The Final Chapter (part 21)

[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 3: Chapter 17u]

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Subject: Newspaper in lieu of tarp looks just fine…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 4, 2021 1:32 PM

…as you can see by the enclosed photo. That’ll save me some moolah: four tarps (that I have to replace every time after bug treatment) = $31, newspaper (readily available all over the place) = $00 (and is easier to lay out on the floor, and replace whenever). The throw rugs do a fine job of beautifying my hovel, and hold down the paper sheets better than they did the tarps. The Bay Area Reporter, the most widely circulated LGBT newspaper in the world, has suddenly become even MORE indispensable than ever…right here in the Castro, the Heart of the Heart of Gay Mecca. Huzzah!

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: Newspaper in lieu of tarp looks just fine…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 4, 2021 4:03 PM

> I think there’s a definite aesthetic to newspapers on the floor! Colorful funny papers would work well, too. Do they even have funny papers any more????

I believe so, but colorful cartoons are not included in any free publication I know of. They’re mostly Sunday comics anyway, and thus a teensy part of the entire publication. IOW not practical. Besides which: these cheap, Amazon throw rugs provide the multi-hued impact my eyeballs so crave. I am content.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: Deek’s Shitty Meetup This Evening
From: Ezekiel Krahlin.
To: My Dear Wattson.
Date: September 10, 2021 8:32 PM.

He showed up for his allowance, asked for a razor and more dog food. When he asks for dog food, that means he’s not planning to let the pups visit…and will disappear for three or more days. And then he started talking about getting Flaco pregnant, and collecting $1,500 for the beautiful pups she’ll produce. Said that some people through his SF connections got wind of Flaco, and are looking to mate their own dog with another diminutive one. They’re driving down from up north right now, and he’s arranged to meet them later on tonight.

I tried reasoning with him, told him that’s not love, that’s animal abuse…you can’t raise puppies on the streets, Flaco could die or get very sick, and so could the puppies. He said he has places where she’ll be indoors, why am I making a big deal out of this.

“It’s MY plan, Zeke, not yours.”

“Well it’s a bad plan,” I said, “a horrible idea.”

I then knelt down again, to pet Lucky & Flaco, seeing as they kept dancing around me.

“Why not let the pooches stay with me tonight,” I queried. “It’s been awhile. They love me, and they know I love them, and they love visiting.”

“Well, you’re seeing them now,” was his thoughtless reply. At that point, I had a strong urge to slam him onto the concrete. But I held my tongue, and kept that violent urge under wraps.

After hugging the pooches and enjoying their friendly greets for a few more minutes, I returned hovel to pack up a fresh supply of doggy vittles, and bring him another $60 and a razor. Upon my return, I spoke the following:

“Oh, you’re not gonna do that to her, you just love fucking with my head, you like to make me worry. Here’s the food and your money and the razor…god bless you all, have a beautiful evening.”

And off they went, as I lingered in that spot, watching them grow smaller as the distance increased, until they turned a corner two blocks down Noe Street. Gone. After barely a seven minute visit: gone! Again.

When I spoke against turning Flaco into his own puppy mill, he blurted out how one of his friends is in the hospital because of a fentanyl overdose, and he’s gonna get a leg cut off if he doesn’t come up with the money. Obviously, he made that up right on the spot, as justification to make that sweet little angel pregnant. I told him that, too.

“I don’t wanna hear your phony excuses, Deek. That’s just bullshit. It breaks my heart that you even talk like this.”

“Why would I even make that kinda stuff up?” he retorted, playing the innocent lamb quite poorly.

“I don’t know, but you do, from time to time,” I stated. Then he changed the subject:

“She’s gonna have babies, and you’ll get one of the puppies…you’ll be so happy!”

“No I won’t, I’ll be devastated. I don’t WANT a puppy, I want Flaco & Lucky to stay in my life, they’re my friends! No other dogs can replace them in my heart.”

So many days of misery seem to lie ahead for me, now. Thanks for nothing, Deek! However, knowing how bodhisattvas play a tough game at times, I realize it is my responsibility towards myself, to NOT allow the demons of sorrow, grief and despair best me. He is NOT gonna do any such thing, this is just another bipolar mood swing. Nowhere NEAR as bad as the last one, which was back in January when I took charge of the dogs for a few months, but not without major brouhaha and getting the cops involved.

He as much as admitted his bodhisattva nature several days back, by commending me on my incredible patience, courage and keeping a calm manner during that cycle of altercations with the building manager and Myrtle & son. Of which I’ve told him VERY LITTLE. (So where he got that information is certainly NOT from yours truly.) But what he showed me then, was he knows more about my adventures than he lets on. Indicating that he is, indeed, my spiritual guide, and that this is all scripted…they are acting out roles that make me into the hero of this play they’ve conjured up. THEY ARE ALL IN ON THIS! Deek KNOWS Myrtle and Adisa, the building manager, Dieter, and so on. And I bet he knows Arwyn, too…who, as you know, I accuse of being the AUTHOR of this script that is my life these days.

Plus they (the bodhisattvas) enjoy seeing me act nobly when a crisis erupts, so they toss one in now and then. This evening’s nastiness is just the latest.

I was about to step out to pick up my afternoon java, when Deek showed up. I was already almost at the gate, when he called up to my window. But right at the gate was a fire department medic, so I had to yell through him to get Deek’s attention. Don’t know why the fellow was there, but I’m guessing some medical emergency with Dennis or Dieter. He didn’t say, I just let him in.

Then, when I stepped back out with the dog food, etc., that same medic appeared in the hallway, asked me if we have an in-house manager. I said yes, his name is Kevin Bond, and directed him to his apartment. Figures my bodhisattva devils would throw in this extra curve ball in the middle of my latest conflict with Deek! It’s like all of a sudden, this flurry of crises swirled around me.

Of course I’m sad not to have the dogs over, sad for Flaco, and ANGRY at Deek for throwing this vulgarity in my face. It is my habit to purchase two Mounds candy bars every other night, to enjoy while watching some Alfred Hitchcock episodes, or a horror film or two. It’s become an important symbol of staying positive in the face of gloom or dashed hopes, regardless of all the ups and downs I go through. I ALMOST decided to skip the treat tonight, because of the sorrow Deek just nailed into my heart. But no, I concluded, that’s caving in to the demons. Be of good cheer, get your center back, enjoy the evening regardless, DO NOT WORRY, all shall be fine. Lucky & Flaco shall remain in good spirits and health. Deek is simply screwing with me (again).

That’s it for now, Wattson…wish I had better news to report. Oh, yeah, one more thing: amid all this arguing, he mentioned how there’ll soon be a THIRD dog in his charge.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: Deek’s Shitty Meetup This Evening
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 4, 2021 11:22 PM

> Oh, God. The fucking, fucking asshole. To even spin a tale about getting Flaco knocked up, selling the puppies, getting a third dog, all of it–he KNEW how it would upset you, but he did it anyway, premeditatively. On purpose, to hurt you. And his “friend” getting a leg amputated because of a Fentanyl overdose? Pure baloney. Never heard of an overdose-related amputation. A Fentanyl overdose means you’re dead, period.

He’s having a bipolar attack, though a mild one thank god. He’ll get over it soon enough.

> He’s mean, and he’s a liar.

His meanness and lying are part of his bipolar swing. Most of the time he’s NOT like that…as clearly evidenced by sharing the pups with me, among many other examples. He’s mostly stabilized at this point. He’s been growing out of it in leaps and bounds; this is a temporary setback. What is so extraordinary, is something he said several days back, that I meant to tell you in my last missive. But here it is now:

He so much as admitted his out-of-control mood swing in January (which included screaming about giving up the pups) was WRONG. He couched this confession in describing how he defended me to his street friends, told them something like:

“Look, Zeke felt he was doing what’s best for the dogs in taking them over for awhile. He’s my uncle and a good friend, so I give him that patience in return.”

At least, this is what he told me when his “friends” recently questioned why he still trusts someone who tried to “steal” the dogs. He wasn’t quite ready to admit to them that HE was wrong, and that I didn’t steal them…but he made an important step in the right direction. I just listened, didn’t respond at all, though was sorely tempted to say:

“You were talkin’ crazy, ranting like a wild man about giving up the pups. Your crazy behavior made me fear for the dogs’ well-being. You scared the shit out of me, so I took them to protect them from YOU! And keep them FOR you. You AGREED to that!”

Because I already TOLD him precisely that, some months back, and saw no point in repeating it. He knows.

> How I wish you could get the dogs from him and evict him from your life.

That’s impossible, so I don’t even dwell on it. If such an opportunity occurs, I’ll consider that a miracle. He WILL come to his senses, shortly. I guess my bodhisattva authors decided another cliffhanger this late in the trilogy would get my readers back on the edge of their seats…a final climax before the happy outcome unfolds.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: Deek’s Shitty Meetup This Evening
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 11, 2021 2:08 PM

> I know, I know: but I’m expressing how it makes me feel when he pulls this crap.

I feel the same way, too, Wattson. But daydreaming about running away with the pups gets me nowhere.

> I’ve dealt with many a mentally ill person in my life, including bipolars, as well as other “disorders,” and I’m always disturbed by the mean, destructive elements in their personalities that get turned loose when conditions are just so. Knowing that it’s an irresistible compulsion doesn’t make it any easier for the target of these fits to endure.

I think a huge proportion of humanity is “bipolar,” just look at the Trumpturds, neo-Nazis and Christo-fascists all over the place! Yes, it hurts having to humor them, and sweating through worry over a potential tragedy they may cause. But I can’t even afford to allow myself THAT angst, as it just gets in the way. The only REAL answer is to find a way to stay centered, and trust the fates. NEVER allow such insane conflicts to destroy your ability to find happiness, and spread it to others. Self-fulfillment, or at least parts thereof, should not always remain somewhere in the future, like the proverbial, elusive butterfly.

> Believe me, I’ve been on the receiving end of some pretty horrific psychological abuse,

Oh, I believe you, good doctor. Your kind advice and words of wisdom reflect that very well.

> and there’s a certain glee in the perps’ eyes and demeanor. “I can’t help doing this, so it’s not my fault.” Maybe so.

I question THAT assumption, as I think many bipolar people do NOT think that way…IOW, they really can’t help themselves. Deek certainly fits that category. He has NEVER pulled that game on me.

> But the fact that they harbor such shitty cruelty within is deeply troubling.

It is the kind of family and community he grew up in; in fact the kind of SOCIETY he grew up in. Yet he possesses incredible saving graces. Which are now blossoming. It is therefore my own responsibility to rise above the miasma for my own well being, as well as for his…AND MOST IMPORTANTLY FOR THE SAKE OF THE DOGGIES.

The pups are my anchor, the light that guides my path. And that is what makes the entire situation so incredible and inspiring. I KNOW I am on my Hero’s Quest, so of course scary challenges pop up now and then. I should neither be surprised over that, nor cave in to nihilism. We will see what goes down, next time Deek shows up. I’m sure it will be a MUCH better meetup.

And I certainly couldn’t have gotten through all these horrendous conflicts without YOU cheering me on, old chap! And ONE major reason why I remain strong through my present dilemma.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: The hint was there, six days before.
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 11, 2021 7:10 PM

In my speaking about the bodhisattva nature in their context as guardians and teachers, I’ve mentioned several times, that they ALWAYS drop a clue either some time before, or some time after, they manifest a conflict in your world. The clue being something that gives you a spark of hope, or that lightens the blow…or in some other way suggests you’re being tested, and that what appears an imminent tragedy will NOT turn out that way at all. A clue which they plant in your mind like a seed, that will sprout at just the right moment. But until then, it remains a subtle, nascent twinge that you’ll barely notice.

In this recent conflict over Deek claiming he’s going to make Flaco pregnant, six days earlier he threw a tremendous compliment in my direction. Not that it stood out like a beacon, blinding me to everything else, at that moment. It was a sentence he softly slipped into our conversation (about how well I handled a string of conflicts in my building, earlier this year) that he knew would sink in later. And so it did. Though at the time I let it flow by and get swallowed up in the larger flood of conversation. I’ve already mentioned his unexpected praise to you, but that was yet beFORE he pulled the rug from under my feet.

It struck me just this morning, that he had planned to throw me for another loop soon, so dropped me a positive hint some days prior, knowing it would well up in my mind as a comforting counterbalance TO the shock. And so it did, only a day later. But between then and now, I made a point of sweeping away any negative scenario that popped in my head, by counting my blessings. Including how much incredible support Morey has given me over many months, regarding the pups and my difficult dealings with their master. As has Dieter, and, of course, YOU, Wattson! So I made this my time to recoup my forces, lick my wounds, and rise above my latest descent into Abaddon.

In fact, I visited Morey a short while ago, to pick up my two Mounds bars, and he suddenly blurted:

“Something really weird happened to me today!”

Of course I said, “Oh, and what was that?”

He then went on about how this young fellow, well dressed and with an expensive dog on a leash, stepped into the shop and asked Morey for fifty cents to finish his laundry, and he would reimburse him later that day. He left his debit card at home, or something like that. But Morey was put off by this strange encounter…he never saw him before, and it certainly wasn’t any kind of emergency. So he just replied:

“Sorry, I do not loan money out.”

I told him that WAS strange, and it doesn’t make any sense.

“And he had a Pomeranian,” he emphasized, “that’s an expensive dog!”

I didn’t challenge him on that, even though I thought, well, it COULD’ve been a rescue dog. My point being that, it was very nice of him to share one of his own funny incidents with me, after my doing same so many times! I would’ve given the stranger two quarters and be done with it, were I in his shoes. However, it’s HIS shop, and he went by sound intuition.

Upon departing, I deliberated further on so many GOOD things having come my way, as a result of Deek bringing Lucky & Flaco into my life. (A very GENEROUS and KIND act on anyone’s part, I’d say…let alone from someone living on the street without a penny to his name.) Then I reminded myself how important it is to be patient and kind no matter what, and that the universe always makes up for any seeming misfortune, one way or another.

No sooner had that thought arisen in my psyche, than I looked down to discover a crumpled bill by my left foot! I didn’t snatch it up immediately, but wondered if it was more than a dollar…say, five or even ten. Upon unfolding it, to my surprise, it turned out to be a twenty!

Not than money in any amount could ever make up for thoughtless abuse of my beloved brindlekin, or other heartbreak…but I took it as a bit of cheerful kindness by my bodhisattva guardians. And a reassurance that my fears are illusory.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: The hint was there, six days before.
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 12, 2021 7:36 PM

> A nice little gift of $$ from the universe!

The right place, the right time.

> Something a lot like that happened to me. Attached is a piece I wrote a few years back, a letter to a friend.

Love the tale…shot with adrenaline throughout, I was on the edge of my seat through the whole thing. Almost down to the dollar, exactly the price for one, cheap motel room. With a Pakistani running it…so, I dunno…stereotypically expected for Los Angeles’ vast, outlying regions? How everything fell into place for you and Erwyn, like a funky old Victorian steam engine that worked, but barely. Just crankin’ along, stop-go, stop-go, stop-go. Eventually gets the job done, but not without some blood, sweat and tears. How things went, before electricity.

> And tomorrow, I’ll tell you about further developments in the magic cat-calling incantation dep’t.

I trust you didn’t summon Yog Sothoth! Or use a monkey’s paw! Can’t wait to get the update…I’ll lose sleep tonight, anticipating.

I’m in the middle of watching a thriller, “Frailty,” that came out in 2002. A father becomes a murderer because he thinks angels gave him these instructions…and forces his two sons to participate. The younger son becomes a mass murderer as a result. Stars Matthew McConaughey and Bill Paxton.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: A beautiful comment to one of my Snackboy videos just showed up!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 13, 2021 10:34 PM

After all these years! Don’t miss my reply to her!

Click here for a larger view.

Re: A beautiful comment to one of my Snackboy videos just showed up!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 14, 2021 1:17 PM

> Sweet!!

And it couldn’t have come at a better time, in light of my present anxiety over Deek’s pups. Another bodhisattva clue to boost my faith? Of course! What makes it so striking, is its spiritual aspect, in that Snackboy is long dead, yet his spirit came forth just at the moment such support is most relevant and appreciated. For my memorializing him on the web, and preserving his remarkable, pre-Youtube videos…he just returned the favor!

– Zeke K-Holmes


Snackboy: click here to watch his videos.

Re: A beautiful comment to one of my Snackboy videos just showed up!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 14, 2021 5:15 PM

> On 9/14/2021 1:17 PM, Ezekiel Krahlin wrote:
>
>> he just returned the favor!
>
> Indeed he did!!
>
> Meant to tell you the rest of the magic cat incantation saga. Couldn’t get to it yesterday.

Oh, I was on tenterhooks waiting to hear about it.

> So: A few days ago, we had some out-of-town visitors. They showed up with their dog, a rescue who’d led a sad life chained in a yard for years and years. I was a teensy bit put out, because this is, after all, a kitty sanctuary and general temple of cat worship, and these people knew that, but they didn’t mention that they were bringing a dog, and when they arrived, they just sort of let the dog, Midnight, loose in the yard. He and Surely made friends quickly, as dogs do, though it wasn’t that instant passion you sometimes see when dogs meet and sample one another’s pheromones. But they got along fine. But you never know how a dog is going to be around cats. It can be very tricky. The orange kitten, a bold and confidant creature, touched noses with the dog, she on the steps and he below so they were face to face. The kitten fluffed up a little, but was not overly perturbed and held her ground, and Midnight behaved. All seemed to be well, so I relaxed. Though I did have to lay down the law when they brought Midnight into the house. I explained that our other cat, Ernie, is nowhere near the cool customer the kitten is, and if he popped through his cat door and encountered a strange dog in his house, he’d totally freak out, and he’d recently disappeared for 36 hours and I didn’t want it to happen again. They complied, and put Midnight outside.
>
> About an hour later, we heard a sharp bark; one of our human guests stepped out just in time to see Midnight lunging at the kitten, who streaked away, fast as a bullet. They got Midnight under control, and put him in their car (in the shade, of course) to keep him out of further trouble. Meanwhile, we couldn’t find the kitten. She’s deaf, so calling is useless. She’d been seen streaking toward the front gate, but then everyone’s attention was on the dog, so no one saw where she actually went.
>
> For the next hour, we fanned out, looking for her. Erwyn and I were plunged into despair; as Erwyn said to one of the guests: “We’d rather have the house burn down than lose that cat.” We were all grim and silent, thinking our private thoughts. Mine ran along the lines of: If that kitten is gone, you people are on my shit list forever and ever. I didn’t blame Midnight; I’m definitely of the school of thought that there are no bad dogs (well, maybe a few), just bad owners.
>
> I stood in the yard, and the thought occurred to me: Maybe it’s time for a repeat of that incantation. I got my memory into gear, and was reconstructing the sequence of words in my mind, when PLOP! The kitten dropped down out of a tree onto a lower branch, about ten feet away from me.

I’ll just skip making any remarks about the thoughtlessness of your guests, how they made the cat disappear again, and say:

Well that was INCREDIBLE! I don’t believe in spell casting, prayers or meditation, except as an aid in calming oneself down, and focusing on what’s important. However, they sometimes DO seem to work, but I don’t write it off to synchonicity. It’s more like our bodhisattva guardians have a sweet nature, and a sense of humor. So sometimes they’ll play it that way.

I also think those who are gifted with spiritual abilities, CAN successfully use tarot cards, crystal balls, or whatever. But ONLY as a tool for focus, for the power always resides in the heart, and not in any object. We CAN impart meaning into objects, even those that are otherwise mundane. Such as a coffee mug left behind by a dearly departed one…it has REAL value to you, thanks to the loving hands that once caressed it so many times.

Then, maybe, something could happen TO or AROUND it, that directly relates to the now deceased person…whereas there’d be no significance of said event occurring to, or around, any other item. For example, maybe his or her special pen shows up in that particular mug one day. You’d rightfully take that as a sign that he or she is communicating to you; they they’re alright, their spirit is with you. How the pen got there may not be unusual, as perhaps a visitor picked it up in another part of the house, and later plunked it into the mug, without you being present, and without knowing the importance of either the mug or the pen, TO you. The guest departs and later that evening, you notice the pen in the cup.

In sum, I do NOT believe any incantation or prayer is necessary for a heartfelt wish to be answered. The cat would’ve shown up both times, regardless. It’s just that bodhisattvas love to put some magic in our lives, now and then. And they ARE quite mischievous. We’re like children, to them…albeit most beloved. They already know existence IS magic, just not in the superficial way some people take it.

I advise you, though, to never again allow a guest with a dog, free rein of your place, including outside. I’m sure your visitors ruined their welcome.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: A beautiful comment to one of my Snackboy videos just showed up!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 14, 2021 7:07 PM

> Neither do I. But these precise, sharp-as-a scalpel coincidences do get a person’s attention. That these coincidences occur in our huge, sloppy universe is the point here, and indicate that what we might think of as “magic” is simply the manifestation of hidden empirical processes…

That’s how I see it, too, Wattson. I have this theory that certain properties of reality are intentionally hidden from us, until we have reached a certain point of knowledge, awareness and/or experience. Both on a personal level, and on a species level. Regarding the personal, there is obviously a diverse range of awareness. In a way, I think that the phony enlightened ones (spellcasters, exorcists and the like) play an important role in shielding higher awareness from those who are not ready to deal with it. They get sucked into a trap.

And that, I believe, is why so many sages throughout the ages have stated that our lives are illusions…they don’t mean it metaphorically, but literally. Life is actually a two-level affair…rather poetic in the interplay. Each person’s life is a string of parables, one after the other after the other, and one within another, within another.

There IS a secret society of sorts, of more advanced humans…though nothing you’d find in the conventional scheme of things. I have suggested as such in “Free Me From This Bond.” And if my conjecture is correct, these are incredibly loving and humorous folks, whom I whimsically call “our reptilian overlords.”

Well, I’ve already covered much ground on these “spiritual” matters in my Brindlekin Tales…so I’ll stop here, as I would just be repeating my conclusions, along with my analyses.

> Nope. I usually don’t, but made an exception.

Great, glad to know that…I have enough to worry about. :)

Our pets are not just pets (“dumb animals” like some believe) but our guardians and soulmates. Our lifeline to Avalon, so to speak.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: More Grievous Behavior from Deek!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 17, 2021 9:17 AM

Everything seemed to be going just dandy, when he returned to pick up the pups…he thanked me for everything I do, and I thanked him for his kindness in sharing them with me. I made it clear he’s already burned through his entire allowance for the month, and will have to wait two weeks for it to resume. He was fine with that. (Though I did add I’ll try to muster up another $60, but he’ll have to wait a week before I can do that, if at all…no promises.)

I reminded him that doesn’t mean I won’t have dog food for him at any time he needs it, and that whenever he wants a break from the doggies (whether for just an hour or two, or longer), he can still drop them off. IOW: I emphasized to not let lack of allowance be an excuse to not pick up more food, or have them visit me. He was fine with that, too. We’ll see; I do have my doubts he’ll abide without squawking, before this month is over. Or that he’ll probably not have the pups stay with me, if money isn’t involved.

After that brief but friendly meetup, I wished them all a very good night, and, since I was already outdoors, decided to take my nightly stroll up Noe Street, to Duboce Park and back. He was still there when I returned, though wrapping things up to go. So I approached, and chatted a bit more, being in the good mood I was. I remarked at how well Flaco and Lucky have adapted to being indoors, that they no longer get upset when it’s not a time to visit me, though dropping by outside (for Deek to pick up more food, or receive some cash).

He then erupted, said, “Why do you call her Flaco? Her name is LA Flaco, she’s a female.”

I told him that was the first I heard him call her that, he’s always addressed her as “Flaco,” never “La Flaco”…and besides, in Spanish her name should end in an A, not an O, as in “La Flaca.” He then griped how I always ruin a nice visit by saying stupid stuff, he’s always called her “La Flaco,” what’s wrong with me?

With that, he turned on his recharged speaker, with the volume just loud enough to block my voice. So I pressed the off button, which perturbed him as well, and declared, “I’m talking to you, Deek, please respect that.”

Suddenly the doggies barked up a storm at a dog passing by, pulled on their leashes attached to a bicycle flung loosely atop a pile of junk in his cart, and it began to slide off. But I grabbed onto it, so it wouldn’t crash to the sidewalk and possibly injure the pups.

He yelled at them: “Lucky! Flaco! Stop it!”

“You just called her Flaco, Deek,” I remarked, then admonished, “Please don’t yell at them, there’s no need to.”

At any rate, I said I hope they have a lovely night, then quickly departed hovel. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that I realized he needs to be admonished for tying the dogs up like that. I’ve seen his bike come crashing to the ground more than once, and the doggies quickly pulled away as far as their leashes would allow. This could injure them, even break their necks!

So, not feeling very good after his fucked-up behavior. He always manages to pull some NEW ugly trick out of his hat, to keep the misery flowing! Realizing as well, that he’ll continue to tether them to whatever bicycle he has at the moment, no matter what I say. Just as he’s never stopped forcing them to lie directly down on, or even sleep on, the filthy concrete…even though there’s plenty of clean cardboard available on just about every block in the city.

I am hoping, of course, this is a temporary setback in his behavior…the tail end of his latest mood swing, that is actually MILD compared to his last one in January. So it’s really NOT fair of me to claim he ALWAYS manages to inject misery in my life, as it’s been a rather long spell free of anxiety. Hopefully, last night’s outburst is just a momentary glitch.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: More Grievous Behavior from Deek!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 17, 2021 4:00 PM

> I get it. But I hate the way he treats you. It’s downright abusive.

Nothing compared to what so many other people are going through. The pups come first, I’ll deal with whatever else is hurled at me, by Deek or anyone else for that matter. Look at the shit I’ve already been through, all because of these angels…the nicest thing to ever happen to me. You’d think I’m some knight on a quest for the Holy Grail, and found it…so now the demons swoop down on me in their attempts to thwart my almost-completed holy mission. These are just two little doggies, and I’m an old man on Social Security, living in an SRO! Change of topic:

In speaking with Dieter yesterday, as he slowly struggled up the stairs with that portable wheelchair, he mentioned all the setbacks he’s gone through in the recent past. Not just the VA dragging its feet to get him a place at that Veterans home in Vacaville, but their turning him down for full knee surgery plus some other crises. Including the bedbugs, which he said forced him to get rid of most of his possessions. He was gonna fix up his room (paint the walls and so forth) but all these setbacks have wiped him out, both financially and emotionally.

What struck me most was his getting rid of his possessions! I haven’t been required to do that; they just treat the whole room as it is! Don’t know whether to mention that to him or not, seeing as that could get me embroiled again with the building manager. With whom he’s friends, AFAIK. And another thing that just came up:

As I entered the building after returning from the laundromat with another load to heat treat (just one more to go in this cycle; I put off the last two loads for a week), a repairman was on the phone to his office, remarking how he’s not gonna even touch the box, it’s screwed up! He was referring to the electronic security system’s circuit box nailed into the lobby wall. It’s all digital, and keeps tabs on the hallway sprinklers, the smoke alarms and the elevator doors.

I paused halfway up the stairs to eavesdrop, and it seems that installing the new elevator disrupted the safety circuitry, and nothing can be done to secure it again, until PG&E shows up to finish the job. Which won’t be till some time next month, at the earliest! I could be wrong about this, but that’s what I think is going on. The electrician was obviously frustrated. I don’t know, maybe he WAS from PG&E…or perhaps the company that sold the box to Ablahblah Realty. Anyway, I ran upstairs to fetch my spy pen, and recorded a snippet of the conversation. Annoyingly, a resident coming down the stairs interrupted my eavesdropping, so I had to end it. Here is what I got (just 36 seconds, can’t really discern much, except that something’s wrong).

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: The Hero’s Journey Is My Own
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 20, 2021 1:26 PM

Just a quick rundown, based on Joseph Campbell’s findings. My own comments are contained with square brackets. From URL: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hero%27s_journey

–quote:

Campbell describes 17 stages of the monomyth. Not all monomyths necessarily contain all 17 stages explicitly; some myths may focus on only one of the stages, while others may deal with the stages in a somewhat different order. In the terminology of Claude Lévi-Strauss, the stages are the individual mythemes which are “bundled” or assembled into the structure of the monomyth.

The 17 stages may be organized in a number of ways, including division into three “acts” or sections:

1. Departure (also Separation),
2. Initiation (sometimes subdivided into A. Descent and B. Initiation) and
3. Return.

In the departure part of the narrative, the hero or protagonist lives in the ordinary world and receives a call to go on an adventure. The hero is reluctant to follow the call but is helped by a mentor figure.

[My call was meeting Deek’s newly adopted dog, Lucky, which call I resisted for some time, but decided to accept…thus resumed our broken friendship, for the sake of the pup. My mentor figure is YOU, Wattson. This journey began around two years back.]

The initiation section begins with the hero then traversing the threshold to an unknown or “special world”, where he faces tasks or trials, either alone or with the assistance of helpers.

[This special world is Deek’s own world, which twisted paths and numerous obstacles I’ve learned to traverse. But not without much trepidation and grief…though the central, and major, influence is the brilliant love and friendship of first one, then two, doggies. Helpers have popped up now and then, from the most unexpected places and timing. Needless to say, there is a strong, supernatural aspect to entering this “special” world.]

The hero eventually reaches “the innermost cave” or the central crisis of his adventure, where he must undergo “the ordeal” where he overcomes the main obstacle or enemy, undergoing “apotheosis” and gaining his reward (a treasure or “elixir”).

[I believe I have just reached that crescendo, which has yet to peak, but will, very soon. My reward, of course, is the salvation of all three: the two dogs as well as Deek. Who plays the terrifying dragon of this innermost cave…whom I must befriend, not slay…I must win his complete trust.]

The hero must then return to the ordinary world with his reward. He may be pursued by the guardians of the special world, or he may be reluctant to return and maybe rescued or forced to return by intervention from the outside.

[How this end part will play out, remains to be seen. But I think it will be a rather smooth transition, because joyful.]

In the return section, the hero again traverses the threshold between the worlds, returning to the ordinary world with the treasure or elixir he gained, which he may now use for the benefit of his fellow man. The hero himself is transformed by the adventure and gains wisdom or spiritual power over both worlds.

[I benefit my fellow man by sharing my Brindlekin Tales…my very own, remarkable hero’s journey.]

–end


Subject: Dennis Has Died
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 20, 2021 8:20 PM

Early this afternoon I looked out the window to see a black and white van parked out front, with large block letters painted on the side: “San Francisco Medical Examiner.” I assumed it was Dennis…which was affirmed a little while later when I stepped into the hallway and overheard the medics speaking from the next flight up. Dennis’s apartment is right next to the top of those stairs leading from the second to the third floor.

Shortly after that, I stepped out to stroll along Noe Street, and seated myself on one of those concrete stools two block up, where trees overhang, and provide some cool shade; it was a short-sleeve day, almost hot. Along comes Arwyn some moments later, across the street and heading towards the Castro. I know he saw me. Interesting that I only saw a week prior, crossing Church & 15th Streets on my way to pick up another loaf of raisin bread.

He’s THE most important character in my hero’s journey (in a greater arc of time and adventures), so I guess he’s preparing to reenter my world, by first appearing before me for short moments, more and more frequently. He’s not without a sense of humor.

I’m expecting Deek and pups to show up again, come tomorrow or Wednesday…the day I said I’ll have another $60 to hand him. Though he JUST might show up early tonight.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: Dennis Has Died
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 21, 2021 11:54 AM

> Jeez. I wonder who discovered the body.

From what I overheard in the hallway, it was a friend who discovered him. But I think all who knew him were prepared well in advance, in light of his decline the past few months. I really know nothing about him, he’s always kept to himself. Moved into this building in 1997.

> The plot thickens!

Like a slow-growing mold, and twice as boring.

> Here’s hoping.

It’s an agony and an ecstasy. No way around that; the only solution is to accept the situation as it is…grow stronger, stay balanced…do not collapse into grief, anger or nihilism. Do NOT worry. All easier said than done.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: Dennis Has Died
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 21, 2021 1:37 PM

I just encountered Dieter on the stairs, as we were both stepping out. Told him that Dennis just passed on. “Dennis?” he queried, not sure who I meant. So I added, “Dennis Simms.” He then knew who I meant, and said that’s a shame.

“At least he died in peace, with little pain…and in his own home.”

“Yes that’s true,” he remarked. He then informed that Dennis was the winner of the Bare Chest Calendar contest some years back. Which must’ve been decades ago, as you’d never know it by his appearance since he took up residency here back in ’97.

Anyway, once we got down to the lobby, I pointed out the sign by the elevator, about his death. Which he would not have otherwise noticed until his return, since his bad knees do not inspire him to turn around 180 degrees unless urgent. He can’t even walk without using his folding, portable wheelchair for support.

Dieter also told me the good news, that the Veterans Home in Yountville will soon have a room for him, in the new wing they recently built. So that’ll be in three or four months, that he’ll depart from 9666 Market Street.

“So, another long term resident leaving our distinguished manor!” I exclaimed.

“Yes!” he quipped, “they’re getting rid of us all!”

We then wished each other a good day as I held the gate open for him, while standing in the blazing beams of the early afternoon sun. Second uncomfortably hot day in a row, here in San Franshit sco.

“The pups will love hanging out here, with my fan turned on,” I thought, as I slogged my way up Noe Street to make a few mundane purchases. “Once they show up.”

Click here for a larger view.

Re: The Hero’s Journey Is My Own
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 21, 2021 6:41 PM

> This is fascinating, and provides a highly useful lens through which one can view one’s travails. I’m looking at my own trials in a Campbell-ian way after reading this.

It’s based on, and an extension of, Carl Jung’s theory of archetypes. They go hand in hand. As you know, Campbell is Jung’s greatest disciple. The hero is one of the major archetypes.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jungian_archetypes

Jung’s teaching of archetypes, including the shadow self, pretty much bailed me out of a chaotic mindset and saved my sanity. Everything clicked in for me, once I exposed myself to this theory. And Campbell is frosting on the cake.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: Another Showdown with Deek Coming Up!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 23, 2021 12:54 AM

Much as I wish it didn’t have to be this way, I have already begun admonishing him on certain matters, because my conscience calls me to it. Even though he’ll probably threaten to take himself and the dogs away from my world. This is what makes him a very scary fellow…to hold the pups over my head as a strategy to keep me too afraid to speak out. But my speaking out has already begun, as of tonight.

After I brought the pups to him, he decided to linger at the ATM alcove right below my window, for a couple of hours. Fine with me, as he was quiet…however, it weirds me out when he camps right outside, after we say our farewells for the evening. IOW he’s still there, but I’m not welcome! Well, his loitering nearby is not really the issue, but I sensed something was up.

Around 11 PM I decided to step out for some air and a short walk, before hitting the hay. I assumed Deek had departed some while ago, but no, there he was sitting with the pups by the ATMs. Flaco & Lucky, once more, were forced to lie down on the dirty sidewalk. I actually tried to slip away towards Noe Street, hoping the pups wouldn’t spot me…but Flaco began her little barks, to demand I come back and say hello.

So I did just that, which is when Deek asked me for a cup of hot tea and a razor. I told him okay, but I thought we already said our goodbyes earlier, and I’m really not ready to wait on him some more. He said never mind, but I waved it away, said no, I’ll make you some tea. So several minutes later I returned with his cherry-berry tea and a razor.

There were several other people hanging about the ATMs, with one actually withdrawing some money. They were NOT homeless, but a friendly and gentle little gathering. Anyway, I noticed what appeared to be a black leather sheath about a foot long, sticking out from under one of Deek’s legs. “Is that a machete?” I thought. So I pointed at it, and said:

“Is that a knife, Deek?”

He seemed distraught that I should bring it up, and slid it entirely under his leg. I reached down as if to pull it back out (not really intending to, but to work his nerves a bit), but he blocked access with a hand.

“No, there’s nothing in it, it’s empty.” He remarked.

“You’ve told me more than once over the years, that you never carry a knife,” I persisted. “Why do you have one now?”

“I don’t, it’s empty.” He seemed nervous that the folks hanging around us might overhear.

“Well, I’m curious anyway, let me see it.” Of course he refused, because I’m sure there really WAS a knife there.

So I dropped the subject, and pet the pups for a few moments, then told him that my $215 monthly food stamp allotment is temporary, it will only last so many months, because it’s just a boost during this pandemic. But by the time I’m back to a measly $19 a month, I hope I’ll come up with some other way to still give him an extra $40 per week. Then I brought up the cardboard:

“It breaks my heart, Deek, that you don’t love and respect these doggies enough to make sure they don’t have to rest on the filthy concrete. How do you think Flaco got that gum in her lovely fur?”

“I have no idea,” he replied.

“Well, the sidewalk is dirty, they get that crap in their fur, and lick it later on. It’s so easy to find clean cardboard no matter where you are.”

He continued to brush me off. Neither of us raised our voices through this, BTW…it was a “soft” argument, I suppose.

“You should also keep your bike tethered to the shopping cart, so it doesn’t slip.”

“What bike?” he asked (as if he didn’t know what I was talking about, the snarky punk).

“When you HAVE a bike, I mean. I’ve seen it come crashing down many times, and almost hit your dogs. Bikes are heavy enough to injure them, if they land on their little bodies.”

“Oh, okay, I hear ya. I’ll tie down the bike from now on.” But I did not find his agreement so reassuring, as just a wish to brush me off.

“Well, Deek,” I embellished, “It breaks my heart that I even have to tell you these things! I don’t understand why you don’t already cherish them enough…that you force me into a situation where I have to bring this up in the first place.”

“Alright, whatever, those are good suggestions, I’ll follow up for now on,” he replied in a rather insincere tone.

Then the conversation went to the pregnancy issue:

“I’ve bred pit bulls for twenty years, I know what I’m doing! I raised seven in one litter, and the money I got for them helped me keep a roof over my head.”

I told him I don’t believe any of that, and that any professional breeder would tell you how dangerous it is to breed a dog while you’re living on the streets. And that Flaco is a sweet little dog who should NEVER be turned into a puppy mill. And how badly your even suggesting you will, breaks my heart. She could easily die from your foolishness. What would you do in an emergency, if a pup gets stuck? You’ll need a vet on hand, and you just can’t afford that.

Then he ranted on how Flaco already gave birth to pups TWICE before he adopted her…and that she’s actually almost six years old now. I told him now that’s a lie…she’s barely three, and when you got her, she was barely six months old, she couldn’t possibly have gotten pregnant. Her nipples were perfectly flat.

He continued to talk smack, while preparing to leave. Told me to stop worrying about everything. I told him I’m not worried, that’s not the issue…I’m trying to keep you from heading down a dark path.

Before parting ways, I told him I’m not gonna bring him tea or a razor any more, until he makes sure they have some cardboard to rest on every night, if not something more cozy. After he left, I strolled about and thought some more on this:

No, I’m not gonna give him that extra $40/week so long as he doesn’t promise me he won’t get her pregnant, and so long as he continues to not use cardboard, and not lash his bike securely onto the cart. What this will lead to, I don’t know…but I’m hoping it will nip this crap in the bud, and that he’ll continue to bring the pups over. Though he just might walk away for good. But I can NOT smother my conscience in this serious matter.

I can NOT let fear of the pups disappearing from my life, block me from saying what he NEEDS to hear. He promised me around five months ago, that so long as he was homeless, he would not get Flaco pregnant.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: Another Showdown with Deek Coming Up!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 23, 2021 1:52 PM

> He’s canny, devious and slippery.

In a rather amateurish way. We’ve had serious confrontations before, and he’s always backed off and followed through with my suggestions…eventually.

> You’re right to be firm, but it’s a nerve-wracking balancing act on a high, high tightrope.

It’s terrible, Wattson. He sucks the happiness from anyone around him. Soon as you overcome his latest BS, he tosses you another left curve. I love the little angels with all my heart, yet the Sword of Damocles dangles over my head on a thin string.

> Your own well being is top priority, for obvious reasons, plus you are the doggies’ only advocate in this world.

I’m well aware of that, I will not let his devious nature get the better of me, health-wise or in any other way. From the bodhisattva perspective, he is challenging me not to allow fear to rule my roost. I would LOSE if I kept my mouth shut about the pregnancy issue, along with forcing them to lie down on concrete, and not lashing down his bike. I have already spoken out on all three, so the Dragon of Fear has been slain.

I will continue to emphasize these points, whenever it seems necessary…withOUT anger. For one, I will remind him that starting a puppy mill on the streets is a serious crime, someone will report him, and the dogs will be taken away…he’ll go to jail for quite a long time. Or if he DOES get away with it, he’ll be stuck with the pups, no one will purchase them, he can’t afford to feed them all, they’ll most likely die, and so might Flaco.

Before I give him the extra $40/week, he’ll need to promise (again) that he won’t get Flaco pregnant, so long as he’s living on the streets…as well as provide them cushioning from the sidewalks, and lash that damn bike down.

Jesus fukkin christ!

Anyway, I used my EBT card for the first time, at a local health food store…all went well. Morey’s shop does NOT take food stamps, and I feel awful having to take my business elsewhere, for the most part. I’ll still buy dry goods there.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: I finally got to speak with Boulevard Joe, w/o Deek present!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 23, 2021 8:31 PM

He was hanging with two other vagrants behind my building. So I told him my concerns about Deek’s intention to turn Flaco into a puppy mill. He agreed that it’s a crime, and it could easily turn into a tragedy. But he added that Deek has never brought this up to him.

I also told him about the pups being forced to sleep on the concrete, and putting their lives in harm’s way by not lashing down his bike. Joe did NOT offer to talk to Deek about this, however I pointed out that others need to address the issue besides myself. It’s called peer pressure.

At any rate, he listened well, though I don’t know if it will go anywhere that would give Deek serious thought. And, dammit, I FORGOT to tell him the most important thing of all: that if anything should happen to Deek where he’s separated from the pups (such as a sudden arrest or hospitalization), the doggies should not be left stranded or adopted by anyone on the streets, but be brought to me ASAP…they have safe haven with me. Artemis only knows when I’ll have that chance again! It’s been several months since I last spoke with him.

Ironically, Deek’s cousin Dominic was there, crouched against a wall and wrapped in a blanket. His bare feet stuck out, and one toe looked badly infected. I just nodded at him, as I didn’t want to get sucked into HIS drama, which he does all the time, even worse than Deek!

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: I finally got to speak with Boulevard Joe, w/o Deek present!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 23, 2021 10:03 PM

> I think you’ll get another chance to talk to Hollywood.

I sure hope so, but he said some disappointing things today, such as “the dogs seem to be happy with Deek.” As if that means it’s okay to allow his bike to keep slipping off the cart, or sleep on the dirty, cold sidewalk, or turn a sweet little doggy into a puppy mill.

> Deek has a cousin on the scene??? Oy!

I’ve mentioned him many times in past posts…though that was mostly in my earlier tales, including pre-Brindlekin. He also has some OTHER relation (which I didn’t know about) whom I ran into last year, and asked what I’m doing with his dogs. I mentioned that to you, also…said he’s Deek’s brother…the resemblance was uncanny. Never saw him again, except for that one time. San Frinshitsco is the kind of place where creepy people will suddenly show up out of nowhere, and get right up in your face. Scumbags you’ve never SEEN before, let alone even heard about.

– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: I just realized I miscalculated when I told Deek I’m gonna give him an extra $40/week, in the same breath I told him I can give him another $100/month. It should be $25/week. So I inadvertently set myself up for him to snarl at me for aNOTHER foolish reason.


Re: I finally got to speak with Boulevard Joe, w/o Deek present! ADDENDUM
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 24, 2021 12:04 AM

During my meetup with Boulevard Joe, I glimpsed atop a scattered pile of possessions by his feet, a rather LARGE knife, the blade multi-notched on one side. It was slightly curved like a machete, of burnished silver, shiny new in appearance, and with a thick, short handle of lacquered wood or dense plastic. And then it struck me: that blade would fit perfectly into the scabbard Deek had with him last night, which he claimed was empty. I did NOT ask Joe about it, nor even let him think I noticed the pretentious shank. It looked very much like this:

Click here for a larger view.

Re: I finally got to speak with Boulevard Joe, w/o Deek present! ADDENDUM
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 24, 2021 12:52 PM

> Kinda ominous, nyet?

Oh I’m sure he just uses it to pick his teeth and shave his balls.


Re: I finally got to speak with Boulevard Joe, w/o Deek present! ADDENDUM
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 24, 2021 1:30 PM

> In that order, j’espaire…

Votre espoir est écrasé…judging by his breath, I think not.


Re: I finally got to speak with Boulevard Joe, w/o Deek present! ADDENDUM
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 24, 2021 11:04 PM

Boulevard Joe seems to have an idiotic penchant for large blades. A couple years back, a cop shot a rubber bullet into his hand, for brandishing a sword while galumphing down Market Street, and being ordered by said cop to put it down (though he didn’t, hence bravely suffered the predictable consequence). But the resultant wound made him eligible to get a hotel room for an indefinite period of time…so that worked out nicely. Joe seems to believe it’s his constitutional right to bear a knife…but I don’t think he quite grasps that waving it around and causing alarm in his vicinity is NOT part of that right. But the length of the blade IS not legal if beyond two inches in length or so, here in the city. Quote:

“California Fixed Blade Knife Laws Pocket knives under 2 inches are generally legal without any restrictions. Other types of fixed blade knives like Dirks and Daggers are heavily restricted with regards to where and how they can be carried, but both types are still legal to own.”

And to address the question of carrying a sheathed knife in public:

“It is an offense to carry any sharp or bladed instrument in a public place, with the exception of a folding pocket knife, which has a blade that is 7.62 cm (3 inches) or less. However, possession of a lock knife in a public place without good reason is an offense.”

I tried to tell Joe these things, several years back, but he’d have none of it. So, yeah, he’s kinda nuts…and scary.

Anyway, THE DOGGIES ARE BACK, and snoozing away to their little hearts’ content. Before Deek departed, I emphasized that running a puppy mill is a crime, and you can go to jail a long time for it. And I DON’T want that to happen to him, he’d lose Flaco & Lucky forever. He didn’t care to hear me out, so just snarled a bit and took off. But I will persist, with periodic admonishments…and NO increase in his allowance until he affirms the promise he originally made seven months ago, about not getting Flaco pregnant so long as he remains living on the streets.

– Zeke K-Holmes

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