Two Times

To: Eleanor
From: Zeke
Date: July 18, 2014
Subject: I saw Larkin two times…

…the first time on Market Street right across from where I reside, walking a friendly black-and-white doggie he called (I think) “Scampy”. The creature was sniffing everything in sight to his heart’s content, oblivious to Larkin tugging on the leash with gentle persuasion.

“C’mon Scampy, let’s get a move on!”

I was walking from the corner grocery/liquor store two blocks up Noe and about to turn right on Market towards my hovel, when I saw him. Thus ran across the street…and leaned against the green newsstand to observe the scenario. Larkin continued his dog-walking, acting oblivious to my presence. Though I know w/o a doubt he saw me clear as a lone koi fish in a Japanese pond. But I wouldn’t allow it, so called:

“Our friendship is an incredible godsend, that was nice!”

He of course ignored me (being more vulnerable as he is, when handling the responsibility of another person’s pet). So I enunciated further:

“That’s it, keep ignoring me, don’t speak a word!”

It was immensely painful to just stand there and watch him cross the street without any acknowledgment of my presence whatsoever. I wanted to run up to him, tell him how much I care about him in spite of all the BS he’s put me through…and continues to put me through.

But I had a half gallon of 2% milk in my carry bag, and needed to prepare supper, so I just stood there and watched as he crossed Noe and diminished down 16th Street. I waited for him to glance back so I could flash a friendly wave of the hand, but it looked like that was not gonna happen this time around. So I proceeded towards the corner and awaited the green light in order to march home.

At the very last moment–when Larkin turned the corner ’round a side street–he poked his head back to gaze at me: a raised eyebrow and a lopsided grin. I waved at him, smiled, then crossed Market to return hovel.

[ Of course, Intraventricular Reader, most people would say that my infatuation is without purpose, there is no more use in my fidelity towards him, after all the horrid treatment he’s flung in my path. But that is not how I take things, though it is indeed a grievous situation to be regarded as nothing more than an annoying gnat, at this point in his life. Since he shoved me in January 2013, it has been mostly heartbreak whenever our paths cross and I set my eyes on his belov-ed visage. Yet he still honors me with a glorious moment now and then, as if to encourage me to hang in there…that this is but a game (an initiation, a series of trials).

What else can I conclude when his latest kind expression he bestowed on This Needful Gay Soul, was (almost eight weeks ago):

“Our friendship, our being brought together, is an incredible godsend!”

I am afraid I’m becoming an alcoholic, in my need to cope with such difficult challenges…for the vodka I consume gives me some genuine respite to think things through, and give him God’s blessing in spite of his dark perambulations. For I am fully cognizant at this point, that I will /never/ back off in being a thorn in this man’s side…a man who I believe is /so/ good and /so/ compassionate, that I truly cannot believe that his crude slander against me does not ultimately serve a greater purpose that comes straight from His Dragonly Heart.

If I am deluded, so be it. I’d rather perish in Such Divine Hallucination, than exist in a world where Larkin disappears from my universe. There is something so strong in my spirit that commands me:

“Zeke, keep confronting Larkin and give him hell! For he /will/ eventually acquiesce in full admiration of your refusal to move on in loss of his friendship.”

But I think of my birthday that recently passed, and how he did absolutely /nothing/ to wish me joy, even though I informed him in various ways, that I would soon turn 64. He didn’t even buy me a pair of sandals, the only thing I requested. Because his friendship means so much to me, I would never dream of burdening him with a demand for an expensive gift. (You may regard sandals as expensive, but I’m thinking here “Payless.”) ]

So I went home, boiled a three or four day supply of brown rice, then cut up a small head of broccoli and placed it in the microwave for eight minutes. While sauteeing the veggies in virgin olive oil (green bell pepper, orange bell pepper and a whole onion) I looked out the window and saw Larkin returning up Market Street, minus the doggie. I was tempted to holler out to him across the busy thoroughfare…but instead I just sighed and stirred my veggies for an even cook. Such a beautiful man, and he seems to be fading from my life.

Dinner finally ready, I set it aside and stepped out in hopes of finding Larkin (planning to sup upon my return), and buy a pint of Royal Gate Vodka at K&D Liquors. After that purchase, I wandered down to Rossi’s Delicatessen, where they sell Fortuna cigarettes to their regular customers from years ago, for just $4.50. There is a shop across the street that sells the brand for 25 cents less, but I am boycotting that place, as described in an earlier post.

I then crossed Castro Street, to discover Larkin at Twin Peaks Tavern with his arms about a youngish and skinny patron, who was drinking up all his charisma and sweet attention. Larkin saw me lean against the cement buttress of Jane Warner Plaza, and light up a tobacco stick. It was /so/ good to hear his voice, even if not intended for my ears. I wanted to tell Larkin with much fervor that it’s okay, I understand. This is how he survives: mooching on drunk patrons with fat wallets. But of course the opportunity never arrived, as he remained close to his prey, caressing him with a gangly arm that I wished so much were instead, across my own shoulders. I’m sure he got many free drinks in exchange…and I walked on home, once more alone in My Own World of Dreams Denied.

I am terribly morose this evening, for the feeling of Larkin drifting away from my world is anathema to my yearning soul. Yet there is Gabe, my new and handsome neighbor who has been so sweet to me ever since he moved next door five weeks ago. Only last night I learned he does deep-tissue body work (and has a massage table in his studio apartment), on top of being so divinely eccentric that I can barely control my kok turning into a boner whenever I think of him and his proximity to my rotten hovel.

Is Gabriel’s presence just another cruel tease, or will he understand and respect my desperate urge to explode orgasmically with another sweet dude? Especially in light of Larkin’s wicked torment to This Deluded Soul?

Yes, I saw Larkin’s roommate, Zachary, step into the Posh Bagel this morning while I was munching on a whole-wheat-with-sesame-seeds cream-cheese-slathered delight graced with a smallish cup of Columbian Medium Roast. So I said “Hello, Zachary” as he crossed my line of sight. He looked wasted and ready to hit the mortuary slab, so of course just nodded at me with a grimace before placing his order (infected as he was by Larkin’s Own Anti-Zeke Plague). And without acknowledging my existence once more, finally departed to The Mix right around the corner. A bar where it seems Larkin has been 86’d through no fault of my own about four months ago.

Larkin has certainly poisoned many against me who live in and frequent the Castro. Yet I forgive him all his slanderous acts, for I know w/o a single doubt, that he is to become My Quintessial Soulmate, and that I must bear for a while longer, all this absurd scapegoating. So I think of Gabe while sitting here and typing this missive, almost ready to burst into tears but for the cheap vodka.

Will Gabriel knock on my door tonight, and exchange sweet conversation? Will he grab me in his arms and shower me with kisses for all the sacrifices that have been my scourge for countless years…the latest being Larkin’s insufferable backstabbing?

Will Gabe take me by the hand into his apartment and demand that I lie down on his massage table? And then will he strip me down to my T-shirt and boxer briefs to give me the best feeling-up and blow job I have ever known?

It is now 10:53 PM, so I sincerely doubt it. (Gabriel is such a handsome fellow, and so delightfully eccentric, I can’t help but jack off to him many times over, especially since he shares his wall with yours truly.) But rest assured I will print out this email and leave it by his door, that he may know my ardent desires, and leave the rest up to him and Father Nature.

– Zeke


THE NEXT DAY

Upon arriving hovel from Bean There coffeehouse, late afternoon, I found this charming sketch taped to my door:

He dropped over later that evening, and explained how he attempted to first draw a T-Rex, but somehow his hand took over and came up with a shark. Gabe is a terribly sweet man with such bold and eccentric honesty, it knocks my garters off.

“I finally read your story,” he brightly chirped, referring to a recent tale I composed which featured our new friendship: “Heaven is Just Across the Street.” Which tale I printed out, crisply folded into an envelope, and taped to his door three weeks ago. My heart missed a beat:

“Did you like it? Wasn’t it a fun story?”

“Yes I did, very much.”

“You actually became the star of that tale, though I had intended it for Larkin. You have to be a pretty darned nice soul to do that!”

The shark drawing was a friendly retort to my latest letter taped to his door earlier that day…and which composes the first half of this blog entry. So I queried him on it, to which he replied:

“Yes, I liked it too!” He grinned and hunched his shoulders a smidgeon. “I just felt a little weird when you mentioned you jack off thinking of me.”

[ Now I found that a strange remark, Amplexicaul Reader, seeing as it was Gabe who pressed his lips firmly upon mine, the first time we hugged. Which of course made me feel comfortable about propositioning him in my two, brief letters (also taped to his door, since he made himself scarce for a good ten days; turns out he was vacationing in Los Angeles). Though I clearly stated in my very first blog about him, that “I am certainly open to a sweet friendship… platonic all the way.” Yet there are some (I suppose) who, while attracted to me sexually, may still be freaked out at the thought of my exploding jism upon the wall that seperates our two abodes. So for a spell I deliberated upon the best reply possible, given the awkward circumstance (and my feeling very much like the runt of a baboon litter who shall never come close to alpha status): ]

“Well then, just take it as a compliment,” I replied in as classy a way as possible, while my anticipation withered like a zucchini blossom on the vine.

He embraced me. “Yes, Zeke, that is quite a compliment, and I thank you!” When we pulled back, I grasped my chin in comtemplation:

“Okay, I’ll make you a promise: I will never think of you whenever I choke the rooster. Plenty of other hot men in my retinue I can focus on instead.”

We continued our hallway badinage for ten more minutes or so, before Gabriel excused himself. I watched him turn the corner (since he has such a hot butt to ogle; but let us not forget those solid calves)…and before opening the door to his apartment, called out:

“Never mind, Zeke. You can jack off to me any time you want, I don’t care.”

“Ha ha,” returned my echo. “Perish the thought!”


NOW BACK TO LARKIN FOR A MOMENT

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