[ Free Me From This Bond (the sequel): Chapter 6 ]
Date: 23 Mar 2013, 03:04:18 PM
Subject: Just saying thank you!
From: Zeke
To: Dennis R. of Online Policy Group
Still pretty poor, and w/recent Social Security cutbacks, a bit poorer still! But I thought I’d take a moment to thank you and everyone else at Online Policy Group, for years of dedicated service towards gay activists and nonprofits.
In these homophobic times, choosing most any other web service often results in shutting you down the moment some anti-gay creep registers a false complaint. Such a situation is most expensive, when one needs to jump from this service to that.
I am soon to publish my first novel, via Twosome Press. Should it become a bestseller, I guarantee that OPG shall receive a hefty donation. After all, you (Dennis et al), have been most patient with my many flaky posts on Gaynet…in between my worthy contributions.
http://tinyurl.com/forum-gaynet
<3
Ezekiel J. Krahlin
PS: My novel remains online for one or two months more, and for that remaining time is free to read. Here’s the URL:
Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 19:25:59
Subject: “Unknown thing?”
From: Zeke
To: Keith
You said in a recent email: “I was attacked violently in my sleep last night by an unknown thing carrying around a colored ribbon and a pastel blanket.”
Can you be more specific as to this unknown thing’s appearance (face, body, hands etc.)? Also:
What color was the ribbon and the blanket? If you remember, that is. Facial features and colors are most significant in interpreting dreams and visions.
– Zeke
PS: If you’d ever love to have your meatsicle sucked by someone other than your lover Gus (or a dumb trick you regret having over) just give me a call! Or come over after 8 PM and before 11 PM. Except tonight, as I’m busy on my next book. I’m being serious Keith, no joke. And no expectation of mutual reciprocation. If you’d love a really hot back/shoulder/neck rub, all the more fun!
Date: Sun, 31 Mar 2013 22:36:54
Subject: So I just broke down and cried…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor
…the last time I saw Larkin, marks about 8 days since he shoved me. (Before I continue, El, I must make it very clear that this is a vision I just had, which has yet to occur in reality, if at all.)
—
As I walk down 17th Street towards Market (one of the routes I choose for my power walks, mainly because of the energizing hills), I see Larkin step out from his apartment building, two or three doors up from K&D Liquors. So I stop, a bit further than a half block away. Yet, being the highly psychic angel he is, he halts, turns around and looks up directly into my eyes. Once more, I almost swoon: those flaming tangerine eyes!
I stand still, hoping he’ll turn around and move on. Instead, he marches directly towards me. I shiver and start to weep. He steps within two feet of me, places a warm hand on my shoulder and queries: “How are you doing, my very good friend of all time?”
“What do you think?” I demand (tears flowing beneath my dollar-store shades, and rolling down my cheeks and unto the sidewalk): “You shoved me recently, without any provocation whatsoever! My heart, my spirit, has been broken ever since. Almost every moment, I pray to God that somehow, some way, He will bring us back together in a most joyful outcome.” So he quips:
“Well, you were being a pest, and I had other demands at the time.”
“A pest?” I challenge, “When have I ever been a pest in your life? Please, please please please: stop this bullshit!”
So Larkin pulls his outstretched hand away, lowers his head and humbly responds: “You’re right, Zeke. I’m just giving you a hard time.”
How can I tell you, El, that I felt suddenly alone in the entire universe, when he pulled his beloved hand away? If there ever was a hell, this is it! So I speak further, to a man I believe is the most wondrous of all, and stands mountains above any other man or woman on this planet:
“You have always been most gentle to me, and showered me with so much love…except for those times when you avoided me entirely. This has gone on for over seven years now!” I remove my sunglasses to wipe the copious tears from my eyes (a raven caws a half block away). And continue:
“Yet quite recently you shoved me, only because I did the right thing, and stood between you and the Devil!” I almost collapse with the memory, and Larkin grabs my left arm to hold me up.
“I am grieved to have done that, Zeke!”
“Yet you did it anyway,” I weep against his chest, for he now enfolds me in his daddy-spider arms. I’m now actually in bliss, though do not realize that in the least.
“Oh, Zeke,” Larkin declares as tears spill from his eyes and anoint my wolf cap. “I had to put you through that test, because God asked me so. My heart is broken too, buddy!”
“So how does it go down now?” I sob in his jacket. “How do I forgive you without becoming a slave to violence?”
Larkin suddenly emits copious sobs, and almost falls into my shaking arms. I am the one, now, to hold him up. And he cries out to me, his darling words whispered close to my neck:
“Please Zeke, please forgive me!” Larkin’s sorrow overwhelms my own.
“Larkin my buddy, you did wrong,” I plead with muffled cries in his folded arms. “Yet I know you are a good man. And you will find some very honest way to make things up to me.”
“Oh Zeke, I’m such an awful fool.” Larkin buries his agonizing sobs in my chest. “I made fun of you for years, only because someone else I loved dearly, played me like a jackass.”
“Well, my love,” I pull myself back and gaze into his fiery eyes, “Can I see you at least once a week for 20 minutes? That would be a good start. For otherwise I’m all alone in my life, and have been for over 30 years.”
“Yes Zeke,” he pleads, “Let’s start there. But I owe you so much more, and please trust me when I say I will make up everything to you. You are the sweetest friend I have ever known, and am so sorry for taking this long to realize it.” I tell him:
“Larkin, when we part from now, you need to call me within one or two days, as you would any good friend. Not wait a week or two or three, before I hear anything.” I further assert: “In fact, if you are sincere about our friendship, you’d call me frequenty (two or three times per day), and struggle to hang out with me as often as you can. Is that so difficult to understand?”
“No, I’m just an asshole. I am so sorry, Zeke.” So Larkin buries his face in my arms, and I suddenly feel like the most blessed man in the universe. “Larkin, Larkin,” I say, “You are such a righteous and beautiful man, I can’t begin to say how utterly fortunate I am!”
And I rock his ruddy-brown-haired head in my arms for what seems to be a glorious eternity!
“I love you so much Larkin,” I weep w/o any control whatsoever, “You never have to worry about losing my love, or leaving you for another. You are my very heart and soul. I will always love you before anyone else in my life. It gives me tremendous happiness to do so!”
“Oh fukkin-A Zeke, you are such liberation to my pathetic soul!” He then pulls back a bit to gaze into my watery, hazel eyes, and continues: “I will make you so happy, you won’t believe.”
“I kinda know that already, Larkin,” I respond. “I’m not worried the least bit, about the ultimate success of our friendship. I’m just naturally a nervous wreck.”
Larkin then grabs me with such a fierce hug, I could burst with joy. And he doesn’t let go while I praise:
“OMG, you are everything to me! You make every pain I’ve been through, every trial and tribulation, every tragedy and grief…all worth it. For it finally brought me to you!”
So we agree to get together in two days, over a piping hot cup of cocoa. And I know that, this time, Larkin will not disappoint. Returning home to my dump of an SRO, I thank Goddess for the life She has given me.
—
– Zeke
Tue, 2 Apr 2013 11:57:56
Subject: Out of the Castro
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor
I think that Larkin wants me out of the Castro. But why? It can only mean one thing:
Just like the old days in SOMA, it became too dangerous for us to be seen together. His shoving me was the only thing he knew to do, to get me away from him. But why didn’t he just tell me the truth? I suppose this:
If I knew what’s really going on, I’d probably be scared out of my wits. This cult I call Disciples of the Zodiac Killer are into slow mutilation of their victims, and even eat their flesh before their very eyes.
Oh, that’s a good twist in the plot, eh, El! I’M WRITING A GAY DETECTIVE NOVEL, AND IT’S ALL TRUE!
Should I be happy or freaked out? Happy that I now understand Larkin’s deflection: it is to protect me. So I send him three Dear John letters c/o Twin Peaks. Which inadvertently results in those around him believing our friendship is over for good. Last letter (postcard really) makes certain that prying eyes will read my rejection. Thus convincing the curs of our absolute separation.
I was already intent on avoiding my own “˜hood anywayz. Will soon head on down to Hole in the Wall, and the Eagle. I have other strange doings to report, that have transpired in the last few days. Will post the skinny this eve. I think I need to develop a 40″²s style noir prose a la Lawrence Block. Who, I lately discovered, is not an obscure author after all, but one widely celebrated and heavily published.
http://tinyurl.com/block-author
Thus begins Chapter 6 of the sequel. I’ve already printed out chapters 1-5, to present to my Darling Detective whenever. Hope your day is interesting, but not in the same way as mine.
Love ya El!
– Zeke
Date: Mon, 01 Apr 2013 15:19:56
Subject: APO
From: Keith
To: Zeke
I would not take it if they gave it to me right now.
The rank and file of capital holders grows weaker as they prevent noncapitals from developing by keeping them constantly on the move, changing the rules as soon as the smartest learn them, pushing them out of their homes, uprooting families, forcing diaspora, ghetto busting, energy hoarding. The capital holders kill competition, power laws bloat their bellies, the energy passes from original creator to copy until he’s one alien distanced from how it was made but has to keep it, secure suck, sac belly, egg, parasite, ship metal suckers sucking fence, fee ants put me in a fience.
Included with this poem is this video:
http://tinyurl.com/antigay-rant
Date: Mon, 1 Apr 2013 16:16:06
Subject: Re: APO
From: Zeke
To: Keith
Excellent poem. Raw but eloquent (like yourself, I guess)! Just watched the video you sent…boy what a fat, stupid bitch.
What these Christians want is to do exactly that: round us up and kill us. Gaylent Green.
They speak with forked tongue.
Very soon, perhaps some time this year, the anti-gay holocaust will go into full gear here in these Disunited States. Then it will expand into a global menace. Well, it’s already a global menace; it’s just gonna go totally out of control.
But gay folks will gain protection by the Great Spirit. Provide us with safe haven and a wonderful existence. That is my prophecy, and I’m stickin’ to it.
– Zeke
Date: Mon, 1 Apr 2013 16:18:47
Subject: H, BM: Because of music
From: Keith
To: Zeke
they already knew the unstable ones
they show the unstable ones secrets when they want something seen
they know how to hide what they do already hide
Date: Mon, 1 Apr 2013 17:47:56
Subject: Re: H, BM: Because of music
From: Zeke
To: Keith
You’re very intelligent, you’re very creative. Well done, my Little Buttercup, Keith!
Your anxiety attacks and demonic nightmares/visions were triggered mainly by violent traumas in the fairly recent past. (Along with a rather heartbreaking childhood.) However: you are so psychically gifted, it’s even more of a challenge…and much more tribulation in addition to the attacks caused by violence.
Looks to me like you are now transitioning into a totally stable, peaceful psychic ambience. For this suffering only goes so far until all lessons have been learned, and your spirit has become finely tuned into virtual perfection. I look forward to witnessing the blossoming of your soul.
LOVE to tend your garden now and then, if you get my drift! 0_o
<3 always,
Zeke
Date: Mon, 1 Apr 2013 21:46:30
Subject: Thank you for all your kind compliments…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor
…but I just don’t see why I should pay such a terrible price. I DO hope wrongs shall be righted, with regards to Larkin’s turning against me. Otherwise, my life shall always be a sword in my heart, that will curse me until the day I die.
And I guess, beyond. It sucks to be a romantic.
– Zeke
Date: Tue, 2 Apr 2013 12:14:09
Subject: Why the SFPD…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor
…sought an outside detective, because some of our own are members of this cult.
BUT THEY DON’T KNOW WHICH ONES, YET!!!
But I’m not worried: Larkin always gets his man. Or men, as the case may be.
Date: Tue, 02 Apr 2013 14:32:20
Subject: Re: Why the SFPD…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor
Eleanor wrote:
{{ The plot not only thickens, it alchemizes!! }}
Well stated! FYI: I am a devoted disciple of Kabalism. Which worships our creator as an eternally sweet-16 boy named Adonai. Which I guess is the Habiru version of ancient Greece’s “Adonis.”
But I just call him Donny.
Date: Tue, 2 Apr 2013 23:15:40
Subject: Re: Why the SFPD…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor
Eleanor wrote:
{{ I call him Donuts. }}
Yes indeed, he was a most tasty treat (though I never really got to use my tongue, dern it). A man who called himself Donny several nights ago, allowed me to feel up his yummy torso, give him a shoulder and back rub….and even grope his ample fat schlong beneath his denim jeans. What a perfect, juicy crown between my fingers, and a thick shaft that went on for more than six inches, though it was not even the least bit hard! Egads, do I drool!
It only occurred to me when I mentioned Adonai in a recent lettter, that calling him Donny made me realize that I also felt up a lovely young man by the same name.
He was so bodaciously and sexually male, yet has never returned to look me up even though I made it easy for him to do so.
Larkin seems to be vanishing from my life, and it crushes my spirit. I cannot fathom this terrible twist in fate. To leave me promoting my book while using a fictitious name on his behalf, would destroy my soul.
Every day that passes, I anticipate his phone call, that he will profusely apologize. Though this phone call has yet to come. And as each day fades into the next, I pray to goddess that my dreams for him (and for us) will not be shattered. Though it seems they will.
– Zeke
Date: Wed, 3 Apr 2013 08:50:06
Subject: Fwd: Out of the Castro
From: Zeke
To: Carlyle
Doing better now, Carlyle. The pain of thinking I lost Larkin’s friendship for good is what I’m been gloomy about. That is what Chapter 5 was about. Now I understand: it was what we went through some years back, in a different neighborhood (South of Market). We had to pretend we broke up and hated each other, in order to get some very dangerous people off my back. Hopefully, this won’t go on for long.
Date: Thu, 21 Mar 2013 12:15:00
Subject: Tattoo Heart Alteration
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan
“Angus Mac Og’s Bounty” is now Chapter 14, is now online:
For the tattoo heart illustration, I originally requested the wraparound banner (if you decide to include it) to read “Zeke, Randolph, Larkin.” What was I thinking? Obviously (if one reads the tale) it should read: “Johnnie”.
So, yes, PLEASE include the banner with “Johnnie”. He’s been out of my life for almost 5 years now. I think when my novel is published and he sees this, he’ll come back.
– Zeke
Date: Wed, 3 Apr 2013 02:28:24
Subject: All good things come to me…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor
…and I am at peace, finally. Come to realize that Larkin loves me more than anyone else. His shoving me but served an important purpose to protect me. Nonetheless, most assuredly will he make it all up to me in the noblest fashion possible.
Meanwhile (if you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with), I took home a handsome black fellow about 59 (but looks a robust 42). Well whaddya know:
He wanted me to service him, and I wanted quite the opposite. Turns out he’s an excellent koksukker, but only if I return the favor. But not only was he black, he was uncut!
I have little experience with either. :(
To be honest, El, I am so spoiled by all the super-gorgeous men I have laid: all (but one, and he was a damned seductive black dude) circumsized and white.
What can I say, El, but that I am a gay man with very little experience in the boudoir. All I ever wanted, was to find the right guy, settle down with him behind a white picket fence…and fuk our brains out!
Never dreaming that my destiny is actually to become a cheap slut, and put out at the drop of a hat! Regardless:
I am most horny over the thought of sukking lovely cut boners, especially when appended to a stupendously gorgeous white dude. Call me old fashioned, if that pleases you.
But I do make exception to the occasional black dude who has his pectorals in all the right places. I’m just not one of those phony white liberals who boinks gay studs of color, just to prove to the world I’m not racist.
So we found a happy compromise: where he put back on his boxer shorts, and I got to feel up his sturdy torso and broad shoulders to my little heart’s content. His salad days of being an amateur boxer and wrestler sure paid off!
I guess I made a new friend.
– Zeke
Date: Wed, 3 Apr 2013 15:04:06
Subject: Happy April Third
From: Keith
To: Zeke
Dear Ezekiel,
I have wanted to badly go have breakfast with you, and every time you have invited me and I have not been able to accept it’s been like a goose shit golden eggs all over me and I don’t like eggs :(
But I want to eat breakfast with you so much, I hope that you will invite me again, and if that ever happens I will NOT flake out even if I get a panic attack.
I love you, even if I never hear from you again. So much. And it is NOT April Fool’s Day anymore.
Date: Tue, 2 Apr 2013 22:59:13
Subject: Re: Happy April Third
From: Zeke
To: Keith
Keith wrote:
{{ I love you, even if I never hear from you again. So much. And it is NOT April Fool’s Day anymore. }}
Keith, if you only knew the sadness I’m going through right now, you would not hesitate to reach out to me.
I care not to deliberate at this time, my present difficulties. Suffice it to say that, if you have read my latest blog entry, you’d understand. But Larkin–the best friend and greatest love I have ever known–has turned on me, and caused such incredible grief in my life, I feel that I have nowhere to turn.
Seeing you over breakfast, or even over a hot cup of coffee, or cocoa or tea, would be such a great balm to my soul. Yet, due to the cold realiity I have known for so many years, I don’t reallly expect you to take me up on this.
If you care–if you really care–you would reach out to me, and call me very soon on your own terms.
I do not want to elaborate any further. Just to say that my life really sucks big-time right now, and I don’t have a single shoulder to lean on. But that’s the story of my life. My heart is badly broken. Maybe you can show me some love again, as you have shown me in the past.
<3,
Zeke
Date: Wed, 3 Apr 2013 15:26:28
Subject: Re: Tattoo Heart Alteration
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan
“S.” wrote:
{{ Okay I didn’t include the banner, but I can easily incorporate it if you prefer. So do you want ONLY Johnnie, or all four names included? }}
Yes, I realize now how vital it is to include the banner. I want ONLY “Johnnie” on it. Thanks immensely, “S.”!
Johnnie’s out there somewhere…haven’t seen him for more than four years. Well, that’s not quite true. Twice our paths crossed, albeit indirectly. Ten months ago I saw him across the street from the N Judah stop alongside Duboce Park.
Pawing through a trash bin for recyclables. So I wondered if he lost the job he had, since walking out on me. Again, I saw him around four months ago, at Out of the Closet thrift shop on Church & Duboce.
Well, I didn’t actually see him at first: I heard his wonderful, quacky voice chatting with the cashier. He’s such a doll, “S.”, handsome and comical at the same time. Jet black, wavy hair, and the most transcendent glaucous eyes you could ever imagine! With quite a ginormous honker that somehow looks good on him, yet hilarious in a most inspiring way.
He’s 6-foot-1, deliciously skinny, and has the sweetest regard for me. Or had, I should say. Johnnie’s last name is Fortesque, which I understand is French. He’s half that, and the other half, Italian.
I’m telling you, “S.”, my life is One Long Trail of Heartbreak! I want him to know I still love him dearly. So I think the Johnnie banner girdling a pierced heart will be a good thing for him to see. I do find the ability to self publish my novel (thanks to my deceased parents’ small inheritance) to be such a blessing!
For it graces me with the wondrous opportunity to reach out to many good folks who I love, yet have disappeared from my life for this or that reason. The Great Dragon of Destiny has bestowed upon me such a beatific gift!
I have a very strong feeling that we shall become collaborators in many more books to come. And we both have your housemate and BFF, Gloria, to thank.
Mazel tov my new friend, mazel tov!
<3, Zeke
Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 07:35:05
Subject: Re: I was just featured on a blog from Nottingham, England!
From: Zeke
To: Carlyle
Carlyle wrote:
{{ Hopefully the issue of using the real name in the book isn’t the main issue- there might be lots of harmless reasons. }}
Of course. I came to that resolution some days back; I’m okay with it. Larkin has a way of putting challenges before me. It’s actually sharpening my skills as an author, to change the appearance of the main character, yet preserve his essential nature.
Should he decide he’d like to reap the material rewards (as well as official honors by this or that gay society), he can always announce to the media that he is the Arwyn Miles in my book. But w/o his signed permission, I cannot be the one to make such a statement.
In fact, I don’t even think I can admit he is…even forced to deny his claim. For w/o his legal (signed) permission, he could then turn around and sue me. I would have to state that Arwyn Miles is a composite of different men that turn me on.
{{ For the general existential hell that life can be, I can give many examples: a close friend with Parkinson’s and slipping away, badly; another friend with multiple sclerosis and cancer. Two cousins around my age whose spouses died in the last year. Sometimes the things that happen before death are as gruesome as anything that a soldier would experience on a battlefield. }}
When you put it that way, guess I’m doing pretty good through it all.
{{ Plus the “mind control” thing: a lot of it based essentially on “torture,” you know. Unprovable, without a mark, no one to listen. }}
Thus one is more likely to reach out to his inner world, and find the strength to rise above. Kids aren’t the only ones with so-called imaginary friends.
{{ I have confidence that your resilience will pull you through your trials! }}
I appreciate your saying this, it really helps. Another person I love, and who has been so good to me seems on the verge of a nervous breakdown…possible suicide attempt. Not that he said so, directly, but in his latest letter implied such (quote):
“I love you, even if I never hear from you again. So much. And it is NOT April Fool’s Day anymore.”
This is Keith, the gorgeous young man who sent me those two sexy videos, where he appears naked. Haven’t seen him face-to face in over two months. He just wants to email back and forth. Yet he’s residing barely a block away! And get this:
Larkin now lives almost directly across the street from Keith. Again, another lovely man that I care so much about, never calls or phones. And now, I have to bide my time till this strange situation blows over.
Two nights ago I bumped into Keith’s lover and housemate, Gus. Who is very depressed because something’s wrong in their relationship of almost 8 years. Same amount of time has passed for me, since I first met Larkin. Guess that’s what they mean by the “seven year itch.” After 7-8 years of a wonderful relationship, new challenges suddenly crop up. And you either figure out some way to renew your love, or it’s all over.
Though he said some months back that their relationship is open, I told him I’d never dream of having sex with Keith because “you two are very tight.” While Gus didn’t seem angry at me, he didn’t stop to talk more than a minute. I told him to hang in there, it will be okay.
Gus never calls me either, and I don’t have his phone. He was surprised to learn that Keith and I have been exchanging emails for the past two weeks (after a 20-day gap). But his surprise may be more one of relief than of dismay. Seeing as I think Keith is dipping into a sort of paranoia where he may even now see myself and even Gus as some kind of monstrous entity.
I do have several men who can comfort me…but they’re all meth or heroin or morphine users. They respect me, don’t steal. They sometimes ask for money…but when I say no, which is 95% of the time, they don’t give me any problem and remain friendly. I am just nervous about not having one single friend any more, who is clean of drugs and (of course) excessive alcohol.
What is going on around me (and inside) is incredible, and mostly rewarding, insightful and benevolent. Then there is this rough bump…like suddenly I got hit with shrapnel on the battlefield. But I can tell you this:
By the time I’m through this dark passage, I’ll be one hell of a lot stronger. But I am in the middle of some kind of telepathic war. Yet I must take the high road à la Buddha’s tenet: “We have no enemies, only teachers.”
Tough task masters indeed!
– Ezekiel
Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 08:19:09
Subject: Stupid me…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor
…because I should’ve realized our recent confrontation (when he shoved me and I almost hit the sidewalk), that some rather nasty folks witnessed the entire scenario. They were cholo types, seated in a pimped out sedan with oversized front tires and a motor noisier than a rumbling b-52. But it was off, and they were seated quietly: no music loud or otherwise, no speaking even in a whisper. They were patiently observing this confrontation between myself and Larkin…from barely half a block away.
Not to make excuses for him, and thus become a victim of partner abuse. But Larkin has never come even close before this night, to any sort of violence or angry words, in the 7+ years we’ve been friends. He has never told me not to eat at the taqueria where he once worked (and I left him with each chapter of The Larkin Chronicles as the book slowly progressed over the months into a total of 29 episodes)…et cetera.
Well, the anxiety attacks are back, though not as painful as the last round. Nor as long lasting. Memories well up of lovers and friends from the past. My first love: Robert Matthew Childers. Of course, Randolph Taylor. Yet many others suddenly haunt my cranial chamber: all beautiful men w/unspeakable burdens. Such handsome souls, all yanked away from me by fate’s cruel hand. And I wept several times throughout the drizzly night.
Yes! It’s raining, and the air is cleansed. I must step out to enjoy the sunrise…though I wish my neighborhood were a more pleasant environment. Still, better than dwelling in the Tenderloin or Hunter’s Point! And I can hop on the N Judah to the Inner Sunset: a lovely district right by GG Park without the edginess and noise pollution of the Castro. But, no friends unless I empty my wallet to dine at Howard’s Cafe.
Will Larkin simply become the latest lost darling in my life? That hurts. I pray for reunification. Hmm, maybe there’s a telepathic connection between our soured relationship, and the two Koreas. 0_o
Oh well, another day, another holler.
– Zeke
Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 10:17:38
Subject: Re: Happy April Third
From: Zeke
To: Keith
Keith wrote:
{{ every time you have invited me and I have not been able to accept it’s been like a goose shit golden eggs all over me }}
It’s an excruciating passage for a time, when everything seems to fall completely apart before they come back together in a much more balanced manner. You have powerful shamanic gifts, IOW you are a psychic warrior.
I would never want to spend time with you under any situation where you feel uncomfortable in my presence. That’s just part of your PTSD. But please take to heart what I’m about to say, Keith:
Be proud of your PTSD, it’s your Heavenly Badge of Honor! Once you emerge out of your Incubation Chamber of Tribulations, your life will be so wonderful, that all your sorrows, grief and pain will be but a dim remembrance.
The fact you are capable–and even ardent–about expressing your love to me, right in the middle of all this demonic turmoil, battles and loss:
shows me what a fukkin noble and bless-ed soul you truly are! So give yourself some credit, my sweet angel Keith! I already give you tons of credit, because I know your soul and see nothing but a light of pure benevolence.
{{ But I want to eat breakfast with you so much, I hope that you will invite me again, and if that ever happens I will NOT flake out even if I get a panic attack. }}
Yes, good to know. Panic attacks are so nasty, I wouldn’t even wish “˜em on my worst frenemy. And that is precisely how to overcome them and be healed: hang out with a trusted friend whenever you can. Someone who loves you so much, even his own life comes second. I know: such friends are scarcer than pterodactyl teeth, but you got lucky ’cause you got ME! And I got YOU…so “˜scuse me for saying this, but I think I’m even luckier than yourself. <3
Agoraphobia, distrust of loved ones, and other nasty neuroses are all the usual bag of tricks that PTSD presents. Of course, what allopathic medicine calls PTSD is actually a stage in one’s spiritual growth, for those so burdened/blessed with The Shaman’s Gift.
So you may not feel safe anywhere except your own home or bedroom. Thereby losing contact with friends, and cease taking walks or stepping out for any other reason. The fact you said you will go out with me, even in the middle of an anxiety attack is such great news!
For this indicates you have just begun the healing process, and are ready to take the bull by the testicles. Heh.
{{ I love you, even if I never hear from you again. }}
What on Gaia’s green/blue earth do you mean “even if I never hear from you again?” Now that’s a sad thought. A very sad thought. I assure you, Keith, I will always be a friend to you…and I sincerely hope BEST friend in the long run. That would make us BFF’s! (Oh, did you think I meant “butt fukking fellows?” You silly man. My, I never realized you had such a dirty mind. I like it!)
You can always contact me and arrange to go out the next day. Howard’s doesn’t have the best food, and since my body doesn’t want to ingest any more of that non-vegan glop they call scrambled eggs (but I call “yellow rubber”), I usually limit myself to a fruit cup (no apple), a side of plain yogurt (unless they run out of that, in which case they give me vanilla or strawberry) and a cup of fresh brewed java. Which I like to call “Howard’s Golden Brown Elixer.” But I love Howard’s, not so much for the food of course, but for all the excellent folks who eat there.
Or perhaps walk from your place, to some cozy little local spot…or a tad more distant such as the Inner Mission, Noe Valley or the Duboce Park Triangle. In fact, there’s a really neat little bistro two blocks up from (and on the north side of) DPT. Very very mellow with yummy French style vittles. Not expensive either, though what’s cheap any more that one can safely put in one’s mouth and swallow, without later regurgitating? Well, my kok for one, but I don’t think we’re talking about pure protein here, eh, you glorious, darling, hunk of a dude!
I’m leaving for Howard’s in an hour from now, so if you’d like to have a little fun, please join me! If you do not drop over by 11:05, you can just take a rain check.
I’m always here for good, delicious boys like you…haven’t you figured that out yet? Tee-hee. Once my book gets published, my prose and poems will ripple across the planet like dropping one of those golden goose eggs into a pond of quicksilver. The magic flowing from my fingertips will swirl in ever-widening eddies until everyone will be impacted in the most benevolent ways possible.
The fulfillment of my own destiny will trigger the fulfillment of everyone else“˜s.
Including you, Keith. So get ready for the blastoff. It’s gonna be one hell of a muthuh fukkuh for anyone who harbors even the minutest tad of homophobia. But for the rest:
The Global Manifestation of Avalon. (Just don’t make a hobbit of it!)
I miss your hugs and kisses like a flower misses the sun on a foggy day. Love ya always, you incredibly handsome and brave hunk of man/boy,
– Zeke a.k.a. Jehovah’s Queer Witness…VERY Queer Witness.
Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 10:35:27
Subject: Tuesdays
From: Zeke
To: Keith
Sweetie, I go to the Hole in the Wall Saloon and then the Eagle Tavern every Tuesday afternoon. The Hole is where Larkin and I first met (though he was 86″²d from there by the owners a few years back). The Eagle is the second most frequented place for us two lovebirds. Larkin hasn’t returned there, yet, but I’m sure he will, and some day soon.
I always have great times there (even got to lick some handsome buck’s armpits for a single shot of Jagermeister…thank goddess for my parents’ trust fund).
The Eagle is also a great place to hang out in the day’s middle. Many of the scenes in my book take place at the old Hole (before they moved a few blocks up). I usually get to the Hole around 3 PM, then mosey on up a few blocks to the Eagle 5 PM or thereabouts.
So is it a date? Like to join me this Tuesday for a SOMA adventure? By all means, Gus is welcome too. Your call.
– Zeke
Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 11:01:29
Subject: Re: Tuesdays
From: Keith
To: Zeke
Yes, I’d like to go out there. Hole in the Wall has always been my favorite gay bar since I first went a few years ago after I moved here. I don’t know if I ever saw the old one, though. I’m going to mark the time and date so that I can keep track, and set an alarm so I remember. I got up a little late today but I would like to fix breakfast for you one day soon if you like. I know how to make pancakes, buttermilk biscuits, grits and gravy, fried chicken, bacon or sausages, fruit/yogurt smoothies, etc. So I could try to fix whatever you feel like.
Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 11:06:30
Subject: Re: I was just featured on a blog from Nottingham, England!
From: Zeke
To: Carlyle
Carlyle, are you under the impression that all this recent misery in my life, is simply over Larkin’s not giving me permission to use his real name? He shoved me, and shoved me hard…I almost fell to the ground, my face would’ve hit the sidewalk hard. He’s never done anything to me that would even hint of violence, not even one unkind syllable. Over 7 years’ friendship! If you had managed the time to read my latest blog entries, you’d know all about this.
I don’t want to write the incident all over again, when it’s already been described in the sequel to Free Me From This Bond. You can save some time and not read the entire chapter…just jump down to “It’s over, El” (subject title of an email), which begins with: “Just saw Phillip as he entered Twin Peaks Tavern.” Here’s the chapter:
Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 11:40:36
Subject: Re: Tuesdays
From: Zeke
To: Keith
Keith wrote:
{{ Yes, I’d like to go out there. Hole in the Wall has always been my favorite gay bar }}
Some very nice gays hang out there. A lot on a lower income like myself…including others with bad or missing teeth, due to our evil society’s denying dental care to our kind.
But there can also be some dangerous folks who inhabit the Hole. But I’m very well respected and loved these days, by those who count, and frequent or live in SOMA.
{{ I’m going to mark the time and date so that I can keep track, and set an alarm so I remember. }}
I like to walk back from there, for the exercise. But we could walk there instead, or just hop a train if you’d like. Oh, I must take the above-ground, because my renewed disability transit pass does not work right. So I have to pay coins to get on…and you can’t use coins underground.
Anywayz, we can leave around 2 PM. I will post you a reminder the day before. If you like, I can also give you a wakeup call.
{{ I got up a little late today but I would like to fix breakfast for you }}
Sounds sweet. I don’t eat meat or eggs. Or pancakes, because they’re mostly white flour. Unless you use whole grains. I used to cook blueberry pancakes w/whole wheat. I can pick up some real maple syrup, if you’re out. Yogurt smoothies also sound fantastic. I’m not a big eater, so it doesn’t take much to fill me up. I am a big waffle fan by the way…have a Belgian waffle iron here at home. And a great recipe I cooked up, using vinegar instead of eggs and again, whole grains. I enjoy a mixture of buckwheat and whole wheat. Lotsa berries on top (or banana), Smart Balance margarine instead of real butter…but the latter is yummy once in a blue moon.
Anywayz, sounds like a plan. A wonderful plan. Love to see Gus, too! Well, I’m off to Howard’s, you darling scoundrel! You’ve stolen my heart, so I guess that makes you a burglar. Of the most scurrilous sort!
<3 always,
Zeke
Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 18:10:05
Subject: Just marched on by Twin Peaks…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor
…with my last gift to Larkin: a second set of Scooby-Doo dominoes wrapped in a fancy tie, with a CD attached to it containing one of my favorite songs. That would be “One Day I’ll Fly Away,” sung by the impeccable Randy Crawford. Specifically, the 2006 version she sang years later (when she had become rather corpulent; sad because of how lovely she once was), as opposed to her original rendering. I think it’s much jazzier and soul-filled than her first:
It’s a song about love ended, and how to move along with one’s life. See attached photo to check out my gift.
Through Twin Peaks’ plate glass window I saw Larkin smiling and sipping his drink at a front bar seat. He saw me approach, and watched me with a falcon eye. He didn’t miss a beat as I withdrew the gift from my backpack, and dumped it on the newsstand rack right out front. I did not look at him (had my shades on as usual), nor toss a smile in his direction. Then I walked down Castro Street, paused before the Castro Theater to light a cigarette…in hopes he’d run out and call to me. Alas, he did not.
So I moved on, looped about the block and returned back hovel. Guess I will never know whether Larkin stepped out to take my final gift, or if some homeless bum walked up and grabbed the dominoes set, dumping it in his shopping cart to sell later on for a few bucks.
I noticed when he looked at me through the window, no particular emotion except blase. This can mean anything, from “I don’t give a fuk any more” to “I’m so proud that Zeke stood up to me. He’s a real trooper. I’ve met my match, and I’m gonna surprise him really soon with a heartfelt apology, and marriage proposal.”
I so much love to gaze upon him, even from a distance. And sincerely doubt this is a simple matter of love addiction towards another who thinks I’m nothing more than a pest. Nonetheless, I have no choice but to reject him and move on…but with a most fervent prayer that this is surely not the end of the most wonderful friendship I have ever known. Until the recent night he shoved me.
The 5-chapter packet I sent him should arrive via Twin Peaks two or three days from now. Again, never knowing if he’ll actually accept it, or just toss it into the trash. He’s very good at concealing his true heart’s feeling. But his eyes tell me everything. He loves me like nobody’s business; I am such a lucky fellow!
Guess I’m the type of guy who enjoys a challenge. Being homosexual is far more complicated than being hetero…what with the male ego and all.
– Zeke
Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 17:11:17
Subject: So I snail-mailed 1st 5 chapters…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor
…of the sequel to Larkin c/o Twin Peaks Tavern. With a cover letter stating:
—
My Beloved (but fukked up) Larkin,
This is the sequel to “Free Me From This Bond.” So far I’ve completed five chapters. Whether or not this book has a happy ending is entirely up to you. I guess.
Unfortunately, looks like you won’t get any credit for your many good works, including your very kind friendship with me. Which seems to have come to a sudden end, thanks to your recent (and vulgar) behavior.
Never expected to pay such a high price to get my first book published. But that’s the way things go sometimes. Or as you love to say:
“That’s life.”
I’ll be living in Portland soon, with a changed name.
Many blessings for a beautiful rest-of-your-life. Regardless if we resume our friendship, or put an absolute end to it.
The clock is ticking.
– Zeke Krahlin
Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 19:11:55
Subject: So yesterday…
From: Zeke
To: My Kindred Readers
…Samuel drops over (Friday night as scheduled). He is a most handsome, robust and balding ginger-hair, 31 years old (and about 6-foot-1 in height). In our last several visits, we’ve progressed from talking and hanging out, to physical touch; starting with nice backrubs and kissing (on my part), to my blowing him the last night, and holding him in my arms. Though at the last moment before orgasm, he shoves my face away, and finishes by jacking himself off. With the proclamation:
“I can’t risk spreading disease.”
Which I take as an insult, seeing as I know full well he’s an innocent soul, and could never catch anything from swallowing his sperm. (Except perhaps, an insatiable yearning to do so many more times unto infinity.) As for myself: I am very clean, and have never contracted AIDS or any other sort of venereal disease, thanks to my own caution and prudishness, as well as Goddess’s own protection. Though I realize you can still contract syphillis, hepatitis B or herpes, simply by kissing or sharing towels, glasses, utensils or toothbrushes, etc. Thus far, the Great Spirit has seen fit to spare me such debilities.
His mom, Edith (from Iowa), finally contacted me some days back, and thanked me profusely for being a good friend to him. Apparently, serving in the military in Iraq fukked with his head, which also involved hitting his sister some time afterwards…along with a thwarted adventure in Thailand, where he got involved with cocaine dealers and became, himself, a user. He has since cleaned up, and as far as I know, only messes around with pot and occasional, light alcohol consumption. Which I was most happy to report to his mom.
Yet Samuel has been thus far, quite reticent to reciprocate with my backrubs etc. (if you know what I mean). He is nonetheless a very affectionate man, though rather spacey in his conversation, thus difficult to talk with. Which only elevates my frustration about him, and does not inspire me to have him over any more. Yet, there is something about this sweet man that makes me hang in there.
He has wide, innocent hazel eyes, and such a buff body that I could cum all over him (which has yet to occur, I might confess; though stuffing his bodacious wanger in my mouth many times over the last time, was exquisite beyond words). Considering this most difficult passage over Larkin, I am less than looking forward to Samuel’s airheaded and noncooperative company.
So upon his arrival, I explain to him that I need to be alone tonight…and perhaps for all the remaining nights that I still reside in my crummy dump of a room. While improved in his behavior–thanks to my addressing his shortcomings, including coming off as somewhat scary or freaky to his friends–he still maintains a rather inadequate ability to hold a real conversation. And since I am so burnt out over space cadets, and need an occasional break from my street activism with this sort (which respite occurs so rarely, I am now ready to explode), I tell him:
“Look, sweetheart. I am going through a most painful crossing with my lover Larkin.”
I take his warm, powerful hand (perfectly suited for amazing deep-tissue body work I might add), and continue:
“I must ask you to leave soon. I really need to be alone tonight and for at least several days more. For there is no one in my life, that can ease my agony through this present challenge.” Then add:
“And I’m not gonna wander the streets of the Castro in hopes of finding such a person.”
Samuel becomes quite distressed, says:
“Oh, I can hold you if that’s what you want.”
He then embraces me, and I weep tears on his neck, kiss him many times and speak:
“Thank you, Samuel, but my need to be alone has little to do with you. Please don’t take this personally. I simply need to keep to myself for awhile. Please don’t take offense, it’s me and not you. I really don’t think I can have anyone over until God deems fit to provide me with a real apartment, with more space, and a real kitchen and bathroom.” Then I confess:
“You are not the kind of person right now that can ease my pangs.” He seems a bit offended by this declaration. So I explain further:
“There is no one I can think of right now, who can give me what I need. Which is a handsome man to hold me in my arms all night, rub my back and suck my kok as much as I do him.”
This proclamation gives Samuel some hesitation, which of course does not surprise me at this point. Like so many before him, he’s a gross disappointment in this department. For I have shown so many gorgeous dudes at this point a really good time, though they’ve all been miserly in returning their love.
Yet there is one particular fellow who I think can bring great succor to my current sorrow: his name is Donny…around 5 foot-8 with a most trim, yet buffilicious body. From his ripped torso, broad shoulders and tight back, to his ridiculously-ample basket and luscious thighs.
Dropped over only once so far, and allowed me to peel off his T-shirt, and feel up his very buff back and chest, while fondling his perfect, fat cut johnson (6 inches soft!) underneath those khaki denim pants.
Though I instructed him on how to buzz me via the front gate’s intercom system, he has yet to return. But he is such a sweet and honest man (and terribly good looking), I’m more than happy to service his sexual provocations w/o any expectation of mutual delight. In fact, I drool frequently thinking of his fat kok and crown between my fondling grasp.
Samuel lacks such sensitivity and male affection, that I’m not willing at this time, to remain patient over the weeks, until he puts out in such a way as to return all the licks and feel-copping I’ve performed on him. I’ve already made him happier with my overtures, than he’s ever been over intimacy with anyone: male or female. So I proclaim further:
“Look, Samuel. My heart is terribly broken over Larkin right now.” Once more I weep, in spite of my efforts to keep a dry eye. And explain through these tears:
“You just don’t understand right now. But my sorrow goes way beyond Larkin, and includes how I feel about you.” Take his hand again, and explain further:
“You cannot give me what I really need at this time. Therefore, it is more important that I remain alone for some time, than try to get what I need from you or anyone else, in order to ease my suffering. In fact, it seems there is no one in this world right now, who can ease my grief.” Samuel replies with utmost concern:
“I understand, Zeke. Please smoke some pot I brought you, before I leave.”
So we light up, and get stoned out of our skulls. Yet, that was not enough to ease my sorrows. For if Samuel is truly one to bring me some joy through this trial, he would’ve hugged and kissed me with tremendous passion by now.
Which he never did.
– Zeke
Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 21:15:29
Subject: About an hour ago…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor
…I stepped out once more, to purchase my favorite frozen entree at Mollie Stones. Strolled by Twin Peaks Tavern to find Larkin gone, along with my Scooby-Doo dominoes gift that I left on the newsstand.
Sometimes (actually, most of the time) one cannot see one’s prayer being answered. Therefore, one must keep the faith and strive forward.
So I did just that, and purchased four more packets of “Michael Angelo’s Manicotti & Sauce.”
– Zeke
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