This is my Police Report

From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Date: Thu, 3 Jul 2014 21:39:51
Subject: This is the police report…

…I’m submitting in two days, to our local Mission station:

Offenses

Ongoing bullying and defamation of character since January 2012, plus several assaults (flicking a lit cigarette at me twice, and shoving me twice so far). First time he shoved me (late Jan. 2012), it was really hard and I almost fell on the sidewalk. As a result, I wrenched my back and was in pain for almost three weeks. (I am only 5-foot-7, and 64 years old.) I had confronted him about his sudden change in behavior, and that was his reaction: an assault. Even though it was outside and he could’ve just walked away. Three weeks prior to this incident, every time I’d see him and say “hi” he’d grimace and holler, “Get away from me, I don’t wanna talk to you.” Before this change, he’s always been very nice, even shared hugs and friendly conversation. A platonic friendship.

Another time he flicked a lit cigarette at me with cinders that could have turned into flames on my acrylic shirt. This occurred at Pilsner Inn on April 21, 2013. He’s also started a smear campaign against me, telling bartenders and patrons that I’m his stalker and a “psycho”…which drove me out of all the gay bars in my neighborhood. If I go to any bar (including those he doesn’t frequent) and he sees me, he’ll run in and tell the bartender I’m his stalker. It’s been going on now for more than 1-1/2 years. He refuses to stop maligning my good reputation as a gay street activist and author.

Another time at The Mix, where I was enjoying a drink, Larkin ran up to lesbian bartender Sloan, tells her I’m his stalker…and she promptly kicked me out without any evidence of such. This occurred on the evening of May 17, 2013. I tried to talk with her about it when she stepped out after her shift, but she retorted: “See? You’re stalking me now, too.”

The owners of Hole in the Wall Saloon (1361 Folsom Street) 86’d him permanently. Their names are John Gardiner, and Joseph Banks. I could not find out their phone number or home address via City Hall, but you might want to contact them to discover their side of the story. He was also kicked out of Pilsner Inn some years back, for almost three years duration…and had nothing to do with me.

I thought we were becoming really good friends over the eight-plus years since we met. But this sudden change in personality gives me great concern that he might be suffering a brain tumor or some other malady that effects one’s thinking process. But it also occurred to me (God forbid) that he might have turned drug dealer. Which does explain perfectly why he’s driven me out of all the bars, and is defaming my character to anyone who will listen. (And also explains why some bartenders would so readily side with him: they’re his “customers.”)

But because I still consider him a friend (since he has been so good to me and wouldn’t let any jerk do me harm), I persist in confronting him and trying to break through whatever obstacle this is. But I also never let anyone bully me, no matter how much I might love him.

Our friendship has been going on since 2006, though there were large gaps in time when I didn’t see him at all. And sometimes he’d just walk by like he doesn’t know me. But every time our paths crossed, I always gave him a friendly hello. We first met at Hole in the Wall Saloon, and shared many fun moments. Then he disappeared for almost a year, before showing up here in the Castro, my neighborhood since 1983. Starting around October 2012, we resumed our friendship and hanged out at this or that bar, or on the streets (often outside Twin Peaks Tavern).

On May 31 2013, his housemate Marty (don’t know his last name) witnessed Larkin bullying me. Threatened me by popping a fist close to my face, then stated: “I’ll knock your teeth outta your mouth!” Marty is also witness to Larkin calling me his stalker and a psycho.

On June 17th around 11 PM, he shoved me once more. Not as hard as the first time, but enough to be considered an assault. This happened outside of Twin Peaks Tavern, by the bus stop. I had just stepped out to go to Walgreens when I saw him standing on the corner, and gave him a friendly “hello.” He suddenly turned to me, told me to get the fuck out of his face. I refused and began berating him. Besides shoving me again, he also flicked a lit cigarette at me, and spit in my face, twice.

Description

His name is Larkin Kelsey, lives at 2450 Market Street, San Francisco. Moved to the Castro about 3-6 years ago; before that he lived South of Market, above the Hole in the Wall Saloon where we first met. Do not know his apt. #, lease probably not in his name, he’s renting a room from a friend named Marty. (Marty is a skinny Caucasian, about 5-foot-10, smokes tobacco, gray-brown straight hair clipped to the top of his ears, average looking.) They both hang out at lot at Twin Peaks Tavern, also Moby Dick.

Larkin is 6-foot-4, Caucasian, orange-brown eyes, around 50 years old, and is strikingly handsome and charismatic. On the skinny side (usually, but once a few years ago he got kinda fat.) Dense auburn fluffy hair now turning gray. Usually clean shaven, but sometimes grows a bit of a beard and moustache. Smokes cigarettes, plays pool at The Cafe, Moby Dick, Pilsner Inn and maybe other gay bars. I believe he is presently a member of The Cafe Cuckoos billiards club. He sometimes puts on glasses to read.

He changes his hair style often, sometimes all the way down to a buzz cut. May use aliases such as “Kelsey Larkin” and “Kelsey Larkinelvyn,” according to a simple people search. His heritage is Ireland, and he looks very much like a handsome, fighting Irishman. He also has rotting teeth (like myself) due to not being able to afford dental care any more. Almost half his teeth are now gone. No identifying body marks that I know of. He is often seen dog-walking, and I know he does odd jobs for various bar owners in the Castro. Does not seem to hold down a real job of any kind. Is very secretive about his personal life.

He does have this PO box, where he allows me to send him letters. Here is a grainy photo of Mr. Kelsey, the only one I have:

It came from a clip of a video I took of him around seven years ago, when he worked in a taqueria South of Market. You can see the video here:

http://tinyurl.com/larkin-taqueria

I am extremely distraught over Larkin’s unexpectedly mean behavior that has gone on now for almost a year and a half. He persists in maligning me to everyone he knows, which also puts my own life in danger. Seeing as it inspires a malicious attitude against me, in my own neighborhood, by people who don’t even know me.

Most sincerely,

Ezekiel J. Krahlin


From: Eleanor Cooney
To: Zeke Krahlin
Date: Thu, 3 Jul 2014 23:08:12
Subject: Re: This is the police report…

That’s Larkin behind the counter? Cops’ll probably do nothing. They’re worse than useless. I was once being stalked and threatened (“There’ll be some hair on the wall!”), told the cops, they said they couldn’t do anything until he actually harmed me. Great!


From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Date: Thu, 3 Jul 2014 23:34:54
Subject: Re: This is the police report…

Eleanor wrote:

{{ That’s Larkin behind the counter? }}

The one facing the camera, not the pudgy dude with his back to the viewer.

{{ Cops’ll probably do nothing. They’re worse than useless. }}

I realize that, and I’m sure Larkin does, too. However, I gotta do /something/. If he does get more violent, I’ll already have the case established. Otherwise, the judge or jury would wonder why I didn’t report things early on.

But this works both ways: little he can do to stop me from screwing up his hanging out at the bars, kissing up to everyone, laughing that he got me kicked out.

Though I’m not worried about our outcome as friends…he’s playing out a scenario, that I may be his hero. I /did/ mail him a copy of my police report, BTW.

Meanwhile, someone I know a bit who seemed really nice suddenly turned on me last night (on the streets) and threatened to burn my place down. Well, this incident will be in my next blog post, where you can learn more.

I have /never/ had a happy birthday since, oh, 30 or more years ago. That day, along with the major holidays, have always been low points of my year.

– Zeke


From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Date: Fri, 4 Jul 2014 00:54:16
Subject: Re: This is the police report…

Eleanor wrote:

{{ Aw, hell, you don’t deserve ANY of this. }}

I disagree. I’m a warrior. A /gay/ warrior. A shaman who trods the greatest path of them all: The Path of Broken Hearts. Larkin has set up the scenario where I fight tooth and claw for his friendship…giving me many chances to stand up to him, a man twice my size. Don’t know if you’ve read my last 3 or 4 blog entries, but I’ve gotten to: watch him pratfall down the subway stairs, flick my cigarette at him, and spit smack dab on his face. And all he did was shove me slightly.

Oh, you mean the arson threat. No, that just adds spice to the already steaming drama. Kurt is part of this secret society, forcing me to grow braver/stronger, learning how to override the anxiety attack of his threat. And I have. His wicked attempt to destroy my peace of mind, even unto sleep, causes me great anger so necessary to overcome.

Once you read my latest blogs, you’ll learn that I came down with a bad case of the stomach bug (norovirus) and only started to feel good by day 4, my birthday. Of course I sent Larkin many postcards letting him know July 1st is the day of my womb-dropping…hoping he would do something really really nice for me on that day. But of course, he did not. So I got drunk.

Next day, July 2nd, Kurt threatens me with arson. Anywayz, I don’t want to repeat what I’ve already told in my blogs. But I am absolutely amazed at how the pattern and rhythm of my latest pieces are all fitting into an incredible Odyssey.

Since I’ve learned to efficaciously apply the Buddha’s tenet “we have no enemies, only teachers,” it’s astounding how I can interpret my misfortunes as a most bless-ed gift. I can always discover the door to the best of all possible outcomes, in each one of these crises. Barely takes me a few hours any more.

– Zeke


From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Date: Fri, 4 Jul 2014 01:52:17
Subject: Re: This is the police report…

Ya know, El, I spit in his face /once/, so he’s gotta spit back /twice/. Always gotta be the alpha male, that’s My Larkin!


From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Date: Fri, 4 Jul 2014 02:20:49
Subject: Re: This is the police report…

And I’m always cleaning up other people’s messes while they (including Larkin) go out and parTAY while I remain confined to my hovel. No company, little money, can’t go to any bars since Larkin drove me out. On top of this, I’m constantly cleaning up /my/ room, just to keep the dust and city grit from outpacing /me/!

They’re like psychic vampires: the more miserable /I/ am, leaking infinite quantities of life force (among which are Faith, Hope and Charity)…the more JOYful they are! The bastards. Evil Queens they be! Aaargh!

Cinderella has /nothing/ over me!

Hey, I’m GAY Cinderella, the Cinderella of the LGBT Community. Yay!

– Zeke


From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Date: Fri, 4 Jul 2014 03:10:08
Subject: Re: This is the police report…

The other hope is that, by mailing him a copy, he can’t deny how much I love him just by the way I word everything. I do not control my lovesickness, it obsesses me every waking moment and sometimes, in a special dream. Larkin has appeared to me twice so far, and both times he’s been awfully sweet…though way too aloof (as in real life).

I just imagined an SFPD cop (she’s black) picking up my report and dropping me a line:

“Hello?”

“Yes, is this Ezekiel J. Krahlin?”

“Speaking, my dear!”

“Well, Mr. Krahlin, my name is Abigail Johnson from the Mission Station.”

“Really? Wow! Double Wow! Thanks for reading my latest piece.”

(laughter) “I just want to say, Mr. Krahlin, you sure have a doozy of a boyfriend. You’re one heckuva LUCKY man!”

“My gosh, thanks, yes I am!” (pause) “So, Abigail, that is such a /kind/ thing to say to someone. You just made my day.”

“Mine, too, Ezekiel.” (I could see the sun’s rays bursting from the earpiece of my land line.)

“Heck, we’ve made each /other’s/ day!” (chuckle) “I am /so/ honored that someone from the SFPD took the time to read my report so soon.”

“I think it was meant to happen, Ezekiel,” there was triumph in her voice. “I wish you the very best for you and Larkin. And you know it’s gonna happen, right?”

“Yes! I can feel the future encroach like the dawn of a new epoch. I’m a very happy man.”

“I could tell just by the way you wrote about him,” replied Abigail with a timbre of humility. (Sirens sounded off in the background; there was a flurry of voices, then quiet once more. She is, after all, phoning from a police station.)

“It’s a gift straight from God’s own hand!”

Her throat seemed caught for a moment or two before she could speak once more:

“Over and out!”

So you see, El, we are /both/ unabashedly and wildly in love…and have been ever since that day he nudged me several times as if by accident, while canoodling around the pool table pretending to get into position to make the best shot. He was trying to get me to notice him! So I did, then asked how tall he was (6-foot-4), how old he was (44), and what was his name (Larkin). And my summary response?

“Oh I see, you’re just another handsome fighting Irishman!”

His smile then eclipsed everything else that preceded that moment. He’s a good man, El. No, he’s a GREAT man. And he’s proven that to me many times over, with such friendly pizzazz. So many adventures he’s put me through since that first day! So now when he’s abruptly turned on me like my own worst enemy, far be it for me to abandon him.

I pray with all my might (to the point of exhaustion at least twice per day, where I must lie down awhile to recoup an essential level of prana) that he is simply playing a game to afford me an awesome opportunity to be /his/ hero this time around! Goddess forbid he should /really/ have a brain tumor or something equally morbid, as I think I’ve already been through enough horror to last a zillion lifetimes. But if that comes to pass, I’ll be right there by his side, if he permits. If not, I will isolate myself each evening in my crummy SRO…and pray to all the angels that exist, to please, please, heal my buddy back to his Wonderful, Dragonly Self! (Or let me perish with him.)

So I /must/ fight on many levels of possibility, with every sinew, nerve and red blood cell that I have! Alzheimer’s /is/ a possibility; as I’m sure you well know, due to your /own/ tribulation in that department. Death in Slow Motion.

And I must be his most devoted companion and caregiver, /minus/ the support, money, and decent household that /you/ had. Only to finally be stranded once more, alone in Room 205 of 2306 Market Street. Still dreaming of Larkin. And I will ALWAYS dream of him, no matter what.

Too horrid to contemplate thusly, for very long. I am trusting in a much shinier option:

That Larkin (or The Fates from higher up) is only putting me through my paces, that I may taste the nihilistic possibilities. So I may know in my heart I am truly /willing/ to go through every possible tragedy or hell if need be, to win Larkin’s love forever. And in this clever way do The Judges of Mount Olympus witness the mettle of my spirit. And so shall deem me honorable, faithful, courageous and (most of all) kind. Larkin is My Golden Apple. My Guardian Dragon with the Amber Eyes.

Yours truly as ever,

– Zeke


From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Date: Fri, 4 Jul 2014 03:55:12
Subject: Re: This is the police report…

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