The Tweetest Man in the World

[ Pleiadian Reader: a little confusion here, as the first two parts of this 5-segment opus should have been placed in an earlier article. I forgot about ’em, so inserted them here. The third section is a followup to another piece that came after the first two, chronologically. I’m sure you will use your acute cognitive talent to shuffle them all back into the proper sequence. ]


31 December 2013

Beloved Arwyn,

Enclosed is a copy of the permission form you signed some months back. I can see how you could easily have thought it was for Book 1. But notice the words in parentheses, at end of each paragraph: “(the sequel)”. Nonetheless, by the time you received that form it was already too late to use your real name in Book 1.

You’ve been behaving very erratic towards me since last January…unlike all our previous associations. Before then, at worst you’d either ignore me, walk away, or spit on the ground. But most other times you’ve been very nice, especially from October through December 2012. You even went out of your way to greet me, ask how I am, and pleasantly chat.

Little did I realize that once you arrived in the Castro, you started telling everyone I’m your stalker. But I know you don’t think that’s true at all. For one, when you arrived home with my Christmas gift (the one w/the little stuffed dragon), you told your housemate: “My stalker gave me this package. I’m afraid to open it.” But since I’ve never given you anything but lovely gifts, you had absolutely no reason to fear. And that, My Sweet Dragon, is proof of your lie.

None of your friends I’ve spoken with really believe I’m your stalker. In fact, they all agree that you’re fuckin’ with my head. I am very concerned that your sudden change of behavior indicates a serious malady, such as a brain tumor (or something equally serious). That night you shoved me, you were not feeling well (according to your half-apology the next day). I suspect it was a splitting headache.

I am not fuckin back at you, by bringing this up. I really don’t want to lose you…I don’t want the world to lose you. I would be tremendously relieved to learn you do not have any debilitating condition. Even if you still want nothing more to do with me. I am seriously thinking about talking to these friends, to convince you to get a checkup.

I have suffered similar tragedies with four other men I loved. Of course, there’s Randolph whose PTSD created an impossible wall between us. Even worse: when he was brought to the veteran’s hospital here in SF (from Wash. D.C.), I visited him by surprise. (A contact had informed me he was back in SF, though Randolph hadn’t.) Well guess what happened?

When I showed up, the corridors were aflurry with nurses and medics. I asked an aide what’s going on. He replied: “A patient just shot himself.” Of course, I feared it was My Randy. But it wasn’t. It was his roommate who took his life! Thus the incident further blocked my friendship with Randolph, quite understandable but much to my grief. That was way back in 1990, the last time I laid eyes on his darling face.

Another gorgeous dude, Mark Forte, whom I fell in love with and took off the streets, had to leave after staying with me for three weeks, or I’d be evicted. We really liked each other, so ending his visits was a terrible heartbreak. He decided to return to his family in Nebraska. They kicked him out because he was gay, and he eventually froze to death in the snow.

Another time, a handsome young fellow named Bruce moved into our building. He had AIDS, but seemed in good health, robust and such. We formed a very dear friendship which lasted almost two years. But then dementia kicked in, causing him to see me as enemy. He hollered at me, threatened me, broke my window, kicked my door…even attacked me once, and was arrested. This ordeal I had to suffer for several months before his family got him to return home, where he finally perished.

The fourth close friend…well, I’ll skip all that, I’ve given you enough examples.

I could never bear going through such tragedy again…with you or anyone else. But it has been my difficult fate that God has asked me to endure such tragic friendships. In many other cases, I was asked to sacrifice a friendship in order to give them a better life. Usually this happened from misunderstandings that were created by jealous outsiders. Gossip for example.

So you see my concern about our own relationship. Is God now asking me to sacrifice the finest friendship I’ve known, that he may be healed of a serious malady? That is: my suggesting you have a brain will anger you further. Anyway, I do know that the sooner you get checked out, the sooner you’ll know whether or not you need emergency treatment, and get that thing removed.

If such be the case, I’m certain you’ll heal 100% and have a better life than ever. With or without me. Though I sure wish it would be with.

Okay, Arwyn? God bless. I miss you a whole lot. Especially the smiles and hugs.

– Zeke

P.S.: I realize I left out the word “tumor” in the paragraph above that begins with “So you see.” I decided not to correct that error, because I figure you’d get a good laugh outta that. And humor is the best medicine after all, eh?


Date: Sun, 12 Jan 2014 09:11:55
Subject:
Speakin of all’s fair in love and war…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor

…I got all bases covered. Including if he’s sociopathic (to some significant degree). I did not plan things this way, fate just dropped it into my lap. Here goes:

Arwyn did not return those forms, signed, giving me permission to use his real name or tell anyone that he is Arwyn Miles. Presumably because he does /not/ want to be regarded as my enemy in the public’s eye. So I will keep the pseudonym in all three books. Assuming this trilogy comes to a happy end, then I’ll be home free as I’m sure he’ll want to be known. This will gain him fame and affluence, that he may pursue his life’s goals unfettered.

Thus, he has a vested interest in sincerely making things up to me–to /create/ this joyful outcome–else he’ll lose out on this aurelian opportunity. But even more: he now has a vested interest in preserving my health, protecting me from injury or death. Otherwise, my readers will eventually turn their blame on him. For even now, books 2 and 3 are available on the web, for all eyes to read…they /don’t/ need to be published in the conventional sense for the truth to be known. They will learn of our tragic conflict, thus conclude that Arwyn is the most likely suspect (in the event of my bodily harm or demise, even if committed by a person /other/ than Arwyn, even if he had nothing to /do/ with it).

As a possible sociopath, he is only interested in those who can provide him with amenities, especially money and fame. The potential for my becoming wealthy is now established, and he knows it. But it also places him in a scenario where he is /mandated/ to maintain a solid relationship of respect and love, seeing as he’ll also be a highly celebrated figure with all sights on My Dramatic Dragon-Queen.

Of course once he becomes sufficiently flush with moolah, he might leave me for other pastures. A possibility which I accept. Meanwhile, he is now highly motivated to undo the stalker accusation, and to promote my novel along /with/ me. Regaining access to the gay bars is an important step towards this goal, as is Arwyn’s popularity in the booze circuit. His participation will therefore greatly /increase/ the odds of my book becoming a bestseller, thus increasing the odds for his own financial success and celebrityhood.

He cannot do this without me…in fact, he cannot do this without making me one uber-happy dude. For the happier I am, the more potent the force of my mission. And vice-versa for Arwyn.

Whether he truly loves me or not is irrelevant. So long as the /act/ is convincing. For even if his cycles of kindness have all been a charade, he /has/ been the best friend I’ve ever known, regardless. He is obviously not a total sociopath, since he has shown a /very/ endearing side that I’ve never experienced with anyone else in my entire, agonizing and precarious little life.

So all bases are covered: sociopath, brain tumor, tragic childhood and/or my guardian dragon that commands a secret society and is putting me through my paces. In conclusion:

I must be a sociopath in major ways, also…to confront My Rugged Reptile with matching force.

And everyone’s a bit daft ‘cept for thee and me.


Date: Thu, 16 Jan 2014 19:38:06
Subject:
So now we know the happy ending…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor

…to Book 3, which also completes this amazing trilogy. Not only do we know how it ends in a general way (Larkin and myself back together), but many of the specifics. Such as:

  • Larkin promotes my book like nobody’s business throughout all the gay bars, clubs and special events. Thanks to his myriad connections with queers of influence including bar owners and tenders, and the wealthy elite. Of course he will abolish any rumors about my being his stalker. Though I actually believe he’s never /done/ that in the first place; just made me /think/ so. Some of his allies participated in this dupe, called me “stalker” just to make for a convincing scenario.
  • Unexpected twist in the plot: I rapidly become famous on Twitter, thanks to all the original jokes and puns I tweet daily. This leads to a contract to publish a collection of my humorous sayings on social media. IOW: my /book/ will not take off until well after my Twitter fame becomes full-blown and I am flush with capital. What a beautiful irony, eh, Ellie?
  • You will be celebrated as the “other” hero in my trilogy, the “hero behind the curtain” so to speak. This will, of course, not only dramatically boost your sales of The Iron Empress…but increase your fame exponentially in many other directions.
  • Somehow, in a way I still cannot fathom, Randolph will return to me. Thanks to My Darling Reptile’s loving hand. But I will make it utterly clear to him before this happens that I simply can /not/ love Randolph without him, too, remaining in my life on a major basis. “You dare not leave me, Larkin,” I will declare, “or the world will become one big sack of misery for me.”
  • I will become the most celebrated gay activist in history, dwarfing even Harvey Milquetoast by a long shot. At that point I will be able to freely travel, go wherever I want to go, without so much as an ID card or passport, or a single penny to my name. And there will always be good folks to provide for my necessities as well as companionship and joy.
  • All media channels will become my playground, to disseminate whatever pro-gay entertainment and info This Little Queer Demon chooses. Larkin will be my chief protector, along with many other studly gay dudes whom he chooses and organizes around me.

So, El, do you find this exciting or no? Believable or no? Wackadoodle insane (in a good way) or no? I will post this letter to my blog so that viewers may witness absolute proof of my gay prophecy. That my guiding visions over many years have been accurate all along! Larkin update:

Our paths crossed once more, this eve about 45 minutes ago from this writing. Just before that encounter, I was standing outside Twin Peaks at my fireplug station. Larkin was commiserating as usual with patrons and bartenders. Stepped outside for ten minutes, where he saw me but pretended otherwise. Shortly after he reentered the tavern, I decided to march on down Castro to purchase some items at Walgreens and withdraw $20.

Upon my return up The Gayest Sidewalk in the Universe (same side as Twin Peaks), I paused to glance through their window to see if My Special Demon were still there. Alas, he was not. So I shrugged my shoulders and moved on. But no sooner had I taken several steps he showed up barreling towards me, smiles and states:

“I got all your letters, Zeke, and your card, and god only knows what else!”

I stood before him, looked up to declare:

“Larkin, I really don’t want to talk with you unless you first give me a hug.”

He suddenly grimaced, ignored my command and sauntered on down the path I had just carved. So I turned in his direction to beg:

“C’mon, Larkin!”

He then turned right around to declare (with some waving of those spindly arms):

“I got all your letters, Zeke, and the card!”

He smiled, and I did too. Then he spun around to continue his march away from This Bedraggled Son of His Heart.

“C’mon, Larkin! Stop it!” I pleaded. He did not respond, so I reached his ear with the most important words I could say:

“I love you!”

Now, Ellie, I think about this latest Clash of the Titans and realize: he is obviously /not/ put out by my “7 Rules of Zeke”. In fact, he understands precisely why I made such demands. Which are a matter of self pride. And which I believe he intentionally pulled out of me thanks to his setting up a scenario that led to just this moment.

Why didn’t he hug me? (I wonder.) Do I really need to go through /further/ exasperation before the bubble is popped? That is one question I cannot answer at this point. But I’m okay with that.

Because I trust implicitly Larkin’s methodology which is /obviously/ geared to my own fulfillment…not just with his endearing friendship, but with whatever else involves This Destiny That Heals All Wounds.

– Zeke

P.S.: I guess it’s time to restore Arwyn Miles’ real name, which is Larkin Kelsey.


18 January 2014

Okay, Sweet Dragon of My Heart, let’s have some fun:

[ Shoot! The idea to write this piece hit me only after I sealed the package containing my latest tales. Thus, this separate letter. Here goes. ]

There is an elderly gay gentleman I’ve befriended at Howard’s Cafe some time late in 2012. His name is Braden, and he’s 64 or so. Very nice guy, totally supports my activism and writing. But get this:

HE KNOWS YOU! Only as an occasional acquaintance, I mean…through those gay bowling tournaments you’re nuts about. Though he’s in a different league. Braden’s spoken briefly to you from time to time, since the day I first described you and revealed your wonderful moniker:

“Larkin? I know someone called Larkin! Does he bowl?”

Maybe this was last February or March when the connection first sparked. Since then, I’ve shared our adventures a bit with him…the stalker stuff, the shoving, etc. And finally, how I’ve come to realize this is all a setup for my benefit, and only comes from compassion. (Of course, Braden thinks my “setup/compassion” theory is just a coping mechanism under cruel duress.)

I did not tell him (yet) that I also conclude this “stalker” scenario was strategically set up by yourself and a group of allies. In other words: to make it more believable, several folks joined in on the ruse…including certain bartenders.

Side note: to my hilarity, I discovered you recently stood-in for Braden on his bowling league while he was vacationing. Anywayz:

I’m sure that while Braden admires me, he also thinks I’m somewhat daft (story of my life). I affirmed I would never mention him to you, as he thinks you’re a stinker for what you’ve done to me, and prefers to not be in the middle of all this melodrama. So here’s how we can have some fun with this:

Approach Braden next time you see him, with a rather disturbed expression and say something like:

“So you know Zeke the Stalker, eh?”

Follow that up with whatever remarks strike your fancy; you’re a super-witty fellow, so I know your performance will earn you stand-up ovation by the angels all about. Of course, make it perfectly clear that I never mentioned Braden to you, that you are telepathic and can read my mind at will. (Which is exactly what I told Braden various times, and why I’m sure you know all about my friendship with him at Howard’s, and have for a long while. So you can understand why Braden thinks I’m a tad off my rocker, ha!)

So have fun with this My Beloved Basilisk, I look forward to Braden’s reaction some day soon, at Howard’s Cafe!

Love and hugs always,

Zeke

P.S.: I changed a sentence in my piece “My FINAL Final Final Pitch” but am too late to replace it, due to the sealed packet. It would be on page 3, paragraph 4 I think. Original sentence starting with “But this is the first time I know of that I see Arwyn” is now changed to:

But this is the first time I know of that I see Arwyn occupying TPT at such a mesonoxian hour!

“Mesonoxian” means “having to do with midnight,” a word I just discovered and fell in love with last night. So I really wanted to use it right away!


Date: Sat, 18 Jan 2014 18:09:32
Subject:
Re: Discovered a new word today: “mesonoxian”…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ It’s a Brobdingnagianly fine word! }}

No Lilliputian brain here! Sent off my “Fun w/Braden” letter today. The back of the envelope addressed to Larkin has taped to it the following tweet printout:

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