I’ll Push You Back!

March 24, 2013

[ Free Me From This Bond (the sequel): Chapter 2 ]

[ Heartfelt Reader: please realize that the name “Phillip” in the previous chapter, was a psuedonym for “Larkin.” This is due to a temporary bump in our relationship, and nothing more. Yet for the sake of posterity, I’ve kept the name “Phillip” in Chapter 1. ]

Date: Sat, 23 Mar 2013 17:21:33
Keith, why haven’t you invited me over?
From: Zeke
To: Keith

Just wondering. Last time you welcomed me, was because I put a bit of pressure on you, by expressing the difficult situation I was in. I really don’t care to see someone based on a guilt trip. This is not intended to coerce you to invite me over again, BTW…I have too much pride.

When you said I’m more than welcome to drop over (even w/a homeless friend) whenever I see the light on in back:

Well, I don’t often pass by that part of the “˜hood, so whether or not the light is on is irrelevant. Though some weeks back I did walk by that area and saw that light on. So I came to your gate and pressed the buzzer. Someone came down to answer, but he said both you and Gus were out at moment. So I said “sorry” and moved on.

If you love me so much, I kind of expected you to contact me once a month or so, to get together…whether at your place on Collingwood, or elsewhere. I realize my room is a shambles, and I don’t expect you or anyone else to visit me here, for that reason.

I have no doubt as to your affections towards me. And has nothing to do with what I just stated above. If it is your preference to just stay in contact via email–in spite of being barely one block away–okay, I’ll live with that.

BTW, you should know that my hero Larkin, also lives barely a block away. Yet he, too, never invites me over, nor even has given me his apartment number, that I can send him a letter now and then. He doesn’t bother w/computers or Internet, so emailing him is out of the question. Therefore, the only chances I get to see this beautiful man, is on the streets whenever our paths cross. That happens about once every two weeks.

What is most curious, is that Larkin lives now on 17th Street, almost directly across from you and Gus! How ironic that both yourself and Larkin have put me in a rather distant space. Psychologically speaking, in spite of our close geographical proximity.

I appreciate your many kindnesses, and certainly do not regard them in vain. So thank you so much for that. But if you invite me over soon, due to this latest missive, I will turn you down. I don’t understand at all, why every person I’ve ever loved or befriended, makes it so utterly difficult to have any face-to-face visits, except rarely. While so many others I see have friends and lovers close to them w/o any such strange distance. This has been going on with me for years.

I always wind up very much alone, while others who say they really care about me, have tons of parties and friends to afford them good times. As for myself, I remain pretty much relegated to isolation, and the only thing that gives me succor, is to write my tales.

– Zeke

Date: Sat, 23 Mar 2013 18:52:13
I’ll push you back!
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Funny how I purchased that Scooby-Doo card for Larkin, earlier in the day before we met at Pilsner. I dropped it off in my room, never expecting to see him later in the evening. When I did, I needed to run over to Walgreens to withdraw $20 so I could buy my third drink (after buying him a drink, along with my first two).

That is when I saw that Scooby-Doo card at the other Walgreens. (There are two in the Castro: one on 18th & Castro, the other much closer to Pilsner Inn, on Market Street a block away.)

So when I skedaddle over to Walgreens close to Pilsner to get my $20, I check out the card section: lo and behold I see that very same Scooby-Doo card (made of felt w/a cardboard insert that served for an Easter greeting). So instead of paying $7 for that card, I wind up spending $14, in order to bring him that same card at Pilsner.

There is something so sweet about Larkin, I’m willing to pay twice the amount for any gift I give him. I am such a sucker for his friendship, there is no other way to explain it.

But as it turns out, next day after confronting him at Pilsner, I realize a photo of the envelope’s back (w/those Pegasus/dragon stickers) would look great as the cover illustration for my latest blog entry, “Ultimatum.” And that explains why I bought two Scooby-Doos: one to give Larkin, the other to take a pic of said card, and place it in that blog. Funny how Destiny takes matters in hand. But such synchronicity gives me great hope that we shall soon be together, minus the horse hockey.

Now, two days later and just a short moment ago, I pass by Twin Peaks Tavern on my way to Molly Stones to purchase my favorite frozen entree: “Michelangelo’s Manicotti and Sauce.” Larkin stands outside, smoking a cig. I walk right by him as if we never knew each other. Of course, I hope he’ll call to me, so we could stop and chat.

That never happens. But if it did, I’d not be able to look him directly in the eyes, for I am terribly ashamed of his crude behavior that other night. Yet I would pause to hear him out, though I was prepared to not offer him a word in return. I also resumed carrying a canister of pepper spray, just in case.

So I continue my stroll to Molly Stones, where I purchase four boxes of this yummy manicotti. On the way back, I mosey on by Twin Peaks once again, and pause a few doors down to light a Fortuna…not bothering to glance through the plate glass window, to see if Larkin is still there.

I’m standing just one door away from Orphan Andy’s (two doors down from Twin Peaks). My best friend Marvin used to work there until he died from AIDS back in 1992. So I tend to linger there every now and then, to honor his memory. IOW: my presence in that area is not exclusively all about Larkin.

Few minutes later, Larkin steps back out, sees me, and walks in my direction under the pretense of chatting with another who’s strolling in my direction and beyond. Which affords me the glorious opportunity to praise him, though it appears to anyone else passing by that I am either talking to myself or via bluetooth.

I call out: “That was a really nice message you left me on the answering machine. I truly appreciate that.”

He does not even spare a single nanosecond to acknowledge me, and walks right by as if I’m a ghost. Then loops around to resume his Twin Peaks boozing. But at the very moment he extends a gangly arm to open that door, I declare in a booming echo:

“That was fun what we did the other night; let’s do it again. Only this time I push you back.” (By “let’s do it again,” of course l’m referring to a couple nights ago when I confronted him, and he shoved me.)

Of course, he ignores me and returns to the bar. I finish my cancer stick and return home. The heartbreak I have for him is far less painful than two days ago, and more of a kind of pride. I look back just before entering 2306, in hopes he followed me. Alas, he did not.

So now that I’m snug once more in my humble SRO, decide to post you this letter. I am terribly sad and joyful at the same time. Sort of like those sweet-and-sour dishes served at Chinese restaurants.

– Zeke

Date: Sun, 24 Mar 2013 19:07:53
He’s punking me…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…again. Before I tell you how I arrived at this conclusion let me say: thank you so much for being such a supportive ally over the years. This recent flurry of emails to you is only because I am going through such an intense bombardment of realizations. But I want you to know that, while I figure you’re quite busy w/promoting your latest novel for a movie contract, and that you’re diligently composing your next book:

Please don’t feel any need to write back for the duration of your own projects. I appreciate using you as my sounding board, whereby I convert our emails into another book that is obviously the sequel to “Free Me From This Bond.” Nonetheless, feel free to continue your replies, if you so wish. In a very real way, we too are coauthors, but in a different fashion from your collaboration with Daniel Altieri. Allow me now to explain how I finally realized that Larkin is punking me once more. Of course, his message on my answering machine was a tip-off. Let me tell you now, of our latest encounter:

Yesterday, late afternoon–after finishing my power walk up and down 17th Street–I decide to stand a few doors down from Twin Peaks Tavern, once more. In a few moments Larkin steps outside Twin Peaks for a smoke. He just totally ignores me (though not really) and steps back into Twin Peaks. I return to my SRO and, though feeling much better now, still weep profusely over the very idea of losing his friendship for good. But next morning (which is today), I’m walloped by an incredible vision while digesting my bowl of rolled oats w/raisins and flower seeds:

I step into Eagle Tavern, to discover the place decked out in party decorations: confetti, streamers, balloons and a roaring barbecue (including some vegetarian entrees, which suit my olfactory nerves perfectly). “Oh! What’s the celebration?” I inquire of Tobias, a former bartender now manager. (I should add here that Tobias is a terribly kind man; for he knew I lived on a meager disability stipend. And thus he only charged me half price, that I could afford now and then to buy some bodacious dude a drink. That was some years ago, before I was driven out for a time by unfortunate and frightening circumstance.) He responds:

“Someone’s getting married today. Please help yourself to party favors and snacks. So good to see you again, Zeke!”

Many patrons are present (more than half the legal capacity), including some I regarded as enemies from the past, of three and four years ago. Though I now realize they simply played the role as antagonists, that I may become the hero in this real-life fairtytale. No harm, no foul. Some moments later, a Sister (of Perpetual Indulgence) steps up to the elevated deck in the back patio. And announces over the mic:

“Welcome to the most astounding gay wedding about to take place, ever!” She clears her throat to continue: “Zeke, I would like you to come up here with me now, that the miracle may begin.”

Well, I almost spit out the grilled sweet-and-sour tofu served by the hunkiest and handsomest black leather dude I’ve ever seen: I am that stunned! So I approach the stage, and stand beside Sister Beelzebum. She hugs me with great endearment, and kisses me on the left temple. Then announces:

“This fine man, Ezekiel Krahlin, will soon publish a book that will drastically elevate respect and appreciation of LGBTQ folks everywhere on the planet, by the heterosexual majority.” She then lowers her head draped in curly locks of platinum, as if in prayer, and continues:

“We owe Ezekiel many apologies and gratitude for sacrifices that have kept him isolated and persecuted for so many years…more than three decades.” Tears begin to spill over her lower eyelids as s/he continues:

“There is a very beautiful man in the wings who’d now like to approach Ezekiel, and ask his hand in marriage.”

“WTF?” (I muse to myself) “I really hope it’s not anyone else but Larkin.”

I gaze to my right, to see Larkin emerge from the second urinal for patio patrons. His tousled mop of dark auburn hair now planed down to a buzz cut with double chevrons on each side: impeccable! Lanky frame so tall (a startling 6-foot-4), he’s like a kid exiting a toy fort with bent-down head.

He leaps upon stage to embrace me with the sweetest hug I’ve ever known. Larkin’s darling breath anoints my bandana-bound cranium. Then settles upon one knee, pulls a ring from his pocket, and gazes up at me with the most dragonly orange-flame eyes I have ever beheld. And begs:

“Ezekiel! I am eternally sorry for putting you through my spiritual paces.” A tear drop emerges from his left eye, and slides down the cheek. He stifles a sob, and continues:

“You are the finest man on the planet. And it would make me infinitely happy to be your lover and spouse.” By now, many tears fill the house…not a dry peeper anywhere. Including myself, whose tears of joy shower my face like a personal waterfall.

“Please, Zeke, will you marry me?” So I instantly respond:

“Of course, you handsome father fukkuh you! I’d be insane to say no!”

Larkin then takes my hand, and gently slides a golden ring w/sapphire gems upon my marriage finger.

And then the vision ends.

So I finishes me oatmeal (feeling my oats in more ways than one). On my way crossing Noe Street to walk north and catch the N Judah at Duboce Park, I see Larkin crossing in the opposite direction, totally caught up in his cell phone w/lowered head. My knees wobble, and I beg for grace. What can I say at this moment, to my most beloved friend?

Well–even though I know for sure it’s him (who couldn’t when so few others are so tall and handsome?)–another pedestrian crosses my sight, blanking out Larkin for a split second. My yearning eyes have been riveted on Larkin before he disappears behind that pedestrian. Yet when he emerges, a totally diiferent dude takes his place: he is but 5-foot-9 with a wholely different type of face and hair! Yet I know beyond a shade of a doubt: That was my Larkin, I’m not hallucinating.

For I have come to realize some years back that Larkin is indeed an angel. Not in any figurative sense, but in solid reality. Or IOW: the Gay Community here in San Francisco harbors the greatest treasure this planet will ever know, or any other planet in the universe for that matter: one of God’s very own archangels, if not Jehovah Himself!

And he dwelled in the old Hole in Wall before being driven out and drawn to my own neighborhood, the Castro, whereby he now resides just less than a block away from yours truly! And there you have it, Morticia: the Resurrection of My Own Dreams beyond any possible nihilistic entity. Hoping to run into Larkin once more (and soon) to call to him:

“Larkin, you are so much fun! I realize now you’re pranking me, and why.”

To which Larkin will turn in response, and shower me with his perpetual compassion. Thus, I continue (after absorbing those benevolent rays of sweetness):

“You want to make me believe I’ve lost you forever, but within a short time from now you will propose marriage to me.” I almost collapse in revery, before I catch my breath:

“The Eagle will hold a surprise party for me. Which is where you’ll propose to me, and the Sisters will perform our wedding ceremony!”

Upon those words, Larkin will come right up to me, and breathe into my ear:

“You are so wonderful Zeke, I don’t even think you realize yet how enamored I am of you…which is light years beyond how much you love me.”

“You are the greatest joy of my life,” I confess, “and shall always be so!” But I’m not yet done:

“Larkin Kelsey, you are the most brilliant jokester I have ever met.” So I deliberate further:

“The idea of ever losing you is such a devastating thought, I can barely clothe and feed myself each day.” Thus I beg:

“Please cease these games, and allow me to just be your very best friend for all eternity.”

So there you have it El: the first part of Chapter 2 in “Free Me From This Bond (the sequel).”


– Zeke

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 00:42:33
Re: My latest blog entry…
From: Keith
To: Zeke

The building where the Diesel store (formerly Bank of America) used to be is going to be turned into the greatest and most hygienic public socially mixed gay bath and it will have your name on front. I’ve been having recurring dreams about it. – Sign across roof where it used to read “Bank of America” will be a solar lit sign soon that will say “Castro Bathing Club.”

– At street level a plaque with a dedication to you and your work that looks like the Harvey Milk plaque across plaza.

– It will welcome all social classes since entry will be free of charge and open to everyone.

– It will always be spotlessly clean.

– It will be safe.

– It will be extremely clean and safe because super rich folks will give away tiny amounts of their fortunes to maintain guaranteed funding for at least the next 88 years to pay a living wage to neighborhood residents to maintain this facility, and because everyone will love it and take care of it like a gay temple of health.

– It will also be safe because it will be first bath house with all glass windows facing the street (like Twin Peaks), and glass walls inside and brightly lit by the sun during the day, and solar powered lights at night.

– By bath house I don’t mean sex club, I just mean a building for the purpose of bathing.

– It will be open 24 hours.

– On entering everyone leaves their clothes (and can have them washed for free while you bathe) and must first go through a shower before entering the main pool, which takes up most of the main floor. You can see the pool through windows facing out into the Castro so it’s a visible landmark. Since it’s in the Castro and clothes won’t be allowed inside, that will discourage homophobic folks from coming around, but anyone who is polite and behaves will be welcome.

– It will be a shining, glowing glass landmark for the Castro, a place for homophobia free socializing, for anyone to come clean up, open anytime, a source of employment and recreation for neighborhood residents, a place where all classes meet like old Roman baths, and like Roman baths, supported and allowed to be made beautiful by the richest folks in The City who care about making this city richer for everyone.

– Famous authors will come speak there and sign books.

– People can sit around and socialize or be quiet without worrying about being pestered to buy anything.

Mon, 25 Mar 2013 01:26:17
Re: My latest blog entry…
From: Zeke
To: Keith

WOW WHAT A VISION!!! You are not only super gorgeous, Keith, but quite astounding as well.

There’s a typo in your description of your incredible vision. And I can’t figure it out. It’s: “rdnatjabje landmark.”

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 09:37:40
Re: My latest blog entry…
From: Keith
To: Zeke

Keith wrote:

I’m not exactly sure what I intended by that, but it might be the result of being a little confused in general about activity on that corner. I also saw that “Pottery Barn” will be going out of business and that space will also be reclaimed by the neighborhood for public use. Maybe aquatic and bathing center is there, instead of a plaque at street level, the chair in the clock tower will be replaced by your bronzed bust looking out over the crossing. That might be an easier building to turn into baths since it’s larger and newer, and we can use the Diesel Store as a public meeting center. I was probably premature in telling you about all this because I was attacked violently in my sleep last night by an unknown thing carrying around a colored ribbon and a pastel blanket, but fortunately my paralysis broke and I was able to yell out and wake up the other part before pissing all over my bed.

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 10:40:43
Re: My latest blog entry…
From: Zeke
To: Keith

{{ I’m not exactly sure what I intended by that, but it might be the result of being a little confused in general about activity on that corner. }}

I just changed it to “visible” landmark. No big dealie.

{{ I also saw that “Pottery Barn” will be going out of business }}

Good riddance. Before them, it was SF Firemen’s Fund, and before that were two incredibly lovely and large, Edwardian houses. BTW, where that condo now stands beside Harvey Milk Plaza, was once an absolutely gorgeous and rambling mansion, exquisite in architectural design and colors. AND I DON’T EVEN HAVE ANY PICTURE OF IT!!! It was terrible to see that fairytale domicile surrender to wrecking balls. It was every bit as wondrous as the mansion on the corner of Caselli and Douglass.

{{ and that space will also be reclaimed by the neighborhood for public use. }}

How interesting. I think very rapid changes will soon occur in the Castro, as spiritual manifestations accumulate until they burst into reality. It’s all good, Keith, so not to worry. :)

{{ Maybe the aquatic and bathing center is there, instead of a plaque at street level, the chair in the clock tower will be replaced by your bronzed bust looking out overthe crossing. }}

OMFG, that would be hilarious. Though my physical self will soon morph into a really good-looker…I think many who admire me would enjoy images of my former, bag-o-nerves-and-insecurities self.

{{ That might be an easier building to turn into baths since it’s larger and newer, and we can use the Diesel Store as a public meeting center. }}

Possibly. But since the underground at this famous intersection is already hollowed out: maybe both buildings will be the bathhouse, connected by a subterraneous walkway. Or perhaps a pedestrian bridge.

{{ I was probably premature in telling you about all this }}

No, not at all. Most potent visions are always those that are first told, before any further visions or interpretations unfold. I call them “raw” visions.

{{ because I was attacked violently in my sleep last night }}

You seem to suffer from sleep paralysis. Almost everyone who does, finds it a quite horrid experience. But for most people, it’s a very rare phenomenon. In your case however, you are highly gifted w/paranormal abilities. And thus are haunted by many chaotic and unpleasant visions…until they become sorted out properly once you stabilize.

The spirits you see are all harmless, though appear frightening. Remember: we truly have no enemies, only teachers. So what are they teaching you?

I think most likely, they are toughening your soul by putting you through a sort of spiritual boot camp. Those destined to become the best soldiers, go through the most rigorous training.

Though I see nothing wrong with attempting to reduce or at least “soften” these spells by any method that works…meditation, marijuana, exercise, music, booze, or letting me suck on your bodacious popsicle. Ha, ha.

Love ya bunches, Keith. As I said to my old pal Jack T. Ripper in a past life:

“Please don’t be a strangler!”

Of course as history shows, he didn’t heed my advice. Just goes to prove:

You can lead a hearse to water, but you can’t dump the body there!



Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 11:21:46
This will trip you out…
From: Zeke
To: Keith

…in a good way, Keith. An unfinished piece in which a complete architectural transition overwhelms the Castro. I may someday complete it, but isn’t it nice for a famed author to also have a collection of unfinished works…to some day publish in its incompleteness?

(a parable for 21st century)
(c) 1992 by Gene Catalano

It was year 2042 when Cordell abandoned his heterosexist family and NuAmsterdam to carve out a life for himself in NuAthens, capitol of NuGreece: FIRST NATION IN HISTORY BORN OF THE GLOBAL&GLORIOUS SAMESEX REVOLUTION OF 1999. Like his biogenic grandsire, he settled in the PinkHeart District (formerly “the Castro”)–quite different from his ForeSkinFather’s time, yet in many ways still the same. The Castro Theater still stood, though sheathed in transparent TectoLucite to protect it against natural, chemical, or homophobic erosion. Several more ErsatzEarlyFormerCentury-Style buildings were restored and preserved in this manner…while all (98.9%) remaining edifices were simply guised in HoloFacades. In rare moments when PG&E (“Pegasus Electric”) PinkHeart power grid overloaded and shut down, the true appearance of GayCapitol’s heartland was revealed…sometimes for as long as several minutes, but usually only for the blink of a CameloidEye.

Gone–in those SporadicBrief instances–were rows upon rows of quaint gingerbread structures HoloGraced with RainbowSpectrum neon hues (and all consecrated shades between). scattered handful of authentic, restored NeoVictoriEdwardianDecos (such as Castro theater) stood like Parthenon Gods&Goddesses among groveling barbarian 2&3Story crackerbox dwellings, all painted a uniform, flat shade of pink across the entire valley of Eureka and beyond. To our GayGlorious credit, however–and I speak for all proud citizens of NuAthens–they were SturdyBiltSpotlessKleen, with bonafide hologramNOT interiors of Victorian, Hellenic, WilyWestern, DeepThroatSouth, FukkinPrevertician, GumbyPokeyitic, DecoDiscoQueenish, UltraPseudoLeatherButch, DanteBoschApocalpytoGothic, LalaLiberalLiberace&LawrenceWelkian, HomoRomoDomo-Erotic, and or kaleidoscopically-metamorphosing multifarious decor. (FYI: all NuAthens tour guides MUST have a MasterBaiter’s degree in PostAnthropological NuLinguistics.)

It was a great lark for both resident and tourist alike, to place bets on when the next “PinkHeart Brownout” would occur. Most tourists left disheartened, with no impressive HoloSlides to show their equally-disappointed family, friends, and relatives…for there were NO legally-available postcards of “real” PinkHeart; and anyone caught selling through the black market was peremptorily exiled to NuAntarctica (on NuMoon III of Planet Hades). The few LUCKY visitors, however, proudly boasted of their splendiferous snapshots (like a Neanderthalensis dragging his PrizeCatchMastodonRump back to the home cave) to anyone who would stop to listen, even to aliens of abducting UFO’s who had no idea what on NuEarth they were talking about. The tariff on each PhorbiddenPhoto was steep (200 QueerBucks), and odds were always in favor of the NuAthens resident…thus many SuperRichDykes&-Faggots populate our fairy city.

NOTE: Homophobic gossips have recently spread the rumor that NuAthenians control the timing of bets and brownouts, on the claim that worldwide fiber optic integration and SolarWindWaveThermalPower have eliminated any shortage of electricity anywhere with no possible chance of short circuits, brownouts, spikes, or surges. When interviewed by MainstreamMedia, Pegasus stamped his hoof and snorted in anger:

“That is a lie! My company stands by its reputation of quality service.” Then he looked right into the camera lens and into every home, bar, SexClub and PoodleFactory of NuAthens and said with a wink:

“Don’t we, guys?”

This is straight from the Horse’s Mouth.


-NUCHURCH: STAINED GLASS OF GENIE’S ART, SACRED TEXT, PANELS DEPICTING HIS GREAT MOMENTS (villification of gay activist impostera, slaying of dragon quilt, St. Genie knocking over booths and stalls at Castro Street Fair, Randy w/Genie saying: “This dudette’s a sick puppy!”, etc. Exposing death cult.) INSTEAD OF COMMUNION WAFERS: “EAT MY JOCKSTRAP” GUMMY JOCKSTRAP CANDIES IN SACRED VENDING FONT (plays music)





STATUE OF SLAYED HOMOPHOBE (silver-curly hair, sky-blue eyes and walking stick). Street Patrol defended themselves and stabbed him with his own knife)



From UFO, plant gift of thorny rose bush in park…“ thorn in heart of joy, that St. Genie must always be taken seriously at deepest level”…Genie meditates on NuChurch rooftop garden, where angel GayBrie reveals death of his dog from thorn…hiking along Collingwood street becomes NuViaDolorosa.


St. Genie places his magic pen back in its special desk drawer, sits back and, with a grateful sigh, folds his completed tale of Thureewhyzemenn.

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 01:22:5
Re: He’s punking me…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanore wrote:

{{ It’s happening!!!! }}

I feel just like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. Or a teenage boy leaping into a deep pond replenished by a bubbling cataract. Or a brand new universe about to be born.

Thank you so much for your many years’ kindness, support, and sage advice. We’ve been on this ride together, for quite a few years now. And what a ride it is, eh? The Friendly Ghost Detective Agency never boinks on the job!

Unless, of course, the suspect is exceedingly handsome and well endowed.

– Zeke

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 16:38:42
Fukkin text editor!
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

So I’m composing Chapter 2 of “Free Me From This Bond- the sequel,” when I suddenly discover that the character string “the” has been deleted across the entire, now-quite-lengthy chapter! This just doesn’t mean every definite article “the” is eliminated, but also every word containing “the” within its body. Such as “furr” (should read “further”), “toger” (should be “together”), and so on.

Worse yet: words like “them” show up as “m” and a phrase such as “the theater” shows up as “ater”.

I have no idea why this happened: certainly it is not my own intent to remove all of the “the” character strings across the board! So now I am condemned to read over the entire article–word by word–in order to catch and correct these typos.

If ever there was a hell, this is it.

OMFG I need a secretary…and he’d better be super hot with a really fine ass. So whenever he sits upon my lap I’ll find heaven. I’ve had enough with dogmatic “isms,” unless there is a “j” appended to the front!

– Zeke

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 17:31:36
Re: Fukkin text editor!
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ Jeeziz! What a colossal pain! At least it wasn’t an entire manuscript……. Back when Dan and I had handed in our final manuscript to William Morrow & Co., there were two typos we found at the very last minute. One was “crap-filled” lake instead of “carp-filled” lake, and the other was a “darling” barbarian from the north, rather than a “daring” barbarian from the north. Oy. }}

Hell is a typo that changes everything from the author’s intent. :(

– Zeke

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 17:31:36
Re: Fukkin text editor!
From: Eleanor
To: Zeke

Our local paper ran a headline not long ago, in big black lettters: LONG-AWAITED PUBIC MEETING HELD. }}

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 19:45:23
Re: Fukkin text editor!
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Aha! The old “pubic relations” joke but in a different guise.

– Zeke

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 20:01:04
RE: My latest blog entry…
From: Carlyle
To: Zeke

Ezekiel, Like the picture of the winged horses: reminds me of what I was saying about “Horseshoe in the Sky.”

In the prose part, I mentioned that I had seen some strange things in sky that inspired the poem: a contrail shaped like a horseshoe, and another one in the process of being made, only strangely growing horizontally in both directions at once: stretching and growing to the East, at the same time to the West.

My life is a novel, just not sure of the genre, whether “James Bond” (spies), “Close Encounters” (aliens/high intelligence), or “The Exorcist” (religious/supernatural).

To have one or more of those areas explaining the mysteries of my life that this point would be no more improbable than “coincidences.”

If the answer is “James Bond”, then I think that most likely the meteor over Massachusetts was not so much for the purpose of honoring me personally as it was to punctuate my earlier message, trying to raise an eyebrow, that maybe the “fantastic” claim being made was not just a flight of imagination. I.e, that the Massachusetts “meteor” wasn’t really a meteor any more than the Chelyabinsk one. It was the demonstration of a plasma device.

The U.S. would not risk WWIII by “testing” a military device over Russia. Russia would not risk testing a device over an area with nuclear facilities, and would have no one whom they were trying to impress.

*We* who fight for the same cause would have such motive and such boldness. I want to catch Vladimir Putin’s personal attention and make him realize that there is something there to be taken seriously.

Regards, Carlyle

Mon, 25 Mar 2013 20:02:04
RE: My latest blog entry…
From: Zeke
To: Carlyle

Carlyle wrote:

{{ Like the picture of the winged horses: reminds me of what I was saying about “Horseshoe in the Sky.” }}

Well, I’m very much in tune with the cosmos these days. Let’s just say I’m a horse of a different color!

{{ My life is a novel, just not sure of the genre }}

Me, too. Larkin is a detective, for whom I became a sidekick. Yet he’s also a wondrous angel, who may or may not have, arrived in a UFO. (Which is actually not significant to me, for no matter how he came here, I am totally ecstatic that he came here for me, above and beyond anyone else! That’s quite a compliment, when you think about it.)

{{ To have one or more of those areas explaining the mysteries of my life that this point would be no more improbable than “coincidences.” }}

OMFG, you’re so intellectual about such things, my brains are fried!

{{ If the answer is “James Bond” }}

Perhaps the real answer is: “all of the above.”

{{ “We” who fight for the same cause would have such motive and such boldness. I want to catch Vladimir Putin’s personal attention and make him realize that there is something there to be taken seriously. }}

There is indeed. And because of your extensive writing (over many years) on Usenet and perhaps other places in cyberspace: you may have indeed garnered the attention of various world leaders.

Such is the way of the Hidden World.

– Ezekiel

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 23:00:48
Re: Fukkin text editor!
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanore wrote:

{{ What was so hysterical about this was that it was a genuine typo. }}

They’re the worst, as opposed to DISingenuous typos!

Wishing I saw Larkin today, to tell him I’m onto his prank, and that I figured out why. But, no luck. Then I meet this darling man on the streets, w/o friends or family. But with a lovely demeanor, hot body and kok to die for (that loves to be played with). Says he prefers the ladies, but thinks I’m pretty damn nice anywayz.

He might show up again later tonight. Told him if after 11:30 PM I’m snoozin’ w/the telephone ringer and answering machine volume turned off. It’s now 10:54 PM, so he’s got a little time left. Maybe I’ll stay up till midnight, just because he’s such a yummy dude, and he’s very sweet to hold in my arms. Even tilted his head so I could lick his neck and bite down on it.

We vampires are grossly misunderstood. But since I’m also part werewolf, I can deal with nighttime romps, but only during a full moon.

Did I ever tell you the time at a gala last year, I almost morphed into a wolf before everyone’s startled eyes? Wasn’t a full moon, though. What triggered my transition was a blacklight image of a full moon across one corner of the ceiling. I quickly left the party and dog-trotted over to 7/11 for a box of Kibbles “˜n Bits and a pint of Mad Dog.

How many more bachelor parties can I have, before Larkin proposes? I’m countin’ the men (and boys…and pups)!

– Zeke

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