, Misfortune is a Cookie Named Zeke: “the Osmium Empress.” You will number among the highest tier of this network, alongside myself and Larkin. Amazing people in the company of other amazing people! Or, better said: “Amazing people in the company of amazing Reptilians!” Randolph Taylor will be with us, too…OF COURSE, IT ALL MAKES PERFECT SENSE NOW! Randolph, who told me in a dream, that he never even went to Vietnam, nor did he really attempt to kill himself…it was all a RUSE for my benefit: that I grow in wisdom and become a hero!
Well THAT was fun. This is the piece I began writing, when the nasty building manager disrupted my creative flow, and forced me to spend two agonizing days documenting everything around his threat. What a fountain of misery he is, gushing toxic waste in every direction! Hazmat should quarantine the vermin. He’s nuts, and he has the KEY to my room, he could even plant drugs in it and report me, or commit any other sort of mischief. HE’S GOTTA GO, NOW!!!
How am I gonna do my laundry any more, or go shopping for groceries, or walk the doggies, when I know at any time while I’m out, Kevin could be mucking about my hovel?
Re: Prophetic Insights & Speculation From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 18, 2021 10:00 AM
It gives me great pleasure to contemplate all of this. Extremely refreshing in this veil of gloom.
Glad I can help! I’m an eternal light in this forest of darkness. Nothing will EVER snuff me out…I’ve made it to the finish line, so game over, I won. :)
You need a motion-activated surveillance camera.
You mean like this?
Definitely affordable, I’ll look into these devices further. Maybe Kevin will keel over before I have to spend the money on a security device…that would be awesome; I’d celebrate with a nice Chianti and a side of fava beans. Thanks!
Subject: My solution: not do anything… From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 18, 2021 11:06 AM
…except perhaps to email him this message:
To put your mind at ease regarding my doggies running free in the lobby: I do NOT let them run from my room, but wait until I get to the landing, and see if anyone is in the lobby or at the gate. If there is no one at either place, I let them have their little run to the entryway, where I can quickly pick up the leashes should someone show up at the gate. But if the coast ISN’T clear, I keep a hold on the leashes the entire time. Hope you have a lovely day.
This IS the right way to handle it, based on my Bodhisattva Premise…for I really have nothing to worry about…no one does, actually. Any defensive response is a form of worry or anxiety, and thus is a less satisfactory solution. Everything went in my favor recovering the pups from Deek…and I remained calm through it all, and did NOT cave in to angst. ALL things are going my way, in spite of the occasional disruption. I just need to learn a bit better, how to release any further anxieties, including those brought on by the building manager.
What say you, Wattson? I won’t even send that email if you suggest to hold back on that, too.
Re: My solution: not do anything… [addendum] From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 18, 2021 11:47 AM
And, perhaps, adding this second paragraph:
The rest of your gripes are bogus, and certainly unbecoming of ANY building manager. I hope you did not REALLY send a cc to Ablahblah Realty, as it reflects badly on yourself. Personally, I have NO interest in jeopardizing your position as manager, though you seem to be doing a good job of it on your own. Your childish behavior DOES put me between a rock and a hard place, which may force my hand to register an official complaint against you. So PLEASE cease with your mean-spirited nonsense. IOW: the viciousness of which you speak is NOT coming from the dogs.
More on my Bodhisattva Premise: I don’t really NEED an attorney, or any other mundane assistance, because I ALREADY have the best assistance of all: Universal Mind, karma, Reptilian spirit ghosts, guardian angels, the Flying Spaghetti Monster, Artemis, the SFPD, or whatever. Call it what you will, but all signs through my extraordinary episodes these past several months give strong indication of that. Nonetheless, if the attorney I’ve been trying to contact SHOULD offer to take on my case, that’s fine, too. I am reminded of how you used your OWN words to save you from losing your house, without ANY legal assistance.
And more on S. Rohan’s remarkable illustration of the three cherubs: my choice of THAT image among the fifteen others she drew, may not only be due to the succor I gain from displaying it on my laptop screen. Perhaps they also are sending me a message that money is coming soon, once again…just like it did in my original vision of them, as adult angels who assured me cash would show up at just the right time, which it did. (It was Ms. Rohan who transformed them into cherubs, per her own inspiration.) The first time around, it took less than three months for the moolah to show up, which allowed me to fly out to D.C. to stand by Randolph, where his hospital bed COULD have wound up also being his death bed. Let’s see how soon a monetary windfall happens this time around.
Lastly, an update regarding my progress with the pooches: they now obey my “Shhh!” command more readily, and thus bark a lot less when exiting or entering the building…in fact, almost never. When we ran the gauntlet up and down Noe Street this morning, similar progress was shown. I just stop them and say “Shhh!” and they calm down. A couple of employees at the Mediterranean restaurant around the corner who set up the outdoor seating, love the doggies, despite their mad barking when they approach. But not this time around…when they reached out their hands, Flaco did not bark at all, but sniffed, while Lucky DID bark, though nowhere near as vociferously. Also, as we proceeded further down the street, an older man who tends the corner garden saw us and said, “Uh-oh, here they come!” For they would bark at him as we passed, in previous times. However, today they did not, and he was impressed. So my pups ARE getting known, noticed and appreciated by some of the regulars we walk by. Who have been of GREAT assistance in helping them socialize better, now that they are no longer in the position as Deek’s guard dogs, where living on the streets 24/7 caused them to be overly protective.
Subject: The Dogs of Artemis From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 18, 2021 3:55 PM
Wattson: I’ve been meaning to get around to finding out the names of Artemis’s dogs, which I always thought were two, as that is how I’ve seen them depicted in paintings and statues. But it seems she had a whole passel of ’em! At least, according to this post on Reddit, from last year:
I could not find their names, but Artemis had 14 dogs: two black-and-white dogs, three reddish ones, and one spotted one, as well as “seven bitches of the finest Arcadian race”.
Yet I STILL don’t know their names, even though I now do those of Acteon…whom Artemis had ordered ripped to shreds by his OWN hounds, after she first turned him into a stag! That’s all in the same thread, BTW.
Why my particular interest in Artemis, besides my general love of Greek mythology? Because she and her twin brother Apollo played a major role in my visions that occurred in the 90s, which inspired me to compose a poem in her honor, and appears on my Gay Bible site. But I’ll post it here as well:
PRAYER TO ARTEMIS
by Ezekiel Krahlin
Oh Artemis, Brave Artemis, Goddess of
The Sacred Hunt, and Savior of Apollo
(For whom Your life was sacrificed
With others soon to follow)!
Perseus had wrought a silver belt made
From Medusa's Snake, for You to wear
Around Your waist to grant complete
From blow or slash of club or sword,
or any other weapon.
In Armageddon You did fight battle after
Chaste, courageous in Your might,
Standing strong within the light...
Unstained, unslain, unharmed, and
Yet the final skirmish had not been
When Apollo lay wounded, dying, flayed,
Blood streaming from His valiant chest--
For the Beast of Lies had done his best
To doom the God of Healing to dark,
Unswerving in Your heart with courage
like no other,
You gird the silver belt around Your
Upon that act You were suddenly flung
Beneath the hooves of Satan's steed,
And died...unnoticed, unshrouded,
Apollo rose to conquer all,
In this, the last, and greatest,
To honor You, a sister true, each eve He
prays and faces west,
The direction in which You died.
Tears do grace His handsome face as He
looks up to the sky:
Your blood now stains the sunset with
virgin red-rose hues,
Spilled across the battlefield of deep
azures and crystal blues!
But I still don’t know the names of her dogs, to my disappointment. Seeing as these incredible Brindlekin Tales arise directly from the inspiration of my two canine companions, and that Artemis has come to me in visions in a former decade, discovering the names of her dogs seems an important thing for me to know. It hounds me no end, yet I keep barking up the wrong tree…even Yelp fails me! Oh, well, back into the doghouse I go…and me without a bone to pick!
Your punny sleuth who’s at times uncouth,
Ezekiel J. Krahlin-Holmes
PS: As for her brother, I wrote various pieces, including this one:
SONG OF APOLLO
by Ezekiel Krahlin
Thou art fair as the green corn
bending in the sky.
Thou art the blossom, the nectar,
and the fruit of my eye.
Thou art gracious as a lamb
born in spring.
Thou art the resurrection of dreams
for which I joyfully sing.
Re: My solution: not do anything… From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 18, 2021 11:20 PM
At this point, I think he might be amenable to walking back his threat that you must get rid of the dogs. Give him some wriggle room to do the right thing. I would send him the message below. Save the “addendum” paragraph to use if/when he responds negatively.
Yep, that’s exactly what I’ll do, and I’ll make the subject title, “Chillax, Dude!” The email goes out in a minute. Thanks! My god, it’s such a royal pain in the ass dealing with the pinheads of this world.
Subject: Killer Dogs! From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 19, 2021 11:28 AM
Took the pups out in a light rain this morning, then went to Rosenberg’s for coffee, where they waited outside, hitched to a parking meter. As I paid the clerk I suddenly heard Lucky & Flaco barking up a hurricane, so I looked towards them to see a feisty mofo trying to walk THROUGH them, as they snarled and nipped at his feet. He then came screeching into the shop: “Those are killer dogs! Get them outta here!” and other horrid nonsense. Apparently, he had just pulled up in his vehicle and, instead of walking AROUND the other end of his car, decided to set foot right between the dogs’ leashes.
IOW: he intentionally stirred up trouble. Otherwise, why on Lilith’s blue and green and brown earth, would anyone DO that? WHO intentionally walks into the middle of two leashed dogs, riling them up as a result, unless they’re looking to create trouble? They see a couple of adorable mutts and are jealous, because SO unhappy with their own lives. I think that’s an apt analysis, don’t you, my good Dr. Wattson?
He was awfully UGLY in the face, so I could see why he goes out of his way to stir up feces: the mirror he looks into every day when he arises, despises him. Anyway, I addressed the bastard:
“Sir, they are my dogs and they will be gone WITH me in a moment!”
He failed to respond, but barged on over to the canned malt liquor section for the morning brewski he so desperately craved. Typical, nasty alcoholic. One would think these bodhisattva pranks attempting to scare me over losing the pups should have ended by now…seeing as, these days, I very quickly overcome any consequential anxiety attacks, to resume a pacific demeanor. But no, they’re pushing the envelope to the max, EVERY SINGLE FRIGGIN DAY! The challenge, of course, is that I learn to remain calm and assured through it all ASAP. Which I perfectly understand, and appreciate, for it gives me greater strength and courage than ever before.
But really, this is harassment in the highest degree: from the gods themselves! Now what kind of attorney, what kind of court, and what kind of judge would determine a resolution on my behalf? How on earth can a humble, queer earthling such as myself, EVER achieve justice with so little support in my favor? Makes me wonder if there are also poor people, homeless people, even on Mt. Olympus and its surrounding environs! To satirically paraphrase a portion of Matthew 6:10: “In heaven as it is on earth?”
So here is a pic of the upper left front of the envelope containing the building manager’s nasty “vicious animals” letter:
Notice the sloppy, unprofessional type, accompanied by an ink smear. Another hint, besides his childish rant therein, that he really did NOT send a cc to Ablahblah Realty…because, honestly, he should realize such a crazy screed would upset his employer, because it clearly opens them up to a lawsuit they’d obviously lose. But if he DID actually mail them a copy, it’s more likely a setup intended to gain me much moolah for my GoFundMe project, via an out-of-court settlement in my favor. Such a prank implies that Ablahblah itself is in on it!
Another interesting pic, this time of the “Astro Elevator” truck…but I shot this at 3:45 AM! What the heck is an elevator worker doing here at such an undeityly hour? Several days back, Flaco had to go urgently at around 4 AM, pacing the floor to get my attention. And as we descended into the lobby, there was that same worker diddling around in the elevator shaft. I wished him a good morning and moved on. I’m wondering if he’s presently homeless? Furthermore, I believe he is the same fellow who asked if I’m sure they don’t bite.
Wouldn’t it be hilarious if Kevin was discovered bludgeoned to death on a sidewalk, during his frequent 1 AM walk towards 9666 Market, from god only knows where he’s coming at that time of night? This is dark humor, but hear me out, Wattson:
By the following day his murder would be in all the city headlines. But get this: imagine what Myrtle and Adisa would think, in light of their false accusation one of my dogs bit her son, and my adamant and honest denial TO the manager that this NEVER happened! Would they think, “OMG, we’re next!” They might just up and evict themselves in a hurry.
Last night, for the first time, I danced before the brindlekin! To a song I stumbled upon, by a group called “Wonder Girls.” It’s a sweet little song that just made me up and dance!
The pups were startled awake from their slumber, sat straight up with tilted heads and a quizzical expression on their sweet faces. Flaco began leaping up to plant her paws on me and kiss me on the cheeks. Lucky joined in a few minutes later. So just moments ago I figured to video record this, and here is the result:
Certainly NOT as active and delightful as they were the first time around, but I’m sure a few more tries will get me that outstanding “Dancing with the Dogs” video. I see now, a chapter or two hence, will be a collection of dancing clips! Naturally, there are copyright issues, so I’ll probably have to use songs from a public domain repository. Oh, but here’s an even BETTER idea:
Take me and my dancing dogs to the streets! Imagine yours truly with a Bluetooth speaker playing catchy tunes, dancing with the pups on the corner of Market & Castro! With a collection jar for donations, that will be used for my doggy expenses! Imagine the reaction of my building’s residents, including Kevin himself! Then one day, I’ll call on Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Foods around the corner, telling them I want to say thank you for helping the pups eat again. And we have a little skit we’d like to do for you, so step outside and bring your smartphones to record it! In conclusion:
Brindlekin Tales is such a beautiful collection of stories that is ENHANCED by Deek’s abduction of the pooches, the building manager’s demand to evict them, along with all OTHER scary challenges so suddenly flung before me…that I can’t HELP but think this is all the work of bodhisattva spirits, to make me the hero, and skyrocket me to fame and success! IOW: all those who play my enemies are actually contributing to my tales, AND AWARE OF THAT! Including that wicked little bugger who called my darlings “killer dogs” this morning. As the Buddha once declared: “We have no enemies, only teachers.”
What think YOU, Dr. Wattson?
Yours as always and forever,
Ezekiel J. Krahlin-Holmes, Esq.
Subject: Dancing with the Doggies From: Zeke Krahlin To: Kevin Bond (building manager) Date: February 19, 2021 11:28 AM
This video will never appear on my Youtube or any other official site, due to copyright restrictions. Thus, it is destined to become one of my underground achievements. It’s the first, among what shall become many: my own Gay Bible Apocrypha. Enjoy!
Re: My solution: not do anything… From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 19, 2021 1:55 PM
“Winning an argument with a smart person is hard; winning an argument with a stupid person is impossible.”
To that, I’d add “stupid and/or crazy.”
Of course, good doctor. But sometimes one is FORCED to argue with such klutzes, regardless. I’m thinking here of civil complaint issues, or when the idiot is your employer, manager, or any other person with some social power over you. This is why Mark Twain’s famous quote about stupidity is only HALF correct, as regards the “never” part:
“Never argue with stupid people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience.”
In my case, I am COERCED to argue on my behalf, else Kevin would step all over me. His nastiness is all the result of bringing my complaint about the loitering teenagers to the attention of Ablablah Realty. I’ve had wicked people who lived in this edifice BEFORE this, who’ve wound up DEAD after prolonged hostility against me. Such as a former manager, Ruth Harris, who gossiped to other residents that I’m friends with a tenant who’s been threatening her, and she doesn’t know why. But yes she did, as I TOLD her that I’m going to befriend him, in an attempt to persuade him to move…and that is exactly what happened a few weeks later! Ruth wound up dying of cancer while still manager.
Another example is Larry Thompson who lived across the hall from me, for many years. He was a queeny, skinny old fart with bleached hair and a pea for a brain. Who began harassing me because I kicked him out of a coffeehouse for HIV folks and their friends, where I was a volunteer serving up coffee and snacks. He was drunk as a skunk and pawing the young customers. He never forgave me for that (as if there were anything to forgive) and even gave a notorious drug dealer my name, address and phone number! Whenever we’d pass each other on the sidewalk, he’d murmur: “You’ll get yours!” He also turned a new friend of eight months against me, who lived right above, and had AIDS with dementia. And HE died a year later, after his constant threats and attacks upon yours truly.
Then, suddenly one day and thereafter, Miss Larry never spoke to me or anyone else…and sported a new accessory to his wardrobe: a colorful cravat tied about the neck. Turned out he had developed throat cancer and had his vocal chords removed! He died in the hospital two months later.
And I already told you about the two gay lovers on the third floor, one of whom started threatening my good friend, Peggy. They were evicted due to this harassment, and, possibly, for bringing drugs and dealers into 9666 Market Street. Less than a year later, one committed suicide, while the other perished from a drug overdose.
The building manager’s maliciousness is equally morbid to those examples, thus I expect a similar outcome. Likewise for Myrtle and her son. How this will play out is beyond me…though I HAVE conjectured one possible scenario regarding Kevin, to you in a previous email. And it couldn’t come soon enough as far as THIS beleaguered pilgrim is concerned. BTW, Mr. Thompson of the cravat, is the FIRST person I’ve ever wished death upon! But of course his demise is not my own telepathic doing, for no doubt others before me have been likewise hurt by him. It is just that, when I truly wish someone’s cessation, it is only because they ARE a wicked person in the first place…thus their dark end is already writ in stone.
Anyway, here’s the solution around copyright limitations to my dancing with the dogs (click on the video, then click on “Youtube” and read the description to find out):
Subject: Changed my username from Zebra Ghost back to Zeke Krahlin… From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 20, 2021 8:59 AM
…on Amazon.com. I chose the handle “Zebra Ghost” for my username, when posting comments and reviews, as a privacy issue, since I didn’t want them using my real name to use in any promotionals. But now that I am about to become famous worldwide, it will benefit me immensely, to switch back to my REAL name. Seeing as companies and business owners will soon be crawling over each other to use my actual name to promote their products…and pay me handsomely!
So, emailing the building manager my little dance number was my way of showing him I have it all figured out now: that he, Myrtle and son (and their teenage loiterers), and Ablahblah Realty were all spoofing me. Or, to put this another way: as bodhisattva guides, pushing me forward to self-awakening through their challenges. The pups are NOT gonna be driven out, and things will now rapidly progress towards the New Renaissance, with yours truly at the helm.
A new day has dawned, My Osmium Empress!
Re: Changed my username from Zebra Ghost back to Zeke Krahlin… From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 20 2021 1:11 PM
Roger on all of that. I’m relieved!
Not that he’s told me it’s only a prank, but his rapacious letter pretty much makes that obvious. The ruse started with those loitering teenagers, and developed from there…very clever! The point was to keep disrupting me, so that the added stress in my life would accelerate my growth as a result of dealing with it as compassionately possible, while standing my ground. It worked! Even if, perchance, I’m wrong about this, and he IS serious (which I strongly doubt), my two email responses were the best solution either way you interpret the scenario. A resolution affirming my theory, would be that all hostile parties involved approach me in friendship…just like in the Tibetan Book of the Dead, when the demons that threaten to chop you to bits finally drop their masks to reveal themselves as angels…IF you’ve passed their tests by not giving in to negative emotions. Upon which victory you ascend to the NEXT level, perhaps to go through further challenges. Though I’m not sure every level is meant to be challenging in that manner, in order to ascend further. Perhaps there are other challenges, such as sharpening your mind, skills or virtuous qualities.
DID YOU SEE MY LITTLE DANCE NUMBER YET? Check out my shadow, it looks like a gorilla or a bear! I only paid attention to the shadow after watching the video a dozen or so times…and I was happily startled. I consider this video as marking the turning point into the Age of Aquarius…and it all starts in my hovel, then blossoms outward. It’s gonna go viral through the underground. Here’s the link again:
On my Youtube channel, the video is stripped of the audio track, in order to respect copyright limitations. Instead, in the description I provide the link to that song, so they can play both, simultaneously. This dance video then gave me the idea of doing further dance clips, not just with the pups, but by myself…and I’ll call it “I Dance with the Gods.” Which is exactly what I do in cycles separated by at least several years. I usually dance as a Greek deity (or TO them), but also as Native American totemic fauna, such as Coyote, Eagle, Bear or Buffalo. I once had an astounding vision of myself dancing in the sky as Apollo…sort of Ann-Margret-ish as she appeared in “Bye Bye Birdie,” only minus the audio. For reference, see:
What will make these dance videos so unique, is the humble locale in which they’re staged, and the fact that I’m an old man (for awhile longer)! But one SUPERB hoofer! I will explain in these videos, that dancing is how I pray or meditate. Which is the absolute truth. It’s also my way of completely shedding my ego: showing no shame in my crummy hovel or advanced age, while making myself entirely vulnerable to the world, as a shamanic act of devotion to the Great Spirit.
My hovel (and by extension, this building) will soon become the most cherished landmark in all of LGBT history…as well as WORLD history! So the next step will be to VERY SOON move me and the pooches to a safe, lovely and comfortable sanctuary, whereby all these nasty stress factors in my difficult life shall cease. Whether I’ll remain here in San Franshitsco, or be transported elsewhere, I do not know. But I also have visions on a surprisingly frequent basis, of living in a jewel of a habitat floating in outer space! A huge colony of sorts, a traveling biosphere populated by reptilians and humans in brotherly communion. That would be awesome, to say the least. But I’ll be perfectly happy as well, in a decent studio apartment in a nice neighborhood, such as the Inner Sunset, somewhere around 9th and Irving. And hopefully, with access to a fenced-in backyard!
What say you, Wattson: am I insane or incredibly gifted? (And of course, Sherlock Holmes is yet aNOTHER variation on the archetype…in this case, the deity that uncloaks mysteries. Which makes Holmes’s own cloak a most apt metaphor.)
[Concupiscent reader: one crisis on the heels of another! Both horrendous events are documented starting around a third of the way down. So just be patient; enjoy the flurry of OTHER scenarios immediately prior TO them.]
Re: Weird & Stupid Incident Yesterday! From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 7, 2021 7:24 PM
Awful. I admire your restraint and your reserves of energy. Yes, one of the worst things about being poor is that you’re at the mercy of whatever fate slings at you, without the protective padding money can provide. The fucking jerk in blackface, and then the clerk not knowing what the term even means. Then the other guy accusing you of “stealing” the dogs. The brute thick-skulled aggrieved aggressiveness of the Capitol mob permeating every level of society.
Well THAT was well said, my dear Wattson! In my latest assignment to uncover a dark mystery with roots deeper than I anticipated, I have embedded myself among the apes. I forgot to ALSO mention that last night around 10:30 PM, a policeman was out front by his parked vehicle, talking with (of all people) Myrtle and her son, Adisa! I have NO idea how, what, who, where, when or why, but Adisa was feigning such a happy-go-lucky demeanor, it literally reeked of falsity. As if he were attempting to bury his conscience under a pile of feigned devil-may-care dirt, and plant a flower in it! If he has a green thumb, I’d say it’s GANGrenous! They are partners in crime, mother-and-son, in cahoots with Kevin Bond the building manager!
His agreement to allow her son’s teenage friends to loiter in the hallway withOUT wearing masks (and withOUT informing all residents in the immediate vicinity) makes him slam-dunk complicit. And mom and son OPTED for this scenario, to protect THEMSELVES from spreading covid-19 among each other, IOW: they shifted the risk onto my own person, and that of other residents living close by, as well as anyone passing up and down the stairs (which includes a few elderly people, two hobbling along with a cane, and another with a wheelchair).
Add to this the false accusation by mother-and-son of one of my dogs biting Adisa, and drawing blood. Which accusation Kevin seemed most eager to push forward, in spite of the OBVIOUS bad timing of such a claim, because it came right on the heels of their receiving a copy of my complaint against them, to Ablahblah Realty! Ain’t they nice people! I have a feeling, Wattson, that their guts are churning with guilt, and soon worms will bust holes in their midriffs to escape these horrid surroundings!
Don’t know what’s up with Marshall; like I said, haven’t seen him or talked to him in about a year…
Yes, I know you haven’t, but I wanted to reflect upon this situation, as I find it MOST perplexing, in light of the fact he HAD resumed reading my tales last month with apparent delight. Then, abruptly it seems, dropped me like a rabid porcupine. Did some ONE or some THING get to him? On another matter:
The pups ate heartily tonight, and last night…but nothing at all in the morning or afternoon. They are NOT big eaters, I must say! Now, they are happily a-snooze, lying on their backs with hind legs splayed, torsos curved, paws dangling drupaceously from their front legs, and heads turned to one side or the other: UTTER, BLISSFUL CONTENTMENT! They are smiling. I am SO glad to give them sanctuary through it all. Mine is an amazing story of how the good triumphs over evil, thus it SHALL have a most joyful ending, indeed. Which SHOULD be very soon as I have already completed 32 awesome chapters as of yesterday!
Your comrade in arms, in service always to Her Majesty, I remain:
Ezekiel Joseph Krahlin-Holmes, Esq.
Subject: In My Defense [IMPORTANT, ON A SCALE OF 1 TO 10, IT’S AN 8] From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 13, 2021 5:51 PM
My Good Dr. Wattson,
The is to inform you I have just edited the description of my video titled “My Contract with Deek,” to include the following statement right at the top:
TO ANY OF DEEK’S HOMELESS FRIENDS WHO BELIEVE I ACTUALLY STOLE HIS DOGS: please read the following blog entry I call “In My Defense,” before you pass judgment:
I forewent doing more laundry, to spend most of the day composing this work, which, if I say so myself, is outstanding! It is in light of that black fellow with his bike, who accused me of stealing the pooches…and who now has a link to that video, “My Contract with Deek.” So the first thing they’ll see right below the video, is that statement I added only moments ago. I am assuming he will NOT stop with watching the video for himself, but share it with many other homeless folks who know Deek, even if just a little.
In that piece, I excoriate Deek, for one, with a rather detailed list of his offenses. But there is SO MUCH MORE to it, that will both cause his homeless allies to stop dead in their tracks with any thought of harassing me, as well as get them on my side. (Or perhaps cause quite the opposite: gang wars. It’s all the same to THIS meddlesome pilgrim.) I’ve even included addressing that smug dufus on a bike, at the very end. I DO hope you can find the time to read it, as it is rather significant in the scheme of things…gay underground resistance and all that rot!
Re: In My Defense [IMPORTANT, ON A SCALE OF 1 TO 10, IT’S AN 8] From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 13, 2021 10:38 PM
Started reading. Will finish tomorrow. Excellent detail. I did skip ahead to read the message to Umbrella Man. Hope he has the brains to really read it. Regarding that, I am not sanguine….
It was an immensely pleasurable day for me, cobbling that piece together, including links and images…with two sweet doggies resting beside me. Regarding the fool who saved the video link to “My Contract with Deek:”
He is obviously the gossipy type, so it matters not whether or not he has sufficient IQ to read the entire article, let alone capiche the end part, which is all about him. Seeing as he is highly likely to share the video with many others, some of whom ARE no doubt quite intelligent, albeit homeless. And thus, THEY will more likely grasp my points, thereby being impacted in a positive way. Impressed enough, that is, to eagerly share it with others. The Butterfly Effect has nothing over me! Except, perhaps, for a teensy bit of pollen wafting my way now and then. How do you think I get pregnant, anyway? Pregnant with ideas, that is! The only kind of children I would NEVER abort. Instead, I pack ’em inside small, glass jars, pickled in briny alcohol…for future reference.
Subject: Once Deek gets wind of his Youtube appearance… From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 13, 2021 10:51 PM
…he will most likely rant and spit over my exposing him to the public, on a rather large scale. But what outcome SHOULD he expect, after years of treating me, his best friend of all time, like shit? He was not aware of these pics I took of him, so now I will inform him (probably right AFTER he asks how many OTHER photos I’ve taken):
“If you continue to badmouth me to all your street friends, I will also release certain videos I’ve recorded of you, while in my room…taken by my laptop without your knowledge.”
Suggesting, of course, the most intimate and personal kind of clips. Not that I’ve actually done that, but who am I to inform him otherwise? I will further declare:
“In fact, if you don’t start speaking WELL of me to everyone who knows you, including admitting you DID sell the dogs to me, fair and square, I WILL release those videos. And I have my OWN spies to check up on you, and see whether or not you’ve followed up on my demand. So if you LIE to me about righting your wrongs before others who’ve heard you gossip, I WILL share those compromising videos to the public.”
All’s fair in friendship and battle.
Re: In My Defense [IMPORTANT, ON A SCALE OF 1 TO 10, IT’S AN 8] From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 14, 2021 7:14 PM
You mean Deek asleep with his head in his lap, little doggie sandwiched in there? Kind of a prizewinning photo, I think…
Yes, it is…I love that photo, it touches the heart.
Placing his pic in that letter in my defense, will show him I’ve taken photos of him w/o his knowledge. That way, I can make him think I also have some compromising videos of him, naked, while visiting me in my hovel…one of which shows him giving me a BJ! So he’d BETTER right those wrongs against me, including telling his friends he actually DID sell me the doggies fair and square. AND speaking well of me to EVERYONE, confessing he was lying about me all along.
Read the whole thing.
Much appreciated, Dr. Wattson. Though I’m afraid Umbrella Man may not even be able to locate “My Contract with Deek,” because I just told him it’s in my “Action Videos” playlist. But I have so many videos in that particular section, you have to scroll down quite a bit, and you can’t just search for “Chaz,” as I now call him “Deek” in my Brindlekin Tales and Videos. And he’s using a tiny, smartphone screen. Well, I’m SURE if he does find the video, he’ll also click on the link to my “defense” piece, and leave a comment at the bottom. If he doesn’t I’ll assume he’s actually not been able to locate the “contract” video. If I run into him again (and he gives me the chance), he can whip out his phone, and I’ll get him right TO the video in question. This is getting SO exhausting, having to deal with so many dimwits, you’d think I was in the Trump White House!
What’s to become of him??
He’s my guardian angel–well, at least he’s ONE of them–playing a role so that I become the hero in this scenario he’s created. So he’ll be perfectly fine. He’s not really homeless, anyway, nor do I think anyone is. They are angels testing humanity’s compassion. I’ve brought this up before, more than once; that he and Arwyn are probably my guardians, making up these awesome scenarios where I play the hero. And others, likewise, my guardians, though I don’t know who they are…though presumably part of Arwyn’s crew. That blackfaced skateboarder is one of them, I’m sure. They are my bodhisattvas, my “teachers” who instruct me by manifesting challenges to go through, rather than by sitting me down to a lecture.
Including Umbrella Man (another bodhisattva), checking me out to see how calm I’d remain, in dealing with his provocation. I’m sure he gave me an A+. It’s quite a clever ruse. I’ve had visions some years back, which I wrote about in Free Me From This Bond, of my guardians cleaning up my room and even transforming it into a masterpiece of tiny living, with kitchen, bathroom, and all. They would do this while one of them invites me out for a bite to eat, or watch a movie. Or just do it when they know I’ll be away from my hovel for at least an hour. Like magical elves who can accomplish such tasks in that short a time, kinda like that Grimm fairy tale, “The Elves and the Shoemaker!” Well, it hasn’t happened yet, but I believe it will; I believe the vision is true.
Now, I’m thinking when I step out for the bedbug treatment, I will return to a beautifully renovated abode. And, thanks to my guardians’ awesome, other-worldly powers, I think they will even put a wormhole in one wall (say, the one facing Market Street), that I may step into several MORE rooms, which in total makes for a VERY spacious apartment. So, my dear Wattson, these extra rooms will actually be located right over Market Street, all the way from one side to the other! Though invisible to those outside. I may even have a garden and a large backyard where the puppies can exercise! Perhaps there’ll also be a porthole to Arwyn’s reptilian planet, at the farthest end of the yard, in the corner with the treehouse. :)
Lucky seems to have become a safe-sex expert! Not only does he back off when I catch him humping her (and it only takes a glance in his direction for him to stop, as he looks at me with such a guilty expression any more), but now I’m catching him DRY HUMPING her…by rubbing his boner on her lower back! And, most ot the time when Flaco presents her rear to him, instead of mounting her, he’ll sniff for awhile, then grab her tail or a hind leg, and start pulling away, until they both start play-fighting, yelping, and wrestling on the comforter! In addition: Flaco has begun humping Lucky with greater frequency, these past few days! I’m amazed at just how intelligent these two pups are…I’ve never seen anything like this, before. VERY little training is required for them to understand the new instruction, and they learn it in one or two days.
They are also back to eating full meals again, twice a day. This is great. Though they STILL don’t stand on their back feet and dance around me, as I carry their dishes across the room. They used to ALWAYS do that! I think maybe they’d prefer NOT to eat the same old thing every single friggin’ day. So I ordered another brand and blend of canned food; we’ll see how that goes. Though I’m almost out of GoFundMe money, but I trust it will soon be replenished.
Thanks again for reading the piece, as it’s one of the most important treatises I have ever writ…and it’s a gift to the long suffering homeless. Who, ironically, are not REALLY suffering one iota…for they are angels who return to their heavenly homes after each workday of pretending to be vagrants.
Your friend forever,
Ezekiel J. Krahlin-Holmes, Esq.
Re: [MCN-Announce]- Insurrections and other areas of interest From: Zeke Krahlin To: Announce MCN Date: February 14, 2021 7:47 PM
On Sat, 13 Feb 2021 19:56:24 -0800 Marley Spengel posted:
Spiders are a wonder to behold!
Hello, Mr. Spengel!
Yes, our eight-legged friends ARE amazing, and SUCH an important aspect of our environment, the world over. Around twelve or so years ago, I met this friendly, long-haired fellow who lived just three blocks away from my own residence. He invited me over for a visit and a cup of tea. Upon entering, I was overwhelmed by a large, gorgeous flat just shimmering with a HUGE spider vivarium composed of dozens of large, glass-enclosed, rectangular and square habitats that extended through the flat’s entire length, and reached all the way up to the ceiling! Some of these glass mini-habitats were large enough to fit two people inside, crouched down! Sparkling webs everywhere, and spiders glinting in every color and fascinating combinations thereof, like living jewels moving all about. I had NO idea whether or not any were poisonous, nor did I ask. I concealed my nervousness well, as I sipped my Oolong, and we chatted about this and that…including the spiders. But all the while, I thought to myself: “This has the makings of a cult horror film, with me the hapless victim!”
I was stunned by the beauty and impeccable spotlessness of his flat, and wondered how he managed to keep it so sparkling clean, every square inch of it! I also wondered: do any of them ever escape, and how does he resolve that…what if an earthquake happens, strong enough to break one or more of these glass cases…how does he feed so many…has the landlord seen this and, if so, does it fall under the category of “pet friendly”…will he lock me in and feed me to the arachnids if I ask to use the restroom…what is the best way to exit this place ASAP in as gracious a manner as possible…did he poison the tea?
At any rate, my host mentioned that his landlord wants to increase the rent by a ridiculously high amount, and he’s fighting it all the way. I don’t know what happened with that, nor what he’s doing now, or even where he is. Seeing as I only visited him once.
Re: In My Defense [IMPORTANT, ON A SCALE OF 1 TO 10, IT’S AN 8] From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 14, 2021 10:49 PM
Yes. They were in touch with me yesterday, asking my opinion on fabrics and decor. I said in no uncertain terms: No chintz, no plaid, no Naugahyde, and knotty pine is punishable by death!
Greatly appreciated, Wattson! Though I’m sure you went MUCH further than that, in the actual design and components TO my 4-D flat…perhaps even suggesting it be a three-story Victorian structure, which I’d love very much! I’d also like the windows to be “adjustable” in either of two ways: (1) with views of the alternate reality in which my new domicile resides, and (2) with views of the Castro in the same spot in which my new domicile overlaps THIS reality…without anyone OUTside even seeing or knowing of its presence…IOW it will be completely invisible, and so permeable, even birds, insects, rain, dust and sunlight will pass right through it. Now here’s an interesting tidbit (and it’s true, I swear it):
Back when Timothy Dipalma was residing in 9666 Market Street (during which time he painted my portrait, and I showed him my own remarkable “Unicorn Without A Horn” acrylic-on-blue-sweatshirt painting one frenzied, schizophrenic night…which tale I’ve shared with you considerable years ago), he spoke numerous times about creating a kind of wormhole tunnel connecting this building with a location somewhere in Mendocino County! With hindsight, I take this as a prophetic hint of my own remarkable destiny. For I otherwise had no idea what he meant by this, especially since he didn’t really EXPLAIN the concept to me. As for my portrait:
I take offense at the caption he put below it, on his artist website, which is: “portrait as visualization and blessing to heal the subject.” That’s rather subjectively presumptuous, that I need to be healed, IMO! See for yourself:
It’s the paragraph that begins with “It was during Anthony’s residency” and is 17 paragraphs total. Though most of these paragraphs are only two or three sentences long, and some are just one. At any rate, that passage ends with a lovely image of Pegasus.
Humans could learn a lot from them.
Yes indeed…Canis familiaris is an amazing species! Two of them are also companions to the Greek goddess, Artemis, herself! I was even thinking, for awhile, of renaming the two pups “Artemis” and “Apollo.” But I decided that’s a bit over the top.
I certainly hope so…
And…I kinda think you already KNOW so, considering what an advanced human being you are (or should I say “reptilian” rather than “human?”). I have experienced MANY hints and innuendos that this is the case: that there really ARE no homeless, just bodhisattvas testing our compassion. Or, perhaps it should be stated in this better way: by witnessing the misfortune and suffering of others (albeit in a fake manner, by heavenly thespians feigning homelessness), we hopefully grow in wisdom, and can even become heroes by taking action against such apparent wrongs. Deek has mocked me several times over my being such a great advocate for the homeless…just ONE of the countless hints that indicate something OTHER is really going on. Well, this concept (that the worst suffering we believe occurred or presently occurs, is a ruse, though a lovely one at that, considering the implications) all ties in with my “Neopositivity” treatise that I wrote in the year 2000. And is based on the Buddha’s statement that we have no enemies, only teachers.
Your compatriot and partner of MANY super-duper-natural adventures,
Ezekiel Joseph Krahlin-Holmes, Esq.
Re: In My Defense [IMPORTANT, ON A SCALE OF 1 TO 10, IT’S AN 8] From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 15, 2021 12:27 AM
FURTHER EXAMPLES OF THESE “HINTS” THAT NOT IS ALL AS IT SEEMS, REGARDING SUFFERING, STRIFE, POVERTY AND WAR
Actually, such clues referred to in my previous email, have been with me all my life. Though it was my BROTHER who was born in Bethlehem (PA), instead of yours truly! Not that I think I AM Jesus (who probably never existed in the first place), but that the universe is playing a sweet joke on me, because indeed I DO have a most astounding destiny, nonetheless. Of similar import, thought not entirely.
When I was an artist’s model at the University of Missouri, EVERY student in one class (whose teacher happened to be Frank Stack, underground comic book author of “The Adventures of Jesus” series) portrayed me in a mystical light, in one way or another. One student painted me seated on a throne, with my right hand resting upon the head of a woman seated on the floor…and lovely rays of light were beaming down upon us. Another showed me looking up into an ethereal blue sky, with the faintly inscribed words, “Look Up!” in one of the clouds. Yet another depicted me as a kind of comic book superhero. Here is a short video about Mr. Stack, in case you’re curious:
Also during my years in Columbia, Missouri, these two priests from the Holy Order of Mans (a new-age, Paulean branch of the Catholic Church) came into my life…they were eager to know me better, offered to baptise me (which I allowed), and appeared before me in surprising ways, as I strolled about the town…as if spying upon me, or like celebrity hounds. I asked them once, “Who am I?” as many self-reflective speculations had started haunting my mind that year. I was NOT satisfied with their answer, which was: “You have to discover that for yourself.”
My Randolph Odyssey is another example, where numerous hints were strewn across my path, over more than a decade. Some of which have been noted in my first self-published book, “Free Me From This Bond.” One such example is in Chapter 5 (“Latest Gift”) in which I describe some angels in a dream telling me I need not worry about acquiring the money to fly out to Washington, D.C., to visit him at the VAMC hospital, as it will show up at the right time. For which chapter my illustrator, S. Rohan, sketched this lovely rendering of three cherubs, one handing me a wad of dollar bills:
There was also the time when a Native American claiming to be a shaman, suddenly appeared before me in a gay bar here in the Castro, to tell me I did a lousy job of helping Randy. Now, get this, it was more than three years since he died, and I certainly was NOT known any more for my activism on his behalf…or, IOW, I was once again a nobody. And I’ve never seen this “shaman” before, nor ever again. After much deliberation for many days after that brief encounter, I concluded he is a BACKWARDS shaman. In case you don’t know already, a backwards shaman always tells you the OPPOSITE of the truth. He ALSO told me he was from Wakpala, the village in South Dakota, near which the archeology crew of which I was a member, did some digs up there, back in 1971.
I consider Arwyn to be the most prolific hint-dropper of all, which clues I have shared with you countless times already, rich in detail and examples. So you’re ALREADY familiar with all that, thus I need not bother going through those episodes again, in this missive. Much to both YOUR, and MY, relief. :)
There are dozens MORE examples I could give regarding such hints, but I think this email suffices.
Subject: If you think Helen Tosser is oh-so-progressive and compassionate…think again! From: Zeke Krahlin To: Announce MCN, Discussion MCN Date: February 15, 2021 3:50 PM
This is basically a reminder, that she is virulently anti-LGBT rights, as well as anti-sex-education, anti-sex-out-or-wedlock, and anti-abortion. She made that very clear to me, and to everyone else on the discussion list, back in April of 2017. That horrid post of hers was later read that same month, on Marshall McClean’s Friday night “Memo of the Weird” radio show on KNYO. You may hear his reading of her nasty screed by clicking on the following video, and listening to the first 5-and-a-half minutes of that recording:
Subject: DEEK JUST STOLE THE PUPS, but I got them back! From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 15, 2021 10:15 PM
This happened less than an hour ago. I took the doggies out for their bedtime walk. As I crossed 16th to Noe Street, Flaco slipped out of her collar…and as I bent down to put it back on, Deek suddenly showed up. I guess he was hanging out behind my building, waiting for that moment. He picked up Flaco, and (talk about bad timing) Lucky ALSO slipped out of his collar and ran up to Deek. He said he has over fifty friends right around here, and all he has to do is whistle.
Well, I said I’m not afraid, that he’s making a mistake, please give them back. I couldn’t pepper spray him, because he was holding Flaco in his arms. So I had no choice but to let him walk off with them. I then ran upstairs to call 911. I only had to wait five minutes, before they showed up. They had already apprehended Deek and the dogs. They had me walk down Market to where they were holding him. Deek admitted I gave him $300, but it wasn’t in exchange for the pups. Oh, yeah, the cops DID see the video, and recorded it.
They asked him if he had proof of ownership, and Deek said yeah, they’re registered with the SPCA. They told him to return the dogs to me, and they will be in my custody until he shows the papers to prove he’s their owner. Of course, Deek was all mellow and cool, acting just like the big phony he is, telling them he has no idea why I won’t give the pups back…doing the whole sob number as well. “Why can’t I have my dogs back, they’re mine?” But I had already explained to the police, that he has serious mood swings and takes meth…and has been abusing the dogs for months, now.
So, I took the dogs back hovel, with a case ticket indicating one of the officer’s names, badge number and phone. They told me my video wouldn’t hold up in court, and if Deek has the papers, I’ll have to return the mutts to him. They instructed Deek to go to the SPCA tomorrow and get those papers. And if he does that, they’ll knock on my door and I’ll have to give them back.
I seriously DOUBT he has the pooches registered with the SPCA, but it IS possible. Also, now I feel especially threatened, very wary about taking them out for walks…as who knows what he’ll try to pull next? He’s obviously got some friends on his side…and they’re not the most stable, to say the least. Well I’m sure he was calling my bluff (about having friends who’d appear quickly if he whistled), because NO one else was around anywhere near my building.
One of the officers told me I should’ve gotten him to sign an agreement…I told him I understand, but Deek refused to do that, and I was desperate to get the dogs protected ASAP.
That attorney NEVER got in touch with me, and now I REALLY need one bad. This is also what happens when you’re poor: you have LITTLE to NO legal recourse on anything. Let’s hope Deek doesn’t have any proof from the SPCA. But even if he doesn’t go there tomorrow, it’s possible he DOES have papers, and will bring them to the police station another day. He also has a case ticket, of course…but one thing that’s DEFINITELY on my side, is that he can’t manage to hold on to ANYthing, especially papers. Let’s keep out fingers crossed that he was just as sloppy when it comes to registering the pups, in that he never got around to it.
PS: Is it possible the SFPD has their own way of preventing Deek from getting the dogs back? If so, I’ll never know about it…just that Deek will no longer be around. You never know, because it looks like I DO have allies I’m not aware of; something I’ve suspected for many years. If I HAVE to give them up, so be it…I’ll just put my faith in knowing that some how, some way, the brindlekin shall be brought back to me, unscathed. They were BOTH very happy to be returned to me, BTW, as each of them were standing up with paws on my legs, giving me kisses…and the cops saw that. They departed before I was even halfway hovel, and I heard Deek call out, “Lucky! Lucky!” Neither he nor Flaco bothered to pull on their leashes to try to get back to him. (Doesn’t HE have the nerve to do that, the moment the coppers drive away!) They readily returned home with me.
Re: In My Defense [IMPORTANT, ON A SCALE OF 1 TO 10, IT’S AN 8] From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Watson Date: February 15, 2021 10:32 PM
I sometimes have dreams of “discovering” vast endless rooms full of treasures and elegant furniture, with infinitely intricately beautiful mosaic floors and chandeliers and such. The feeling in these dreams is that those rooms were there all along, just on the other side of a door, and that they and everything in them are mine, all mine…my dreams are not always so exalted. Mostly, they are roiling, seething, humiliating and squalid, though always vivid.
That probably comes from your childhood, when you actually HAD a rambling old, lovely house to visit. A friend of your mothers, I think, or a relative. I remember you telling me about it.
Every once in a while I have a genuine nightmare, though rarely. A good thing, too, because when I do, they’re doozies. Like the dream I had where I played a role in knowingly luring an innocent friend to a lonely crossroads in the woods so that somebody else could murder him with a shovel. When I have a dream like that, I attribute it to my “writer’s brain” furnishing me with an experience I’m unlikely to have in real life–being an accessory to murder. Because of the dream, I know what it feels like.
Yes, I’m sure it’s your “writer’s brain,” because you are ALWAYS thinking up good crime plots. Isn’t you next book gonna be about Ed Gein, or some other serial killer?
Fairly mind-boggling, all things considered.
Oh, no question. I do NOT have delusions of grandeur, but I certainly have SOMEthing most unique and intriguing going on, in my life. If this “wormhole” thing isn’t just a fantasy, that would indicate that Timothy is likewise one of my main guardians. That means he’s been receiving reports about me from my guardian network, all along.
The caption is indeed offensive. But the portrait is luminous. He really is a fine artist. He almost went mad with joy over the imagery in COURT OF THE LION. I SO appreciated his appreciation.
Mine is the only painting where he stated something like that! I don’t know if you’ve ever seen what I consider his most exquisite work of all. It’s the Madonna and Child theme, which I could NOT find on his website. He showed it to me that one time I visited him up in Mendocino. Truly a masterpiece of a high order. I’d love for you to see it!
Re: DEEK JUST STOLE THE PUPS [addendum] From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 15, 2021 11:26 PM
One of the cops questioned Deek why didn’t he report it to the police and the SPCA right away, if he thought I stole them from him…why did he not do that? Deek just shrugged his shoulders, said he thought I was just taking care of them for a few days. Yet the police already know I’ve had them under my guardianship since January 7th.
He also said to Deek: this man (me) gave you $300 out of the goodness of his heart to take care of the dogs, and now you’re denying it?
Another cop, after looking at the video, did comment that he seems quite belligerent. I told him, yes, and that is why I was concerned about his abusing the dogs, and it was going to get worse if I didn’t intervene immediately.
The cops also acknowledged that I planned to return the dogs after he had a roof over his head, and gave up the meth. They were impressed. I was calm, not upset in the least, through it all. I didn’t even verbally intervene while Deek told lies about me, before the cops.
So I think the SFPD handled things superbly, and know what’s REALLY up. That Deek is a meth addict, a phony, a liar and a two-timer…all wrapped up in one, tragic package. I’m sure I’ll be fine…as will the pups.
Re: DEEK JUST STOLE THE PUPS [one more thing] From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 15, 2021 11:30 PM
It was quite eerie that BOTH collars slipped off, one shortly after another. It was as if an invisible hand loosened them, for neither dog was pulling to try to rid themselves of their collars. They were just suddenly off! It was as if this little scenerio was supPOSED to happen, and there was nothing I could do about it. Unbelievable, all the crap I’ve been going through, daily!
Re: DEEK JUST STOLE THE PUPS [one more thing] From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 15, 2021 11:42 PM
Good Gawd. What a hair-raising adventure. Good for you for staying calm and rational; you just KNOW it made a big difference for the cops, who are accustomed to babbling, bellowing, belligerent lowlifes.
Yes, I’m sure that counted for a lot.
Maybe instead of collars, those harness things??
Someone donated two harnesses, but they turned out to be too small. I’m waiting on my refund to get the next largest size. However, I’ve tried harnesses before, when Deek still owned them. Flaco was nonetheless able to slip off her harness, just like the collar. So harnesses are no more secure than collars.
As I said in my previous email, it was really weird that they both slipped out of their collars, as if an invisible hand released them. Otherwise, Lucky has NEVER gotten out of his collar before this…it is just Flaco that does now and then. But she ALWAYS stays by me, waiting to get that collar back on. Another thing that Deek claimed before the cops, which is obviously a lie:
Not only were the pups registered in his name at the SPCA, they’re also chipped. DEFINITELY not true. I just phoned the SPCA to ask them if they have anyone by the name of Chaz or Charles Henderson with a registered dog. But they put me on hold, saying it will take longer than usual to pick up the phone, due to this pandemic. And they don’t offer voicemail. So I just hung up. I doubt I really have anything to worry about, anyway.
Deek needs to prove he’s the owner, but he can’t. So, any more attempts to steal the doggies would be a more serious violation. I HATE that I’ll have to keep the mutts outside for four hours, on the day of the bedbug treatment. I’ll definitely hang out north of here, where it’s very unlikely Deek or his minions will find me. It’s just deeper in the Castro and the Mission that is the danger zone. Strange, though, that the manager has yet to set up a day for when the treatment will occur.
I sure wish I could just up and move outta the shitty city! As it now stands, I am STUCK in the middle of all this horrifc nastiness, and must deal with it CONSTANTLY. Last night, before Deek ran off with the pooches, he threatened to have all his friends camp out around my building and blast loud music all night. This guy does a GREAT job of sabotaging his own life…I’ve never seen anything quite like this extreme of self destruction!
I ALSO told him he’s been abusing the dogs, and guess what his response was?
“I OWN them, you do not!”
I did NOT get the chance to warn him about my releasing some compromising videos of him, while he was visiting my hovel, should he continue to badmouth me, and be a serious disruption in my life. Our dialog was just moving too fast for that. But I DO think that’s a joker up my sleeve, worth playing at the right moment.
Re: In My Defense [IMPORTANT, ON A SCALE OF 1 TO 10, IT’S AN 8] From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 15, 2021 11:58 PM
By Jove, I think you’ve got it.
Jove is always sticking his nose into other people’s business. :)
That was my grandmother’s house in Brooklyn, a full-on three-story Victorian with a dumbwaiter, a back staircase, clawfoot bathtubs, turrets, secret rooms, leaded glass windows and a suit of 16th-century Japanese armor in the front hallway! She inherited the house from her father, my great-grandfather Col. Alexander Bacon, who had some notoriety in his day…she sold the house when I was maybe five years old, but I had the privilege of running around in it in my most formative years, up to age four.
Aha! And since it was a rich experience at such an early age, it most likely became firmly embedded in your subconscious…thus bubbling up in your dreamworld now and then. It’s a fortunate memory to have, as it probably triggered your massive, creative flow…or at least, contributed to it in most beneficial ways.
Hope I do, somehow.
It’s an exquisite painting, not because I idolize Christian themes (which I do not), but as a work of art in its technique, colors, balance, detail and spirit of the artist, it’s a true masterpiece! These Christian themes have much deeper, cultural roots in earlier civilizations…as Christianity is simply a theft of more ancient belief systems. A mother depicted with her son is clearly an archetype that is both universal, and goes all the way back to the dawn of humanity…crossing over into ALL religious themes. Carl Jung had a lot to say about that. Christianity is just late to the party.
So glad I majored in anthropology instead of journalism!
Re: No cops have shown up to take the pups away! From: My Dear Wattson To: Zeke Krahlin Date: February 16, 2021 6:47 PM
You, my dear Wattson, have the unique privilege of always being the first to know of my latest imbroglio! I suggest that, if you should, perchance, bump into Timothy, that you bring up my former name, Gene Catalano, to see how he reacts, and if he’ll say anything that may give us a clue about this “wormhole tunnel.”
Just tonight, I saw a post on the list serve, two “senior men” looking for a place to live, preferably a place with room to paint, and their names are Timothy and Bob!
Re: No cops have shown up to take the pups away! From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 16, 2021 6:54 PM
Just tonight, I saw a post on the list serve, two “senior men” looking for a place to live, preferably a place with room to paint, and their names are Timothy and Bob!
Maybe that’s Bob Dobbs from the Church of the Subgenius!
Re: No cops have shown up to take the pups away! From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 16, 2021 8:39 PM
Sure seems like dat ol’ wormhole be openin’ fo’ bidness.
Indeedy do, and a hidey-ho! Step right up and you’re good to go. Schrodinger’s cat will steal the show.
Subject: Regarding Timothy’s Post to the Announcement List From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 16, 2021 8:51 PM
I just sent this reply, didn’t want you to miss it, good doctor!
Re: [MCN-Announce]- ISO FB housing Date: 2021-02-16 18:14 From: Zeke Krahlin To: Announce MCN
On Mon, 15 Feb 2021 21:25:59 -0800 whizkid wrote:
> Posting for a treasured friend. I would recommend them without reservation.
“Timothy and Bob,” eh? I don’t know Bob, but I DO know Timothy, because once upon a time he lived in the same apartment complex as myself, here in Baghdad by the Bay. He’s an INCREDIBLE artist and a truly magnanimous human being! And Mendoland is most fortunate to have such an exquisite painter in their midst. We’ve had quite a few fun and intriguing stories together during those days, one of which I call “Gene’s Painting of Unicorn Without a Horn.” That’s right, my birth name is Gene Catalano, but I changed my name, to Zeke Krahlin in 1996 (has to do with a kind of witness protection). Anyway, why not put a broad grin on his face by bringing up that particular adventure? You might ALSO enjoy viewing the portrait he did of me, as I posed for him in his studio apartment facing 16th Street, here in the Castro:
Subject: Building Manager Demands I Get Rid of the Dogs! From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 16, 2021 11:21 PM
I just received a letter in the mail from Kevin Bond, with a cc notice to Ablahblah Realty:
His five accusations (that they are “vicious,” that one of them bit and drew blood on a resident, that he’s sure one of them would’ve bitten him, that adopting a pooch from a drug addict means that dog is bad, and that I let them run around the building) are all easy to refute…what’s his problem? This is out-and-out harassment. I will compose my rebuttal later today, and email you a copy. One bodhisattva challenge after another!
Re: Building Manager Demands I Get Rid of the Dogs! From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 17, 2021 12:03 AM
Oh, Christ. Why all of a sudden??
I believe it’s retaliation for my complaint to Ablahblah Realty, about the teenage loiterers…and that, for some reason, he’s tied up in defending the hypocrites Myrtle and her son, Adisa, to the very end. I think that he (and they) want to find some way to get me removed from the building. “All of a sudden” because maybe he only came up with this retaliation yesterday or this morning. Interesting thing about the letter: it had no signature from either an attorney or a representative of Ablahblah…and was not on official company paper. Perhaps he’s faking it, and never sent a copy to them? But on a higher, “bodhisattva” level:
Just another challenge hurled at my feet, to make me a hero. There is NO judge anywhere on Goddess’s green and blue earth that would rule in his favor. Ergo, it’s a setup for me to easily win. Perhaps they desire a lawsuit whereby I collect some thousands of dollars for my GoFundMe account. The hint comes from the fact it is clearly NOT any official complaint, and I question if the property owner really received a copy of it. So the folks at Ablahblah will have a hearty laugh once they read my rebuttal…for I suspect that they, too, are in on the ruse, and actually WANT me to sue them.
Nonetheless, I DO resent being forced to worry once more, and to have my valuable time wasted on defending myself over ridiculous accusations. But I understand WHY it’s happening: I am about to be celebrated for my decades of service. So, this is more like an initiation into a society of bodhisattvas, than any sort of REAL crisis. Just like Deek’s recent theft of the pooches. And weren’t the peacekeepers amazing!
I will send you a copy of my reply to him some time this evening. It will be surprisingly friendly, BTW.
Or (I am thinking) maybe I should just IGNORE it for the nonce. What say you, Wattson?
Subject: How’s THIS for my rebuttal to the manager’s absurd accusations: From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 17, 2021 1:24 AM
I’ll just slip the following note under his door:
Ha, ha, very funny. I hope you had a lovely day, and will have an equally lovely evening.
Yours in the Incredible Flying Spaghetti Monster who sacrificed his meatballs, that we may all have a spectacular, eternal life in this pot of tangy sauce we call “life,”
Ezekiel Joseph Krahlin LGBT and homeless activist extraordinaire
Re: How’s THIS for my rebuttal to the manager’s absurd accusations: From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 17, 2021 11:34 AM
He seems a little “limited,” imagination-wise. If I were in your shoes (ow!), I’d let a day or so elapse before responding.
Hmm, okay. I see NO reason NOT to present it to him tonight…as his accusations are completely shabby, and could easily wind up in his being fired, should he try to carry out his demand. But here is the final draft. Before I show it to you, I want to note that, with a little hindsight, I realized that the building manager so much as ADMITTED that the dogs did NOT bite him, that day he came very close to them while they were barking up a storm, and accused accused me with:
“Oh, they DO bite!”
Because in that letter, he said he’s SURE Lucky would’ve bitten him had I not held him back on the leash. Which is blatantly untrue. The worst he’d do is nip at his heels…but he rarely even does that when someone upsets him. I know, because the few times he’s slipped from my hand, or someone came really close before I had a chance to stop him, all Lucky did was stand about a foot away and keep on barking. Flaco is the same way. And Kevin KNOWS that, because two previous times he approached them, he crouched down while they barked and extended a hand. The did NOT bite, just quieted down a few moments while sniffing him, then backed up to resume barking. Anyway, here’s my response that I will soon slip under his door (but not until you send me your opinion about it, as I value your insight):
Ha, ha, very funny. Everyone seems to be giving me a hard time these days. I always forget around this time of year, that it is the International Razz Zeke Week. Don’t remember when it started, but I’m guessing in 1986, the year after I flew out to D.C. to stand beside our own, gay anti-war hero, Randolph Louis Taylor, for three weeks. Which gained me a good level of fame, as a result. And many secret admirers, especially here in Baghdad by the Bay a.k.a. “Gay Mecca.”
I even had to deal with Deek’s attempted theft of the pups two nights ago, while I was taking them for a late-night walk. I couldn’t pepper spray him, because that would injure the little dogs, so had to let him run off with them. But the SFPD was prompt, and got them back into my hands within minutes…they were spectacular. I think their quick response is due, in part, to my saving the life of one of their own…again, Randy Taylor (who was a cop here, in the early 80s). At least, I like to think so.
I can NOT take your most recent, spooky letter to me seriously (as I couldn’t the previous one)…and I believe it wasn’t intended to be serious, but a joke being played on me, as part of some initiation in preparation for some sort of surprise party in my honor, that the local LGBT community has been planning for a while now. Which perfectly explains all the crises that have been popping up in my world, in recent days. For, as you well know (because you are not a dumb person by any means) all your accusations wouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell before judge and jury…because neither fact based nor provable, as well as prejudicial on two counts (declaring the dogs “violent,” and projecting Deek’s stupid drug habit onto these dear little pooches…and you do know all too well at this point, that they are very sweet and kind doggies, who NEVER bite, no matter what. Curtis in 405 can certainly vouch for that!
As for your accusation that I let them run from my hovel to the front gate: not true. I wait until we get to the bottom landing and make sure no one is in the lobby, or at the gate. Then, and only then, do I let them have their little run to the entranceway. And, during that brief time, should someone show up at the gate, I have plenty of seconds to spare, to pick up their leashes before the visitor even steps in. So, you may ease your mind about that. Which is the ONLY issue I care to clear up with you…the rest is childish nonsense. And I believe you intended it that way; not as something truly serious, but as a prank. For which reason I’ve typed this kind of missive, without a copy to the property owners. Since I have no interest in jeopardizing your position as manager, or dragging this into court and creating further animosity…although I’d certainly be justified in doing so, had I not the remarkable insight of Buddhist teachings (or what I like to call “The Bodhisattva Premise”).
But I do want to thank you for adding to the adventures I’m including in my forthcoming book, “Brindlekin Tales”…since this letter, along with yours, will appear in my latest chapter…as has the previous one in my “Letter to the Landlord” pieces. Of course, I’ve changed all real names and addresses to fake ones, before putting them out there. Especially hilarious is I call “Attacat Realty” “Ablahblah Realty!” And I also want to thank Myrtle and son for playing their role so well, that I become the hero of my tales. Thank them for me, if you care to: tell them “job well done.” In fact, for that very same reason: kudos to you, Attacat Realty, and anyone else who’s played a part in shaping me into the victor. I suspect that Arwyn Miles wrote the script, but that’s a topic for another day. At any rate, my ultimate success is written in stone, and will accomplish incredible results for the LGBT community, both locally and worldwide.
Brindlekin Tales will always be free to read online, and it’s still a work in progress…35 chapters to date! There, you may read of my many adventures around the doggies, and the inspiration they give me…including Deek’s recent abduction, and your amazing letters. Again, the URL:
Ah, finally, we have reached the end of my response. In closing, I hope you had a lovely day, and will have an equally lovely evening. Yours in the Incredible Flying Spaghetti Monster who sacrificed his meatballs, that we may all have a spectacular, eternal life in this pot of tangy sauce we call “life,”
Ezekiel Joseph Krahlin LGBT and homeless activist extraordinaire
Re: How’s THIS for my rebuttal to the manager’s absurd accusations: From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 17, 2021 12:44 AM
If you think he can handle it, then by all means slip it under his door. You know him. I just don’t want him to react in some sort of reflexive, hostile way.
Oh, is that all you’re worried about, Doctor Wattson? Easy peasy as far as THIS perplexed pilgrim is concerned. He’s ALREADY acting hostile, and inadvertently DOCUMENTING it, as well! I can surely handle it. After all, he’s already in deep doo-doo by making false allegations, and allowing another resident’s son’s teenage friends to loiter in the hallway, disrupting the peace, displaying intimidating behavior, AND not wearing any mask! With ME the most impacted by such a scenario, including potential EXPOSURE to covid-19. Any FURTHER hostility on Kevin’s part will only count in my favor.
You know what just occurred to me only moments ago?
HE HAS EARLY ONSET ALZHEIMER’S, or some other variation of senility. I’ve been noticing him these past few months, not looking so chipper any more, and going up and down the stairs with less ease than ever. Unfortunately, I’m his main target of his possibly growing delusions. Which CAN be dangerous, as some at this stage (but usually later) can actually turn VIOLENT. I hate to think of him barging into my SRO and attacking my dogs, when I’m not there. Or attacking ALL of us when I AM there! After all, HE HAS THE KEYS TO EVERYONE’S APARTMENT! HE MIGHT TRY TO TAKE THE PUPS AWAY WHEN I’VE STEPPED OUT FOR TEN OR SO MINUTES…MIGHT PAWN THEM OFF TO SOMEONE ELSE WHO’D WHISK THEM AWAY IN A CAR. OR HE COULD HALLUCINATE ANYTHING AWFUL ABOUT ME, AND CALL 911. I’ve BEEN through something like this before, with a neighbor suffering AIDS related dementia who suddenly turned on me with wicked force…after my many months of friendship with him. You know this all too well with your own dear mother, sad to say.
So NOW I’m thinking: I should send a different letter to Ablahblah Realty, withOUT also sending a duplicate to Kevin, telling them I’m concerned about his behavior in recent months. This is getting VERY bizarre, I must say! I am so SICK of this drama constantly being forced upon me, by this or that dunderhead denizen of the Castro. Jeez, I have crazy Deek outdoors (and Artemis only knows how many equally-insane allies) and crazy Kevin indoors (who may ALSO have his own minions)!
I think, at this point, I must remind myself:
THIS IS ONLY A GAME OF BODHISATTVAS, INSTILLING FEAR OF WHAT MIGHT HAPPEN, BUT NEVER WILL. I SHALL REMAIN PERFECTLY FINE AND UNHARMED; LIKEWISE FOR THE DOGGIES. JUST RIDE IT OUT, HAVE FUN WITH IT IF YOU SO CHOOSE. YOU’RE THE HERO, AFTER ALL.
BTW, I’ve recently been enjoying meditating on S. Rohan’s superb illustrations from my first novel. Especially that one depicting three cherubs gazing at me with Keane-eyed regard, one offering me a wad of filthy lucre…which enabled me to visit Randolph in D.C. It’s been a long while since I thought about her so much, and for the last three days I’ve kept those cherubs up on my notebook screen, so I could see it right along with my Internet activities on the large, external monitor. I actually think she’s reaching out to me! Couldn’t have happened at a better time, either…it gives me solace. I find her illustrations have only grown richer in time, as has my novel. FYI, her father had just died right around the time she started the illustrations…so there IS long suffering in her creations which, she told me once, helped her through this grief. You may even read a bit about that period in our association, here:
I’ve ALSO been listening to each and every one of Marshall’s narrations of my tales on his sterling radio show, “Memo of the Weird”…along with our badinage on nights I called in. What a treat to hear them with the passage of time! That was from March 2017 to January the following year. Forty-five outstanding recordings in all, which I’ve listened to over a span of three weeks! Too bad he doesn’t seem interested in resuming my calling in, as boy do I have stories to tell these days, eh, My Dear Wattson?
Your friend truly, as always,
Ezekiel Joseph Krahlin-Holmes, Esq.
Subject: We also have THIS to deal with: From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 17, 2021 1:22 PM
This notice was posted in the lobby six days ago:
It’s almost impossible to tell who doesn’t belong in the building, unless the person looks really raunchy. We have service and delivery people coming and going all day long, and into the night. Who knows who they really are? We who live here are already strangers to each other.
Subject: Running the gauntlet From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 17, 2021 10:55 PM
While I KNOW Kevin’s accusations wouldn’t pass muster in a court of law, I AM worried that he might declare having my dogs here an emergency, in order to have them removed. Then I would be charged an amount I couldn’t POSSIBLY afford, to get them back. Well, that’s just one of MANY worries I could obsess over, so I won’t.
But it DOES seem to me, that my email to him about the allegation of Myrtle and son being a lie (since the pups are ALWAYS in my sight, and that incident is therefore false, because I witnessed no such thing) was never forwarded to the property owners. It’s dumb of him to bring that up again, because I already made it very clear it didn’t occur, AND their complaint about it came immediately AFTER they read my grievance against them…which is highly suspicious. But, assuming Kevin did NOT show my rebuttal to Ablahblah Realty, then he COULD come off as believable by sending his most recent argument to them.
So it may be important for me to type out a serious counterargument and send it off to Ablablah. Which I really DON’T want to do, as I’d be making myself totally vulnerable to further investigation and potential harassment, of a highly “anti-Zeke” bias. (I am a long-term resident paying very low rent, so I’m sure they’d love to have a new tenant replace me.) However, my NOT speaking out at this time may be interpreted as “evidence” that favors the building manager. Another stupid thing about this scenario, is being forced to use old-time snail mail to get all this done…thus, I must keep dragging out my printer for each letter I need to send, which is a pain in the arse. Also, I must THEN send each rebuttal via certified mail, forcing me to bring the pups into “Deek” territory. I’d much prefer to work this all out via email. I think I’ll give one of these “type and mail” online businesses another shot, as there are likely others out there, besides the USPS’s own shoddy service. Furthermore:
My key witness regarding the loitering teenagers just moved out yesterday. That would be Daniyar and his partner, who lived right across the hallway from me. Dan told me they’re just moving four blocks away…however, I don’t know their address or phone number, nor do I know if they’d care to witness for me, by a statement to my still-nonexistent attorney. And he does NOT know about the manager’s demand to get rid of the pups. He LOVES both doggies, but we are basically strangers, so he may consider my informing him of these two, difficult issues a nuisance (as well as asking him for his phone number and new address). At any rate:
I step out this morning to walk the pooches, and who should be standing right outside the gate, but Myrtle Haversak. My brindlekin started barking as they often do in the morning when exiting the gate when someone is standing nearby (but it’s also their joy in stepping outside again). Wouldn’t you know it, but, once more, Flaco escaped from her collar and ran up to Ms. Haversak…upon which she ceased barking and just stood a few feet away, looking up at her with a wagging tail. Myrtle just faced away as if nothing we weren’t there, diddling with her smartphone. I said to Flaco:
“Come here, sweetheart, let’s get this leash back on.” And that was that. Turns out I had placed the collar on her one notch too loose, before we stepped out…so I corrected that before we moved on.
Then, strolling up Noe Street, this goofball comes jogging up the sidewalk, whence the pups started barking again. He’s kind of a crazy fellow who showed up in the neighborhood about a year ago…loves to run for exercise, and ALWAYS sports a rod, which he uses for his workout routine, though it DOES appear intimidating. He’s also loud and talks scary nonsense to himself (he does NOT carry a smartphone). For which reason I do my best to avoid the jerk. However, like so many other unwelcome situations, he seems to appear out of nowhere, making it too late for me to keep a distance. As he rushed on by, he exclaimed (about the dogs):
“Ha-ha, they don’t even LIKE me!”
Some people do that, when Flaco or Lucky barks at them…as if it were a personal thing, when in fact they are simply strangers acting erratically, sometimes wielding a stick, umbrella, or other item that appears to the dogs as potential weapons. They acquired that habit, of course, by being guardians for a homeless person. But they are getting better every day, at not being so reactive. Nonetheless, all they do is bark. They have never bitten anyone, nor ever will. Once in a blue moon, some idiot will come running up to the pups and get real close and start petting them, even though they’re barking up a storm, with hackles raised. This, in spite of the fact I never gave them permission to approach the dogs, and they never even asked! Nonetheless, they did not bite.
Several weeks back, some fellow began to approach us, so I moved the dogs and myself away promptly, but he persisted, said:
“It’s alright, I know them,” and began forcing a petting hand upon their heads, despite their aggressive barks. Again, they did not bite. The guy is homeless, I think, and knows Deek, thus also knows the dogs. Don’t these pin-heads realize you do NOT approach someone’s dog without first getting the owner’s permission? About two weeks after that incident, he showed up again, out of nowhere, right when I was hitching up the pups before entering a health food store to see what kinds of bread they have. This was two blocks up a hill on Castro Street…an area where it is unusual to encounter Deek’s associates, let alone ANY houseless denizen! Because, as you may or may not know, they prefer to populate flat areas, due to the difficulty of climbing hills with their hefty possessions. Not that this particular guy had any possessions at the moment, but you get my drift.
Another time, just several days ago, I parked the doggies outside of Duboce Food & Liquor, by tying them up to the corner signpost. As I brought the items to the counter, I heard the dogs barking, so I looked out to see a woman with a dog on a leash, and one small child in tow. She was allowing her dog to sniff my own pups, but pulled it away when they wouldn’t stop barking. I almost ran out there to confront her by saying,
“Please don’t do that, you don’t have my permission!” But I didn’t.
Instead, I declared to Morey: “They’re not supposed to do that, what’s wrong with them?”
He replied, “They’ll be sorry if they tear up their dog! After all, they’re in the wrong, as you have them tied up and leashed.”
So I said, “Oh, no I don’t want that to happen, anyway. It would be miserable and probably very expensive, if they’re dog bit mine!”
“I understand,” he replied. “They really should know better, just by seeing their hackles were raised.”
So, my reflection on this morning’s brief-but-unwelcome encounter with Myrtle: she saw how harmless my dogs really are. Not that that will change her mind any, but it’s another feather in my own cap. The dogs had a good, healthy poop, and we walked about for awhile longer before returning hovel. When we did, two workmen were fussing with the ongoing elevator replacement, installing beams and adjusting whatever (gears and pulleys and such). The dogs, of course, started barking at them…though not as vociferously as in previous encounters. They are actually charmed by the pooches, and one worker crouched down to extend a hand, and asked, “Do they bite?”
I said no, they don’t.
“Are you sure?” he persisted.
“Yes, but I’m not expecting you to test that out. If they were off their leashes, they’d just run up to you and keep barking from a distance.”
Now I presume that the building manager has probably gotten to the workers, and told them his false complaint about Myrtle’s son being bitten. IOW, he’s trying to drum up new allies for his wicked machinations. So now what: I’m going to have to tell the workers my side of the story? This is absurd.
So, anyway, just another typical day of my running the gauntlet with the doggies, among neighborhood folks, some of whom are nasty troglodytes. But my main concern in this missive, is whether or not to proceed with sending a letter in my defense TO Ablahblah Realty, whether or not to deliver my humorous screed to the building manager (the one you just read yesterday), or to just do nothing and see how this ugly situation plays out further. Seems to me that timing is of the essence, in order to keep the brindlekin with me. But, my dear Wattson, I am clueless as to which path I should take, regarding both timing and content of my rebuttal. Your continued insight in this matter is MOST appreciated. I still do NOT have an attorney, which may or may not be a good thing.
Yours as always,
Subject: Yet another email post to attorney Kingsley From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 17, 2021 11:05 PM
Just sent it out a few moments ago, via his contact page. Here it is:
I REALLY NEED AN ATTORNEY! In addition to my grievance against the building manager allowing a resident’s several guests to loiter in the hallway and be a nuisance, and not wearing any mask during this pandemic (which post you’ve received some time ago, but have never gotten back to me)…the manager is now retaliating by making false allegations about the two little doggies I adopted some months back. Here is the absurd letter he sent me, which I received just two days ago:
[Link to absurd letter, same as the one above, but with names and addresses not blacked out.]
This goes back to the nuisance neighbor in question, who told the manager one of my dogs bit her son and drew blood…RIGHT AFTER they received my complaint about the loiterers, which makes their complaint highly suspicious. Furthermore, I do NOT let the dogs out of my sight, and there was NEVER any confrontation between my pups and them. Besides which, they may bark, but they have never bitten anyone. Here’s the accusation:
The immature style of his complaint, as well as totally false accusations, reflect extreme bias and needless hostility…very much not in the line of how ANY building manager should behave. I am wondering if he is suffering from a form of dementia, as his words certainly suggest someone who’s disturbed, and decided to target me. So PLEASE GET BACK TO ME, I really have nowhere else to go, as you were recommended to me by the SF Tenant’s Union. If I contact them again, I’m afraid they’ll refer me to you again, anyway, or another attorney who fails to respond. Thank you for your attention.
Re: Yet another email post to attorney Kingsley From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: February 17, 2021 1:50 PM
It’s a great letter. Hope to hell he responds.
Besides which, it’s an EASY case to win…or, more accurately: TWO easy cases to win. Now, as I mentioned in an earlier post (maybe a week or so ago), the bodhisattva spin on this, may be that they are setting themselves up to LOSE, that I may collect a substantial amount of money for my GoFundMe account. Not is all as it seems! A possible hint in this direction, is the rapid timing between Deek’s abduction attempt, and the building manager’s pathetic accusations and demand to remove the brindlekin. Hint being that the timing seems SO contrived. As well as my being put into the impossible position of risking going HOMELESS for the sake of defending these lovely pups. For the bodhisattva tenet is: “No matter how impossible your goal seems, if it is a noble one, just stand your ground at all times, and you SHALL eventually succeed.” In my case, it’s an especially PAINFUL test, as I truly have nowhere else to go…and I don’t want to lose them, nor they, me.
PS: I am now putting together my next chapter, called “Pups Stolen & Returned, Building Manager Wants the Dogs Out!” Ending with this email right here…or maybe just one more piece that I started right when Kevin smacked me with his hateful letter, which I STILL haven’t gotten around to finishing, thanks to his nasty intrustion. Obviously, this absurd saga will likely spill over into one or more additional chapters. And Artemis only knows what OTHER horrific challenges shall be flung my way, on top of THIS one! Hopefully, no more. The pups, meanwhile, are as quiet and content as can be, loving these cushy sleeping bags as they laze away, Lucky on his back and snoozing with his front paws folded down and a bit of his pearly whites showing through doggy lips…spoiled rotten!
[Note: feel free to leave a comment below this blog entry, especially if you know Deek, and/or ARE houseless, yourself…but please wait until you’ve read this entire letter in my defense. FYI, if you are NOT living on the streets, and do NOT know who Deek is, you are STILL welcome to post a comment.]
This message is addressed to my homeless friend’s other brothers and sisters who also live on the streets, and who may have been led to believe that I have stolen his dogs, instead of our verbal agreement that I am their new owner, in exchange for monetary compensation. Which verbal agreement I have video recorded and uploaded here. But first you should know that, for more than four decades, I’ve been a homeless advocate and LGBT activist (mainly for those who are poor, homeless, or disenfranchised by society in some other way). I was even homeless myself, for a time, back in the mid-70s. Evidence of my history as a dedicated defender of these two groups can easily be proven by a perusal of these two websites:
“Deek” is not his real name, but for the sake of public exposure issues, that is what I call him in my tales. I believe his street name is “Po’ Boy.” Deek and I have known each other for more than ten years, but, since his mother passed on around six years ago, he’s developed a mean streak like you wouldn’t believe. In spite of that, I remain a good friend to him…which, I must say, is extremely difficult any more. As far as I can tell, he has almost NEVER spoken well of me to any of his street friends, despite my MANY good deeds I’ve done for him, and the MANY sacrifices I’ve made for his own happiness and betterment. Now, here’s a brief rundown of our history:
I have helped him with a weekly allowance that has increased to $60 per week, or $240-$300 monthly. I also gave him HALF of each stimulus check I’ve received (which would be $600 the first round, and $300 the second.) I’ve also done other nice things for him (and later, the pups) which cost me additional sums ranging from an extra $100 to $200 per month. I am not rich by any means, as I live humbly in a single room, and solely on Social Security (which monthly payment is now $1,345). It is rent control that, thank God, has kept my housing cost down to $310 per month…allowing me to financially assist someone who lives on the streets; and it is Deek whom I chose to focus on. Because he is, essentially, a REALLY good person.
That is, I’ve provided him with a decent allowance UNTIL adopting his dogs, for the sake of their safety, well-being and happiness…meaning that, the expenses incurred by my full-time care of the pooches make my also giving Deek a weekly allowance (or other expenditures) impossible. I have been here for him when his mother died; I have been here for him no matter WHAT the crisis. Though for a time he became so nasty towards me, that he began to threaten me with violence (such as when he said, “I should throw bleach in your face”). Which threats cross the line as far as I’m concerned, thus I broke off our friendship for almost a year. Resuming only when I saw he had acquired Lucky, and realized that, without my help, he’d lose that sweet little doggie within months, due to his unstable personality…which includes outrageous mood swings, indicative of a bipolar nature. Around six months later (much to my concern) he also acquired Flaco.
I, too, have been borderline bipolar and schizophrenic for a large chunk of my life, but now, at age 70, I have long since overcome those horrid curses through many years’ struggles and withOUT medication of any sort. Having experienced such long term mental disruptions (which I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy) has enabled me to assist SOME houseless people to better deal, psychologically, with their most difficult existence, in a society that is utterly MEAN and HEARTLESS towards those without a roof over their heads. I want to point out here, that the harshness of living on the streets could make ANYone “bipolar,” or mentally unstable in other ways…through no fault of their own.
DEEK’S MANY OFFENSES
Deek will get there, too, as regards overcoming bipolarity. But in my observation, handing the dogs back over to him at this time would result in a tragic outcome. As the darling mutts’ return to living on the streets with him, will make them highly vulnerable towards injury, abduction, or grave illness, infection and even death. For any number of reasons: which include so many nasty folks out there (some are houseless, others housed), along with Deek’s own severe mood swings that sometimes cause him to be neglectful or abusive towards Flaco and Lucky. I have witnessed such neglect and abuse dozens of times, which has caused me MUCH agony and prayerful nights…never knowing from one day to the next, whether or not his pups have been stolen or injured, or in some other way made to feel miserable and unwanted. Some examples of this abuse:
– Forcing them to sleep on the cold, hard concrete during wintry or rainy weather. As well as when they must sit or lie down for long periods of time, during the day. I have invested in doggie blankets as often as I could, to help ameliorate their discomfort, but Deek seems to “lose” the blankets within a day or two…and I just can’t keep up such a rapid turnover, financially. These blankets are actually kids’ sleeping bags I purchase on Amazon for around $20 each…they are both BETTER and CHEAPER than actual doggie blankets.
– Forcing them to suffer the cold rains without ANY cover or shelter whatsoever. We had an agreement he’d bring them over to my place, to ride out bad weather, but sometimes he wouldn’t oblige. In fact, just a couple months ago he kept them with him for a full six days of nonstop, heavy rains, in spite of having easy access to shelter, via my own abode.
– Suddenly YANKING on their leashes without first giving them a heads-up. Either or both dogs could be sound asleep, or relieving themselves when rudely yanked upon without notice…which could also damage their necks.
– SHOVING them off a low ledge or similar raised platform in anger, in spite of the fact they’d be most obedient in doing so with a simple word or two. For they are VERY good-natured dogs. Abruptly pushing them like that COULD cause them injury!
– Forcefully PUSHING them away whenever one or the other wanted to show affection by licking his face. Deek acted like that’s a disgusting behavior, so he also yells at them, making them feel like they’re “bad” doggies.
– Frequently expressing anger and frustration at the pooches, which is never a good thing. As the saying goes: “There are no bad dogs, just bad dog owners.”
– Refusing to arrange to replace the rabies tags he once had for them, or to allow me to place tags on their collars with my phone number, in order to lessen the chance of them being permanently lost to him. He also refuses to work with the SPCA to get this all straightened out, including getting Flaco spayed…which would lessen her chances of developing mammary cancer, and becoming pregnant. She’d also live a longer life (1 in 4 unspayed females die of mammary cancer, by the age of 10 years). See:
– Blabbing on about how he’s planning to make Flaco pregnant…which would be a disaster to nurse and raise puppies on the street. And could cause their death, disease or infection, along with Flaco’s. FYI, a small dog impregnated by a large male can easily cause a tragic birth process, including death of the mother. Deek just brushed that off by foolishly declaring, “Oh, no problem, she’d just get a Caesarian at the SPCA.” Does he really think they’d allow him to keep the pups, after that, knowing he’s houseless, as well as irresponsible towards caring for his pets? They could easily charge him with animal abuse and starting a puppy mill ON THE STREETS! And as a consequence, take Flaco & Lucky away from him! Besides which, if a dog just gave birth to a litter, she will likely REFUSE to nurse, if she doesn’t feel she’s in a quiet, secure and hidden location…and how COULD she feel safe when constantly moved around and outdoors all the time, with noise, chaos and troublesome idiots abounding? Nor will she nurse the pups if anyone OTHER than Deek or myself touches them…since a stranger’s scent will turn off her mothering instinct.
– Blabbing on about probably SELLING the pups for $400, which almost gave me a heart attack! Those poor doggies would lose both him and myself, as their closest companions…now, what awful heartbreak that would be for these sweet little creatures. And who knows HOW they’ll be treated by their new owner (I shudder to think of it)? Why not let ME purchase them, so they’d not only finally have a safe, comfortable place to live while ALSO keeping them in the family? But he refused to do that, because he wanted the full sum right up front. Which I could NOT afford, and he turned down my offer to pay him $100 in four, monthly installments. Fortunately (and blessedly) however, the next stimulus check showed up in time for me to make the transaction according to his demands.
In addition to the abuse issues, are these following incidents that Deek has informed me about:
– He was beat up at least once, at night,while the pups were present. Fortunately, they were NOT injured as well, but such a possibility exists, should they be returned to him.
– I’ve witnessed Deek start needless arguments that could readily lead to a physical assault on his person. This, of course, puts Lucky & Flaco in danger, too. This instigation of pointless conflicts is a good example of Deek’s bipolar mood swings.
– His dogs’ excessive barking and nipping at strangers’ heels or pant cuffs has caused some passersby to threaten to report him to the SPCA and have the pups taken away. And without rabies tags, this would be quite easy to do! The streets are chaotic and ever-shifting, causing little doggies to become overly vigilant, nervous and defensive.
– A crazy, mean spirited person sometimes threatened the pooches, with kicks or swinging a large stick or other potential weapon at them.
– Deek sleeps like the dead when he crashes out on the sidewalk, thus his possessions are frequently stolen from his shopping cart. His doggies were likewise vulnerable to abduction, as even if they barked ferociously, it is unlikely that Deek would awaken…or surely, not awaken in time to rescue them. But even if he DID wake up in time, could he really fight the thief off (not to mention two or three of them, at once)?
As for Deek’s bipolarity inspiring him to act out pointless and dramatic scenarios, as well as stab his friends in the back, here are some sad examples:
– A couple years back, he insisted on sleeping in front of my building, with his feet dangling over the curb. I kept pleading with him to pull them back and onto the sidewalk, for his own protection…but he stubbornly refused, no matter how much I begged. Two cops later strolled by as I watched out my window, to awaken him and get him to move his feet from the curb. Which he did, but only a few minutes after they departed, he poked his feet out again. Sure enough, a little while later, someone parked their car nearby and, as it pulled back to align itself, Deek started hollered, “You broke my foot! You broke my foot!” He made a horrendous scene out there, so I called 911. There was ZILCH evidence he had been injured, as the two medics that arrived could not find ANY damage to him, not even a single bruise mark. But they hauled him off to ER anyway, just to take x-rays and be sure he was fine. What I believe really went on, was that Deek was hoping to scam whatever hapless driver parked there, into squeezing some moolah out of him. And he was REALLY pissed at me for months, for my dialing 911…which strikes me as absurd, seeing as, at that time, I thought he WAS injured, and I wasn’t about to let him writhe in agony and bleed to death right there, in front of my residence! He returned with a removable cast on one leg…you know, the kind used for mild injury, like a sprain. But he played it to the hilt: pretending he really WAS severely injured with a broken leg, while nonetheless expressing bitter hatred at me for saving his life! He has never admitted he faked it…in fact, he said he was in the hospital for three months. Which is an absolute lie, as he showed up in the Castro just days after the dubious “accident,” walking about in that roam rubber cast! Furthermore, the fact that he made such a scene right in front of my building put my living there at risk…and I simply can NOT afford to just up and move!
– I never told Deek he was welcome to sleep by, or near, my residence…that it’s okay to drop by for a few minutes, and we can hang out elsewhere, such as a block or two away. You’d think that a homeless person would appreciate the help of anyone housed, and NOT go out of his way to jeopardize their living situation! For in so doing, he screws over himSELF, as well as the person being kind to him. Because he’ll LOSE all the gifts and money so generously offered without strings attached! Yet, a couple years or so after this agreed-upon arrangement, he DID start hanging out right beside my building, or very close to it. And making tons of noise LATE AT NIGHT with his Bluetooth boombox speakers, and having his friends camp out with him. No matter how often I begged him to take it elsewhere, he’d stubbornly refuse, claiming it’s his RIGHT to park anywhere he wants. Even though I explained to him, countless times, how such behavior jeopardizes me by causing animosity from other residents, including the building manager himself. It is bipolar antics like this, that Deek winds up screwing himself over, as well as a good friend, though he doesn’t seem to care or realize that some of his behavior is responsible for at least SOME of his difficulties and misfortune in his life. Isn’t just being homeless bad enough withOUT needlessly exacerbating an already horrendous situation? And how does one think he can get out of this, by fomenting further hatred upon himself, in the very neighborhood where he has chosen to settle?
– Deek usually dumps an outrageous pile of garbage wherever he parks his ass for a time, which only serves to bring outrage upon him, by those who live nearby. This includes whenever he camped out around MY building, which negatively reflects upon ME, by all the other residents. Now how is that gonna help my friendship with him at all? I have tried, time and time again, to get him to be neater, even cleaning up after others who strew their garbage about. It would certainly impress the housed who witness such a good deed, thus benefit Deek himself, in many ways. But no, he stubbornly refuses to be other than a live version of Charles Schulz’s “Pig Pen,”
– Sometimes when I approached him with one or more of his friends present, he’d start a phony argument with me, right there in front of them! As if his turning them against me would benefit HIM in some way. I kinda suspect that some who know him at least fairly well, are aware of his occasional, backstabbing behavior; thus aren’t fooled for a minute by his feigned animosity against me. Perhaps, though, they keep their mouths shut, for the “favors” Deek gives them, in the form of cheap, hard drugs such as meth and crack. “Know what MY money is, Zeke?” he once asked me. “It’s crack. I don’t use it myself, but it’s good as cash on the streets.” This explains WHY some of his associates may be willing to back him up totally, over the false allegation that I STOLE his pups, rather than made a fair exchange. And why he REALLY did NOT want me to video-record the transaction, as that would weaken his claim against me. Though, since he wanted the moolah BAD, he agreed. I am GLAD we came to an agreement, for I feared, in his desperation for his next “fix,” he’d actually SELL those sweet doggies to just about anyone…not checking out or even questioning, whether the new owner would treat them well, or abusively.
– In spite of my generosity to him, including as much cash as I could afford to part with, Deek often tried to scam me for even MORE money. Which he always failed to squeeze out of me, yet persisted in attempting to do so, regardless. I could give MANY examples of this, but I’ll stop at two:
1) I’d recharge whatever smartphones, backup portable batteries, and Bluetooth speakers he brought to me…many of which were obviously used and quite old, because in shabby condition. So sometimes they’d fail to work, or stop working shortly after I returned them to his hand. Yet he’d BLAME me for “breaking” any such device that would not function! I’m sure that at least SOME of these devices already were useless, and he knew it…but set me up for what HE thought was a brilliant ruse. THAT didn’t go over well with me, either, because I always reFUSED to compensate him for the oodles of money he claims he spent on them (another lie, clearly). An additional boon for his smartphones was that I’d transfer to them what finally amounted to HUNDREDS of rap albums that I downloaded, as that genre is his very favorite. I’d keep this music stored on an external hard drive (as well as backed up to the cloud), so that, whenever he’d bring me another phone, I’d be ready to add as many albums as would fit the device’s storage capacity.
2) Deek started asking for his weekly allowance in advance and, over time, they were SO much in advance, it led to an entire MONTH in advance…which I finally put an end to. He’d accuse me of giving him “peanuts” because $60/week was nothing, he doesn’t REALLY need it anyway. Deek seems to equate saying “thank you” with kissing my ass; he even said as much, more than once!
Having now typed out in some detail, all of Deek’s bad points, I leave you with my conclusion:
DEEK IS A BIPOLAR DRAMA QUEEN WHOSE INTOLERABLE MOOD SWINGS LEAVE MUCH DAMAGE IN HIS WAKE…TO HIS FRIENDS, TO THOSE WHO TRY TO BE KIND TO HIM, AND, MOST OF ALL, TO HIMSELF! BUT WHEN A COUPLE OF ANGELIC DOGGIES GET IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS, THAT’S WHERE I DRAW THE LINE. NO WAY WILL I EVER GIVE THEM UP TO HIM AT THIS POINT, EVEN IF MY LIFE DEPENDED ON IT!
There are those living on the streets who would most likely agree with me. Three of them are: Hollywood, Deek’s cousin Cameron, and a friendly Philippine guy simply called “Jay” (though I have no idea WHERE he is these days…he came up to me once, and said “That guy Po’ Boy needs to show you some respect!”). There are OTHERS who roam the streets at night–some houseless, some housed–who keep a watch on Deek’s doings for two important reasons: (1) to make sure he’ll be alright through it all, and (2) to also make sure his hateful gossip against me doesn’t come to harm either myself, or the pups. Deek has NO idea who they are, nor does most anyone else, and I shall keep it that way for the foreseeable future. Just be warned:
ANYONE WHO CHOOSES TO BE A PUPPET MINION FOR DEEK’S BIPOLAR MISCHIEF, SHALL REGRET DOING SO, SHOULD THEY ACTUALLY BEGIN TO TAKE ACTION TO SABOTAGE MY LIFE, INCLUDING ATTEMPTS TO STEAL THE DOGS, OR CAUSE ME MISERY IN ANY OTHER WAY. I HAVE LIVED IN THE CASTRO SINCE 1983, AND HAVE MANY SECRET ALLIES. NOT TO MENTION WELL OVER FIFTY RESIDENTS OF MY APARTMENT COMPLEX WHO HAVE FALLEN IN LOVE WITH THE POOCHES, WITH WHOM YOU’LL HAVE TO CONTEND, SHOULD YOU STIR UP ANY TROUBLE.
Now having said all THAT as well, I want to declare that:
IN NO WAY DO I ENCOURAGE ANYONE TO BE HOSTILE TOWARDS DEEK. HE IS STILL MY FRIEND, AND I BELIEVE SHOWING HIM EVERY KINDNESS WITHIN YOUR MEANS IS THE BEST WAY TO GO. UNFORTUNATELY, HE DOES NOT UNDERSTAND WHERE I AM COMING FROM, DUE TO PERCEPTIVE SHORTCOMINGS THANKS TO HIS BIPOLAR AFFLICTION AND, POSSIBLY, HIS USE OF METHAMPHETAMINE. OTHERWISE, HE’D BE WORKING WITH ME IN CARING FOR THE DOGS, EVEN WHEN I AM NOW THEIR LEGAL GUARDIAN. BUT AT THIS POINT IN OUR FRIENDSHIP I CANNOT TRUST HIM WITH WHAT I CONSIDER TO BE A MOST SACRED MISSION. COMPASSION TOWARDS HIM WILL GO A LONG WAY TOWARDS RECTIFYING HIS ERRORS AGAINST ME, AND EVENTUALLY REUNITE HIM WITH BOTH MYSELF AND THE DOGGIES…AS WELL AS GET A DECENT ROOF OVER THIS GOOD (BUT MISGUIDED) MAN’S HEAD.
MY BRINDLEKIN TALES
Since late October, I have been feverishly, joyfully writing these amazing, mostly TRUE tales about my adventures with Deek and his puppies, whom I have named “brindlekin,” a word I actually made up. They will always remain free to read online, here:
My goal is to get these tales published in a book that will become a bestseller. And in so doing, find a bona-fide HOME for myself, the doggies, and Deek as well. I should also point out that, in these tales I often speak highly of him, by bringing up his many good aspects. So I see no need to list them here, as this letter is already way lengthy. I also speak well of the homeless, for the most part, in that same book. As a matter of fact, if you want a recent example of how respectfully I speak about so-called “vagrants,” check out this piece I wrote a day or two before this past Christmas:
It IS unfortunate that Deek is working overtime aGAINST me, which only serves to make my project so much more difficult to achieve. Yet, I guess it makes for good plot material, as everybody loves a cliffhanger! And for this reason, I suspect that Deek knows EXACTLY what he’s doing by spreading hateful gossip against me. IOW: there may be more to this fellow than meets the eye. Which theory I’ve discussed in some of my Brindlekin chapters…and I call it the “Bodhisattva (or Guardian Angel) Theory.” They are AMAZING tales, inspired by two, lovely little pups that have entered my life through Deek’s most generous hands. BTW, my theory postulates that Deek had, all along, intended to present me with these beautiful mutts, and is only creating great adventures for me to write about, through his seeming animosity…making me the HERO as a consequence.
And for that reason alone (gifting me with the pooches), I feel strongly that I should always do everything possible to maintain a friendship with Deek, no matter what…even if from a distance for the time being. My success will not only directly impact him in a most benevolent way, but likewise impact all the other houseless people he knows…and, by extension (like dominoes) impact all other street folks here in San Francisco AND BEYOND! For should my book become wildly popular to such an extent I’d collect MILLIONS, or even BILLIONS, from the royalties, I promise that I shall use MOST of the money to benefit as many homeless souls as possible. With quality housing, health care, opportunities, and a monthly stipend to meet all their needs and more (like a living wage, only they won’t be required to work). And they shall all be gifted with a lovely little doggie or two, or some other pet, if they’d like. Veterinarian care of the highest quality shall be provided gratis by my “Deek & Zeke’s Doggie Foundation.” But for now, this will have to suffice:
IN ORDER TO HELP ME COVER EXPENSES FOR THE DOGGIES, I HAVE OPENED BOTH A GOFUNDME ACCOUNT, AND AN AMAZON DOGGY WISH LIST. Which I started in mid-December, before I even thought I’d actually adopt them. You will find a link for each of these charities, plus further explanation of my personal “dog rescue” project, here:
THE END IS NIGH (OF THIS LONG LETTER, THAT IS; BUT YES, THAT “OTHER” END IS NIGH, TOO…WHAT A CO-INKY-DINK)!
Regarding the African American gentleman who approached me on his bicycle on January 11th, around 2:45 PM, near the local public library:
I hope and pray you don’t fall into Deek’s bipolar trap, as you will be messing around with a VERY dangerous pair of dice…gambling on the perception that Deek is totally innocent, and a victim of my supposed betrayal of our friendship, and my supposed “theft” of Flaco & Lucky. Nothing could be further from the truth. In defending Deek in this matter, you are nothing more than a chump for the devil, in the form of Deek’s machinations. Do NOT be so convinced that you are on the right side of this battle, for you clearly are not. I will gladly speak to you further some time, if you put down your figurative sword and address me in a friendly, unthreatening manner.
An important warning, though: NEVER again raise your umbrella or any other object before my doggies, just to try to get them to stop barking. It is ALWAYS wrong to use fear or intimidation to coerce ANY innocent creature to do your bidding. Love and patience are the way to go, when it comes to one of God’s sweetest creatures…for the dog is man’s best friend, and dog spelled backwards is god. Looks to me like they were barking for a VERY good reason, which is: your brazen hostility towards yours truly.
Your proclamation that you’ve never seen Deek be abusive to them, either tells me you don’t REALLY know him very well, or that you are outright lying. For, in your own way, you displayed an abusive attitude yourSELF towards the pups, by the very act of raising a closed umbrella over them…a weapon as it were! Reflecting a rather LOW standard of the proper way to raise and care for a dog…and I’ve had MORE than enough of that, from Deek. And so have Lucky & Flaco, who are VERY happy under my care and protection.
It would be a most profound TRAGEDY, should you or anybody else manage to SABOTAGE this incredible and (what I believe to be) SACRED venture…that will not only benefit Deek, the mutts and myself, but be a remarkable BOON for so many others. On which side of history, and God’s judgment, will YOU choose to stand? Think about it, please, before you ever raise that umbrella again.