J.J. (or perhaps Jay-Jay)

June 9, 2012


J.J. busy sleeping.

Date: June 3, 2012
Subject: Sleeping Dragon
To: My E-Frenz
From: Zeke Krahlin

This is my newest street friend, named “J.J.”…though he did tell me his full name, I forgot. Noticed him for the first time four nights ago…and I was totally stunned at what a handsome mug this dude has! I walked right up to him and complimented him on how nice he looks in that bold, plaid jacket. He’s truly a knockout.

He smiled and said “thanks,” then for whatever reason walked hurriedly away. He is possibly a hustler at our gay bars…though I’ve since learned he’s not homeless, but lives in a houseboat with two others. They don’t always get along, so I’ve invited him to stay with me now and then, to give them (and him) a break from housemate squabbles. But I’m jumping ahead of myself.

Didn’t know if I’d ever see him again, but two nights later he suddenly appears as if out of nowhere, and seats himself right beside me, where I’m sitting on a bench at Harvey Milk Plaza. Looks real sleepy, maybe somewhat drunk too. Still, absolutely delicious. To make a long story short (not usually my style, heh), we wound up in my bed together, clothes mostly on. Lots of cuddling, backrubs, footrubs…and finally, snoozing.

This man, J.J. used to play soccer, until one too many knee injuries put an end to that. And he surely does have a soccer player’s body! He is also very sweet natured, and asked nothing of me (no money, no food, no anything), except to sleep with me and hang out.

He’s quite a character, and very intelligent. Loves me to read one of my chapters to him, and he gets all the sophisticated innuendos and references. Very well educated!

Surely I will write a piece about J.J. some time in the near future. He is most inspiring….just like my Larkin (and just as handsome). So, after his first night over, I give him my card so he can reach me whenever, and then he departs with well wishes and a joyful spirit. I invited him back over the following night…but he didn’t show up. *sigh*

But last night I went to bed early (10pm), and was awoken later by a gentle rapping at my door. 1:30am. Who is that? I think. I told my street buddies to not come over so late…and besides, they should only use the front gate buzzer, and not attempt to get into the building otherwise. Well, after a few more rappings, I decide to see who it is.

Open my door to find the one person I least expected, yet the one person I would always welcome so late: J.J.! He falls into my arms, says “I’m drunk”. Then gives me the sweetest bear hug I’ve ever had. For more than a minute. Not just once, but twice!

Asks me to read him another story, as he takes off his shoes and coat and lies down on my bedding. So after just a few paragraphs (glass of root beer in hand), he zonks out cold. In a little while, I slip into pajamas and crawl into bed with this darling man.

Somehow, he’s managed to pull down his pants part way, and pull up his T-shirt. Well, I just have a lovely time held firmly in his arms, his legs bent and wrapped around my own. Never mind the sex part, it’s not like he really wants to go that far, but loves to make me happy by showing off a bit of forbidden flesh. Fine with me; no complaints here!

Now, it’s morning and I’ve taken these photos to share with a few select e-friends. Just so you know: his company is so sweet, he is funny, smart and most attentive…an excellent listener. If we ever actually have sex, it may be a while yet…as I am already quite happy with the semi-erotic situation as it now stands (or lies down, as the case may be).

But it is also important that he knows he has a friend here, who he can trust. Sex need never enter the picture (in spite of what those glorious three photos suggest).

There are several other darling men on the streets I’ve befriended, who have yet to visit. I expect a similar scenario in all cases. For I’ve had many visions over the past years, of lovely dudes befriending me and becoming bodyguards of sorts…as well as lovers. Unbelievable, that it is actually coming true! I will eventually introduce each one to the other…that their present existence on the streets may be softened by these newfound friendships. Until said time the next phase kicks in: which is my becoming rich enough to house them all, and start them on the road to an excellent and joyful life. (Which my visions have also shown.)

I can only conclude that the Universal Mind is blessing me for all my good works of many years…which required (for the sake of my spiritual growth) many failures, frustrations, and backfiring on all my endeavors (including in the realm of boyfriends).

I’ve bragged enough for now…will save the rest for my stories.


Date: June 5, 2012
Subject: Jay-Jay Update
To: John H.
From: Zeke Krahlin

So yesterday evening, appears this dire notice posted by building manager Jim R.:

Obviously, he’s talking about my new buddy Jay-Jay. But I wonder about his description as “strange man” and “meth head”. What exactly does he mean by “strange”, and how does one distinguish “meth head” from a drunkard or just plain bully? Was he sweating profusely? Were his teeth rotting? (As far as I can tell, he never sweats to any noticeable degree, and he has a glorious set of pearly-whites.)

Seems to me, Jim is somewhat biased by using such stereotypical prejudice, to invite enmity against me, by other residents. Now, I’m not saying that it’s okay for Jay-Jay to act like this, but jeez, gimme a break!

Jay-Jay is an utter sweetheart, and would never threaten or hurt me in any way. We’ve slept together twice so far, and his darling, night-long embraces are such sweetness you can’t imagine. He’s even emptied his pockets to help me out with my dire lack of money…seeing as Social Security has pulled a surprise deduction of $200 on me for this month, under the claim that since the state of Californication will no longer pay for my Medicare Plan B.

This deduction includes a retroactive adjustment for May. You’d think the gov’t would be decent enough to arrange to take out $50 each month, for the next four. But no, they just swiped their draconic sword across my bank account, and took the entire amount due in one fell swoop.

After that, they will permanently deduct $100 from my stipend. This is because the state of CA will no longer cover Plan B. Can you imagine? Such a hefty amount reclaimed by the elite, so they can continue to enjoy their Caribbean cruises and dinners at Paris and Vienna? (Not to mention the call-boys of Amsterdam, Rome and Bangkok.)

Now, I can’t even afford to enjoy an occasional cheap meal at Howard’s Cafe, let alone treat Jay-Jay to this sweetest eatery in all of San Francisco. THE BASTARDS!

Haven’t seen Jay-Jay since this stupid muck-up, but I figure we have at least two options:

(1) Drag my buddy to Jim’s apartment, where he’ll feign utmost apologies for his terrible behavior, and offer to take the garbage out three or four times, in order to make amends.

(2) Have Jay-Jay visit me no earlier than midnight, when the manager is not lurking the premises, and have him sneak out the next day, via the back gate. (I let him sleep in till about two o’clock the next day; he’s such a pleasure to gaze upon, and have around.)

Just my rotten luck that Jay-Jay should have an altercation with someone who he didn’t realize is the building manager!

Though in a way, this is Mr. Jim R.’s karma for not confronting a creepy leather daddy with whom I share a bathroom, that has continuously made my life difficult with prejudiced remarks and outright threats.


Meth head or not? Click on image to vote.

I do find Jim’s notice rather hilarious: calling Jay-Jay “strange” and “meth-head”, as if to foment anger and fear against me. A perfect excuse to build up a case for my eviction. Which would not hold up in court, should it come to that. I’d be the victor, with possible reverse lawsuit that could garner me at least a few thousand dollars.

Just another day in the life of a gay activist renegade, I suppose. What do ya think of all this, John? I’m all ears!

Cheerz,

– Zeke

PS: This “dire” notice has already been removed…by the manager, I presume. I wonder why?


Date: June 6, 2012
Subject: Sleeping Dragon
To: Tom Keske
From: Zeke Krahlin

On 6/4/12, Thomas Keske wrote:

{{ Thanks again for your insights and also for those great photos!}}

Allow me to pontificate.

By the photos alone, you must admit that, just like Larkin, J.J. is very much an angel, too. He is so beautiful, there is not one square inch of his body I find the least bit unappealing (to say the least). I have fantasies of licking his chest and armpits…shame on me!

Even that skateboard-accident burn mark on his right butt-cheek adds some extra sexiness to an extraordinarily perfect physique. It gives the mark of a warrior to his flesh. A similar wound resides on his left hand, where he skidded across the rough concrete. Damn if he ain’t super-cute!

As I said earlier, we don’t have sex…but the intense hugging and foreplay types of activity more than make up for this. He has this sleeping disorder called “Periodic limb movement disorder (PLMD)”, which he warned me about. At first, I thought he was threatening me when he said: “Don’t crowd me at night, or I might break your jaw.”

So the next time he came over, I slept on the far right side of the bedding, to see just what might occur. Turns out that a few minutes after I laid down (he was already asleep for a half hour), he nudged up to me, and pulled me in his arms in great strength. I felt really loved and protected. Then he straddled his buff legs around mine, with one leg rubbing up and down my thighs and calves in a sort of very powerful and healing massage. He did that often throughout the night, and it was just what the doctor ordered, as far as I’m concerned. And what muscular thighs and calves he has, I might add!

Seems that barely the lightest touch causes him to kick his legs, or sometimes swing his arms about. But his kicks are just short of causing bruises…yet powerful enough for deep-tissue therapy, which is most soothing for yours truly. I can see how, if he kicked my crotch or whacked an arm over my eyes, it could cause a bit of a bruise or pain…but that did not happen. I actually enjoy a bit of this rough play, seeing as his sleep disorder is comparatively minor.

He also talks a bit in his sleep, but so sweetly I really haven’t a complaint. I am free to feel him up anywhere: just no kissing, licking or penetration. I can grab his ample crotch and feel his kok grow into this glorious boner, for one. I can also massage his tight butt, rub his chest and nipples, and rub the back of his neck, and his shaved head all I want. He is certainly a master at foreplay, which is really exactly what I like, more than actual sex. In fact, it’s like he can read my mind, and know what I really enjoy regarding intimacy with such a handsome fellow.

Very much, he’s a dream come true.

I find that, while jacking off alone thinking of him is terribly sweet…I get far more happiness from such physical intimacy and affectionate embrace that we share. It is just like what I imagine sleeping with Larkin would be.

He is likely a hustler, for whom sex has become rather boring (as you can well understand). I imagine all the idiotic customers he has to put up with, in order to survive and pay rent. It is a great blessing for me that he finds the real love he seeks, in my company. How easy it is to forego sex, in exchange for all the sweet warmth and joy he unconditionally gives this most appreciative soul, both physically and emotionally.

Did I mention he’s 34 years old, though looks so much younger?

You have a good idea just how handsome he is, in face. Though my photos didn’t do him justice. When I first laid eyes on him, I couldn’t stop staring at that glorious mug. In so many similar ways, he thrills me every bit as much as does my Larkin. Now, allow me to drift into ethereal realms, and conjecture on what it’s like to be graced with literal angels coming into one’s life, and loving you to pieces:

Of course, they won’t have sex with you, right off the bat. Maybe later, if at all. But that is never the end game sought. If it happens, it happens…thought never an ultimate expectation.

So if God brings to you an angel, what do you expect to happen in bed? Affection, lots of physical intimacy, embraces and perhaps many kisses (though not always). But also this (which I coin):

“The Sodom and Gomorrah Test”.

If you can love an angel with all your heart, all your spirit, yet not take advantage of his gorgeous body, by refraining from pure sex (which is penetration and other forms of physical lust that have little to do with true affection and respect)…you’re in like Flint.


Lot’s wife: salt of the earth.

Of course, if you are not mature enough to cast aside these kinds of lust, you fail. And the angel never returns, to sleep in your arms with utmost affection. In short: you lose.

It is not that I believe we shall never have sex, but as a hustler (and possibly, angel) he needs first to know that my affections are real…that I’m not just manipulating things to get my rocks off. It is a great honor and joy to be spiritually evolved enough, to forego any lustful drives I have towards him (and believe me, they are intense), to show him he has a true friend in me…always.

So there you have it, Thomas: my confession and honesty laid before you in all its bare truth. Take it for what it’s worth; though I’m sure already, I have your appreciation and understanding in my most intimate revelation regarding possibly literal angelic visitations.

I am truly, a lucky man.

Cheerz and joy, and love your boy,

– Ezekiel


Date: June 3, 2012
Subject: Sleeping Dragon
To: Zeke Krahlin
From: John H.

On Sat, Jun 9, 2012 at 8:00 PM, John H. wrote:


Mad weasels!

{{ Jim is obviously a weasel and an alarmist who is very naive about people in general. A lot of old faggots are so unrealistic about putting young emotions into perspective. And this is their downfall. You suggested an attempt at an appeal to reason with this old fishfaced lame tub of shit. I would think it best to do that in two phases: first, a personal talk with Jim about Jay Jay with a proposal to bring him to him and offer amends; then secondly, the actual meeting. }}

VERY wise advice, John, thanks! I already did these things in my own way, yesterday evening, believe it or not. Here’s the tale, and it’s all 101% true:

Yesterday afternoon, I passed the word to a decent group of street folks hanging out at the Castro Metro Plaza, to tell J.J. I’m very very sorry, but because of this altercation with the building manager, he could no longer come over. I really felt awful having to tell him that.

Three hours or so later, I returned to the plaza, in hopes of finding J.J. to tell him myself. Wasn’t there, so I just shot the bull with Eric, Rom, Derrick, Pow, etc. Some time passes, when I finally notice J.J. one bench down, talking to someone. When that person left, I approached him, we hugged, and he offered me a cigarette.

So I told him the bad news, that in no way possible could he come over anymore, because the manager said he’d call the cops if he ever saw J.J. around. Fortunately, he didn’t think J.J. wanted to see me, as J.J. told him, “I’m looking for Zeus.” :) And he was pressing 01 instead of 07, so couldn’t get in by himself..otherwise the altercation would never have occurred.

J.J. smiled his gorgeous grin at me, and said “It’s okay, I understand. I was a jerk.” A few times he asked if I could just sneak him in for the night; he’d leave before sunrise. I said no, it’s still too risky. Told him what a nice man he is, and it brings me much grief to have to say no.

We sat together for a few more minutes. He informed me he was diagnosed with mesothelioma, and feels really rotten right now. In his words: “I’m going through hell, Zeke.” And as gorgeous as he is, I could see the pain, and the sorrow. Yet he keeps such a sweet disposition through it all.

Then he got up to cross the street and sauntered on down 17th to God only knows where. He left his pack of ciggies on the bench, so I grabbed them and gave them to him as he waited for the light to change. Then he crossed, and I watched him grow smaller and less visible as other pedestrians blocked my view. My heart really ached big time. Something told me to not let him get away. I couldn’t bear the thought of him wandering off alone.

So I followed him from about a half-block distant, as he crossed Noe, then Sanchez. There was a homeless group between J.J. and myself, and they know me. I was so caught up in focusing my energy on J.J. I didn’t even notice the waifs, though it looked like I was staring right at them.

“Hello-ooo,” said Felicia, a really NICE and feisty young lady on the streets, who also holds down a part-time night job.

Her attention made me suddenly notice them, so I smiled back as if in a daze. By the next corner (Sanchez) I crossed the street with my eye on J.J. Who suddenly seemed to have vanished. So I crossed back to his side of the street, and find him splayed out on the sidewalk (next to a parked car), with the bright evening sun giving warmth. I decided to step back a little; leaned on a street lamp, to just wait and watch.

He finally got back up, and saw me, and smiled, and came right up to me. And said, with that sweet grin on his mug: “What do YOU want?”

I said, “You. You are my brother. And I want all good things for you. It grieves me terribly that I can’t have you over. I feel so awful, like I’m saying goodbye to you, and I may never see you again.”

“Oh that’s alright my friend. I love you too, and I will see you again, very soon.”

Then I broke out in tears, and he took me by the arm, where we walked to the local library and sat. I dried off my face and took a ground-score ciggie off the asphalt.

J.J. whipped out his own pack and said: “Do you really want something someone just tossed away, or one of mine?”

Of course I accepted his, and he lit it for me. He looked at me and smiled: “What are you so worried about?”

“You, J.J. I want you to be well. I can’t think of you out in the cold tonight, while I’m home in my bed.” I started to cry again, but wiped them away with my coat sleeve. “You are a very beautiful man, and very kind.”

He hugged me again: “Awww, thank you.”


Puppy love: best love of all!

Then, he just looked at me with that deliriously comely mug, bunching up his jet eyebrows with that sad puppy-dog look I could never WANT to say no to. He loves to just look at me. I’ve never met anyone before, who gazes upon me for so long, it makes me blush.

After a few puffs, I raised my lowered head to look right back at him (he’s already BEEN watching me with those golden-brown eyes all the while, never looked away). And I emoted:

“At least, know that there is someone in this world who cries for you.” And I burst out all over again, in a shower of salty raindrops. Then I had an idea:

“J.J., I don’t know if you’ll go for this, but what if I take you to the manager’s apartment, and you give a very sincere apology?”

“Sure,” he replied. “I can do that. I’d LOVE to do that. I fucked up bad, and I’d love to make things right.”

So off we went to 2306, and entered the elevator. At which moment he suddenly embraced me, and buried his close-shaven head into my shoulder. And I sighed in great peace:

“If the manager’s not in, we’ll just go back to my room, and I’ll call him up later.”

So I knocked on 401 with sweet J.J. by my side. I heard a rustling through the door. “He’s in!” I observed.

The door swung open, and there’s Jim, our manager.

“Is this the culprit?” I stated, while giving a brief tug on J.J.’s coat sleeve.

J.J. then spoke up: “I am so very sorry for my terrible behavior that night. I’m dealing with mesothelioma, and I guess I was bitter and out of control. I hope you can find some way to forgive me.” They shook hands.

Jim replies: “You frightened the residents by your antics, and I have to know where to set my foot down. But that is a very nice apology, and I thank you for that.”

I looked up at J.J., tugged on his sleeve again, and said: “He’s a good soldier.”

J.J. then added, “I would also like to have your permission to stay with Zeke tonight, if that is okay with you.”

“Yes it is, J.J.,” said Jim (after a few seconds’ deliberation). “I hope you two have a very good night.”

End of story? Not quite.

So J.J. hit the sack, and in less than two minutes was snoring like an angel. (At least, that’s how I imagine the way angels snore.) But before he did, I gave him a righteous foot rub, and as he dozed off, mumbled “Thank you Zeke” several times.

The next morning, we did the nasty. And let me tell you, anyone’s an utter fool to kick this sweet lad out of their bed. Turns out he’s half Indian (indigenous), so I told him about the Native American Health Clinic, that possibly may make his life a little better.

He left around 11am, with the agreement he’ll return here by 8. Keeping my fingers crossed that this health clinic will help him out, in at least one way that will lift his sweet spirit.

So there you have it, John. Amazing story, eh? I have another amazing true tale to tell very soon, about my latest encounter with Larkin.

Stay tuned!

Cheerz,

Zeke

Addendum:

Jim put a new notice on the elevator doors last night, which he removed too soon for me to take a snapshot. But here is what it essentially stated:

“The person at the front gate with whom I had an altercation, just came up to my apartment and gave a most decent and sincere apology. For this reason, I have decided to give him another chance. So if you see him in or around the building, please be nice.”

Thought you’d get a kick out of it.

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