Emergency Triage

April 27, 2013

[ Free Me From This Bond (the sequel): Chapter 13 ]

Date: Sun, 21 Apr 2013 10:58:49
Subject:
Re: Paradise
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ Or you could say: “Yep. A hundred times my weight in grubs and insects every day.” }}

I wouldn’t /dare/ say that, for as you know, My Dragon Hero would hold me to it. OMFG:

Now that you placed the image in my mind, telepathic Larkin will probably present me with just such a buggy dish at our wedding celebration.

– Zeke


Date: Sun, 21 Apr 2013 11:21:57
Subject:
Re: Paradise
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ The cake!! With green icing! }}

Ha ha ha…you hit the snail on the head! So here’s my plan for a wedding ring that I’ll present to Larkin on one knee (hmm, maybe I’ll just place it on /his/ knee when he’s sitting down at Pilsner):

Solid white gold Scooby-Doo with sapphire eyes.

– Zeke


Date: Sun, 21 Apr 2013 11:40:01
Subject:
Just figured out…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…why Larkin doesn’t like to tell jokes (or more precisely, why he doesn’t like to /hear/ jokes):

He’s telepathic, so what’s the point?

– Zeke


Date: Sun, 21 Apr 2013 12:47:41
Subject:
Re: Just figured out…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ If I could hear the punchline to a joke before it’s delivered, I’d take ruthless advantage! }}

I once had a neighbor back in Missouri whose daughter Ruth just went off to college, her first year.

“I’m gonna miss my baby,” he comments. So I retort:

“Yeah, now you’re ruthless!”

Ahomminna-homminna.

As for Larkin’s psychic gifts with the unfortunate side effect of blowing every joke out of the water, picture this:

I walk up to My Sweet Nemesis and ask:

“Wanna hear a dinosaur joke?”

“Tricerabottom.”

– Zeke


Date: Sun, 21 Apr 2013 18:34:36
Subject:
What a fukup i am…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…not really. Just my way of standing humble before Larkin’s amazing wisdom. Not sure if you grasped yet, what this man is all about, but let me just assure you:

He is my tough task master, as well as the Best Friend I Shall Ever Know For All Eternity. Once I figured out that his so-called meanness is nothing more than putting me through my spiritual paces, I dropped to the floor and thanked Goddess for such a Benevolent Amigo.

I’m sitting here now at Pilsner Inn, watching his antics around the pool table, while I gaze at him with complete adoration. He suddenly looks back at me from about 12 yards away, and gazes upon me for at least 20 seconds. With incredible sweetness. If I am not the luckiest man in the entire fukkin’ cosmos, I’ll eat feces from every mass murderer to exist (or ever will exist)!

So this email is truly the beginning of Book 3…or at least, among the first flurry of emails that shall begin Chapter 1.

I love you /so/ much El, for the many years’ incredible kindess you have shown me.


Date: Sun, 21 Apr 2013 18:48:50
Subject:
Re: What a fukup i am…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ Now what’ll we do with our stash of Ted Bundy and Idi Amin feces?? Sell it on eBay? }}

I missed you with the “ldi” reference, in spite of acronym.com. Be that as it may:

Frozen feces lasts a very long time. Just pop it into the microwave, and you’re good to go.

– Zeke


Date: Sun, 21 Apr 2013 21:35:09
Subject:
Larkin just threw a lit cigarette at me…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

..at Pilsner Inn. Guess this clinches it. I Told him that is a horrid violation, and that I will do everything possible to drive him out of the Castro (and San Francisco for that matter.)

I gave him everything possible when it comes to forgiveness and patience…which is exactly what one should do when love is king, and you need to sort things out.

Shoving me was vulgar. But flicking a lit cigarette onto my arm is beyond the last straw. He shall go down in Gay History as one of the most fukked up people on this planet.

Typing this to you from Pilsner Inn, just a moment after he committed the offense. And to think I just purchased for him from amazon.com, a Scooby-Doo belt buckle.

For starters I will send a passel of letters c/o Twin Peaks Tavern, that they wind up evicting him. I will use phony return addresses, and wear surgical gloves, that the source can never be traced.

You’d think that long before now, I’d have a great lover in my life, considering all my good works. What a tragic outcome. I feel so sorry for Larkin’s fate.

– Zeke


Date: Mon, 22 Apr 2013 15:58:52
Subject:
Re: wish you were here
From: Zeke
To: Nat

Nat wrote:

{{ Wish you were here, doing this: }}

I know I know. Thanks for the pic. Something else you should know regarding my sex drive:

I couldn’t get it up if my life depended on it, when the weather turns warm. My room heats up and becomes stuffy and overheated like a sauna. I get heatsick. Today’s weather is a perfect example. So any visitors whatsoever (even for a hot tryst) are strictly verboten until my SRO cools down.

I’m a cold-weather kind of guy…so when the temperature climbs above 78 or so, I’m an absolutely floundering, helpless little wimp. Meanwhile:

While I’m suffering through shingles, you might enjoy reading my book online, which will soon be released to the world in hardcover, paperback, and ebook. The web version will always be free to read:

http://www.gay-bible.org/free

I promise to keep in touch for the duration of my medical isolation, in this great and unfree nation.

Many blessings on you, Nat!

– Zeke


Date: Mon, 22 Apr 2013 11:12:21
Subject:
Re: You remember Idi!
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Oh wait, I remember now, sorry. I just woke up. Jonathan a.k.a. “Hollywood” is crashed out here. Best company ever.

Also my newest friend Carlos, was on the street last night as I walked home from Pilsner Inn. Also an excellent fellow. So this eases the awful scenario I went through last night.

And I don’t think I’m gonna put such disgrace into a book. Larkin is about to fall…and I think he actually wants that. Pilsner is a strange place, though it’s also a really great bar. Why strange?

I called to Larkin from across the entire bar, standing as I was in the entryway to the patio. He turned, and my voice boomed. Yet everyone there acted as if nothing untoward was occurring. I’d think any other place would’ve immediately 86″²d me.

It’s as if Pilsner is providing me with a space to confront him, and give me very wide tolerance. Definitely they’re on my side, not his. I think a /lot/ of folks in this neck of the woods follow my blog. Without necessarily making me aware of this.

The Thracian warriors of old seem to be emerging in spirit. As I said, their courtship ritual is a struggle unto death or marriage. In confronting Larkin after he tossed a lit cigarette onto my arms, everyone heard me bellow across the room, while Larkin stood at the exit to the outside world.

“You just made yourself my enemy!”

I forget just how telepathic the father fukkuh really is! He picked up my tale about these soldiers and their deadly tradition. Seems that he /likes/ the adventure which that ensues.

But I see no point in playing that game: where I hatch scheme after scheme to get back at him. For I’m /certain/ there are other forces at work, that will see to my victory no matter what. And I think some of those forces are employees and patrons of Pilsner Inn.

Today I see barkeep Ernesto at Pilsner, and present him that printout where he’s part of my second book. And see if he’d like his real name there, or fictitious. It will be interesting to see what next ensues, in this new phase where I will no longer speak, associate, or even look at, my fallen hero.

– Zeke


Date: Mon, 22 Apr 2013 14:11:36
Subject:
Re: You remember Idi!
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ This incident sounds like a major turning point. }}

Well, it sure looks like that, El. I look forward to getting together with Carlos. This morning he left a very nice message on the answering machine. But since the ringer was off, and the volume zero, I didn’t pick up.

Said to call him back but, damn it, he did not leave a phone number. These cell phones have made more and more folks oblivious to the fact that many of us still own land lines…which do not have built-in caller ID.

Hollywood says Carlos is hangin’ around Safeway right now, and he’s gonna see him up there (3 blocks up Market Street from my hovel).

“Oh, I should just run up there to see him?” I queried.

“No, I didn’t mean that,” he explains, “I just know where he hangs out.”

Then he offered to convey a message for me. So I decide to give him this letter:

Hey Carlos!

Thank you so much for your call. Unfortunately, you forgot to leave your number, so I couldn’t call back. I have just a land line, no caller ID.

I’ll be around the Castro most every day. I go to Pilsner Inn (Church Street off Market) a few days per week, late afternoon. I also go to Hole in the Wall Saloon and Eagle Tavern every Tuesday. First, the Hole from around 3-5 PM, then hop over to the Eagle.

Hole in the Wall’s address: 1369 Folsom Street (near 9th street, I believe). Eagle Tavern address: 398 12th Street (near Harrison)

I’m thinking we could meet and hang out at any of those places.

Again, thanks so much.

Your new friend,

Zeke

But what I /now/ tell you, Eleanor, is something /else/ Carlos said on the machine:

“This is my boyfriend’s cell phone, so when you call, please use the name Lee.”

/Not/ a good sign.

As for Larkin and Pilsner Inn: wondering if I’ll even be able to step in there any more. I suspect he’s instructed the barkeeps to 86 me. But if I start hanging out at another bar where he /isn’t/, he’ll soon follow and drive me outta there. Until he gets /all/ the bars in the Castro to turn against me.

It’s this “Thracian” courtship he wants me to play. Guess he doesn’t get my latest gift due to arrive any day now, from Amazon: a Scooby-Doo belt buckle.

Guess he doesn’t get the last three chapters of Book 2, either. The printouts are sitting on desk #1 right now. Funny how the black ink nozzle keeps getting clogged, so the ink is gray instead: very hard to read for someone so farsighted as is My Former Hero.

As if my printer’s failure that started some weeks back is a way of telling me to stop giving him my chapters.

But at least I now know why he reads real slow when not wearing eyeglasses…and why he said once: “I don’t read.”

As far as playing the Thracian game back: I am neither vengeful nor violent. However, I know one thing for certain:

Stopping the flow of gifts, along with no longer associating with him (even when he’s there), will be /my/ form of vengeance. No more free drinky-poo, nor popping $20 now and then, to wish him a fun night.

All that, gone! But for my retaliation to succeed I need to still be in the same place as him two or three times per week. When I last suggested I’m no longer bringing him gifts, he seemed desperate.

That’s when he gave me that mysterious address out of San Diego. El, he never /did/ show me the postcard…which tells me to cool my jets and not send anything further.

– Zeke


Date: Mon, 22 Apr 2013 16:25:36
Subject:
Re: You remember Idi!
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ Excellent! }}

I must rectify an error re. the ans. machine message left by Carlos, seeing as his Mexican accent caused me to misinterpret. Here is what he /really/ said about “Lee,” that I finally comprehended after listening several times:

“The is my boyfriend’s cell. So he’ll probably pick up; his name is Lee.”

Seems that Carlos and Lee have a very open and freewheeling relationship. In fact, it is Lee who plays around with lots of other dudes like there’s no “manyana.” Carlos doesn’t mind: they have a righteous friendship of several years. And I’ve chatted with Lee several times in the past, before I ever met Carlos…he’s quite a decent fellow.

What with the shingles I’ve just come down with (thanks to my imbibing alcohol for several months, which lowers the immune system), and slow recovery from yet one more brown recluse spider bite on my left knee, just inches from another bite from same, over 12 years ago, and my dire need for some hearty physical affection (considering what Larkin’s put me through in recent months):

I’ll have to keep things very safe, probably keep my pants on. And just enjoy feeling him up, licking of the torso, and other ways to enjoy a most healing resolution w/o going any deeper into the Forest of Conjugal Delight.

And I’m pretty sure that is exactly what Carlos will provide w/o hesitation, ’cause I’m pretty impressed with the kindness he has shown me thus far.

Larkin will always remain /most/ belov-ed to me, no matter what. I can /not/ bear the thought of him disappearing out of my life. Yet, I’m stuck between a kok and a hard face, considering his vulgar behavior of recent mint. So how do I strike a happy balance while maintaining my dignity, yet still seeing him?

Well pretty much what I described in my email just previous to this. IOW: to withhold my lovely gifts, chapters, and treats that gave me great joy in the giving. And (of course) to keep my distance and not converse with him in any way.

Honestly, I’m afraid to be near him in a private or secluded spot, thanks to his crude BS. If he wants to talk to me, it will have to be in a public and socially visible spot from now on. Also, I’ve resumed carrying pepper spray and an emergency whistle, just in case. Should it come to that (and I most assuredly hope not), I will be forced to arrest him and lock him up in jail.

So I’ll be stepping out very soon, to hang out at Pilsner Inn and work on Chapter 1 of Book 3, which I call “Boink!” And why do I title it that? Here ya go, musa querida mia:

Another joke (which perhaps I already shared with you, but don’t recall at the moment):

“Someone boinked me on the head this morning with a dildo. Talk about a cold cock!”

Well, I’m now on my way to Pilsner. Wish me luck!

Con solo la mayor sinceridad,

– Zeke


Date: Mon, 22 Apr 2013 17:29:23
Subject:
Re: You remember Idi!
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Ha ha ha: True Confessisions. So I’m now at Pilsner Inn, and Larkin is nowhere in sight. Order a double-boosted vodka & tonic from Gaddy, who only charges $5. Thus, I leave him a 3-dollar tip. But then I see Mike (a.k.a. “Enrico”) seated at the far end.

I approach him and offer my letter seeking permission to use his real name (at least his first), to which he responds with some irascibility:

“I don’t want my real name mentioned in a book.”

So I respond: “Sorry to be a bother. I’ll change your name and description so that no one will recognize who you really are.”

I then depart with my potent hooch to the patio, and sit down at the vacant table which affords me free wifi access and a comfortable space in which to type this latest missive to you, querido corazon.

– Zeke

PS: Larkin just stepped in, strolled to the patio, and chatted up a small crowd of patrons at the table to my left. Possibly making a big deal in front of me, to rub it in my face. But I simplly bide my time and ignore him like a pesky gnat that won’t fly away. Will send you an update ASAP, probably tonight.


Date: Tue, 23 Apr 2013 09:01:39
Subject:
How’s this for a book title?
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

The Devil is my Lover but He’s Got a Few Rough Edges


Date: Tue, 23 Apr 2013 12:15:19
Subject:
Re: How’s this for a book title?
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

{{ BTW, the title of my new novel is THE DEVIL YOU KNOW… }}

I just doubled over in hilarity, and spit out my Cranberry Nectar.

So I thought about Larkin’s wicked act of tossing a lit ciggie onto my lap (bright cinders blew across my right arm, pants and shirt):

Doesn’t matter who does it to whom. The offender needs to be 86″²d. So I’m dropping over Pilsner in a moment, to see if they have a security camera in the back, and if it covers the section where the incident happened.

Larkin the Hypocrite: he’s always telling patrons to respect the bartenders and the rules of the house, including no violence or unruly manners. Hmm. Methinks I won /this/ round…as I shall the remaining rounds.

As I said before: I am not vindictive or violent. And decided to play this “Thracian” courtship by ceasing my gifts, and no longer talking with him or playing pool. Though if I’m there before him, I’ll sign up for billiards…so that–should he arrive before my turn comes up–I’ll step to the erasable roster and wipe out my name.

Interesting, though that one single capital letter for whatever reason, refuses to be erased, not even with a soapy sponge. Wanna guess the letter?

“Z”

And (get this): it is most definitely my handwriting. Big Black Zeke. 0_o

Then again, Larkin uses the handle “Zilla” for the pool roster. So I guess it’s really a tossup. I would’ve loved to think that “Z” would haunt him since my disappearance. Oh well, can’t win “˜em all. We are /both/ Omegas! And Alphas. Alpha males that is!

By choosing the peaceful route in this battle, I simply have to wait until opportunity falls into my hands (such as the security camera issue), or until payback knocks Larkin onto his silly ass (w/o any intervention on my part).

– Zeke


Date: Tue, 23 Apr 2013 12:34:16
Subject:
My Email to Pilsner Inn
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

El, I thought better of reporting the incident in person. Then tried phoning them, but no pickup or voicemail. Their “contact us” web page does provide an email addie, whence I had a “Eureka!” moment. And sent this off:

Date: Tue, 23 Apr 2013 12:27:03
Subject: Dangerous incident on the patio two nights ago.
From: Anonymous
To: Pilsner Inn

The date then is Sunday, April 21. Some time after dark, maybe 9pm (though it easily could be a little earlier, or later). I’m wondering if you have an active security camera that may have captured the scene. Here’s what occurred:

One of your regular patrons, very tall and handsome, intentionally flicked a lit cigarette onto my lap before departing Pilsner Inn. While the cigarette butt landed on my thigh, bright cinders scattered across my right arm, shirt and pants.

Fortunately, I was not injured even in a minor way. I see no point in saying who this person is, or who I am. As without the incident being caught on camera, there’s no way to prove my claim, and I don’t want to come off as a troublesome gossip. Thus, I send this email anonymously.

Thanks for your kind attention. I love Pilsner Inn, and realize such things occur from time to time at every bar.


Date: Tue, 23 Apr 2013 14:25:33
Subject:
Prayer From the Heart
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

El, I am about to sit down for two hours before heading off to Hole in the Wall, when the electricity suddenly goes out on our block. So prepare to leave and enjoy the day in SOMA somewhat earlier than planned. It’s been quite a warm day (actually, a tad HOT), so I step out wearing just a T-shirt, summery-light pants, and sandals (no socks).

Well! A strong ocean breeze kicks in soon as I exit 2306…brrr! So I plod back up the stairs for a more suitable change in clothes. Decide to clip my toenails while I’m at it. Lo and behold: no sooner do I put on the second shoe, than the lights come back on!

So I unpack my netbook, plug it in and reconnect to keyboard, speakers, printer and external monitor. While waiting for ol’ Bessie to fire up, I am suddenly struck by a thunderbolt of realization. I NEED TO WRITE A VERY IMPORTANT LETTER TO LARKIN, AND TRUST HE’LL GET IT VIA THAT SAN DIEGO ZIP CODE.

I begin typing my latest missive to The Darling Reptile, then pause to turn the radio on for background music. Whaddya know…the song “Let me be Your Hero” is playing. Once you read this letter, you’ll appreciate the glorious synchronicity.

23 April 2013

Beloved Larkin,

Please understand that this letter is no joke, or an attempt to fuk with you. I am very concerned about your awful behavior in recent months to me, who is nothing less than a very good friend.

After you shoved me, then tossed a lit cigarette onto my lap, I can only love you from a distance. Perhaps nice letters and gifts, though I have to think about it. But definitely: I never can see you again, I feel such shame for how you suddenly turned a wonderful friendship into the saddest tragedy I have ever known. Worse even than Randolph’s.

But a few minutes ago it occurred to me that sudden changes in one’s personality may indicate a serious medical condition. For example: brain tumor.

Please, I don’t mean to scare or hurt you by suggesting this. I want you to live long and prosper, even if it’s without me. I beg of you: go see a doctor, get examined for any malady known to have such a drastic change in the way you treat those who love you. The sooner they discover the source, the better the chances for your survival.

I don’t think you realize just how badly my heart has broken. But I believe that God and His Angels will help us both through this, with their wise compassion.

All my love, and I mean it. You will no longer see me at Pilsner Inn or anywhere else.

=====

Let me be your hero,

Would you dance,
If I asked you to dance?
Would you run,
And never look back?
Would you cry,
If you saw me crying?
And would you save my soul, tonight?

Would you tremble,
If I touched your lips?
Would you laugh?
Oh please tell me this.
Now would you die,
For the one you love?
Hold me in your arms, tonight.

I can be your hero, baby.
I can kiss away the pain.
I will stand by you forever.
You can take my breath away.

Would you swear,
That you’ll always be mine?
Or would you lie?
Would you run and hide?
Am I in too deep?
Have I lost my mind?
I don’t care…
You’re here, tonight.

I can be your hero, baby.
I can kiss away the pain.
I will stand by you forever.
You can take my breath away.

Oh, I just wanted to hold you.
I just wanted to hold you.
Oh yeah.
Am I in too deep?
Have I lost my mind?
Well I don’t care…
You’re here, tonight.

I can be your hero, baby.
I can kiss away the pain oh yeah
I will stand by you forever.
You can take my breath away.

I can be your hero, baby.
I can kiss away the pain.
And I will stand by you, forever.
You can take my breath away.
You can take my breath away.

I can be your hero.

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My Room’s a Dump

April 23, 2013

[ Free Me From This Bond (the sequel): Chapter 12 ]

I am so ashamed of the horrid condition of my room. But for the sake of gay posterity and imminent fame, I will now display my SRO in all its sordid glory. Starting with (click on any image below for a larger view):

The photo above is called “Desk #1,” which contains a bunch of books, computer paraphernalia (most of which I really should discard), fruit bowl, some Walgreens cookies and a cloth lamp with a rocket ship and stars that I purchased two years ago from a thrift store.

In case you don’t already know: my room was once elegant, impeccably neat, and airy. You may view its original pristine state here:

http://gay-bible.org/hobbit/

The reason why my room deteriorated so badly, was due to a most painful sabotage of a fine friendship with one homeless dude named Johnnie. Which you may read about in Chapter 14 (Angus Mac Og’s Bounty) in Book #1 (Free Me From This Bond).

To the immediate right of Desk #1 is Desk #2. Where I keep all my hats (including cold-weather stocking caps). Also spices, bandanas, old printouts (in those dusty drawers, when I still used an electric typewriter), and nonperishable food items (such as apple chips, Nutrasweet lemonade powder and a nice assortment of healthy teas).

Now this is interesting: the California flag was bequeathed to me by the Calif. Democratic Party, for all my dedicated work on behalf of struggling to get John Kerry into the White House by 2005. Ironically, it was his declaration in a presidential candidate debate that tanned my epidermis, when he emphatically stated:

“I was raised Catholic, and am therefore stolidly against gay marriage.”

Or something quite similar to that. Well, after all my hard work promoting the Democratic Party, I was so outraged that I turned my Democratic registration into “Independent.”

To the immediate left of my main desk (#3) is a white storage bin upon which rests my "ashtray": a simple shallow bowl with baking soda to snuff the foul scent of tobacco.

Further up is my second window, and my two ovens: a 750 watt microwave, and a Black & Decker "Infrawave" convection oven. Just to the left of these is my magnetic induction hot plate, which is the safest type of stove to use in an SRO…or any other place where it is used.

I can cook up a mean vegetarian meal with these implements, though of late (three or so years by now) I just purchase fast foods or frozen entrees to get me through the day. I am that burnt out.

This is Desk #3, where I do all my typing and Internet research. With just a humble netbook on the left, connected to a larger LCD screen just to the right. Below this desk and painted deep blue, are two large drawers: the topmost containing vital PC accessories, such as printer ink, DVD and CD discs, SD card adapter, and so on. Bottommost holds all my underwear (socks, boxer shorts and briefs, and white T-shirts).

Right above Desk #3 is a bulletin board with some of my earlier hand paintings, along with a poem written by darling Jay-Jay, who you may learn about at the following link:

http://tinyurl.com/perhaps-jj

To the left is my printer atop blue-painted file cabinets that I use to store summer shirts, shoes and sandals, and pajamas.

Higher up still you’ll see two paintings I created many years ago (1989 perhaps), both dedicated to my incredible Randolph Taylor. His face is in both the sun (left) and the moon (right). That’s me of course, floating up to greet him: the day version and the night version.

Painted with acrylic on old T-shirts that I first treated with a thick wash of clear acrylic. Those 3-D wings are also made of cloth, then painted over and shaped. The helmet-type headgear in both paintings is made of a dense layer of glitter.

Looking up at the ceiling from my computer station, you’ll see a paper umbrella purchased from Chinatown years and years ago. It covers a defunct overhead light fixture. Just to the right of it are storage boxes stashed in my loft.

Here’s a better view of the loft, built by a friend, Dean Montgomery, who died horribly from AIDS in 1986. Yes, I’ve lived in this crummy little hovel for a long time: since January 1, 1983 to be exact. (Can you believe it? I can’t!) There used to be wide, rectangular strips of gold cloth attached to the ceiling with velcro, that hid the loft contents from the eye.

Pantry, closet and sink area. Why visit the third world when you can hang out in my SRO for a lot less expense? I will say no more.

The scenic view beneath my sink. Eat your heart out, Ansel Adams! There’s a half-gallon plastic jug beside the wastebasket. Used to contain Arrowhead Mountain Spring Water. Now, it’s a third filled with urine from more than a year ago. Don’t ask me why I haven’t tossed it away yet, ’cause I don’t know either.

Okay, abutting the sink area is a plywood divider that I painted over and decorated with two of my whimsical gay rights decals. Immediately right of this is the door from which hangs my shaman jacket. Just above you can glimpse my unicorn painting, which is also the logo for my gay-bible.org web site.

Closeup of my gay rights decals, “Eat My Jockstrap, Homophobes” and “Don’t Tread On MOI.” Whee!

Above my door is the once-ugly transom that I finally painted over with acrylics and yarn, way back in 1994 or so. Turned out to be a strange day. Very hot (in the 90’s I think), and I was sweating in my little SRO box atop my aluminum ladder. While stroking blue, silver, red and yellow pigment across the old transom that has been nailed down for how many years, the Great Dragon only knows. Once the painting was complete (around 2 PM), I hopped on over to Cliff’s Fabrics and purchased a skein of white yarn.

Returning hovel, I decided to take a break and BART it to Berkeley. The yarn could wait till nightfall. After several hours enjoying Berkeley’s fine coffeehouses and residential streets graced w/countless cottages and luxuriant gardens, I returned to the nearest BART station to get back home. Lo and behold, all the trains had stopped running! Turns out a major blackout across California and neighboring states had shut down more than just BART. About two hours later everything was up and running again, but I got hovel rather late (post-midnight).

Had no idea my painting was so powerful!

My room is not just impossibly cluttered with material items, but with memories as well. Some of the handsomest, bravest and most passionate men have passed through my uber-humble domicile. As well as through my eager and talented hands!


UPDATE 6/24/13

Finally got rid of that ol’ stinky urine bottle. Gonna miss you my friend!


Destiny’s Tongue

April 21, 2013

[ Free Me From This Bond (the sequel): Chapter 11 ]

Date: Tue, 16 Apr 2013 08:19:01
Subject:
MY name is Love, too!
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

El, I attempted to enter Twin Peaks Tavern this afternoon (around 5:20 PM), to present Chapters 6-9 to my beloved Larkin. Which also included the following letter that is now embedded in Chapter 10:

15 April 2013

To My Beloved but Misguided Dragon:

Larkin, within a day or two I will present you with a turquoise portfolio containing chapters 6-9 of Book 2.

Turquoise has always been my favorite color since I played with my first Barbie doll. I was simply mesmerized by her gown’s deep shade of aqua-blue. My father was quite upset when he saw me playing with dolls instead of little green plastic soldiers. Not that he confronted /me/ per se, but I heard him arguing with my Mom (in the kitchen while I played w/Barbie on the front stoop). She nipped the matter in the bud with a pert statement in my defense:

“Oh leave him be.”

But I also enjoy certain color combinations such as Howard Johnson’s bold contrast of turquoise roof and bright orange facade. My parents used to take me there now and then, when I was still kneehigh to a ladybug. My favorite repast was their HoJo Burger slathered in a “secret sauce” that tasted a tad spicy with thousand-island undertones. Along with a tall fountain glass of vanilla soda (double squirt on the syrup) and a fat dollop of buttercrunch ice cream.

Howard Johnson’s has long since modernized their appearance by changing the facade from orange to soft white. And I turned vegetarian.

So here is a near-future vision of our next encounter:

“These are the latest chapters of “˜Free Me From This Bond (the sequel).’ I only started writing the novel three weeks ago, so things are moving really fast,” I declare. “You do know what that means, don’t you?”

“Hmm,” You raise a musing hand to your chin. “That I better start moving fast too?” I nod in agreement:

“If you really want this book to have the happiest ending possible.” Then append: “Otherwise I’ll just have to commence Book 3.”

You place a kind hand on my shoulder: “Zeke, I’m racked with guilt for shoving you.”

“Well /that’s/ a hopeful sign,” I quip.

Larkin, you need to sincerely apologize to anyone you’ve hurt in the past. Including David. Who so much loved running back and forth through the old Hole in the Wall Saloon. One day when he saw me growing close to you, he warned:

“Look Zeke. Larkin gave me a titty-twister that I thought at first was just a friendly tweak.” He sighed before confessing the final truth. “But he went beyond that, and didn’t stop till after he caused me great pain.” So I assured him:

“I will confront him when the time is right.” I guess now is finally that time, in this chapter that you will eventually read. But if David is exaggerating (due to jealousy of our friendship or something else), you have my heartfelt apology.

Larkin: you must profusely make amends to those you have caused grief (including certain bartenders). And that is how you can give me back my dignity and complete trust in your friendship. I won’t even demand that you prove such apologies…for I put absolute faith in your respect towards my fervent appeal. You don’t even need to apologize for shoving me, if you do that noble deed.

For when two people love each other so much, as we do: it is required at some point that the one who insists on being the final word, give up his perceived supremacy, and allow his partner to take over. At least, for a time. For this is the balance that measures all future outcomes, and is an utterly necessary mandate if both (or just one) seek a rewarding and eternal bond.

Whether the love is platonic or involves the physical, it’s still the same: it’s love, it’s true friendship. Thus, the same rules apply in both circumstances.

I’m not going to lecture you on how to make things up. You humiliated me, but I will not humiliate you. Also, you should know your powerful thrust on my body has aggravated lower back pain. It is minor, and will clear up in two or three weeks. I thank Goddess it’s not any worse. Though please let me emphasize: shoving someone upon a hard surface such as concrete, could inadvertently cause far more harm than intended.

My back problems BTW, originated by another man I loved, who turned violent. His name is Derrick, or on the streets, “DJ.” He kicked me swiftly (and twice) with his powerful soccer legs as I walked by him in order to pour a glass of milk. Bad enough, but a few moments later while I was talking on the phone, he poked a lit cigarette on my thigh (I had no pants on, just a pair of boxer shorts). Fortunately–because God protects me from real harm–I felt not a smidgeon of pain, nor did the cinders leave a mark.

Though I did admonish: “You’re a bad boy. A very bad boy. If you ever try something like that again, you will lose my friendship forever. Understand?”

After that incident, he came to love me with the greatest affection, and was protective towards me in all ways possible. And we loved each other with a great and wonderful passion. Sadly, I could not handle having him sleep over more than three weeks (or I’d be evicted). So he moved on to Sacramento, and has never contacted me since…even though I told him to, and that I loved him like nobody’s business. Last time I saw him was more than five months ago.

What do I need to do to be your good friend (and perhaps lover): get a black belt in Ju Jitsu? I love you terribly. But maybe I love you more than you do me. Though I doubt this. Can you verbalize at this time, that you love me too? AFAICT, you’ve given me every sign that kicking you in the guts or balls would give you the real respect I merit. But I could never do that, as I cherish you too much. You need to admit with all sincerity:

“Yes, Zeke. You are the best friend in the whole world. Again, I am so very sorry.”

If you do that (or in different, though equivalent words) I will respond while weeping upon your jacket:

“Well, My Gracious Dragon, I kinda knew that all along. Seven long years of caring so much about you has made this moment the most sacred in my entire life. I need you so badly, Larkin.”

Your jacket will become drenched in my sorrow and joy. There is no one so beautiful, so sweet and so very sincere as my lover Larkin. Barkeep Danny visits our table with two free drinks, gratis.

Larkin, you seem to have so much fun with friends and acquaintances…schmoozing and playing pool, softball and bowling. Yet I remain relegated to social isolation. Gossip in gay bars does much damage to my ability to form relationships…especially when there is nobody there to defend me, and show me a nice time. When a patron remains isolated, and people gossip about him, the whole crowd winds up rejecting him and driving him out. Through no fault of his own.

And it grieves me terribly that you seem to have acquiesced to herd mentality, in order to maintain your own favored status. You have sold out. All at my expense, though something I sincerely do not deserve.

Guess it’s time for me to move on. Portland here I come!

Instead of closing this letter with my name or signature, I use my little “zekeheart.jpg” logo (see attachment). Anyways, he eagerly accepts my latest chapters, but glares down at me and demands:

“Zeke, please leave, I’m begging you.”

So I oppose: “Why don’t you want me here?” I consider addressing the bartender to ask him if Larkin has any authority to decide who should and should not enter this bar. But I think better of it, and just stand before My Giant Hero.

“You can’t be here, Zeke,” he declares, and adds: “Thank you for respecting my request.”

Considering that he already accepted my chapters w/o any hesitation whatsoever, I realize that, once more, I’m between a kok and a hard face. If I continue to resist him (I think) he just might shove my latest gift packet back into my empty hands. So I leave (considering the import of what I declared to him in those pages: far more crucial than whether or not I can hang in Twin Peaks.)

Before exiting, he calls to me (while the eight or so patrons in the bar suddenly turn silent, in order to witness what might turn out to be the greatest melodrama on record):

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

So I turn my face back at him with hand on the doorknob: “You’re not welcome.”

Upon arriving hovel, I dwell on our latest tragic encounter, and decide to compose the following letter:

1. Why were you so sweet to me for almost three months, then suddenly don’t want to talk to me?

2. Are you going to ban me from Twin Peaks whenever you’re there? What about Pilsner Inn?

3. Are you taking meth? Are you a drug dealer? Are you a detective?
“˜
4. Did my postcard to your mailbox upset you?

5. Do you want me out of your life for good?

6. Can you find some way to see me once per week, even if it’s only 10 minutes?

In case you refuse to talk to me outside Twin Peaks on this issue, I printed this page, that you might write down your answers and present or send them to me.

Just so you know: if you are taking speed, or are a hard drug dealer, I’ll still love you and do my best to be a very good friend to you. I am totally against this phony “War On Drugs.” I’ll even cover your ass, if necessary. I have several good friends who use meth, and they are always mellow and good company, whether or not they’re on speed at the moment, or jonesing. Not all speed freaks fit the stereotype.

If you are a detective, and am only protecting my skin by driving me away, it would be much better to tell me so, that I won’t interpret your repulsion as just a fukked up attitude.

I feel very strongly that you love me, every bit as much as I do you. If you are taking speed, that would explain your sudden antagonism against me, after being so sweet (and a very good friend) for 2+ months.

But if such is the case, you really need to know that your indulging in addictive substances does not change anything in my love for you.

Blessed be,

Zeke

PS: Otherwise, I don’t know what the fuk is going on. I just dread the idea of losing you from my world. I break down and cry several times a day, since you shoved me.

Tears flow onto my hands as I fold this letter into an envelope and march on back to Twin Peaks Tavern. Not knowing of course, if Larkin is still there, or has already departed for Pilsner Inn or elsewhere.

Upon opening the door (they really need to fix it, as it slams you in the butt upon entering or exiting: how rude!) I see Larkin gesturing me to stay out. So I back up, and summon him with my left hand to come out and talk…at least for a few seconds. He does just that, and as I hand him the auxiliary letter, declare:

…to be continued

– Zeke


Date: Tue, 16 Apr 2013 08:22:11
Subject:
Two days later…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…at Pilsner Inn:

I step up to the front of the bar, to address handsome Enrico: after downing more than 80% of the boosted vodka and tonic that I requested, and was willing to pay whatever price was righteous ($10 to be exact, in spite of the other barkeep, Gaddy, who only charged me five dollars for the same thing. Though I’m not really sure, as Enrico’s libation was quite powerful, and perhaps worth more than he charged. Besides, I’m more than delighted to support our long-suffering gay bars so long as I can afford it. Thanks to Enrico, I was really feeling my oats).

“I’ll be leaving in a minute, but I want to tell you something.” He says:

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Let me take your hand before I tell you.” And so we do, at which point I state:

“You are a very good man. Thank you so much for looking over my illustrations.” With which he withdraws his hand and replies:

“Oh, no problem.” And turns to another customer desiring to quench his thirst with your ever-ubiquitous firewater.

“Wait a minute,” I declare like a wounded Arapaho about to be slayed by a Confederate soldier:

“I have a bit more to tell you. Please, let me hold your kind hand a while longer.”

So he does just that, and our warm hands link in comradely affection. I tighten my grip further, and confess:

“Larkin has given me great confidence and love. So I tell you this: I would love to be your friend outside of this bar.” Enrico seems to understand completely, and tightens our grip with sweet affection. Thus, I continue:

“Enrico, Larkin’s sweet friendship is the only reason why I reach out to your darling self.” Our hands still tightly grasped, I affirm:

“I would very much like to be your friend outside of this bar. But if that does not appeal to you, no problem. I’ll still be terribly happy to see you as a bartender at Pilsner.”

Let me tell you, El: Enrico is a deliriously handsome and buff dude, 5-foot-nine, with quite a ripped abdomen and chest, that you can easily view beneath his snug T-shirt. Not to mention a fairly tight pair of jeans that make you drool for days over his very fine ass.

I think his eyes are bright brown or hazel…can’t really tell in the dim, moody light. His nose is kind of large, sort of aquiline with a bit of curve to it. Full, luscious lips and a shaved cranium so perfect, you want to display it in a Museum Of Magnanimous Male Skulls!

IOW: I cum all over the place, just looking at or thinking of him. He told me his full name two nights ago, which I forget, though it struck me as a noble name…he was very proud of his monicker. So this early eve when I asked him to tell me his last name again, he quipped:

“My name is Mike tonight,” with a mischievous grin.

“Okay Mike,” I smile with a bit of sorrow, and say, “so nice to see you again.”

Some minutes later he steps out to the patio, to procure whatever (such as napkins, swizzle sticks and coasters from the storage room preceding the back porch. I am sitting at the mini-deck that composes the front part of this patio, working on my latest chapter w/great frustration, on my Gateway netbook), when he steps back there, to gather the requisite paraphernalia required to run an efficient tavern.

I set down my drink and quit the computer, to approach him as he exits the storage area. And say:

“So, Mike.” (He then smiles at me.) “If you change your name every time I see you, please accept my apology if I can’t keep up with all your frequent name changes.’

He laughs and replies: “Oh that’s okay!” Looks like I cornered him to be a victim of my retort:

“So Mike, I just want to know: will you ever get around to calling yourself Shirley?” To which he retorts with the greatest humor:

“Oh, no!”

I chuckle heartily and return to my netbook, where I compose my latest (and angelic) letter to Larkin.

But this is a repartee that happens before my appeal to him, that we become good friends (as described earlier in this passage). After my heartfelt request for friendship, I finally depart to my hovel two blocks west of Pilsner Inn. Still feeling overjoyed at my magical encounter with Larkin earlier in the day.

So as I compose my latest tale based on a true encounter, I am suddenly struck with another wave of grief, which is:

Though I have established a great and profound love with Larkin, he may nevertheless disappear from my life and move back to San Diego or elsewhere. His sweet love may have nothing to do with our being platonic sweethearts in the long run. In fact, his mission may be to set me up with two, three or four darling men who love me with all their heart (such as Ernesto, possibly)…before he vanishes from my desperate world.

Not that he doesn’t love me with an incredible passion…but that he is convinced that leaving me with such a passionate and fulfilling legacy is his /own/ fulfillment. After which he shall move along without me, for his next mission.

Which for me would result in an eternal shower of tears, despite the several men who give me only the sweetest affection and super-hot sex. For in spite of it all, I will only be thinking of Larkin while boinking the daylights out of these majestic fellows! And they will love me with an incredible passion, precisely because Larkin has disappeared from my life.

IOW: Larkin’s legacy will be to provide me with true friendship before he departs for places unknown.

My life is hell, no matter what.

– Zeke


Date: Tue, 16 Apr 2013 20:45:37
Subject:
I figured it out, El…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…what that zip code address is all about. It’s a San Diego P.O. or mailbox number. Which really makes no sense, as why should I send him anything that would be routed to southern California, then back up here to San Francisco, where he lives just one block away? Especially when you consider that I can easily deliver my gifts to him by hand, at either Twin Peaks Tavern or Pillsner Inn. Then it hit me:

He plans to move back to San Diego soon!

I could be wrong…and I hope so. This man is nothing but one big heartbreak after another. An eternal path of sacrifices. I really don’t know anyone else who is constantly dragged over the coals just for friendship. Most people look at me weird when I tell them my story. But that’s because they have it very /easy/ (with finding friends and lovers) compared to the hell I go through.

– Zeke


Date: Wed, 17 Apr 2013 11:15:19
Subject:
Re: I figured it out, El…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ You know where he lives, right? So it’s not a matter of him hiding his real address from you, right? }}

He lives in a large apartment building barely a block west from mine. But I do /not/ know his apartment number. His name is not anywhere on the mailbox.

But not to worry, El. What’s /really/ going on was just revealed to me last night by a ghostly vision of my deceased mother. Soon as I’ve finished composing that piece, I’ll send it off to you.

Things are moving /so/ fast for me now, my head is spinning! Just spoke w/my brother, and he said both he and I will soon receive some sort of check from an oil company stock that our parents bequeathed to us.

Even Vince didn’t know about this…came as quite a surprise from outta left field. I’m thinkin’ Beverley Hillbillies here. But bro doesn’t think it’s gonna be much.

– Zeke

PS: If the father fukkuh disappears for San Diego, you /bet/ I’ll follow him down there!


Date: Wed, 17 Apr 2013 12:09:02
Subject:
Re: I figured it out, El…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ I hope there’s enough $$ in that check for you to get your teeth fixed! }}

Doubt it. I’ll need major oral surgery to repair the damage below the gum lines and maybe even into the jaws. We’re talkin’ tens of thousands, maybe even more.

ERIS DAMN THE DENTIST LOBBYISTS!

I am so disgusted with the failure of our medical system to provide the best care even for those who can’t afford. So my feelings are this:

I will /never/ see a dentist or doctor again. But I’m sure my mouth (and anything else that ails me) will be healed in a flash by Dragonly White Magic.

SEDUCE ZEUS AND GIVE HIM THE GOOSE!

Isn’t schizophrenia fun…especially those incredibly manic highs?

Which obviously, I’m going through right now. Wheeeeee!

– Zeke


Date: Thu, 18 Apr 2013 16:23:21
Subject:
Re: Before i leave Pilsner Inn…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ That was brave of you! And he rewarded you for your bravery! }}

He’s quite the noble man, El! Just the way he comports his buff physique says it all. But the great pride with which he speaks his name clinches it.

I am a happy man. Boy, my life is one big rollercoaster ride of mood swings! Book 2 is a real tearjerker, all the way to the final chapter. Which chapter as you know, seals the happy ending to it.

And it was up to Larkin whether or not the novel ends on a joyful note. At the very final nanosecond he came a-bustin’ in like a champ and straightened it all out. He is truly my hero…and my One True Paramour.

Or perhaps I should call him “my one /chief/ paramour,” seeing as I will soon have /many/ super-handsome dudes in my life. And that is /exactly/ what Darling Larkin wants for me.

With his fabulously unique and breathtaking style, his pranks deliver me unto Nirvana. Oh, here’s a joke for ya, El:

So I meet this really /hot/ dude from South of the Border, right? Take him to a gay bar in the Mission, buy him a drink. Sipping his pina colada, he takes my hand and declares:

“I’ll have sexo with you if you buy me a dulce.” (That’s Spanish for “candy.”)

So we zip over to Walgreens and I purchase a packet of Skittles. Just goes to show:

A spoonful of sugar makes the Mexican go down!

Well, I’ll soon be off to Pilsner Inn again, for a delightful two hours. Hoping of course that Larkin shows up. But no matter: drop-alive gorgeous Enrico will be there to satisfy my every wet dream.

– Zeke


Date: Thu, 18 Apr 2013 16:33:02
Subject:
Re: Before i leave Pilsner Inn…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Caramba!!!


Date: Fri, 19 Apr 2013 01:14:48
Subject:
Please Don’t Eat the Daisies
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan

That’s the title of Chapter 12, the final chapter of “Free Me From This Bond (the sequel).” I know you’re quite busy, but I just want you to see how I used a tiny version of one of your illustrations, because it fits my theme perfectly.

Image is the last one in that chapter. If you don’t have the time to read the entire piece, just read the last email there, right above your mini-illustration. (The vehicle for writing every single chapter and all segments therein is email.)

Took me less than a month to complete Book 2. (Actually, I’m still working on Chapter 11, then I’m really done.) Events detailed in that book are all true, and cover the same time span as the writing itself.

– Zeke


Date: Fri, 19 Apr 2013 15:09:34
Subject:
OMG El, someone just moved into 210…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…the recently vacated apartment that I suspected would be Larkin’s new residence. Boxes were piled up by that door this morning when I went to shower. The racks over the tub and astride the toilet were suddenly filled with tubes and bottles of shampoo, liquid soap, scent-free Off! repellant, a Q-tip box, and (get this) a special hair treatment called:

“John Frieda Brilliant Brunette Multi-Tone Revealing Moisturizing Conditioner”

Most interesting because: LARKIN’S A BRUNETTE!

Boxes were all gone by the time I exited the WC and returned to my cluttered little dump.

Do you think thus begins Book 3? I suspect so. But I assert:

No way does My Father Fukkuh /dare/ put off our wedding until Book 4 or (worse yet) even later (such as 5, 6 or 7)!

– Zeke


Date: Fri, 19 Apr 2013 16:45:14
Subject:
By real name…
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan

…I mean “S. Rohan,” or for when I address you in these emails by your first name only: “S.”

Seeing as in the foreward to Book 1, you are already identified as “S. Rohan.” And since your emails to me were not revealing of any super-personal stuff (such as the crabs you’ve never been able to successfully remove from your crotch, or the secret tattoo on your left butt cheek that shows a heart wrapped in a banner entitled “Ronald Reagan”…just two humorous examples):

I would think that you’ll have no problem giving me signed permission. I will soon send you the permission form, and an SASE envelope whereby you can return it, signed.

– Zeke


Date: Sat, 20 Apr 2013 12:17:14
Subject:
My new neighbor is not Larkin…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…but he’s just as handsome. Juicy cut pecs and abs that I could lick from here to Clingon Cum. (He had just stepped out of the shower, wrapped towel held up by a pert and fully ample buttox.) First met him an hour ago, really a neat guy.

I must write up my next piece that will be inserted into Chapter 11…about my latest encounter w/Larkin. Suffice it to say for now: My Brave Dragon wasn’t very nice. Looks like we’re gonna go to war against each other. A foolish thing for him to declare, as I always win.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall. I think he’s ruined his life with methamphetamine. It’s the only explanation that makes sense of his recent (and ugly) behavior.

And if he wants to hang out in the Castro–as well as avoid being booted out of every bar in the “˜hood–he’s gonna have to ship up or shape out. Starting with being the good friend he used to be.

Or he’s outta here. I’ve had quite enough.

– Zeke


Date: Sat, 20 Apr 2013 16:41:47
Subject:
Re: My new neighbor is not Larkin…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ Maybe the new neighbor is piece of the moving puzzle…. }}

Well, he’s certainly a very nice piece either way you look at it. 0_o

Our building manager Scotty really knows how to pick the beauties! (Hmm, I wonder if his selection of tasty tarts has anything to do with pleasing me. Seeing as I am /very/ well known and respected by our Queer Family. And it is soon time to give me all the kudos I so well deserve.)

I’m trying now to picture a moving jigsaw puzzle…kicks the difficulty in
putting it together up a notch. o_0

Actually, I have not the minutest uncertainty that he’s (my new neighbor, David) one of my Dragonly Guardians, maybe even a member of the GPMC.

So I’ve come up with two /other/ possible reasons why Larkin is so mean these days…other than possibly becoming a meth head:

1) He’s moving to San Diego, so wants to distance himself. And by making me hate him, it will be easier for me when he finally disappears.

2) The GPMC (Gay Pagan Motorcyle Club…that group of enlightened gays South of Market that I mentioned in my first book) is about to celebrate and honor my many achievements for the LGBT Family. Just prior to this, I go through a sort of initiation, where they act mean to me. Or that is: the person who I love most acts mean. This is of course Larkin. Who I believe also /heads/ this secret society.

As for #1: So what if he’s moving far away. I will soon be fantabulously rich, and be able to readily migrate to just about any spot on the globe. Larkin is the smartest man or woman I’ve ever met: thus, I don’t really think this explains it.

Therefore the answer is /most likely/ #2. Thank Dragon I finally came up with reasons that are not drug related! Though I must admit: there’s a meth to my madness. Yuk yuk.

I had a vision of ancient Thrace many years back: a highly homosexualized culture. Courtship among male warriors was quite rough (to say the least). When one soldier fell in love with another, they then went through a ritual where each tried to murder the other. For after all–if marriage were truly in the cards–it would be absolutely /impossible/ for either one to die, or even become injured in any serious way. Otherwise, one or both would perish. Everything’s permitted in battle and bed!

The GPMC seems to carry on this warrior legacy, though considerably toned down from the original tradition. Ergo, what Larkin has just done to me last night (by his nasty attitude) is force me into doing everything I can to kick him out of all the gay bars here in the Castro…and even try to make him lose all his friends, and become homeless. And in turn, he shall attempt to do the same against yours truly.

But I’ve already won! For you see, El, many folks in the SF Queer Community now read my latest blog entries. Especially bartenders. So they already /know/ that Larkin shoved me hard, and brought grief to my heart in various /other/ ways. They are /all/ on my side. So I really don’t think Larkin’s chance of beating me is any more likely than a snowman thriving in hell. In fact–once they get to the “shove” part, which is how Book 2 begins–they just might 86 him rather soon. And to his own surprise.

Yet, being so highly telepathic as has been proven to me time and time again, I wonder how he could not figure this out! Perhaps the Benevolent Mind of the Universe blocks him from certain kinds of knowledge.

I know it sure does me! But then again I’m nothing but a stale communion wafer dissolving on Destiny’s tongue.

– Zeke



Date: Sat, 20 Apr 2013 17:15:28
Subject:
How Book 2 ends…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…in a fictitious letter to the editor dated 2023 (what with starships from the Andromeda galaxy and such):

Somewhat reminiscent of Ursula K. Le Guin’s “The Lathe of Heaven.”

– Zeke


Date: Sat, 21 Apr 2013 07:44:15
Subject:
Letter to Enrico of Pilsner Inn
From: Zeke
To: My Most Esteemed Readers

19 April 2013

Hello Mike (or Enrico or whatever you call yourself at the moment),

You are now in my second book called “Free Me From This Bond (the sequel).” As part of my recent adventures w/Larkin at Pilsner Inn. I’ve given great credit to various gay bars in the city, for the remarkable tales that have occurred there. This includes Book #1 (“Free Me From This Bond”).

If you are the least bit uncomfortable about my using your true name and description, I will update it with a fictitious name and description, such that no one will be able to figure out who the heck I’m writing about.

But if you enjoy what I say about you, and do not mind my using your real name/description, I will need your signed permission. And for that, I need to know your real name in full. And once I get that, I can print out a form for you to sign.

Here is the relevant passage in Chapter 11, which I have yet to complete (my apologies for any strange glitches in the printout, as my printer is behaving weirdly of late):

[ Gregarious Reader: you’ve already viewed the passage in a previous email, entitled “Two days later…” ]

So there you have it, Mike or Enrico or whoever!

With utmost sincerity and appreciation,


Date: Sat, 20 Apr 2013 22:51:15
Subject:
MY name is Love, too! (cont’d)
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

So let’s see…outside of Twin Peaks Tavern I hand Larkin my auxiliary letter and declare:

“Please include this in the package I just gave you.” Tears flow down my cheeks from beneath the dark sunglasses. Front of the envelope is scrawled in jittery ink, these two words: VERY IMPORTANT.

Then I double over in sorrow and speak through my sobs with much difficulty:

“I break down and cry two or three times a day since you shoved me!”

Larkin just stands there and gazes upon me (with patience, I guess). But why doesn’t the fukkuh give me a hug? My tears continue to flow with abundance as I look up at him (I want so much to weep on his chest) and ask:

“Are you a detective?” He does not respond.

“You were so kind to me some months back,” I lament, “then you suddenly start acting cruel.”

Larkin remains deadpan. So I forge ahead:

“Did you get my postcard yet?” (I am referring here to the “Junkie” noir motif sent to “Larkin Kelsey, 92142-2453,” upon which I printed: “Testing. 1-2-3.”)

He finally utters some words: “Did you use the address I gave you?”

“Yes I did,” I affirm, “but you can’t just tell me what it says, because you’re telepathic. You need to /show/ me the card.” I then take a deep breath and add:

“I’m sure you have some excellent reason for treating me so bad, but I’ll be damned if I can figure it out.” I attempt to stifle my copious sobs, but to no avail.

“Larkin! This hurts so much, I don’t know what to do.” He then speaks:

“Well, love, I gotta get back inside. And you need to go now.”

I double over once more, as if struck by an angel’s wing:

“Oh thank you, Larkin, for calling me “˜love.’ That really helps. A lot.”

And so I cross the street once the light turns green, still sobbing w/o much control. As I reach the opposite sidewalk I lean into a lamppost, pressing my face into it. And my tears flow down the cast iron pole like a waterfall.

Somehow I manage to reenter my building and my hovel without collapsing in despair.

– Zeke


Date: Sat, 20 Apr 2013 22:54:18
Subject:
Re: My new neighbor is not Larkin…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Zeke wrote:

{{ {{ Or he’s outta here. I’ve had quite enough. }} }}

Eleanor wrote:

{{ I’m glad to hear you say it. }}

Well, it’s good to know my infatuation with him does not hold ultimate control over my sense of self preservation.

However, I do believe that Larkin has an ulterior motive that is compassionate and not hateful.

– Zeke


Date: Sat, 20 Apr 2013 22:56:28
Subject:
Re: How Book 2 ends…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ Warp speed! }}

Oh please don’t use that word “speed” around me: I am /so/ burnt out from my many years’ street activism. Ha ha, just kidding.

Funny how that final email which ends Book 2 came spilling out of my fingertips. Truly, I surprise myself.

– Zeke


Date: Sat, 20 Apr 2013 23:58:54
Subject:
So I just show up at Pilsner Inn…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…a few moments ago. After the frustration of my printer going on the fritz while attempting to print out my letter to Enrico (whose name I just learn from barkeep Tommy, is actually a quite ordinary handle: “Mike”) Which letter is simply a duplicate of what I recently reported to you, about my wish to be good friends. With the additional request that he give permission to use his real name in Book 2.

I just cut and paste our encounter into this letter, that he may see exactly what I reveal about him. Of course, such a letter is also a romantic overture, should he find this tempting. So when I show up at Pilsner and order a strong drink from Tommy, I glimpse Larkin from my visual periphery: he brings empty glasses from the back porch to the bar up front. I do not speak to him, since he does not acknowledge me one whit.

But he grabs my drink and piles it atop the empty glasses he’s already gathered. So I grab my procured glass, with command:

“Whoa buster, that’s /my/ drink, and I’m not done with it!” (Considering I just paid $7.50 to Tommy, for an extra-strong libation.) Larkin hands it back w/o a word and moves on.

Some minutes later I depart the back porch and seat myself at the bar beside Larkin. He’s talking with barkeep Tommy:

“Can you do me a favor,” I hear him ask, “This guy Zeke keeps following me around and is being a pest. Would you please kick him out?” I hear Tommy reply:

“I won’t do that. Zeke’s a really nice guy.” So I quip:

“Nice try but no cigar. The bartenders are all on my side now.” Then add:

“Do you wanna hear a dinosaur joke? Everyone loves a good dinosaur joke!” To which he admonishes:

“I don’t like telling jokes,” upon which he departs for the pool table. I holler back at him:

“Fuk you, buddy! Fuk you, fuk you!”

In spite of the loud volume of the amplifiers playing pop songs, I’m surprised that the barkeep or anyone else doesn’t reprimand me, let alone kick me out. But I seem to have the upper hand.

Later that night, my turn comes up for a round of pool. Ironically, my opponent is Larkin. As usual, he whips my sorry ass.

He might have won this battle, but not the war.


Date: Sun, 21 Apr 2013 00:58:29
Subject:
Paradise
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

In another fantasy about Larkin, I imagine him showing up at Howard’s Cafe and sitting beside me. He orders a cheese omelet with ham, while I pick away at my fruit salad with yogurt.

“You eat like a bird!” he exclaims. I answer back:

“Which one: a bird of paradise, or a bird of prey?”


Please Don’t Eat the Daisies

April 18, 2013

[ Free Me From This Bond (the sequel): Chapter 16 ]

Date: Tue, 16 Apr 2013 07:43:22
Subject:
Reason for the ladybugs…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…in that Howard Johnson’s piece, is to honor my deceased mother (she passed away almost six years ago; my father in 2010). My favorite creature as a child was the ladybug. In fact, Mom bought me jammies with ladybugs printed all over. I simply adored these pajamas. Well, some months later those same PJs wound up getting sliced into many little swatches. Here’s what transpired:

I was six years old, and watching Walt Disney’s “Sleeping Beauty” on the family TV. Mom had given me a small can of moist and sweetened coconut to enjoy while watching the film. (The evil witch really scared the daylights out of me. I’ll never forget the scene where she presented a poison apple to Princess Aurora. And she fainted dead away.) A little later, it was time for bed.

Around 1 AM, I suddenly awoke with the sharpest pains in my tummy that I’ve ever experienced, even unto this day (and I will turn 63 July first). It felt just like a metal box w/razor-sharp edges tumbling about my stomach. By the time our family doctor arrived (a terribly handsome man by name of Dr. Labovsky. I always looked forward to his gazing down upon my skyclad little body, while feeling me up on the exam table. Such big blue Polish eyes!), the pain had finally disappeared.

They rushed me off to Syosset Hospital where they performed general exploration surgery by slitting open my abdomen. The prep nurses moved really fast, and had to cut up my ladybug PJs.

Turned out my appendix was ready to burst, so they removed it and I swiftly recovered. Mom and Aunt Jean tenderly stitched my pajamas back together. Don’t know to this day why she didn’t just purchase new jammies. Guess ladybug patterns were scarce.

And for more than 30 years hence I shunned coconut in any way, shape or form.

A year before my mother passed on she sent me a gift of a small painting created by one of her neighbors. Depicting a delicate spray of orange daisies, one lone butterfly, and six tiny ladybugs scattered upon those flowers. See attached photo. Been more than two years since I gazed upon that watercolor which I keep stashed away in desk #1, beneath a pile of papers and return address labels.

And for the first time I wept because I miss my mother.

– Zeke


Date: Wed, 17 Apr 2013 12:54:10
Subject:
Re: Reason for the ladybugs…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

And so I am suddenly walloped by yet one more vision, as I gaze upon my mother’s ultimate gift. Like the fairy godmother in Cinderella, she appears beside me. But unlike that fairy godmother, she’s neither hovering nor has wings. (Wait a minute: she doesn’t even own a wand! I guess austerity has even hit the celestial sphere, too. As on earth, so above.)

Worse yet: she isn’t even visible! But I feel her presence as strong as a sudden and severe drop in barometric pressure. Egads, she doesn’t even have a voice! It is her /thoughts/ that haunt my vexed cerebrum:

“Eugene. Larkin is a wonderful man, for he truly is your guardian angel! He knows /exactly/ what he is doing each and every single moment.”

“Yeah,” I mumble back, “he’s a sociopath with an IQ of 370. The Father of All Assholes.” She giggles:

“You’ve always had such a wacky sense of humor! Always the wisecracker, we figured you’d become a standup comic.”

“But here I am instead, weeping at my desk over a man I love more than even death itself. A man who’s inspired and delighted my every waking moment, just at the thought of his glorious smile.” Then I sigh:

“And now he’s leaving soon for San Diego. I may never see him again. Or talk with him. Or hold him in my CTS arms.”

“No!” she interjects, “that is /not/ going to happen. And that is precisely why I’m here. To tell you…”

So my dear mother describes how this latest drama is nothing more than one of Larkin’s /best/ pranks of all.

“He’s hurt your feelings so that you may compose the greatest love story ever told…”

“Whoa!” i interject with an index finger raised to the sky. “Does this mean I’m gonna eclipse even Jesus the Messiah?”

Then slowly, I lower my arm as the implication hits me full head on:

“Kewl!”

She then waves her glittery wand to show me all the recent (and grievous) scenarios Larkin’s put me through.

[ Yes, Virtuous Reader, I know: she did /not/ hold a wand when she first “appeared.” Now, she does. Perhaps it was stashed in her Maidenform all along. Oh, fer chrissake, she just popped out those gossamer wings as I type this very sentence. God is no Cecil B. DeMille, let me tell you: his pranks are too cheesy! ]

And I envision right then and there, millions of devoted zekeophiles (thanks to Book 1) reading chapter after chapter until they reach 16, pining with every beat of their little lamb hearts:

“Oh dear, is he going to lose Larkin? This’ll kill him!”

IOW: a real cliffhanger (except for the chapter about Joseph).

Mom further explains: “If you thought even for a moment that all this was an act–that you will /never/ lose his friendship–you would not have evoked such strong emotions of grief and prayerfulness. You would never have been /compelled/ to write with such breadth and depth of heart.”

“But he shoved me, Mom!” I almost yell at her, I am so discombobulated. “That’s going too far, no matter /how/ compassionate the prank! There is /never/ any good excuse for violence unbidden!”

[ OMFG, Jaded Reader, now she’s actually /floating/! I can glimpse a hot-pink Victoria’s Secret garter as some august breeze flaps her gown like Marilyn Monroe. This is /most/ embarrassing. She’s my Mom! ]

“You forget, Eugene, that he’s a detective,” she gently admonishes, “and like all good detectives, Larkin is well trained in martial arts. His was a very /controlled/ shove: just hard enough to almost topple you over, but not quite.”

“Your prayer for God’s intercession is kaput,” she finishes, then amscrays like a midge to an electric zapper.

I am stunned as Revelation grows in my heart. Then I break down in tears of joy, my head bowed to these folded arms upon my dingy desk.

“Thank you Mom, thank you.”


Date: Wed, 17 Apr 2013 19:03:19
Subject:
You won’t believe this…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…but what just occurred earlier this afternoon absolutely confirms my incredible visions and prophetic musings. Here goes, dulce corazon:

Of course I print out my “Mom Vision” to share w/My Amazing Dragon Larkin. Put it in an envelope sealed with my Pegasus sticker, and write on the front in bold black Sharpie:

Lovely Luscious Larkin

Eager to find him, I hurry downstairs. But first, I check the snail mail. Just a junk flyer for “Smart Cremation.” (Well, sure beats “Green Cremation” or “Energy Star Cremation,” I ponder.) About to tear it up, something stops my hand.

“Oh this is funny. I’ll take it with me,” I muse, and laugh heartily on my exit from 2306.

I rush to Twin Peaks Tavern, but My Silly Belov-ed Goose is nowhere around. Which does not surprise me, as it is still early in the day. So I hop on a Boston streetcar to Van Ness Avenue, then depart underground to catch the N Judah in the opposite direction.

Looking up at the Metro schedule on the overhead LCD screen, I discover just 8 minutes for the next N Judah. So the L Taraval comes and goes, then another train whose destination I forget. Then the M Oceanview rolls up, and I look over the passengers, since I am such an avid people watcher.

No one is there that I recognize. But it’s always sweet to gaze upon whatever handsome warlock presents himself. So I look away for a brief moment, then glance back:

Lo and behold, there’s My Larkin standing with his powerful back to the open door.

“OMFG,” I declare to myself, “he knows I have a wonderful letter to give him!”

So I rush into the car just before it closes, look up at his cherished mug, and say:

“Larkin, I have a letter to give you, that I know you’ll enjoy very much!”

With that, I drop my backpack to the floor, and unzip the main panel which contains my latest gift. Suddenly, the train lurches. I almost fall over except for Larkin’s protective arm. Then a handsome and slightly chubby young Latino rises from his seat just inches away, and offers me the spot.

“Oh no,” I declare, “I’m getting off at the next stop. Thanks, though.”

But then I realize he just got up because he’s about to exit, too, and I’m blocking his egrets [ typo intended ].

“Okay, you’re right,” I tell him, “I’ll sit down. Thank you so much.”

So I accept the offer and rest my butt, yanking the backpack towards my new position. And speak to Larkin while gazing upon his wondrous face (and smile):

“I’m still learning to be a good listener!”

While pawing through my backpack for the letter, a petite lady with a weird and incomprehensible accent asks me something like:

“Is this the K? Where do I get off to catch the K?”

At least, that is what I think she spoke, so I reply:

“No, this is /not/ the K Ingleside. Get off at the next stop, which I will do too. And I’ll make sure you get on it, if the N Judah doesn’t arrive first.” But she persists:

“This is not the K? How soon will the K arrive?”

“I have no idea,” I reply. “Once you get off, just look at the overhead screen. It will tell you how many minutes before the K arrives.” She persists:

“But the K? Where is the K?”

At this point I notice Larkin appears annoyed. And for good reason: so often when I try to have a meaningful conversation with someone I love (or am hitting up on), there always seems to appear some vexing imp that obliterates my communique. So I decide to ignore any further discussion with her…and which I believe is Larkin’s wish, via telepathic regard. To my delight, she disappears somewhere else on this yellow submarine.

So I rummage quickly through my pack to extract his letter, along with the cremation flyer. And declare:

“You will LOVE this letter, Larkin!” And hand him the “Smart Cremation” brochure. I allow him to gaze upon the envelope so his farsighted eyes can finally discern the return address. Then declare:

“Oops, wrong letter. That’s a cremation ad…been getting them since I turned 62.” Then I gaze up at those smokey-orange irises and chortle:

“I don’t think we’re ready for that, do you?”

So I extend a hand, that he may return the funereal printout…then present him with the /real/ letter.

“Look what it says on the front,” I proudly state (meaning of course the declaration “Lovely Luscious Larkin”).

He takes a gander and smiles broadly. I want so badly to hug him at that moment, and tell him how much he means to me. But obviously that is not his desire at the moment. And because I respect him so immensely, I do not force the issue.

I smile gratefully: “You always know when I have another gift for you!” He grins, and I’m ready to swoon.

“I’m on my way to Howard’s,” I declare, hoping of course he’ll show up there before me, or a little while after.

Well, buena amiga mia, the train arrives at Church Street Station, where I must depart to catch the N Judah aboveground at Duboce and Church. To my surprise, he exits right behind me. So I turn around to quip:

“Oh, stalking me again, are we?” And My Guardian Dragon snorts:

“Right!”

But he suddenly turns left, while I step right to ascend the escalator. So I fling him one more bon mot:

“If you suddenly depart for San Diego and leave me in the dust, I’ll follow you down there, believe you me!”

Almost arrived at the N Judah stop (after exiting the underground), I turn around one more time to see if Larkin is following me. To my disappointment, he is not.

Well, I finally arrive at Howard’s Cafe to discover: no Larkin! I sigh (for he has spoiled me to the point where I only expect the most wonderful). Nor does he show up at all. But I am not really disappointed.

For I now know that–beyond a shadow of a hesitation–I am truly loved by the most gorgeous dude on the planet.

So right now–as I am composing this latest missive–I’m enjoying the atmosphere at Pilsner Inn, with extra strong drinks served by the gracious hand of Enrico (a most studly and bonerific man with who I’d love to become good friends.) Perhaps I will approach him before I depart, and declare:

“Thank you so much for being such a good guy, and looking over my illustrations. I hope some day we become excellent friends.”

Or do you think, El, that I’m being too forward for my own good? After all, Larkin’s love has given me incredible confidence towards even the most gorgeous men on this planet. What a blessing, eh?

You should know that I approached Enrico when ordering my third drink (“please make it double strength with half the ice: I’ll pay whatever’s righteous, 6, 7 or 8 dollars”).

He charges me 10 (egads). I leave a dollar tip and request:

“If Larkin should show up, please tell him I’m on the patio, and will be glad to buy him his Tall Boy.”

“Okay,” he kindly replies, to which I add:

“This will always be the case when I’m here.”

Well, I’ll be at Pilsner for another hour or so…of course, hoping with all my fluttering heart that Larkin will show up. But that will not corrupt my immense love for him at this point. I will simply go home and look forward to another day.

Luv,

– Zeke


Date: Mon, 15 Apr 2013 09:06:42
Subject:
Real Name Permission
From: Zeke
To: Zelda T. (Twosome Press)

Hello again, Zelda; and I hope you had a very nice Easter.

I have all the signed permissions ready to send to Twosome Press. But I need to know: how do you want them?

I can upload each scanned result to the file manger, if that is what you’d prefer. Otherwise, I can send them as attachments to an email. So how should I send them to you?

Thanks once more for your kind attention.

– Zeke Krahlin


Date: Mon, 15 Apr 2013 10:20:5
Subject:
You’re in my latest blog entry.
From: Zeke
To: robert@spokebusterforaids.org

Hey again, Robert…you’re a Real Trooper. SO glad to have met you outside of Twin Peaks Tavern yesterday. You are /so/ inspiring: it is a tremendous /honor/ to feature you in Chapter 10 of “Free Me From This Bond (the sequel)”:

http://tinyurl.com/too-soldier

I actually need to put several more images into this piece, but I thought to publish it ASAP, for your sake. I’ll just get the other images done tonight.

You can jump right down to where I write about you. Just search “robert”…duh! Your excellent son must be VERY proud of you!

– Zeke


Date: Tue, 16 Apr 2013 11:23:10
Subject:
Re: Change one sentence
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ I know exactly what you mean about that old HoJo color combo. }}

Too bad my Barbie doll didn’t have orange hair! Just as well, though: I don’t dress up whores.

– Zeke


Date: Mon, 15 Apr 2013 16:22:36
Subject:
Would you like to be in my next novel?
From: Zeke
To: Sally H. & Zelda T. (Jambalaya Publications)

This would be the sequel to “Free Me From This Bond,” which chapters are all based on email exchanges. I am only using your first name, plus “Jambalaya Publications.” No email address to you, is included.

Book 2 is much more heavily involved with the self-publishing process, and the adventures around that. Though I have no problem using fictitious names, even a fictitious publishing company (if that is what you prefer). I just think you deserve to be honored, plus it would be so much /fun/!

– Zeke


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 11:14:55
Subject:
*Important revision to New Author Questionnaire*
From: Zeke
To: Zelda T. (Twosome Press)

Larkin can’t decide whether or not to use his real name, so we agreed to go the fictitious route. He is now “Arwyn Miles.” The only change remaining, is the first paragraph of the “About the Book” section. Like so:

This novel is an epic real-life adventure/bromance about a gay street activist from San Francisco (Ezekiel Krahlin), who falls in love with (and becomes a sidekick to) a remarkable and incredibly handsome gay male (Arwyn Miles) who the author eventually concludes is a detective out of Orange County, California…and perhaps even his guardian “dragon.” Whether this is fact or not remains to be seen, as the adventure continues beyond the book’s conclusion. However, the many true tales woven around these two (mostly instigated by Arwyn himself) certainly give credence to the author’s interpretation.

So whaddya think? If you’d enjoy appearing in Book 2, of course I’d need your signed permission with a statement such as:

I, [Sally H. / Zelda T.] give permission for Ezekiel J. Krahlin to use our real first names (and the name of our publishing outfit, which is Jambalaya Publications) in his novel “Free Me From This Bond (the sequel).”

__________________________________

Signature

__________________________________

Date


– Zeke


Date: Tue, 16 Apr 2013 21:14:20
Subject:
Touching Bases
From: Zeke
To: Mario

Hey there, Mario! Just posting this email so we can keep in touch, in case I don’t see you again soon, at the Hole. I think it’s time for me to include my episode w/Alexander Hamilton Post in my next chapter of the sequel to Free Me From This Bond. After all, they deserve much credit.

– Zeke


Date: Tue, 16 Apr 2013 23:03:05
Subject:
Oops, I forgot…
From: Zeke
To: My E-frenz

…at the bottom of Chapter 10 is a Gaelic phrase. If you can’t figure out what it says (and I sincerely doubt you can), post me back and I’ll tell you.


Date: Wed, 17 Apr 2013 11:09:01
Subject:
Re: Smoking Dragon
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan

{{ Oh, that mischievous Baba! Who knows what mysteries hide in the folds of her ample skin… }}

But that dragon is LARKIN, my guardian and migraine…
And he’s /very/ much the male.
He’d better /not/ go through a sex change,
Or I’ll eat my werewolfian tale:

http://tinyurl.com/brian-were

{{ AND there’s more dragons in that panel than just the cigarette smoke… }}

OMFG, I gotta check it out…you’re AMAZING. No, BEYOND amazing! I LOVE meditating upon each and every one of your masterful illustrations. So much so, that I’m afraid I’ve fallen utterly in love with you, “S.”!

Platonically speaking, natch. I could never leave Larkin for another woman. Even if she /is/ more of a man.

You know, I wrote another dragon fable many years back, titled “The Elf of Gwynnid Cavern.” Which stars a boy and a /female/ dragon. And the little boy survives by drinking milk off her scaly teats.

You may read about it here:

http://tinyurl.com/neo-positive

It’s at the end of a rather extended essay. So just go directly to it by searching for “Gwynnid.” Read all the way down to the end. It’s short. Like me. (Talking here about my /body/ and /not/ a certain appendage, you wicked nymph!)

Oh, I need to get your signed permission to use your real name in my next book. I want to include some of our excellent email conversations…they are so intrinsic to my latest tales. And I think you deserve so much credit for your good works.

But using a fictitious name wouldn’t work anywayz, ’cause I describe you frequently as the illustrator for the first book. Plenty easy for readers to figure out who I really mean. So there’s no way around this. And if I can’t get permission, many chapters will fall apart and wreck the entire saga. So I beg your permission:

Please please please please please, with fair trade agave nectar on top!

Mazel Tov, O Genie from the Ink Well,

– Zeke


Date: Thu, 18 Apr 2013 16:43:04
Subject:
Dragons in the tree…
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan

…Just for you and me.
Now we’re gonna have some fun,
Just me and Baba McGhee.

– Zeke


Date: Thu, 18 Apr 2013 16:27:10
Subject:
So in using a fictitious name…
From: Zeke
To: Sally H. (Jambalaya Publishers)

…for yourself and Zelda, would you prefer that I also use an alias for Jambalaya Publishers?

I’m thinking: “Twosome Press.”

– Zeke


Date: Thu, 18 Apr 2013 16:55:26
Subject:
Re: So in using a fictitious name…
From: Zeke
To: Sally H. (Twosome Press)

Sally wrote:

{{ I asked this, and they said it was up to you! Though “˜Twosome Press’ is very cute! }}

Thank you for looking into this, my brilliant Irish angel. I think I /will/ use “Twosome Press,” since even with name changes, there might be others at Jambalaya with those handles.

– Zeke


Date: Thu, 18 Apr 2013 17:12:08
Subject:
Re: So in using a fictitious name…
From: Zeke
To: Sally H. (Twosome Press)

Sally wrote:

{{ No problem Zeke, happy writing! }}

I envy your vocation: assisting new authors that their dreams might come true.

– Zeke


Date: Thu, 18 Apr 2013 17:15:23
Subject:
Zelda is Beatrice…
From: Zeke
To: Sally H. (Twosome Press)

…and you are Carmen.

– Zeke


Date: Thu, 18 Apr 2013 17:33:58
Subject:
Re: Zelda is Beatrice…
From: Zeke
To: Sally H. (Twosome Press)

Sally wrote:

{{ I love it! I have a good friend called Carmen and I think it is a lovely name! I do enjoy my job! }}

Best job on the planet IMO. Getting my first book published has renewed my appreciation for the printed word…as opposed to electronic cyber-tales.

Though offering your ideas to the world via this relatively new medium, does help in a big way, for reaching many needful souls who otherwise could not afford to buy books.

It’s a two-bladed scimitar!

– Zeke


Date: Wed, 11 May 2023 16:22:34
Subject:
Letter to the Editor
From: Zeke
To: San Francisco Chronicle

Dear Editor,

I am mostly bemused by the rants in yesterday’s opinion section, regarding the so-called “robbing” of our wealthiest citizens…by anonymous hackers who’ve taken over all major financial, military, and government databases.

Will it not be a better world (a much better world), once this wealth is more evenly distributed, that the poor may eat, the homeless get housed, the sick get healed, and gays win ultimate liberation? At least, this is what I understand these mysterious hackers are all about, based on last night’s TV propaganda poised against them by Fox Network.

Already, they’ve achieved the impossible on behalf of world peace, by shutting down all computer interfaces with nuclear weapons and arsenal. And this is only day two!

Think of what we will soon achieve for the sake of brother/sisterly love and mother earth, once the starships from Andromeda land, so they can empower these charitable goals by virtue of hyper-quantum alien technology. Immortality will soon be at the fingertips of every person now alive!

I, for one, enjoy receiving a disability stipend of $150,000 per month (tax free) and full health and dental benefits of the highest quality. Instead of my former paltry income of $1,010 without any dental treatment whatsoever. And a very fragmented health care system that had no preventative services, only emergency.

Please give these celestial beings due to arrive any day now, their fair time under This Brave New Sun. In the past several years, their positive impact has already spread across the entire globe, just from anticipation alone!

Sinqueerly yours,

Ezekiel Krahlin / Larkin Kelsey
Co-Presidents of Athenia, world’s first gay nation
(formerly Northern California)


I, Too, am that Soldier

April 15, 2013

[ Free Me From This Bond (the sequel): Chapter 10 ]

Date: Sat, 13 Apr 2013 19:08:26
Subject:
I, too, am that soldier.
From: Zeke
To: Keith

This is one among 16 illustrations by S. Rohan I find it such a profound masterpiece, exquisite and heartfelt in its rendering.

Gazing upon that image, I desperately want to take that soldier into my arms, and ease his grief. I don’t know who he is, nor do I care. I just want to love him.

Of course, it was created for my Nam Vet lover, Randolph. But it also occurs to me:

We all have battles in our lives, some of which are tragic and filled with deep sorrow. And I guess, Keith, I, too, am such a soldier.

As are you.

– Zeke


Date: Sat, 13 Apr 2013 23:09:52
Subject:
Re: Alien incision scar
From: Zeke
To: Keith

My scar (or scars) is (or are) behind my left ear. Really deep and horrid for many years. I suffered numerous incisions in that area. Now, it all seems to have cleared up, finally. But I believe you can still see the marks there. I’ll show you, next time we meet.

I’ve experienced several alien visitations over many years. Most of the time, it was frightening. But sometimes they appear as benevolent, gorgeous human beings 8-9 feet tall. With a wacky sense of humor.

Don’t know if they’re all the same race of aliens. Perhaps some are my/our allies, who performed surgery on me in order to /remove/ any implants. I can tell you about these visitations when next we meet, as my fingers are too exhausted for much typing right now.

Larkin is an alien, but the very best kind. Definitely here to liberate humanity. And (lucky me) he’s chosen me among over 7+ billions, for his lover. But he sure can be tough on me sometimes! There is a /tremendous/ affection between us two lovebirds.

He is always with me, though usually invisible. He knows about you, and loves you /so/ much for being such a sweet friend. If only I could be with you more often! That would go a long way towards stabilizing my tribulations that have to do with being a spiritual warrior.

Does Gus have any implant scar, too? He’s your protector, like Larkin. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if these two work together, though in secret. That would be a kick in the pants, eh?

Love ya always, you darlin’ fellow!

– Zeke


Date: Sun, 14 Apr 2013 00:09:45
Subject:
Did you actually read my chapters?
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan

Just curious, because in one of your emails you stated:

“I want each canvas (albeit a small one) to possess the whole story it carries, yea, like the mystical Mary Poppins’ tapestry bag before it,”

Seeing as I only required you to draw what I described, and posted you the relevant excerpt. If you /did/ read each chapter, I am not only greatly complimented, but realize that you’ve come to understand my incredible mission to save many LGBT lives across the planet. Which will spill over to the rest of the world and benefit every single friggin’ person that exists, existed, or ever will exist.

Please don’t ask me who I really am: I don’t know myself. Every time I ask God why did he make me such an extraordinary person, he only shrugs his shoulders and comments:

“That’s just the way it is. Get used to it.” My retort:

“So what happened between you and your son Jesus? Did you two break up, get divorced or whatever?” ‘Cause you seem to be spending an /inordinate/ amount of time showering me with tremendous blessings, that perhaps were originally intended for your sole paramour!”

I certainly don’t believe that /I’m/ his son, and have temporarily forgotten (due to amnesiac side effects of alien implantation). Though I do have a theory about that, which I’ve explained in some other essay whose title and location currently elude me.

But I /do/ know that for whatever reason, God has chosen me to play a /great/ role beyond even my own wildest dreams and egomaniac fantasies! To receive so much love from the Universal Mind may require extensive psychotherapy in order to remain sane…or at least, to not let it “get to my head.” Ha ha.

Greatest blessings, “S.”!

– Zeke

PS: Please know that I am just as amenable to perceiving God’s manifestation as Goddess, a dragon, a humble stone in the road, or even the Spaghetti Monster.


Date: Sat, 13 Apr 2013 15:39:09
Subject:
Re: As Each Day Passes
From: Keith
To: Zeke

Occupying the Temple of Panoptica:

“The helots were invited by a proclamation to pick out those of their number who claimed to have most distinguished themselves against the enemy, in order that they might receive their freedom; the object being to test them, as it was thought that the first to claim their freedom would be the most high spirited and the most apt to rebel. As many as two thousand were selected accordingly, who crowned themselves and went round the temples, rejoicing in their new freedom. The Spartans, however, soon afterwards did away with them, and no one ever knew how each of them perished.”

Reference: http://tinyurl.com/helots-article


Date: Sat, 13 Apr 2013 18:48:15
Subject:
Re: As Each Day Passes
From: Zeke
To: Keith

{{ Occupying the Temple of Panoptica }}

Powerful and profoundly tragic. The ancient and classical Greek culture has always been an amazing source of inspiration and meditation for me.

The two images you sent are really fantastic: Drug Enforcement Agency like the Mad Hatter, going insane on their own high of persecution. And the clone joke: ha, ha, they’re all gay!

I’ve printed out the 16 illustrations for my book. Would love to show them to you and Gus…they are exquisite! Actually, I’m just looking for some excuse to hang with you again, Keith.

While I know that Larkin will make everything up to me in only the most noble ways, it will take some time yet. Meanwhile, I’m still in tremendous grief…I can be fine and happy for most of the day, but then I think of him and break down. He has yet to call me, or write to me, or see me…after such a terrible strike against me. Didn’t even offer to buy me a drink when I showed up at Twin Peaks two days ago.

He is /so/ dear to me, I can’t bear to think our friendship may be coming to an end. I cannot live with that. Nor can I live with a partner who’s physically abusive. Either way, it will break my spirit, probably kill me. This is a tremendous cross that’s been dumped on my shoulders, and I really need to not be condemned to being alone just about every day and night.

I know my prayer for him will certainly be answered. But what a difficult passage.

– Zeke


Date: Sat, 13 Apr 2013 19:12:24
Subject:
Re: As Each Day Passes
From: Keith
To: Zeke

I just shaved my head and found the incision marks from the implant that was put in my head (I think by “˜people’ possibly loosely connected to a former “˜xxxxxxxx’ xx x xx xxxxxxxx xxx xxxx xxxxx xxx, but possibly a shadow entity inside one of those xxxxxxxxx) when they drugged me at Folsom Street in 2011. That was the point when things got really fucked up. This is the first time I’ve seen it. I am not certain that this happened, but I really do think it did, or something like a sudden shock of punishment and then I was in jail from then on. But it also seems like it had already started happening a few months earlier. And I can’t figure out what’s really connected to it and what’s just in my imagination.


Date: Sat, 13 Apr 2013 22:01:33
Subject:
Re: As Each Day Passes
From: Zeke
To: Keith

Keith: that’s a big part of what my first book’s about: that I was drugged, robbed and left for dead. See Chapter 12 (“The Phone Call”); it’s all in there:

https://zekeblog.wordpress.com/2012/04/27/the-phone-call/

That’s their modus operandi: that you have no idea if any of this is true, or just your imagination. They are diabolically subtle, and terribly wicked. I have written other articles about this cult, such as:

There’s a Succubus Born Every Minute

http://www.gay-bible.org/truetales/Larkin/FG_06-H.htm

But you will be fine, my dear friend. For there is a greater power that overrides these scumbags, and gives us back our happiness. Which is the main reason we’ve been brought together…finally (in spite of C. B.’s zealous efforts to turn us against each other; which is why I had to be so aloof to you and Gus back then).

– Zeke


Date: Sun, 14 Apr 2013 00:21:33
Subject:
Re: As Each Day Passes
From: Zeke
To: Keith

{{ former “˜xxxxxxxx’ xx x xx xxxxxxxx xxx xxxx xxxxx xxx, but possibly a shadow entity inside one of those xxxxxxxxx) }}

What are all these “xxxx’s” about? Why can’t you tell me? Where did you get drugged…was it in a bar, and which one? I suspect one particular bar, though /all/ the SOMA gay bars are quite dangerous. Why do you think I’ve returned to that area…just to kick up my heels?

I AM A DETECTIVE’S ASSISTANT, AND IT IS MY JOB AND GREAT HONOR TO SMOKE OUT THE SCUM! (Larkin, of course, is the detective.)

Further information that you may have will /greatly/ assist my dangerous work. Even /more/ dangerous than in the past, as I’m embedding myself w/o Larkin’s presence to defend me. But if for some reason you don’t feel comfortable telling me further details, I will respect that.

ALWAYS with only the profoundest love and respect, I remain:

Yours MOST truly,

Zeke


Date: Sun, 14 Apr 2013 00:46:21
Subject:
Re: As Each Day Passes
From: Zeke
To: Keith

Keith wrote:

{{ Fortunately (for my sanity right now) my previous boyfriend of 10 years (btw, “˜bf’ is not the code for “˜xxxxxxx’) made me read “˜Bleak House’ when I was a teenager (though I never finished the last hundred pages) so I know that it is hopeless to pursue any resolution to X-company’s may tarry. }}

For the sake of other potential victims, in addition to yourself, I will /definitely/ pursue X-company demons. I am a /superb/ psychic detective, and /always/ get my man (so to speak). This is now out of your hands. Thanks /so/ much for giving me a lead into this diabolical issue. You need not provide any further info, for me to complete this latest mission.

Just know that YOU WILL BE FINE. And a happy life is your destiny. But certainly not without some occasional hugs and kisses from yours truly.

In greatest affection,

– Zeke


Date: Sun, 14 Apr 2013 00:34:08
Subject:
Re: What did they want from me
From: Zeke
To: Keith

Keith wrote:

{{ Do you know? I think they are aliens. I don’t know why they messed with me. I just want to know what they did to me and why. }}

Keith, I do not know what’s going on. I can only conjecture in a general fashion. Why did you send me those pics of X-company employees? Are they suspects?

Seems to me I gotta find some way to visit X-company. Is this their blog:

http://blog.x-company.com/

What is their address? I find it intriguing that they may /also/ be located in SOMA, just like the infamous gay bars. But there is also an X-company jewelry shop and one or two other businesses named “X-company” in that same district. So it would be a great help if you told me their address.

You’ve just sent me on a new mission, for which I am most eager to fulfill, and thank you with utmost gratitude for confiding in me. You are a /most/ blessed man, from whom I am /most/ ennobled to defend!

I now conclude that it would be /most/ beneficial if you accompany me to Twin Peaks Tavern this Thursday around 2 PM. Larkin is a /most/ righteous guardian, who will do /anything/ to vindicate my /true/ friends. One glance at you by him, and he will know what a kind and excellent ally you are.

What an adventure, eh? I just wanna hold you and kiss you, but you make such a scenario so very difficult, due to your intrinsic caution.

– Zeke


Date: Sun, 14 Apr 2013 02:57:37
Subject:
Again, THANK YOU “S.”!
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan

I have gained SO MUCH wisdom and peace of heart, meditating upon each of your stunning illustrations. But the one that most moves me is the “Chirstmas Soldier.” I weep every time I see it.

THE DRAGON: Oh yes, the dragon! That is my ally and vindicator. And his name is Larkin. And it is Randolph’s warrior spirit that brought him to me. Unbelievable but true; much like Ripley’s Museum. I am so incredibly blessed, I can barely keep from swooning in ecstasy each and every day…if not several times per day!

Your VERY fine art has embellished my extraordinary tales with incredible grace and delight! I look VERY MUCH forward to future collaboration with you. Just so you know: I’ve already completed Chapter 9 of my sequel to “Free Me From This Bond.” I expect it to be no longer than 19 chapters.

But I’m outta money right now. Though I soon expect MASSIVE financial inflow once my first book is published. At that point, the firmament’s the limit!

But that depends on Larkin, who /always/ has the last say in everything.

Except where it counts. That’s my department.

So be really proud of your astounding works under great duress! I nominate you for a Purple Heart, which award you shall receive standing right beside My Randolph, Larkin and myself.

In fact I’m sure that /one/ of us will have the humbling honor of pinning it to your lapel!

With greatest gratitude,

– Zeke


Date: Sun, 14 Apr 2013 09:10:26
Subject:
Funny thing is…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…when I was so bold as to march right into Twin Peaks Tavern when Larkin was there: the /only/ vacant seat in the house was right beside my towering prankster!

As if he /knew/ I had another gift for him (those illustrations), and set the whole thing up. The fukker’s TELEPATHIC! Has occurred too many times over these past 7 years to be anything /but/.

Or I’ll eat my tinfoil beret.

– Zeke


Date: Sun, 14 Apr 2013 08:41:35
Subject:
Furshlugginer blog entry!
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

This is a minor change to Chapter 9, though you’ll appreciate my moxie.

http://tinyurl.com/in-this-fight

See the new image I placed atop, then notice to whom the first email is addressed. And finally, see who responds (second email).

Only a fellow graduate of the Potrzebie School of Slack could come up with such a Mad idea!

– Zeke


Date: Sun, 14 Apr 2013 12:20:44
Subject:
Re: Furshlugginer blog entry!
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ You’ll always be Mr. Mxyzptlk to me. }}

I’m a super villain! A super /duper/ villain to be precise! With emphasis on “dupe.”

– Zeke


Date: Sun, 14 Apr 2013 16:41:17
Subject:
Re: Furshlugginer blog entry!
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ You’re an imp from the Fifth Dimension, fer sher! }}

Larkin’s from the Seventh. He’s the shortest one there; everyone teases him. He has to sit on two thick phone books to elevate his chin above table height.

– Zeke


Date: Sun, 14 Apr 2013 16:52:01
Subject:
Re: Furshlugginer blog entry!
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ Poor little feller. }}

Makes me wanna vomit a rainbow of unicorns and leprechaun doubloons.

– Zeke


Date: Sun, 14 Apr 2013 17:34:56
Subject:
I just posted the following piece to WordPress forums.
From: Zeke
To: My E-frenz

Topic: Thank you WordPress Peoplez!

I know I’ve been a bit irascible at times when seeking help in your forum. Write that off to heavy doses of caffeine and unicorn chocolate. My apologies. But the reason I’m posting is to thank you immensely for providing a most excellent vehicle for hammering out my chapters, which will soon be published by Twosome Press up there in British Columbia (Vancouver Island, where the deer and the cougars range.)

For a while longer (a month or two) you may read this book for free:

http://www.gay-bible.org/free

I have a /fantastic/ illustrator whose drawings shall elevate my novel into a gangbuster bestseller. It will be released in hardcover, paperback, and all the major ebook iterations (Kindle, Nook, SONY, Apple, Google Play and Kobo). To be released in more than 25,000 bookstores and sellers across the globe.

While still existing on a paltry disability income, I will joyfully upgrade to your paid service soon as I make my millions. You will also be glad to know:

I’m already composing the sequel to my novel. In fact, only three weeks into it and I’m already working on Chapter 10!

WordPress is the very /best/ blog service on the entire planet! With much gratitude for all the fine employees and volunteers who keep WP up to such quality snuff, I thank each and every one of you from the bottom of my left ventricle. And wish you the most joyful lives possible, under Our Creator’s wings.

Much <3,

Ezekiel J. Krahlin


Date: Sun, 14 Apr 2013 18:27:51
Subject:
Re: I just posted the following piece to WordPress forums.
From: Zeke
To: Keith

Keith wrote:

{{ I just read this article and all the comments:

Elite Panic: why rich people think all people are monsters
http://tinyurl.com/elite-panic }}

Thanks once more, Lovely Keith, for sharing with me a most important social commentary. Doctorow is a brillant and compassionate man who uses his gifts and influence for benevolent purposes only.

As do you. I can only love you so much more for that. Aaron Swartz’s spirit lives on, and challenges the conscience of the elite and their low-income arse lickers.

I will complete Chapter 10 of Book 2 tonight or tomorrow. I cannot believe how wonderfully blessed I am. But I must also acknowledge your own divine intervention that has been (and continues to be) such a tremendously healing force in my life.

<3 forever,

– Zeke


Date: Sun, 14 Apr 2013 20:27:47
Subject:
Re: I just posted the following piece to WordPress forums.
From: Zeke
To: Keith

Keith wrote:

{{ Before DH Lawrence showed up in Oakland

someone said a spaceship was coming to pick everyone up
he though everyone would like each other
he thought it would be ok
you just have to keep your mind clear }}

As usual, I appreciate your brilliant insight. But I have something important to post you, which will take some time to compose…perhaps a half hour or so from now.


Date: Sun, 14 Apr 2013 20:30:56
Subject:
Re: DH Lawrence @ OAK PUB LIB, eviction day
From: Zeke
To: Keith

Thanks again for all the excellent material. But I will soon take the advice of one of those pieces, which is:

“Don’t be afraid to shut up for awhile.”

I will do that very soon, after posting you my next email. Please don’t send me anything else.

– Zeke


Date: Sun, 14 Apr 2013 23:42:48
Subject:
Why can’t you do the right thing by me?
From: Zeke
To: My Beloved but Misguided Dragon

Larkin: within a day or two, I will present you with a turquoise portfolio containing chapters 6-9 of Book 2.

Turquoise has always been my favorite color since I played with my first Barbie doll. I was simply mesmerized by her gown’s deep shade of aqua-blue. My father was quite upset when he saw me playing with dolls instead of little green plastic soldiers. Not that he confronted /me/ per se, but I heard him arguing with my Mom (in the kitchen while I played w/Barbie on the front stoop). She nipped the matter in the bud with a pert statement in my defense:

“Oh leave him be.”

But I also enjoy certain color combinations such as Howard Johnson’s bold contrast of turquoise roof and bright orange facade. My parents used to take me there now and then, when I was still kneehigh to a ladybug. My favorite repast was their HoJo Burger slathered in a “secret sauce” that tasted a tad spicy with thousand-island undertones. Along with a tall fountain glass of vanilla soda (double squirt on the syrup) and a fat dollop of buttercrunch ice cream.

Howard Johnson’s has long since modernized their appearance by changing the facade from orange to soft white. And I turned vegetarian.

So here is a near-future vision of our next encounter:

“These are the latest chapters of “˜Free Me From This Bond (the sequel).’ I only started writing the novel three weeks ago, so things are moving really fast,” I declare. “You /do/ know what that means, don’t you?”

“Hmm,” You raise a musing hand to your chin. “That /I/ better start moving fast too?” I nod in agreement:

“If you really want this book to have the happiest ending possible.” Then append: “Otherwise I’ll just have to commence Book 3.”

You place a kind hand on my shoulder: “Zeke, I’m racked with guilt for shoving you.”

“Well that’s a hopeful sign,” I quip.

Larkin, you need to sincerely apologize to anyone you’ve hurt in the past. Including David. Who so much loved running back and forth through the old Hole in the Wall Saloon. One day when he saw me growing close to you, he warned:

“Look Zeke. Larkin gave me a titty-twister that I thought at first was just a friendly tweak.” He sighed before confessing the final truth. “But he went beyond that, and didn’t stop till after he caused me great pain.” So I assured him:

“I will confront him when the time is right.” I guess now is finally that time, in this chapter that you will eventually read. But if David is exaggerating (due to jealousy of our friendship or something else), you have my heartfelt apology.

Larkin: you /must/ profusely make amends to those you have caused grief (including certain bartenders). And /that/ is how you can give me back my dignity and complete trust in your friendship. I won’t even demand that you /prove/ such apologies…for I put absolute faith in your respect towards my fervent appeal. You don’t even need to apologize for shoving me, if you do that noble deed.

For when two people love each other so much, as we do: it is required at some point that the one who insists on being the final word, give up his perceived supremacy, and allow his partner to take over. At least, for a time. For this is the balance that measures all future outcomes, and is an utterly /necessary/ mandate if both (or just one) seek a rewarding and eternal bond.

Whether the love is platonic or involves the physical, it’s still the same: it’s love, it’s true friendship. Thus, the same rules apply in both circumstances.

I’m not going to lecture you on how to make things up. You humiliated me, but I will /not/ humiliate you. Also, you should know your powerful thrust on my body /has/ aggravated lower back pain. It is minor, and will clear up in two or three weeks. I thank Goddess it’s not any worse. Though please let me emphasize: shoving someone upon a hard surface such as concrete, could inadvertently cause far more harm than intended.

My back problems BTW, originated by another man I loved, who turned violent. His name is Derrick, or on the streets, “DJ.” He kicked me swiftly (and twice) with his powerful soccer legs as I walked by him in order to pour a glass of milk. Bad enough, but a few moments later while I was talking on the phone, he poked a lit cigarette on my thigh (I had no pants on, just a pair of boxer shorts). Fortunately–because God protects me from real harm–I felt not a smidgeon of pain, nor did the cinders leave a mark.

Though I did admonish: “You’re a bad boy. A very bad boy. If you ever try something like that again, you will lose my friendship forever. Understand?”

After that incident, he came to love me with the greatest affection, and was protective towards me in all ways possible. And we loved each other with a great and wonderful passion. Sadly, I could not handle having him sleep over more than three weeks (or I’d be evicted). So he moved on to Sacramento, and has never contacted me since…even though I told him to, and that I loved him like nobody’s business. Last time I saw him was more than five months ago.

What do I need to do to be your good friend (and perhaps lover): get a black belt in Ju Jitsu? I love you terribly. But maybe I love you more than you do me. Though I doubt this. Can you verbalize at this time, that you love me too? AFAICT, you’ve given me every sign that kicking you in the guts or balls would give me the real respect I merit. But I could never do that, as I cherish you too much. You need to admit with all sincerity:

“Yes, Zeke. You are the best friend in the whole world. Again, I am so /very/ sorry.”

If you do that (or in different, though equivalent words) I will respond while weeping upon your jacket:

“Well, My Gracious Dragon, I kinda knew that all along. Seven long years of caring so much about you has made this moment the most sacred in my entire life. I need you so badly, Larkin.”

Your jacket will become drenched in my sorrow and joy. There is no one so beautiful, so sweet and so very sincere as my lover Larkin. Barkeep Danny visits our table with two free drinks, gratis.

Larkin, you seem to have so much fun with friends and acquaintances…schmoozing and playing pool, softball and bowling. Yet I remain relegated to social isolation. Gossip in gay bars does much damage to my ability to form relationships…especially when there is nobody there to defend me, and show me a nice time. When a patron remains isolated, and people gossip about him, the whole crowd winds up rejecting him and driving him out. Through no fault of his own.

And it grieves me terribly that you seem to have acquiesced to herd mentality, in order to maintain your own favored status. You have sold out. All at my expense, though something I sincerely do not deserve.

Guess it’s time for me to move on. Portland here I come!

– Zeke


Date: Sun, 14 Apr 2013 23:52:21
Subject:
Twin Peaks Revelation
From: Zeke
To: My Soulful Readers

So this early eve (Sunday around 6 PM) I decide to hang in a back table at Twin Peaks Tavern. Which is one of the more recent places that Larkin visits. Though I didn’t meet him there (and didn’t really expect to), I had a lovely time looking over my latest notes, and meditating over “S.””˜s amazing illustrations for my book soon to be published.

Had a sweet (though brief) conversation with barkeep Dennis, an older man of most homely appearance…seemed to be more than 70 years old (dewlap and hanging flesh from his arms and many other places). Told him that my lover comes here frequently, and he most likely knows who I mean.

“His name is Larkin,” I brag.

“Oh, Larkin. Everyone knows Larkin.”

“So,” I enquire, “do you have a boyfriend?”

“No I do not,” he admits. So I respond:

“You’re a very nice man, and deserve one.” I further enquire: “Does Larkin give you any hugs?” (Thinking of course of Larkin’s great affection for his gay brothers, and his pleasure in giving hugs, especially to the downtrodden and rejected.)

“Oh my gosh, I hope not!” he quips. I laugh heartily at his robust retort. So I assure him:

“Some people love Larkin while others hate him. As for those he’s offended, I’ll talk to him, that he may apologize. He does have a bit of a temper.”

I plan to give a pep talk to Larkin next time I see him. And suggest he give Dennis some of his sweet embraces. Then return to my table in the back, go over my notes, and view “S.””˜s fantastic illustrations. I also take some quick pics of the Twin Peaks Tavern, including one of Dennis. [ Note: click on any of the five images below for a larger view. ]

That’s Dennis in the red shirt, his back to the camera:

Interior view of Twin Peaks Tavern:

i finally decide to leave, after two vodka tonics and Larkin’s lack of presence. But upon exiting I come upon an AIDS/cancer activist who is ridiing a stationary bicycle in Jane Warner plaza in order to garner funds. His name is Robert, who has a wonderful son that wrote the following letter (which he hands out as flyers):

Here’s a pic of handsome Robert:

Along with his appeal:

Before I leave Robert, I ask if I can get a hug. We embrace, and my soul is nourished. For a while, but not enough to resurrect my hopes for Larkin and San Francisco in general. So I move on.

Several disappointing adventures ensue as I stroll the Castro before returning home. Which you will learn about further down this chapter.

– Zeke


Date: Mon, 15 Apr 2013 00:10:20
Subject:
Postcard
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Imagined scenario:

When I next meet Larkin smoking a Marlboro outside of Twin Peaks, he “proves” he got my postcard by stating what I wrote on it:

“Testing. Testing. 1-2-3.”

He is correct, but my suspicion lingers:

“That’s not proof,” I challenge. “How do I know you’re not just reading my mind?” (He is highly telepathic, as was proven to me many times over these past seven or eight years.)

Larkin seems taken aback (offended almost) at the implication. His noble brow furrows. I demand:

“I need to actually /see/ the postcard.” Larkin defends:

“But I threw it away. I can’t possibly hand it to you now.” I retort:

“You think you’re such a clever rascal, don’t you?” Nonetheless I defer:

“Seeing as I can meet you once or twice per week here, there is no need to send you my latest messages via the post office. So that’s what I’ll do for now on.” Then conclude:

“Until a new situation overrides the present.”


Date: Sun, 14 Apr 2013 06:30:14
Subject:
I am rebelling against everyone…
From: Zeke
To: Keith

…including yourself. Here’s why:

I hanged out this eve at Twin Peaks, hoping Larkin would show up. Which he never did. So I did my best to chat up other patrons there…all of whom politely rejected me, and returned to conversing with their other friends.

So I finally stepped out to stroll the Castro. Saw a lovely young man about 6-feet-2 and said “Hi.” He totally ignored me, and crossed the street. I found him so lovely, decided to cross the street after him, and once more attempt to have a chat.

He only said, “I’m doing fine thank you,” and crossed back to the other side of Castro Street. As if he were avoiding me like the plague. So I said “Fuk it” and proceeded to walk back up Castro, and amble by your residence.

Look up to see the lights on in the front room, and felt very much /not/ included in your life, ’cause it is so /difficult/ to see you…thanks to your own supposed paranoia and resultant fear of having company over.

Then I sauntered on down Collingwood, walked up 18th Street and crossed Castro Street. Where I met an old semi-friend Brian, who I stopped to check out the marvelous illustrations for my new book. It was windy and chilly, but I was dressed warm. Showed him the first three illustrations before he declared (shivering):

“It’s really cold out tonight. Your images are lovely, but I gotta move on!” So he escaped across 18th while I hollered back:

“No one seems to spend more than one minute with me. I’m used to that. Go fuk yourself.” He looked back, as if I were loco.

Next I walk up Hartford Street and back up to Castro and Market. Where I cross paths with the same cute guy who ran across the street /twice/ to apparently avoid me. And tried once more to strike up a conversation. So I said:

“Hi. How ya doin’ fellow?”

He skipped his handsome body across the curb, and distanced himself. I think he said “Alright,” but he escaped so quickly that I’m not really sure.

Earlier that eve I spotted a very handsome blond-haired dude munching popcorn right outside of Twin Peaks. So I exited the tavern to chat with him. Turns out he’s into posing for porn pics and films, and enjoys occasional meth. Said he had to go now to collect worns at Collingwood Park. So I queried:

“Oh, do you go fishing?” To which he replied:

“Yes. I gotta go now.” So I handed him my business card and declared:

“If you wanna visit, just call me at the number on my card. I’m usually home after 8 PM.”

And off he went. Though I do not expect to ever hear from him again, as I didn’t have the chance to give him my buzzer number, and it’s unlikely he’ll be able to access a phone for some time to come, due to his being stranded and homeless. Whatever.

You, Keith, provide very rare opportunity to actually see you face-to-face. It’s all about email. For which I was glad to, for a considerable time, accommodate. But after tonight’s absurd failure to hook up with anyone, I must tell you:

No more email please. I am totally sick and exhausted from distant friendships that have little to do with anything substantial. You have a /great/ lover in Gus, thus your needs don’t even come /close/ to what I have been suffering for many years. Which is:

Extreme isolation and rejection by everyone around me. In spite of my many (and considerable) efforts to reach out and find friends and (perhaps) a really good lover. Even Larkin (who I love so desperately) continues to evade me except in the most tangential fashion. Sadly, he has yet to make up for his violent attack against me, almost three weeks ago. When I next encounter him, I will announce that he will never see me again…and hand him chapters 6-9. Which mostly discuss his vulgar behavior, and my wishes that he rectify such offenses.

For more than three decades, I have experienced hatred, rejection and isolation by my brothers here in the Castro, SOMA, and everywhere else in San Francisco. Now, I am /through/ with trying in any way, shape or form, to establish friendships. Forget about lovers…I am 62 years old now, and stranded as usual.

Do /not/ send me any more email, Keith. Or I will filter you through my spam settings. If you can’t see fit to see me in person once or twice per week, then I don’t think I can continue any sort of communique with you…email or otherwise. If you can’t get over your PTSD from previous horrors that have hurt you badly, I have to say that at this point, it’s your problem and not mine. I have been through /equally/ nasty attacks, yet have managed to continue to reach out in spite of my ordeals.

No one has /ever/ reached out to me, shown me the patience, kindness and love that I have shown so many others. Including Larkin. Once my book gets published, I will vanish to Portland and have nothing to do with anyone I’ve ever met or cared about, here in this fukked up Baghdad by the Bay.

Think about it. I guess this is goodbye.

– Zeke


Date: Sun, 14 Apr 2013 22:07:46
Subject:
Re:I am rebelling against everyone…
From: Keith
To: Zeke

Those who know how to “reach out” are rich and privileged beyond what my body and temporary experience can comprehend for myself. But ok I won’t talk to you again, rich artist lover man. Empty my garden, see how ferrous i become. bye bye lover. i am a mosquito that never learned to bite. Kill me.

When I was 7 or 8, these weird Jehova’s Witness girls (whose dad was also poor but a survivalist and horticulturist so he fixed up their backyard. BTW. in the Bible Belt, even poor people have backyards, unless you’re REALLY, REALLY BLACK and live in one of the cities vacated when the cars came.) They came and invited my little brother Daniel to ride horses with them. We were poor people. Because they did not invite me explicitly, I thought I was not welcome. So only Daniel went and I was crying in my room all day. When Daniel got back, he said: “You should have gone, everyone was asking about you.”

But that does not change that I was not invited by name.

ZEKE:

I am strong, able bodied, competent, and take instructions well. I have reached out to SEVERAL established queens in this neighborhood ever since the possibly-too-early and most definitely externally (crystal new-age pandora plutocrat-engineered demise of my IT “career.” Including YOU, and no one has taken me up on my offer for help. You have been the closest to answering my requests for work (UNPAID, mind you, I never asked any queen for money in return for my labor).


Date: Mon, 15 Apr 2013 00:34:46
Subject:
Re: I am rebelling against everyone…
From: Zeke
To: Keith

Keith wrote:

{{ I have listened to you so much. I have learned something from every SINGLE FUCKING GOD DAMN word you have written to me personally, or to others where I have been CC’d, or in your blog(s), but soon as I try to start talking to you YOU SHUT ME DOWN AND SAY DONT TALK TO ME AGAIN. What the fuck? Fuck me. FUCKING FUCK ME. I FUCKING WANT TO STOP BEING ON THIS FUCKING FUCKED UP ALIEN BALL. }}

Sorry you feel that way. But I certainly don’t deserve it. If you want a
strictly email relationship, you need to find someone else. I’ve gone the EXTRA MILE in accommodating your wishes to keep things on a
mostly-email-only relationship.

Enough is enough. I have /no/ real friends in this world, other than a few cyberspace allies. How do you think I feel, considering you live barely a block away, and have sent me a couple of sexy videos to view your lovely self?

I just don’t care to be castrated, either sexually of affectionately. And that is what you’ve done while hiding behind a veil of presumed paranoia.

You need to grow stronger and reach out to me as a /genuine/ friend. That is the /only/ way you’ll overcome your present spiritual difficulties.

It is always this way for me: no matter how desperately I try to heal another, they always wind up biting the hand that feeds them.

I get absolutely /no/ credit for taking a stand. So my “friend” dumps me and finds someone else to love.

When all the while I remain their very best friend of all time, yet get dumped in the trash.

<3 always,

– Zeke

PS: Please stop sending me email, and reach out to me in an /authentic/ way. Okay? I’m still up, and will be for another hour or so. PHONE me for god’s sake! I’d LOVE to hear your voice.


Date: Mon, 15 Apr 2013 01:35:54
Subject:
Gay Licks
From: Zeke
To: My Querulous Readers

One of my dreams is to move to Scotland…the Outer Hebrides to be precise. Assuming that my first novel becomes a bestseller, I can afford to do just that. Then I will master the Scottish Gaelic language. Which I understand is the majority tongue for that region. Once I do this, I will compose the rest of my tales in that idiom, and leave it to translation experts to convert them into English and many other languages. But because my first publication will become a runaway bestseller on a GLOBAL level, many folks will take my lead, and learn to speak and write Scottish Gaelic themselves!

As my popularity rises further with the advent of additional novels by yours truly, eventually this dying language will resurge into the international tongue of choice. Including the United Nations and all other diplomatic venues. IOW: Scottish Gaelic will /replace/ English, French, and even Cantonese as the planetary communication of choice. This startling alteration in global consciousness will also play a major role in the rise of the Seven Celtic Nations, and their independence from European dynasties.

That is, I will have accomplished the impossible. Which is to take a dying language and transform it into the planetary language of choice.

How’s that for thinking big?


As Each Day Passes

April 13, 2013

[ Free Me From This Bond (the sequel): Chapter 9 ]

Date: Thu, 11 Apr 2013 23:32:1
Subject:
So I saw Larkin today…
From: Zeke
To: My Avaricious Readers

…at Twin Peaks Tavern, where the only available bar seat is next to him! So I plunk myself down and order a drink while I speak these kind words to Larkin:

“My Beautiful Friend, I am not here to seek vengeance. I understand this is your “˜little spot’ in the Castro.” To my amazement he listens to me (and doesn’t seem the least bit perturbed that I showed up, as if he /summoned/ me here in the first place), so I continue:

“I got you figured out, you scoundrel, you are trying to trick me into thinking I have permission to use your real name.” He grins a bit as I explain further:

“Then when my book is published /with/ your real name, you can just up and sue me!” He doesn’t bat an eye, but listens with what seems to me, great respect. So I forge onward:

“Just to assure you, my little thief of the heart: I changed your name to Arwyn Miles, made you a Welshman, extended your height to 6-foot-7, and gave you a stunning dragon tattoo that wraps about your neck and one shoulder.” Larkin empties his glass of whiskey and Coke, while I continue:

“You will keep your little spot here, I’ll make damn sure of that. In exchange for this latest gift,” and I point to the plastic folder containing printouts of the 16 illustrations for my book. It is transparent, with a frosted surface. But still, one can clearly view the first illustration (for Chapter 1) that my illustrator playfully calls “Snoopy-Doo.”

“In exchange for my gift,” I reiterate, “I want you to allow me to hang out in this tavern two days per week. We don’t even have to talk. We can pretend we don’t know each other, if that suits you.” I have so much more to say, and it looks like Larkin is ready to listen to the whole enchilada.

“Look, I’m a very smart man. One of the smartest on the planet,” I declare while taking another sip of my vodka and tonic. “But I have to admit: you are light years ahead of me. You’re fukkin’ /brilliant/!” He grins from ear to ear upon hearing that.

“Even though you’re plotting to sue me, I still love the trickster in you,” I confess. “I can’t resist your mischievous antics, even when they’re aimed against me!” Still looking forward w/o ever gazing at me directly, Larkin stifles a chuckle. Thus I resume:

“Now, I understand what you’re doing. You probably had a really good reason to shove me.” His ears perk up at that. “It certainly brought all my emotions to the fore! Yet on the human level, I have to say that shoving me was /wrong/. But I also know you will make it all up to me in only the most positive ways.” While giving me his utter attention, Larkin gazes up and through the plate glass window, and at the pedestrians and cars crisscrossing Castro and Market.

“I cannot accept that your pushing me so hard (I could’ve broken an arm or my face) was anything but /wrong/.” I pause a moment to stifle my rising emotion. “You should be /proud/ of me by now. You should introduce me to some of your friends here, and the bartender.” Larkin lowers his head and shrugs a bit.

“And that is how you can make things up to me. Which I’ve described in detail in Chapter 8 of the sequel. I will soon print out chapters 6. 7 and 8, that you may read what I have to say…and what you need to hear.” Since he seems more than happy to receive my opinions, I persist:

“You are a most /beautiful/ man, and it gives me great pleasure just to gaze upon you, even if we don’t even talk to each other.” I just can’t stop with the praise:

“I really need to be in the same environment with you, once or twice a week.” Guess I’m now pleading, but in a mature and responsible manner. “Even if we act like strangers, I so much need to be in your presence now and then. You are a wonderful man, Larkin, and that is why I’m so grieved over our recent (and only) clash.”

“Agreed?” I finish while offering up my folder full of illustrations.

Larkin gingerly accepts, places it somewhere inside his jacket. wishes me a lovely night, and abruptly departs. I say not a word as he vanishes through the door, but simply wonder: “Why does he still not hug me?”

I linger for another drink, enjoying the balmy evening (so rare in Baghdad by the Bay), whence I learn from barkeep Danny, that Larkin is now probably at Pilsner Inn. Well, that’s all I need to hear! So I guzzle down the rest of my hootch, and march on over to Church Street three long city blocks away. And step into Pilsner’s. Sure enough there’s my boy: commiserating in the back part of the patio, with a clutch of young ladies and gents. I seat myself caddy corner on a side bench, about 15 yards away, and light up.

Several times, Larkin walks past me w/o even acknowledging my presence. But each time he passes by I call out:

“That’s right Larkin. Keep ignoring me. You know I love you like nobody’s business, and that will never change!” or:

“You are so handsome and so sweet, I can’t get enough of you!” and (lastly):

“Give yourself a break buddy. You need my hugs even more than I need yours.”

At least I get to behold his tremendously handsome and righteous grace from a nearby distance. I’m tellin’ you El, just gazing upon this darling fellow quenches a thirst from very deep within!

Sometimes he moves up front to play a round of pool. I follow. Sometimes he returns to the patio to schmooze with several patrons. Again, I follow. I had planned to leave ten minutes earlier, but I felt compelled to linger near my platonic muse a while longer. But during one set, I goad him with catcalls like:

“Uh-oh, Larkin’s met his match. Now you /really/ gotta get serious. This dude’s a /pro/!”

But as usual, he turns things around and wins the match. That’s my Larkin though: he never fails to meet my expectation as Ultimate Hero. I can only think of the time (and very soon I’m sure) that he comes around and gives me the most /fervent/ apology for his brutal behavior one recent night. How could he not, when so much compassionate water has passed beneath our mutual bridge, after these many years?

Then I decide I’m sober enough to march on home. But before I depart, I saunter on down to where Larkin is seated at a round picnic table, chatting and seated among several other patrons.

“Larkin!” I state while leaning forward upon the table, “I’m going now. You are an /amazing/ man. I just want you to know that, when I go home to sleep, I’ll be dreaming of you.” And then before turning away, I add “As usual.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Larkin waves a peremptory hand at me, as if I could be dismissed by the slightest breeze.

Then I amble on home to thank Goddess for inspiring me to print out those illustrations, and present them as my latest gift to Mister Everything.

– Zeke


Date: Fri, 12 Apr 2013 01:57:03
Subject:
Your illustrations…
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan

…and what I think of “˜em. Okay, “S.”, I can relax now that my opus has progressed towards the final step in getting published.

1- Snoopy-Doo: what can I say, but: FANTASTIC! This image is gonna become a CLASSIC in literary and artistic history!

2 -The Distressed Whale (“Please be gentle”): OMFG, what an incredibly /unique/ revelation! Fukkin hilarious and /beautiful/ at the same time!

3 -Snackboy: you really did that fine man (who died way too soon) elegant justice. Can’t wait till his mom, Sweet Sue, sees it. I’m sure it will melt her heart.

4- Thalidomide Daddy: you’ve outdone yourself mega times over! BRILLIANT.

5- Big-eyed Angels: amazing. You envisioned the /perfect/ illustration to convey both the humor and the magic!

6- Randolph Taylor (Day 39): I wept over this one. Thank you /so/ much for sharing my burden.

7- Howard’s Cafe: what a gifted perspective! Captured underground comics of the 60″²s PERFECTLY.

8- Dragon w/Tail Wrapped about Transamerica Pyramid: bound to become yet one more classic in artistic/literary history! Extraordinary work, “S.”.

9- Alleyway w/Regrigerator Box: subtle yet embarrassing. What was I thinking of? I didn’t even bring a condom to the streetside tryst!

10- Old Gnarly Lady on the N Judah: OMG, “S.”. I fell off my chair in hilarity! What a POWERFUL yet COMEDIC interpretation! You are truly a master.

11- Corner of Noe & 17 by the VW Jetta: How did you know that Larkin smokes? Great neighborhood ambience. A very subtle but powerful interpretation.

12- The Phone Call: a Princess phone with attitude. My book will make this type of telephone very much in demand! Even for cell phone users. In short: this illustration will cause a resurgent desire for land lines.

13- Quaternity of Poems: such a magnificent interpretation of the brave soldier amid his deceased comrades during the Christmas holiday! I wept numerous times upon viewing it. And still do.

14- Johnnie: I can only say this remarkable rendering is /sure/ to make Johnnie shed some tears over our lost friendship…and patch things up in the most compassionate of ways.

15- My Cluttered Desk: wow! You got it all, girl!

16- Hells Cargo: whoa! This illustration rocks like nobody’s business! Yet another image to become a literary/artistic classic.

– Zeke


Date: Fri, 12 Apr 2013 11:50:14
Subject:
Smoking Dragon
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan

Wow, “S.”! Didn’t notice the swirl of smoke in your “Corner Delivery” illustration, till a moment ago while enjoying the meditation your designs inspire:

!!! IT’S A DRAGON !!!

Exquisite.

– Zeke

PS: Now (between us men) I relieve myself of sperm on a regular basis. (Once a week? Once a month? Twice a week? Every day? Twice or thrice per day? /That/ little factoid you’ll never know! At least, not until the movie version comes out.)

My usual habit is to simply take matters in hand while seated at the desk, and go for the gold. Well, this morning I was pleasuring myself, facing the windows instead of my computer screens. But less than one minute into my self fornication, I suddenly glimpsed one of your images grinning wickedly on the LCD monitors. It was that gnarly ol’, witchy ol’ bag lady on MUNI!

“NO WAY!” I blurted, and immediately jumped outta the chair, pulled and zipped up my pants, and switched the image to Hells Cargo.

I don’t think I’ll ever get a hard-on again. :(


Date: Thu, 11 Apr 2013 22:42:02
Subject:
Touching Bases
From: Zeke
To: Xavier

Hey there Xavier! It was great meeting you and your exellent brother. I’m the man who admired your artwork immensely. If you want to do a portrait of me, as you suggested, I will gladly pay $40.

Wish it could be more, but I’ll be financially strapped for another two or three months…or even longer, if my book doesn’t become the bestseller I believe it will.

You can still read it online for free (for one more month or a little longer), here:

http://www.gay-bible.org/free

Anyways, would love to get together some time soon. You have a brilliant gift!

– Zeke


Date: Fri, 12 Apr 2013 11:39:44
Subject:
Re: Touching Bases
From: Xavier
To: Zeke

I hope it didn’t come off as rude. I would’ve gladly taken twenty to do one of you but this was a portrait of a friend I had just completed. It was great meeting you and i look forward to your book launch. Totally understand the financially strapped thing- Im in the same exact boat- and its not my favorite boat to be in. I’ll take a peek and give you some feedback.

-Xavier


Date: Fri, 12 Apr 2013 12:52:28
Subject:
Re: Touching Bases
From: Zeke
To: Xavier

Xavier wrote:

{{ I hope it didn’t come off as rude. }}

No, I didn’t take it as rude. $40 was /my/ idea, not yours…you did say twenty. Your artwork is brilliant.

{{ It was great meeting you and i look forward to your book launch. }}

Tell you what: I’ll interview you for my blog, take some photos. Seeing as I’m likely to become stupendously wealthy and famous in a short time from now…the whole world will be flocking to my blog. This just might give your career a big boost.

{{ I’ll take a peek and give you some feedback. }}

What an honor. Thanks again, Xavier. See you some time soon.

– Zeke


Date: Mon, 8 Apr 2013 20:20:19
Subject:
RE: As for Larkin maybe taking speed…
From: Carlyle Lambourne
To: Zeke

Ezekiel,

Meth- omigod, that stuff is deadly. I wouldn’t be able to keep a friend who did drugs of that sort. I would want for friends to be more into organic food, grown without pesticides, or to be vegetarians.

To be respecting their bodies and health.

Regards, Carlylw


Date: Monday, April 08, 2013 1:16:02
Subject:
RE: As for Larkin maybe taking speed…
From: Zeke
To: Carlyle Lambourne

…that would not stop me from loving him, or being a good friend. I have /many/ friends on meth, who adore me totally, and do not steal or give me a hard time in any other way.

They may not be able to present a hard-on, but they just love to /hug/ me, even sleep with me in sweet embrace. With our clothes on…no big deal AFAIC. What I have learned over many years:

It is not the substance of preference that cloaks the soul, but who they were before the abuse began.

– Ezekiel


Date: Mon, 8 Apr 2013 17:49:51
Subject:
RE: As for Larkin maybe taking speed…
From: Zeke
To: Carlyle Lambourne

Carlyle wrote:

{{ Meth- omigod, that stuff is deadly. }}

That is only a conjecture, that Larkin’s mean behavior may have something to do with hard drugs. Actually, I sincerely doubt that is the problem. Though you should know:

Not all meth users fit the stereotype. Ones who are my friends are absolutely /no/ problem when they visit me. In fact, they are very sweet, and such good company.

My calling has forced me into a situation where the only real friends are homeless…some of who use hard drugs. I do /not/ have anything to do with those users who fit the goofball stereotype.

My love and friendship has already succeeded in inspiring many drug addicts to go clean. I am very proud of such an amazing ability.

{{ I would want for friends to be more into organic food }}

I do too. But being lower-class financially, I am unable to find such types. This, I’ve concluded, is Destiny’s way of making sure I stick to my calling.

Always great to hear from you, Carlyle!

– Ezekiel


Date: Tue, 9 Apr 2013 20:21:53
Subject:
RE: As for Larkin maybe taking speed…
From: Carlyle Lambourne
To: Zeke

Ezekiel,

Yes, I am very convinced of the power of drugs to alter people’s mood, personality, mental state to a very unnatural degree. Not just hard drugs, but pharmaceuticals, like the Parkinson’s disease medications that one of our friends started taking. He now seems like someone in an institution much of the time, but I suspect that it is the blasted drugs, not the disease.

Same for another friend who messed around with Prozac. He swears that it did good, but his life and mood swung totally out of control when he started that.

Regards, Carlyle


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 06:54:32
Subject:
RE: As for Larkin maybe taking speed…
From: Carlyle Lambourne
To: Zeke

Carlyle wrote:

{{ Same for another friend who messed around with Prozac. }}

Funny you mention Prozac. Once, my therapist recommended it, but I refused. Already knew about its dangers, even while most of the world was still celebrating it like some miracle drug.

Had a friend, Anthony, who moved up to Fort Bragg (Mendocino County), and started taking Prozac. He swore up and down and left and right, what a great medication it is. Now, he’s morbidly obese and looks like he’s about to kick the bucket. He’s 58.

If Larkin started taking speed, that would explain his bad moods of recent. Strange that this drug has /always/ been the cause of my losing a friend. Even if they never used it before in their lives, meth seems to get the jump on me.

Probably because some evil folks don’t want me to be happy. So they seek out any of my friends and potential lovers, and see to it that they are driven away. Speed is a most useful vehicle for that.

– Ezekiel


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 20:19:24
Subject:
RE: As for Larkin maybe taking speed…
From: Carlyle Lambourne
To: Zeke

Ezekiel,

Well, I am one who has never touched drugs of any kind, and never intend to do so. I take lots of vitamins and anti-oxidants, not sure if they help, but last time that I had a blood-chemistry test, they said “Well, we don’t know what you’re doing, but you must be doing something right, so keep doing it.”

Regards, Carlyle


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 18:21:08
Subject:
RE: As for Larkin maybe taking speed…
From: Zeke
To: Carlyle Lambourne

Carlyle wrote:

{{ Well, I am one who has never touched drugs of any kind, and never intend to do so. }}

To be totally honest, Carlyle: I’ve taken meth five times in my life, three times smoked it, and two times “slammed” (which means intravenous). My opinion: “What’s the big deal?”

For while high on the drug, I had the most amazing love for humanity, and wanted to walk up to everyone on the sidewalks and hug them, and say: “Many blessings to you. Know that, even if no one else seems to love you, I sure do!”

Of course, coming down off meth is a horse of a different color. I grinded my jaws for the next two days, spoke very slurred speech, and really wanted to hide from the world.

Ultimately, I concluded: “What’s the big deal? I feel like this at least twice per week, without any artificial stimulant.”

To assure you: I will /never/ mess with any other hard drug (heroin, crack, etc.)…for I respect my limits, and dread becoming a hopeless addict.

Though my calling to reach out to the gay homeless /does/ require some understanding what they go through. Though I further assure you: I shall /never/ mess with speed again.

{{ I take lots of vitamins and anti-oxidants }}

Good for you, Carlyle! But please don’t trivialize or condemn our gay brothers and sisters who /do/ indulge…only because I realize now that hard drug abuse and alcoholism may be a necessary release valve in order to deal with society’s even harsher abuse.

You are most fortunate to escape such dark desperation…if for no other reason than you’ve been blessed with a certain level of affluence whereby your struggles can be cushioned by such good financial fortune.

– Ezekiel


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 21:24:58
Subject:
RE: As for Larkin maybe taking speed…
From: Carlyle Lambourne
To: Zeke

Ezekiel,

It’s great that you “˜ve made the decision to stay drug-free. Drugs have caused so much havoc and destruction for so many people and celebrities. As John Lennon said,

“Don’t let them fool you with dope and cocaine;
Know it can’t harm you, to feel your own pain.”

Regards, Carlyle


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 18:30:08
Subject:
RE: As for Larkin maybe taking speed…
From: Zeke
To: Carlyle Lambourne

Carlyle wrote:

{{ Ezekiel,

It’s great that you’ve made the decision to stay drug-free. }}

Likewise. I even refuse to take anti-psychotic drugs for my PTSD, mania-depression and borderline schizophrenia. And don’t you think I’ve made a /remarkable/ conquest over many horrendous odds?

– Ezekiel


Date: Fri, 12 Apr 2013 21:42:43
Subject:
RE: As for Larkin maybe taking speed…
From: Carlyle Lambourne
To: Zeke

Ezekiel,

Yes, I agree that you should not take any medications. I am fully confident that I am not “borderline schizophrenic” or anything else that people might suppose from my surrealist entertainment or life of improbable intrigue.

Surrealism is not a documentary. It is bitter humor or abstract expression or political agitprop, or a lot of things, but it is not a lack of critical thinking. I feel better grounded in reality and reason than anyone who goes to “church” and takes that nonsense seriously.

Not “depressed” either: suffering only from too much reality contact, lack of illusion, and power of articulation to describe the same, accurately.

Regards, Carlyle


Date: Fri, 12 Apr 2013 19:02:32
Subject:
RE: As for Larkin maybe taking speed…
From: Zeke
To: Carlyle Lambourne

Carlyle wrote:

{{ Not “depressed” either- suffering only from too much reality contact, lack of illusion, and power of articulation to describe the same, accurately. }}

A blunt truth, for which I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

– Ezekiel


Date: Fri, 12 Apr 2013 19:08:44
Subject:
My amazing illustrator!
From: Zeke
To: My E-frenz

She has come busting through at the last moment, with the most extraordinary images imaginable. Just to show you what I mean, I’ve attached the illustration she created for the chapter entitled “Dragon Prophecy.”


Date: Sat, 13 Apr 2013 02:23:13
Subject:
Just want to add…
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan

…that I am /so/ delighted with your soulful illustrations, I’m about to burst with joy. You are a GREAT artist. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Your beloved father did a /fine/ job in training you to be the very /best/.

– Zeke

PS: That horrid bag lady continues to haunt me whenever I attempt to masturbate. My sex life is /over/! Love ya, “S.”.


Date: Sat, 13 Apr 2013 09:48:53
Subject:
Re: My amazing illustrator!
From: Zeke
To: Carlyle Lambourne

Carlyle wrote:

{{ Ezekiel,

Very interesting. Somehow I know that something is going to happen, someday, involving the sea, involving a submarine, that will be a significant event. }}

My writing contains tremendous power that will soon span the globe. I am /so/ pleased with the illustrations, Carlyle! Her dragon is /stunning/. Attached is another one…for a new chapter I inserted at the last moment, called “A Quaternity of Poems.”

It’s a collection of four poems dedicated to my Marine lover Randolph.

{{ If LSD does have anything to do with stimulating parts of the human brain that can touch into alternate or deeper realities, that would be the reason why the Beatles were singing such a weird song like “Yellow Submarine”, when submarines would not have been something that was part of their lives, something that they would never have had much reason to think about.

I often get that impression of LSD-inspired musical creations. I just think that I don’t need LSD, because I have been so often just naturally, already “there”. }}

I totally agree. No one /ever/ “needs” any sort of mind altering substance. Though I must admit: good marijuana stimulates my creative abilities tremendously. And it’s safer than alcohol.

– Ezekiel


Date: Fri, 12 Apr 2013 19:29:59
Subject:
I actually MET Arwyn Miles…
From: Zeke
To: My Spirited Readers

…many years back, say 1987. I was walking down Castro Street when I saw a very /tall/ man (over eight feet): a ripped/muscular dude barreling up the sidewalk as if he suddenly appeared from another planet, larger than earth where everyone and everything was at least 20% bigger. He looked /very/ angry, so I stepped aside as he swooped past me. He had the most glorious, shiny orange hair tousled and thick, and such a perfect physique I thought I’d totally dehydrate from drooling.

He seemed very upset that everything was too small for him (including doorways, people and life itself). Like he was suddenly thrust into a dimension that was way too claustrophobic for his gigantic sort. But he was /hot/ and super handsome, with no doubt a 15-inch kok. And that’s before taking into consideration how copious could be his boner…20 inches or a little more! With a girth so thick, I’d have to apply emergency triage to my tongue before I even finish licking his fleshy crown!

I’ll never forget that most-brief encounter, it was that unique. But several days after morphing Larkin into Arwyn, I suddenly recalled this bodacious giant and realized:

“Hey! That’s my Arwyn.”

Though he lacked a dragon tattoo (wrapped about the neck and one shoulder) back then. But who knows? After so many years he might very well have acquired such a magnificent tattoo.

When I spoke to Larkin yesterday at Twin Peaks, I described his new personna as Arwyn, and remarked that I think I actually /met/ him some years in the past! Could it be that, as my friendship with him fades, giant Arwyn will return to me and replace my infatuation for Larkin with his own glorious self? (I /really/ don’t want to lose My Larkin, ever, and continue to pray for his redemption.)

My boyfriends seem to be getting taller and taller, as I move beyond those I’ve left in the dust, and continue to seek My One True Love.

Dr. Seuss published a book called “And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street.” My own gay version would have it titled:

“And to Think That I Saw It on Castro Street.”

– Zeke


Date: Fri, 12 Apr 2013 20:36:20
Subject:
As each day passes…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…I feel that much more shame for Larkin. That he hasn’t done even one single thing to make up for his crude behavior. This is hell.

Maybe I’m destined to find true love with Arwyn.

– Zeke


Date: Sat, 13 Apr 2013 02:04:57
Subject:
If Larkin should take me to court…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…here is what will ensue:

His attorney will try to convince the judge and jury that changing his name and appearance was not enough to conceal his real identity. Because the places in which he hanged out remained true to their names and locations. And that those regulars who frequented the place at that time, can easily identify the /real/ person I’m writing about. Especially when I portray him in my novel as one who often exclaims: “Aargh! Thar she blows!”

I will weep throughout the entire session, wishing I were dead. This does help (I might say) in garnering sympathy from the audience. To my delight, all jurors were required to read my entire novel, “Free Me From This Bond.” No doubt such a requisite also added to the jurors’ sympathy on my behalf.

I will, however, deny that Larkin was the main subject of my tales:

“The character, Arwyn Miles, is a composite of various men I’ve admired,” I explain. “No way is there any such person that I know of, who actually exists, that matches the profile depicted in my book.”

Well, it’s a long and drawn out trial that goes on for many weeks. During which time I’m on the front pages of all the major newspapers…not to mention those of gay rags across the planet. This garners me additional millions of dollars, ballooning the already-vast royalties I’m presently collecting from my book that is now a runaway bestseller. 51% of which monies I continue to funnel to Larkin, in spite of his vindictive nature.

After 2-1/2 months of being raked over the legal coals, Larkin suddenly stands up before the court and announces:

“I’ve decided to drop all charges. Zeke is the best friend and lover I’ve ever known!”

With that, he pops out a wedding ring, bends one knee before me, and proposes. Of course I accept.

And the moment the ring is placed on my finger, Randolph Louis Taylor leaps out from behind the judge’s bench, to likewise ask my hand in marriage.

I’m such a royal fuk-up, what can I say, El?

Love ya,

– Zeke


Date: Sat, 13 Apr 2013 10:14:12
Subject:
Re: If Larkin should take me to court…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ And the judge will marry the three of you, then dance on his/her desk, along with the entire courtroom, to the tune of “Factory Girl!” }}

Crikey!

Attached is S.’s illustration for Chapter 15 (“A Quaternity of Poems”). I added that to my book, and removed the Carlyle Lambourne chapter. It’s composed of four poems to my Marine lover, Randolph.

Twosome Press is now working on the book cover. I hired one of their in-house artists for that.

– Zeke


Date: Sat, 13 Apr 2013 11:30:13
Subject:
Re: If Larkin should take me to court…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ The illustrations are superb! }}

I am SO happy! We make the perfect team. Put my complete trust in her, paid her the FULL AMOUNT in advance, $940. Plus I give full copyright retention on all these drawings, that she may use it for whatever (galleries, T-shirts, mugs, etc.), and she will get $1,000 for each $10,000 from book purchases. In perpetuity.

Can you imagine all those illustrations in big demand, due to FMFTB becoming a slamdunk bestseller? Hoodies, cards, flags, keychains, schoolbook dust covers, and on and on and on it will go. My story is a never-ending story!

!!! I’M GONNA HAVE A FRANCHISE !!!

– Zeke

PS: And /your/ book that I mention right at the beginning will SKYROCKET in sales!


Date: Sat, 13 Apr 2013 11:43:38
Subject:
Re: If Larkin should take me to court…
From: Eleanor
To: Zeke

Gee-haw!!!!


We are in This Fight Together

April 12, 2013

[ Free Me From This Bond (the sequel): Chapter 8 ]

Date: Mon, 8 Apr 2013 17:21:49
Subject:
Bending Some Rules
From: Zeke
To: Potrzebie School of Slack alumni

I have now decided to overlook those email exchanges that require me to make alterations from email into conventional print. Such as revamping emphasized words or phrases from surrounding “/” demarcations into italics, or changing uppercase emotional declarations into lowercase (and converting them into italics). Et cetera. Grin and bear it if you must, but I truly doubt any difficulty in comprehending the gist of these messages. Of course, I shall continue to correct any egregious typos, that you may read these electronic communiques with reasonable ease.


Date: Mon, 8 Apr 2013 17:29:04
Subject:
Re: Bending Some Rules
From: Alfred E. Neuman
To: Zeke

Zeke wrote:

{{ Grin and bear it if you must }}

What, me worry?


Date: Mon, 8 Apr 2013 17:58:36
Subject:
Re: Pass 1?
From: Zeke
To: Beatrice (Twosome Press)

I have years’ experience proofreading myself, so I’ll just skip that offer. Also: I make up a lot of new words and phrases, which might confound a proofreader other than myself. Also, I write using the “common tongue”…which includes typing “who” even though “whom” is grammatically correct, et cetera.

There is also the matter of emails composing a large part of my chapters. I like to keep the original errors in many cases, for the sake of authenticity. This helps to clearly distinguish email passages from the conventional literary passages.

I also prefer to break other rules of grammar–such as sentence structure–as a playful way of challenging my readers. Those who are well versed in English appreciate how I convolute these parameters to come up with original styles and phrases…some of which will eventually be incorporated into our lexicon. A la Lewis Carroll.

So much for my bragging.

But even if I felt an outside proofreader would be a boon, I cannot afford any additional fees at this time. However, if my first novel becomes a bestseller, I will certainly take that into account for future publications.

– Zeke


Date: Mon, 8 Apr 2013 19:01:19
Subject:
2nd Reminder!
From: Zeke
To: Keith

I really really hope you can make it tomorrow, Darling Keith! Love to treat you to a nice lunch before we hop on over to glorious SOMA. That means you’d need to show up at 2306 by 1 PM (instead of 2). This would also mean dining at either of two places:

1) Chinese restaurant on Church Street near Market, where I enjoy once in a blue moon, their Sweet&Sour Fish. Though the plate is twice as large as I can consume. What I’m suggesting here, is we split a plate to give us each a modest lunch. Of course, I will gladly cover the price of your own drink, along with the tip. I do have the extra moolah, and I know you are living on unemployment.

2) A really neat Belgian bistro on Valencia Street, which not only serves amazing waffles, but wholesome crepes made of buckwheat and filled with European cheeses and freshly grilled veggies.

Either place is on the way to SOMA, assuming we walk there.

Sound good to you? Just so you know: I’d be TREMENDOUSLY HONORED to show you a wonderful day, then bring you back to amazing Gus, your personal guardian angel!

If you invite me in for coffee, tea or wine for a half hour or so before we end the day, that would be a plus!

– Zeke

PS: Larkin is now showing signs of remorse. Suffice it to say that I got him by the balls now, and it’s only a matter of E=mc[2] before he caves in totally, and pleads with tears for my hand in marriage. For the details, you must wait until I release Chapter 8 of the sequel. In 3 or 4 or 5 days from now.


Date: Mon, 8 Apr 2013 19:01:19
Subject:
You might get a letter…
From: Zeke
To: Carmen (Twosome Press)

…from my wonderful lover, Larkin. It is his signed permission as “Larkin Kelsey.” But I only found this out today, many days after I revamped the novel to give him a new name (Arwyn Miles), convert him from Irish to Welsh, make him three inches taller so he’s now 6-foot-7 (seeing as his amazing height is intrinsic to the storyline, I certainly couldn’t make him shorter), gave him a bold dragon tattoo that wraps about his neck and shoulders, and turned his hair from fiery auburn to copper gold.

Anywayz, I think you might get a permission form from him shortly. Unless, of course, he decides to hand or mail it to me. What can I say? Larkin constantly throws challenges at my feet, to make me a better man. Including (obviously) a better author.

I almost like Arwyn better than Larkin…because the taller the fellow, the more passionate my urges…ha-ha! So please let me know ASAP if my Magic Detective sends you that slip. Then I must decide whether or not to bury Arwyn and resurrect Larkin; or just simply keep things as they are right now. Which is the fictitious character.

Love is king.

– Zeke

PS: This email and its exchanges will likely appear in the sequel…of which 8 chapters I have thus far completed. Much to my delight. Love truly /is/ wing-ed!


Date: Tue, 9 Apr 2013 09:43:24
Subject:
Re: You might get a letter…
From: Zeke
To: Carmen (Twosome Press)

Carmen wrote:

{{ It is great that you managed to so effectively create a new character! }}

Two Larkins are better than one! 0_o


Date: Tue, 9 Apr 2013 11:27:06
Subject:
Re: 2nd Reminder!
From: Keith
To: Zeke

Dear Zeke, I am a little nervous about going out to the bar right now, even though (or maybe because, haha) it’s daylight out. I don’t want to flake completely though, so I would like to invite you to come over for some iced tea or hot tea (or water or juice) in the backyard before you head out to soma. I’m sorry it’s such short notice. I think very soon (I hope, haha) I will be less nervous about being out around people in public. i need to get up the nerve so I can go swimming when the pool opens up, since I am quitting the castro gym. Then I will be able to go out to bars anytime someone asks and I feel like going.


Date: Tue, 9 Apr 2013 12:16:02
Subject:
Re: 2nd Reminder!
From: Zeke
To: Keith

Keith wrote:

{{ Dear Zeke, I am a little nervous about going out to the bar right now, even though (or maybe because, haha) it’s daylight out. }}

That’s why I enjoy the darkness of Satan’s Lair…oops, I mean “Hole in the Wall.” (How did /that/ ever slip out?) I, too, am photophobic. And I think that’s because we contain in our genes, the stuff of fairytales…in which certain magical beings come out at night and rest or sleep by day.

So it’s okay if you don’t want go out with me today.

{{ I don’t want to flake completely though, so I would like to invite you to come over for some iced tea or hot tea (or water or juice) in the backyard before you head out to SOMA. }}

Sure, I’d love to. Just let me shut down the ol’ computer (this wonderful invention that has enabled me to reach out to the entire world, in spite of my very low income), get my shoes and shirt on, and I’ll be there! In 15 minutes.

– Zeke


Date: Mon, 08 Apr 2013 19:56:09
Subject:
Re: Wedding Vision Makeover
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ It’s quite an intense and lovely vision. Not just a beautiful gay wedding, but a plural gay wedding! That’ll make some pointy heads spin!!!!

Meanwhile, here’s this:. Roger Ebert was a good friend of mine. I knew him back before he was famous. Just recently, we’d had a great renaissance of our friendship, and he was posting links to my writing on his Twitter (800,000 “followers”) and Facebook (100,000 “friends”). Thanks to Roger, I was getting all sorts of wonderful attention and morale-boosting. Today was his funeral in Chicago, alas, and look who wanted to crash it:

http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/westboro-baptist-church-picket-roger-434594 }}

In a sort of bizaare way (though /significantly/ so) I’d be HONORED if my own funeral were picketed by those Westboro Baptist Deviants. AAMOF I’ll conclude right now that I must’ve done something /wrong/ if they don’t!


Date: Fri, 12 Apr 2013 17:27:34
Subject:
Forgot to tell you…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…that upon my latest encounter with Larkin, he sincerely and with great gentleness, took my hand and placed another green chit between my fingers. (In fact he leaned his gaunt six-foot-four frame into me and sighed.) It contained that same number that I believe is actually a San Diego zip code. Not that it really matters to me, since I already saved the number to my hard drive.

So I purchased a post card this afternoon, at a Haight Street gift shop. Attached to this email are two images: front and back of said card. Several days later I will ask Larkin if he got it, and what I wrote on the back. Let’s see how things go down.

Of course, the card’s reference to “Junkie” is an implication that his recent, mean behavior is due to his use of meth, or other hard drug. Larkin has quite a sharp mind, so I doubt he’ll miss the connection.

El, I truly hate to think this is the end of a many-years’ friendship with much adventure and divine revelation. But I believe that if he’s really sincere about making things up to me (after shoving me so hard), he’d at least buy me a drink at Twin Peaks or Pilsner inn, as well as phone me and/or send a lovely letter.

But so far I’ve received zilch in that regard. Also: he continued to treat me like a nuisance at Pilsner. Though with /some/ concern…but only enough to raise my hopes without any real commitment. For he never invited me to join his friends on the patio, nor reached out to me when I watched him play billiards.

It is especially difficult in my case to drop someone I love so much, when all signs indicate I should. I have no true friends, only several kind acquaintances. To be honest, I have better friends via cyberspace (such as yourself and Carlyle Lambourne) than I do in meat space. This has been the case since Destiny eradicated my best friend Marvin and my beloved Randolph in the same year: 1992. Since then it has been impossible to make new friends, other than those who are merely passing through San Francisco, or those who reside here for one or two years, then move on.

If Larkin ultimately fails me, I must regard this as my “last hurrah.” In the sense that courting another man for a friend or lover, will be something relegated to the dust bin. I am not the type who can live on w/o any real friends after so many years of rejection, isolation and (I must admit) real violence or threat thereof.

Should I move to Portland, I will nonetheless be rather lonely. With only my fantasies to sustain me. Though at this point, even my fantasies wear thin.

– Zeke


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 10:02:26
Subject:
More hard work ahead…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…possibly. Even if the book gets pub’d with a fictitious name for Larkin, I’d still appreciate his signed permission. Which he said he would give me, two days ago (another confrontation I’ll tell you about this evening)…and he’d mail it off to Twosome Press. But since I’m sending out the finalized manuscript in two days, I really don’t have the energy to revamp his real name/description back into the tome.

Nonetheless, his signed permission will then allow me to keep his /real/ name in the online version. Otherwise I must pick apart 14 chapters and convert him into Arwyn Miles. No easy task, since I cannot simply copy-and-paste from the manuscript.


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 11:14:55
Subject:
Important revision to New Author Questionnaire
From: Zeke
To: Beatrice (Twosome Press)

Larkin can’t decide whether or not to use his real name, so we agreed to go the fictitious route. He is now “Arwyn Miles.” The only change remaining, is the first paragraph of the “About the Book” section. Like so:

This novel is an epic real-life adventure/bromance about a gay street activist from San Francisco (Ezekiel Krahlin), who falls in love with (and becomes a sidekick to) a remarkable and incredibly handsome gay male (Arwyn Miles) who the author eventually concludes is a detective out of Orange County, California…and perhaps even his guardian “dragon.” Whether this is fact or not remains to be seen, as the adventure continues beyond the book’s conclusion. However, the many true tales woven around these two (mostly instigated by Arwyn himself) certainly gives credence to the author’s interpretation.


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 15:27:55
Subject:
Important revision to New Author Questionnaire
From: Zeke
To: Beatrice (Twosome Press)

Beatrice wrote:

{{ Thanks, Zeke. I have gone in and made the change in your About the Book text. }}

Supercalifragilistic-fantastic!


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 18:42:39
Subject:
wow thirty (30) unread e-mails
From: Sean H.
To: Zeke

I’ve finally gotten the computer fixed (@7 replaced with XP) and gotten my crippled connection speed back. It was only 14 kbps. Now it’s 49. The combo of a corrupt OS and infected memory stick hampered the modem apparently. Horde wouldn’t even let me access my e-mail.

As much as I appreciate GOCT, they’re a little screwy.


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 15:44:05
Subject:
Re: wow thirty (30) unread e-mails
From: Zeke
To: Sean H.

Sean wrote:

{{ I’ve finally gotten the computer fixed (@7 replaced with XP) }}

Excellent. I do hope it’s the “tablet” version, so you can still draw directly on the screen. Enjoy my messages.

Wondering if you’d be interested in drawing 3-7 illustrations for my “special edition”. I want to create a 2nd heavily illustrated version, with a different artist for each chapter. The images will be small, 3×2 inches or close to that.

You see, my illustrator has not completed all her drawings, and today is the absolute deadline. For I /must/ upload the finalized manuscript by April 12. So I decided that it would be really /hot/ to publish a special edition with her illustrations at the top of each chapter, and other artists’ work scattered about within each chapter. This of course, assumes my first book will be a bestseller.

I would pay you in advance, of course: $20/per. Plus an equivalent percentage of the royalties, based on the number of images. For example: 2% of my profits in perpetuity (for as long as the book sells).

But that’s still some time in the future, a few months to a year from now. I’d just like you to think about it.


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 17:01:42
Subject:
Re: wow thirty (30) unread e-mails
From: Zeke
To: Sean H.

Sean wrote:

{{ and gotten my crippled connection speed back. It was only 14 kbps. Now it’s 49. The combo of a corrupt OS and infected memory stick hampered the modem apparently. Horde wouldn’t even let me access my e-mail. }}

I don’t understand why so much malware infects your system, Sean. I use Avira antivirus, which is most excellent…and absolutely free. Porn sites are the greatest offenders, though with Avira you shouldn’t have a problem.

Works on Windoze XP. Here’s the URL for the freeware version:

http://www.avira.com/en/download/product/avira-free-antivirus

{{ As much as I appreciate GOCT, they’re a little screwy. }}

Just a little. Remember: they work on a shoestring budget, and it’s very difficult these days to find an inexpensive ISP that still provides dialup connections.

At any rate, the bimbo that put Windoze 7 on your system should be drawn and quartered. I don’t care how much /better/ that OS version is…it is still a very /bad/ idea to install it on a system designed for XP.

Anywayz, /so/ glad to have you back in cyberspace!

– Zeke


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 18:09:24
Subject:
So two days ago…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…another confrontation with Larkin ensued.

Crossing Market Street towards Twin Peaks Tavern I see him hanging outside, assuaging his frequent nicotine obsession. So I walk by him just as if he doesn’t exist anymore. Yet he smiles broadly, stretching an arm out to give me the ol’ knuckle-bump between buddies.

“Hmm,” I think, “no hug, just a fist bump. How very /not/ sincere, as if we are mere acquaintances and nothing more.”

So I move on to the corner and wait for the traffic light to turn green. Doing all I possibly can to keep from breaking down in a flood of tears amid a flurry of crisscrossing pedestrians who don’t give a flying fuk about who I am or what I’m going through. He calls to me:

“Zeke! Wait! Please wait!” he pleads.

My legs tremble. I am so sad and flustered that I suddenly lean hard against the 3-foot concrete divider that demarcates Jane Warner Plaza. He comes right up beside me. I look straight ahead through my dollar shades, because I cannot bear to look him in the eye.

“Zeke, I’m /so/ sorry for pushing you. I was feeling rotten and really needed to be alone.”

For this moment, my heart leaps in stifled joy. But just as quickly I come crashing down when he adds in the next breath:

“But you refused to leave. You screamed at me for 15 minutes. FIFTEEN minutes!”

I lower my head in grief, staring down at my knuckles pressed against the cold stone divider: they are red with fury. And declare to no one in particular:

“I DID /NOT/ YELL!” (Except of course the last five seconds when he ran back to Twin Peaks and I hollered, “You’ll never see me again! You’ll never see me again!” At which point he flipped me the bird and shut the door behind him.)

“Fifteen minutes,” I think to myself. “Like that means anything compared to hours spent each day at Twin Peaks and other places among your so-called friends. Asshole.”.

“YOU PUT FEAR OF YOU IN MY HEART!” I blurt into the windy air. I catch his recoil to this utterance from the corner of my eye. Breaks my soul to speak such bitter truth. My tears begin to flow.

“So you won’t accept my apology?”

“That was no apology, Larkin. I had EVERY GOOD REASON to confront you!” I yank off my sunglasses to wipe away the tears, then quickly put them back on.

He then extracts from an inside pocket, a small rectangle of green paper with nine digits on it. And hands it to me. The chit reads:

“92142-xxxx”

He explains: “That’s my address. You do have my name?”

“What a stupid thing to say,” I think. But reply: “Of course. Larkin Kelsey.”

“Good. Just write my name and this number, and the post office will get it to me.”

“The post office will do that?” I query, “without any real street address?”

“Yes. I have your package, and your letters,” assures Larkin. “But please DO NOT send anything else to Twin Peaks. Or it will be returned to you with the word ‘deceased’ stamped on it.” (The package BTW contains the first five chapters of my sequel to “Free Me From This Bond.”)

“No, that’s mail fraud,” I comment, looking straight ahead at a woman crossing the street with four yapping chihuahuahs. “Better to cross out the address and write ‘return to sender’.”

“Look Zeke, this is my little spot in the Castro. Please don’t blow it for me.”

Of course my reaction is the following, though I did not speak it aloud: “You /deserve/ to be booted outta there, for the awful way you’ve treated me recently. I have /no/ ‘little spot’ to enjoy the day. People are mean to me and do not allow me any respite, unless I return to my crummy room and keep to my own idle wishes.”

Instead I blurt with great anger: “THIS IS /MY/ TURF BEFORE IT’S EVER YOURS OR ANYONE ELSE’S!” Ready to punch him in the face, I continue in a thundering declaration:

“Your turf is SOMA. I’m /fighting/ to bring you back there!”

Again taken aback, Larkin pauses then remarks: “Do /not/ send me one more fukkin letter to Twin Peaks!”

Pocketing the green slip he handed me, I shrug: “Oh, not to worry. I have nothing more to send you. Our friendship is OVER.”

Larkin suddenly vanishes, no doubt stepped back inside the bar. I wait for the green light, but when it changes, decide to purchase another pack of ciggies at the shop two doors down from Twin Peaks, same side of the street. (FYI: I gave up smoking 30 years ago, but resumed in early 2012. And I really /enjoy/ tobacco more than ever…along with getting a little drunk each day. Blame it on Larkin’s nerve wracking challenges, or blame it on the Marines: I’m thinking here of Randolph Taylor.) I then walk by his tavern once more on my way hovel. Hoping of course, that Larkin would run back out again, stop me and /sincerely/ apologize this time. But what /would/ I accept for an apology? This:

That he stop treating me like a pariah, invite me into Twin Peaks and introduce me to the bartenders and any friends that might be there. He should be damned /proud/ of me at this point, El! In fact, he should be the happiest man on the planet, for my devoted friendship. And that he no longer avoid me, that he’s /always/ glad to see me whenever our paths cross. That he call me up frequently because I make him /so/ happy. That he invite me out once or twice per week, where we can spend quality time over a cup of caffeine or cocoa. A half hour each week would be a good start.

Of course, he never does run back out, and I slog on back to 2306, and the dump I call home. To tell you the truth, El (and this is a funny thing to say): I wouldn’t have it any other way! For I know /exactly/ what this trickster is doing:

Creating our first lover’s quarrel, that I may stand proud in my own dignity, and establish authority over what needs to be declared. And just what is this declaration? That I love him so much, my heart breaks over the thought, the possibility, that I might lose this darling vixen forever. If this man is not wondrously loved by yours truly, I’ll eat all my hats, and those of everyone else in the world.

But get this: he actually /did/ step out and yell some things to me which I don’t remember in my vexation. As I walked away with my back to him (not even turning around for a nanosecond) I hollered:

“I’M MOVING TO PORTLAND IN TWO MONTHS! GOOD RIDDANCE! GOOD RIDDANCE!” And waved my right hand several times behind me, for emphasis.

Upon returning to my SRO I googled the number “92142-xxxx” to discover that it’s a San Diego zip code.

“The little devil,” I think, “Sending him any letters to that address will just be returned to me! That must be his old address from when he lived in Orange County. Or worse yet, their police department! I can just imagine what they’d think: “˜Oh, Larkin has a new boyfriend!'”

I first decide to put my sandals back on, and confront him once more. Then I think better of it, and conclude:

“No way. He’s not worth the trouble.”

But some minutes later I muster up the chutzpah and march back on down to Twin Peaks Tavern (green slip w/zip code in my left pocket). He’s not in the Tavern, but then I see him marching some old drunk queer back up Castro Street, speaking:

“You’re too drunk, young man. Get back in the bar and we’ll call a taxi!” Then he sees me and adds:

“Ignore him! Just keep moving! Ignore that man!”

I yank out the green slip and assert: “Larkin, this is a San Diego zip code! Ha ha, very funny. A barrel full of monkeys!”

He crouches down to look me in the eyes through my sunglasses. (Once again I almost swoon at those smokey orange irises.) And I declare:

“Can’t you give me a /real/ address for god’s sake?”

He pauses, grabs the chit from my hand and remonstrates (pointing at the numbers):

“Look, this is a /box/ number. You can send me anything to this number, and I’ll get it!”

“Well,” I admonish, “you certainly didn’t explain yourself very well!”

“Honest, Zeke. It’s a mailbox number!” he replies and attempts to place the green slip back in my hand. I refuse, so he tosses it onto the sidewalk and departs into Twin Peaks, drunk geriatric on his arm.

Upon returning hovel, I realize I shoulda saved that green chit and scanned it for my next blog entry. Then it occurs to me to check out my Firefox browser’s “history” sidebar. Lo and behold: there it is! The number in this email is /precisely/ the one Larkin gave me. So tell me this, El:

Do you think it’s even /remotely/ possible that this is a real P.O. (or other) box number? I think it would be a terribly /weird/ coincidence that a mailbox number would be an exact match for a zip code address! He also told me this (in our latest encounter, and of which I am highly suspicious):

“I will sign your request to use your real name, and mail it off to your agent.”

Told My Vexing Sweetheart that the finalized manuscript will be uploaded by April 12 (four days from then). So obviously, it’s too late to change back to his real name. Though by the next day I figured out his real motive:

Larkin wants to /trick/ me into believing I have legal agreement to use his real name. In hopes I’d go ahead and use his true monicker, even though I have no /real/ proof of permission. Then, he can sue me in a most facile manner. The nasty cur! Yet– strange as this may sound–I’m enjoying the /heck/ out of his trickery! What a /brilliant/ game player of life! So, El, here is what I think is /really/ going on:

My Angelic Devil is acting according to script: creating a romantic drama that I may compose the most /wonderful/ love story to ever grace this struggling planet! Of course he loves me with intense passion. He just wants to give me the greatest ride of my life. And I love him /so/ much more for that!

Does our blazing relationship remind you of Ignatz the Mouse and Krazy Kat? Where, of course, I play Krazy Kat.

– Zeke


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 18:50:53
Subject:
Xmas Letter
From: Zeke
To: Joyful Reader

Jeez, how could I forget to include this letter to Larkin that I enclosed with my Xmas 2012 gift. Which I presented to him while standing just outside Twin Peaks Tavern, Xmas eve:

My Sweetest Friend of All Eternity:

Every time I see you, I think upon it later and wonder: “Is this the last time I will ever get to gaze upon his wondrous mug?” So I guess you’re right, Larkin.

Life does, indeed, suck.

The very thought of you ever leaving my world for good, just tears me apart. I really can’t imagine how I’d ever go on without Your Darling Presence…even if just now and then, or once in a blue moon.

This is all I have ever known: those I dearly love are soon stolen from me, either because of survival issues or the demons of despair intervene. With my every breath, I pray that our friendship will be the exception, finally. But I have indeed prayed such, for many elegant and heroic men that came before you…including My Incredible Randolph Louis Taylor.

Thus far, Satan has always won.

I guess we are in this fight together.

I hope this doesn’t come off like a guilt trip. But I sense very STRONGLY in my heart, how important it is to tell you this, right now.

Should I be ashamed or proud? Perhaps the final answer to that, lies within your own Dragonly Soul. But you do have a way of bringing out the very best and most divine in me. So because of this, I’m pretty damn sure I’ve been doing the right things all along.

Kisses & wishes with a whole lotta fishes,

Your Beloved Gene/Zeke from Holy Ghost in the Wall.

PS: Just getting a hug from you is the most wonderful dream I could ever imagine, you are that lovely and inspiring to me! Heaven is most certainly, in your arms. Clothing optional. So hold me in your sweet embrace, Larkin, next time and EVERY TIME you see me. I promise: you will only have my uttermost love and friendship ALWAYS. It will only get better, never worse. And it will last for all ETERNITY. I will NOT disappoint. Or money-back guarantee!

But if you should decide you want nothing more to do with me, I will have no choice but to wish you the very best. Though I assure : I shall weep a mighty waterfall every single fukkin day for the rest of my sorry life.

So there you have it. Don’t you wish you had a lover like me?

– Zeke


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 21:13:13
Subject:
Re: Dinosaur Joke
From: S. Rohan
To: Zeke

Zeke wrote:

{{ Everyone loves a good dinosaur joke!

Q: What do you call a gay triceratops?

A: Tricerabottom.

(badda boom, badda bing) }}

Good one. So what do you get when you cross an elephant and a rhinoceros? ELEPH-I-NO!!

I had to pick up a new scanner, should have it fired up here in a minute! I’m pretty excited…


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 18:27:11
Subject:
Re: Dinosaur Joke
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan

“S.” wrote:

{{ I had to pick up a new scanner, should have it fired up here in a minute! I’m pretty excited… }}

Sorry to tell you, but today is your deadline date: April 10. I will send out my finalized manuscript in a few hours…without your fantastic illustrations.

As I noted earlier: I think Destiny prefers that I stand alone with my first publication…for reasons which have to do with getting the recognition I so well deserve.

But (as I also mentioned previously), I want to publish a “special edition” that will include your images, along with that of various other authors. Assuming of course, that my first book becomes a bestseller.

Which I’m sure it will!

Now, you can complete your drawings with no pressure whatsoever. When you’re ready, I will be tremendously honored to receive them. And will make sure that you also get the recognition you so strongly deserve, being the struggling artist you are.

– Zeke


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 20:45:33
Subject:
Re: So two days ago…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ 92142 is indeed a San Diego zip code. Doesn’t make any sense at all. Does he have a mailbox in San Diego? Maybe he does, and stuff gets forwarded to him in SF. Did he used to live down there?? }}

Yes he did, Dear (and I only call you “Dear” with the greatest affection and respect). Larkin lived in San Diego until his lover died of virulent cancer. So you can see why he behaves w/bitterness whenever someone tries to get close to him (including yours truly, I might interject).

{{ The encounter sounds sad and exciting at the same time. God, but you “expose” yourself to Life (with a capital “L,”) don’t you? But that’s why you’re the writer that you are. }}

I am /so/ blessed to have such a fine friendship with you, El! I look /so/ forward to meeting you in person, some day very soon.

Most sincerely,

– Zeke


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 22:49:23
Subject:
Re: images 1-3
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan

Pretty nice. But none of them match up to the quality of the “draft” version you showed me of “Snoopy-Doo.” I can only conjecture that your recent tragedies have thwarted your artistic talents for a time. BUT LET ME SAY THIS:

You now have all the time in the world to complete every illustration with the brilliance you showed me, in your drafts!

I really mean this, Sid: I will publish a “second edition” that will feature your work above and beyond anyone else’s.

So please, just take a breather. Have a /beautiful/ next day, and remember:

Gloria isn’t the only good friend in your life. What say we go out for brunch some day soon (my treat including tip), and just shoot the bull…w/o anything to do with your remarkable illustrations for my book! Okay, little darlin’?

– Zeke


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 23:09:30
Subject:
Re: 8-10
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan

“S.” wrote:

{{ …here’s more }}

THEY ARE NOT UP TO SNUFF, based on the drafts you showed me some weeks back! Except perhaps the delightful dragon you drew for Chapter 8 (Dragon Prophecy). Obviously–instead of stretching over the months through your trials and tribulation–you finished off most of the illustrations at the last moment.

I am way too busy finishing off my final manuscript, for spending /any/ time over your illustrations. Let it go, but know I have your success at heart. Just not for my first book, but for a “special edition.”

You know wherein your drawings have fallen short; I need not explain further. But at this point YOU HAVE ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD to perfect you illustrations!

I still owe you $180 for the additional, last three drawings (chapters 14-16 I think.) Payment will quickly be forthcoming (like tomorrow).

– Zeke


Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2013 23:17:28
Subject:
Re: 14, 15, and 16
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan

Some of the images you sent are FANTASTIC. Unfortunately, some are not. And I have no more time to give you a critique on those illustrations in question. I MUST not wait any longer, to get my book out. But I want you to know:

I truly cherish all your gracious efforts to meet my deadline. And for this, I promise:

I will publish a “special edition” featuring your beautiful art. Until then, you can work on improving those images which you /know/ fall short of your very best.

I’ll get back to you in a week or two, once I process my latest requirements to become self published.

– Zeke


Date: Thu, 11 Apr 2013 03:57:06
Subject:
So I’m gonna get a postcard tomorrow…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…and mail it to:

Larkin Kelsey
92142-xxxx

On that postcard, I’ll just write three simple words: YOU SUCK, LARKIN!

Let’s see where it takes me! Yeah, I still gotta figure out the best postcard to use. But I’m sure it’ll show up somewhere at one of Haight Street’s boutique and hyper-touristy shops. Certainly, I can’t do “The Virgin & the Barfly” motif again!

Friendly Ghost Detective Agency at your service! “We don’t slouch when others crouch.”

– Zeke


Date: Thu, 11 Apr 2013 08:10:51
Subject:
Last night it occurred to me…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…to just step into Twin Peaks Tavern, next time Larkin’s there. I’ll have to slip in while he’s standing outside. Otherwise, he’ll forbid me from entering.

I already had a drink there yesterday afternoon, around 4. Dream Boy wasn’t about, nor did he show up. Introduced myself as Larkin’s boyfriend:

“You know, the one who’s been sending him letters c/o this tavern!”

It did /not/ ring a bell with Barkeep Danny. So I guess it was on some other shift the letters were delivered.

Either that or Larkin made it all up.

Be that as it may, Danny said that Larkin usually comes here Thursday afternoons. Hey, that’s today. Whoopee, watch the fur and scales fly!

– Zeke


Date: Thu, 11 Apr 2013 08:16:29
Subject:
Invite to Twin Peaks
From: Zeke
To: Keith

Keith, if you can handle it, I’d love to treat you to a drink at Twin Peaks Tavern at 3 PM today. Larkin should be there. If you can’t make it, I’ll just go in there myself. But w/o a friend to accompany “moi,” I’m afraid he’ll block the doorway.

– Zeke


Date: Thu, 11 Apr 2013 08:40:43
Subject:
Ha ha
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan

Just kidding. I LOVE the illustrations, most remarkable. You also made my work a lot easier by scanning the images yourself in 300 DPI. Thanks!

All I have to do is rotate them all to be right side up…and crop out the fat white borders.

Yippee! Our stars are gonna rise together.

– Zeke


Date: Thu, 11 Apr 2013 12:05:27
Subject:
Re: Aargh, thar she blows!
From: Beatrice (Twosome Press)
To: Zeke

Zeke wrote:

{{ Manuscript is ready, I just uploaded it. Whee!

– Zeke }}

Got it!! Wooohooo!!

Now we can move forward with the Custom Cover Illustration. I have meetings this afternoon and will be out of the office, though I will start tackling that phase tomorrow when I am back in the office.

Cheers,

Beatrice


Date: Thu, 11 Apr 2013 09:55:50
Subject:
INCREDIBLE!
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan

I am /so/ delighted at how exquisitely you’ve rendered my visions! You will soon become a famous and highly-in-demand illustrator. You didn’t include your artist’s mark in these images, so each one will have the following caption at bottom:

Illustration by S. Rohan

Don’t have time to tell you how much I LOVE each and every drawing. You should celebrate today…for a job VERY well done.

Love ya!

– Zeke

PS: I’d love to frame the original “Snoopy-Doo” and present it (gift-wrapped) to My Magic Detective, Larkin. Either that, or a high quality printout.


Date: Thu, 11 Apr 2013 17:53:12
Subject:
Re: INCREDIBLE!
From: S. Rohan
To: Zeke

Zeke

You almost gave me a heart attack.

I want you to love each piece and I was devastated to think you may not! I put a tremendous amount of time into each and every illustration, rendering a half-dozen drafts and studies per finished work; I did my best to incorporate a variety of styles into a cohesive body of work befitting your concepts.

A pep talk from my dad awhile back (who was a professional sculptor for many years) instilled a larger vision in me, helping me realize the larger picture which is creating something or some combination that previously did not have a presence on this plane; putting back into the collective conversation Art with my thumbprints on it. I was inspired to strive for something beyond the simple fulfillment of basic images. I want each canvas (albeit a small one) to possess the whole story it carries, yea, like the mystical Mary Poppins’ tapestry bag before it…

It was an adventure and a blessing to collaborate on this labor with you–likely more of a life-saver than I even suspect at this point. I’m thrilled to list the satisfaction of such an esteemed Creator as yourself among my accomplishments, and I so sincerely wish you all the success you can handle!! And a bit more!! ;)

I would be honored to pass on the original Scooby as a gift for your Magical Detective, just tell me the address and how you’d prefer it sent (delivery confirmation/insurance/ etc.)

Yours–

“S.”
XO


Date: Thu, 11 Apr 2013 15:20:16
Subject:
Re: INCREDIBLE!
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan

“S.” wrote:

{{ You almost gave me a heart attack. }}

Just a little payback for dragging me through molasses, and not completing your illustrations until the very last moment. Ha ha. Karma’s a byatch!

{{ I want you to love each piece and I was devastated to think you may not! }}

Your eloquent style is /most/ impressive. You’ve created a modern fairytale thanks to your fantastic artist’s eye. I absolutely LOVE every single piece you’ve created. But I ESPECIALLY adore the old lady w/shopping bags. She’s like a witch out of Mother Goose!

{{ A pep talk from my dad awhile back (who was a professional sculptor for many years) instilled a larger vision in me, }}

He did a damn good job of passing on his artistic genius to you. If I were you, I’d be VERY proud. Thank you /so/ much for sharing such intimate revelations. I am TRULY honored.

{{ putting back into the collective conversation Art with my thumbprints on it. }}

How intriguing: using your thumbprint as signature. If only I knew that earlier, I would’ve mentioned that in my Foreward. But here’s what’s so amazing:

I, too, use my thumbprint in my paintings, as signature! And since I have RSI (repetitive stress injury) in both hands (focal dystonia) and arms (carpal tunnel) due to years and years of typing…I’ve decided to use my thumbprint w/magenta acrylic paint, when the time comes (and come it will, very soon) that admirers ask me to sign their book.

{{ I was inspired to strive for something beyond the simple fulfillment of basic images. }}

You did it, girlfriend, you did it!

(And I think Ms. Poppins would agree: your illustrations are supercaliforniarificexpacificocean.)

We will talk about my employing you as chief artist in the near future. Assuming this book becomes a bestseller, I can easily afford to employ you full time for, say, $100,000 annually, including quality health/dental insurance, for which I will reimburse in full any expense accrued by said insurance contract.

{{ It was an adventure and a blessing to collaborate on this labor with you–likely more of a life-saver than I even suspect at this point. }}

Yes, Sid, I am a life-saver for many folks here in the Castro and other neighborhoods. Soon–because of this extraordinary novel that is a gift directly from the fairies of Avalon–I will be a life saver for hundreds of millions on this planet. That is: gay people and/or sexual minorities. My book will trigger a global renaissance and revolution.

{{ I so sincerely wish you all the success you can handle!! And a bit more!! }}

Your wish is granted. 0_o

{{ I would be honored to pass on the original Scooby as a gift for your Magical Detective }}

I can always meet you somewhere convenient. Otherwise, mail it priority. Including an insurance of $100, and require me to sign for delivery. I will eagerly reimburse you for the cost.

BTW, I just got a money order for you, in the amount of $180. But since you are no longer living w/Gloria, I need to know how to get it to you. Perhaps we can meet somewhere soon, and I can exchange the MO for Snoopy-Doo!

Larkin and I have recently had our very first lover’s quarrel. This caused me to rebel over the excruciating wait to receive your awesome illustrations. Be that as it may, I assure you that we two queer lovebirds will work things out, and bring our heartfelt relationship to the next level.

I am shaking over the realization that I’m actually getting published…and it shall open the world’s eyes in /such/ a major way, that I’ll probably need /never/ carry any ID or moolah no matter where in the world I travel.

At least, among the LGBT Family: on a /global/ level.

Yours forever,

Zeke


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