[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 3: Chapter 18c]
Texting with Wattson: 11/18/21
Subject: I almost bumped into Arwyn this evening…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: November 19, 2021 11:55 PM
…as I stepped out the front gate. Pajama party crowds filled the sidewalk, so I didn’t see him, but heard his voice from about twenty feet away to my right. I turned left on my way to 17th & Noe to pick up a frozen ravioli dinner. Rather than stand on the corner and wait for him to meander by, I crossed the street and didn’t turn around to look at him until I reached the other side. Though I heard his boisterous talk all along, just like he was walking beside me.
He was clowning around with another person, but did look my way as he joked, allowing me to acknowledge him with a wave of my hand on outstretched arm across the broad distance of Market Street. It was as if he were speaking in two worlds simultaneously: on the surface, to his present company, but on a deeper level greeting me with joy.
He did not wave back, but clearly made a point of noticing me in return. For when they paused on the far corner to wait for the light to turn green, he turned his head in my direction in such a manner as to not alert the other. (Being such a tall fellow, that’s an easy trick to pull off!)
Please note I do not remember anything he was saying as he passed behind me and while I traversed the four lanes of traffic until I reached the southwest corner. Yet his volume did not diminish one iota as I grew more distant from his physical presence, until I finally turned around to look back. Then, and only then, did his vocalizations reduce their resonance to the expected level for the distance now between us…IOW barely a whisper.
Perhaps I cannot remember any words from the jumble he flung my way, because he may have spoken them in such a manner as to be intentionally indecipherable. Like how extras in a movie actually mumble nonsense to simulate a crowd of many voices. Something told me not to stop, but to cross the street and not look back until I reached the other side. Could that something have been his telepathic instructions? And could those puzzling utterances have been contrived to reveal themselves later on tonight, perhaps in a dream…or upon abruptly awakening at a wee hour, in startled realization that I should quickly get dressed and meet him outside? And bring the pups. (Yes, they’re here; second night in a row…will tell you more about it in my next missive.)
So here we have yet one more sudden appearance by my Wily Wyvern, in what is becoming a string of recent encounters…albeit a surreptitious collection of an increasing number of beads.
But what an almost CLOSE encounter it was: I almost walked right into him by accident! At least, it would’ve been an accident on MY part, had it actually occurred.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Subject: The view out my front gate last night…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: November 20, 2021 3:04 PM
…around 1:30 AM. Party atmosphere late into the morning. Doggies wanted to go outside later than usual (little Lucky has had diarrhea since yesterday morning, so had to poop more frequently). Quite a hassle threading our way through the throngs of pajama-clad revelers, before maneuvering to a quiet side street off Noe. Upon returning hovel, there was a homeless guy sound asleep and in a wheelchair, right outside my building. What a charming city!
So after tucking the pups back into bed, I returned downstairs with my Moto E, to take these five delightful snapshots.
Pic 4: He looks to be an artist, judging by the yellow pen in his hand, and the colorful images he’s already drawn on a stiff sheet of paper. You’ll probably have to enlarge that image in order to make it out. Not sure what he’s clutching in his left hand, but I hope he doesn’t drop it out of somnolence, or drug-induced stupor.
Notice the “Whole Foods” bag hanging from the back of his wheelchair in pic 5.
Subject: Yo, I got myself a fairy pouch!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: November 20, 2021 9:28 PM
An unknown resident on my floor discarded a slew of items on the back porch shelf, most of which held no interest for me. But I found this:
I didn’t know what to call it (other than a pouch) until I opened it to discover a silver fairy medallion attached with string! I like it because it ties in with my love for Celtic mythology…and they ARE the ones who gave the world our fairytales!
Don’t know what I’d use it for, but I’m sure that part of the puzzle will come together in due time. I also found a deck of Tarot cards which, I guess, would be a perfect fit for the pouch:
However, I’m not actually into Tarot, except for my appreciation of archetypes a la Carl Jung. Who actually had much good to say about applying them to unlock secrets of one’s psyche. Well, I’ll take the cards, too, as they MIGHT serve as a relaxing tool for meditation.
I’m wondering if these be yet two MORE gifts from my bodhisattva guardians! Not that they expect me to go all woo on them, but that they stand as symbols of spiritual achievement…with the fairy being a corny reference to my devotion to LGBT liberation. And the cards may represent humanity’s archetypes, which Carl Jung’s teaching of helped to liberate my OWN soul.
And to think understanding my Hero’s Journey all started when the first psychiatrist I ever saw, turned me on to Carl Jung, starting with the book, “Man and His Symbols.” That was when? Way way back in 1975 or thereabouts. Amazing!
– Zeke K-Holmes
Re: The view out my front gate last night…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: November 20, 2021 10:12 PM
> Poor guy. Ever seen him before?
Nope. I suspect we San Francishitscans may soon be overwhelmed by a tremendous influx of homeless from other states. Soon followed by LGBTs seeking refuge from those same states. After all, Kyle Rittenhouse’s “innocence” from all charges has cast a bold green light upon open hunting season against all who do not abide by Christo-Fascist values. Get ready for the Exmass Massacre! Queers will be a main target, and Redneck Santa’s ready to lock and load.
Re: Yo, I got myself a fairy pouch!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: November 21, 2021 1:54 PM
> That’s seriously cool, that you found such a potently symbolic little bag of goodies.
Just more little gifts from the Deities of Good Fortune.
> And yes, potent for the reasons you describe. Jung is the antidote to Freud.
Sigmund laid down the concept, and the foundation, of the subconscious. But for whatever reason saw it as simply a rather dark and scary realm, with little relief to be had. A great money mill for therapists of his ilk!
Jung explored it in greater depth, to discover a much more complex and wondrous dimension containing great promise and many adventurous therein. All potential fodder for the Hero’s Journey, for anyone who cared (or dared) to accept the challenge and learn about the varied archetypal deities who populate that world.
> Sometimes the artwork on a deck of Tarot cards is the point, the whole point and nothing but the point.
That’s it right there, Wattson! I shall enjoy each card as a tool for meditation, gazing upon one each night to see where it takes me.
If you notice, that wee fairy trinket flashes a teensy diamond right at the tip of one foot! And the pouch itself sports the embroidered image of a dragonfly in a luminous, light shade of blue. This particular insect symbolizes transformation and rebirth. Not to mention the obvious “dragon” part. This site re. spiritual meaning of the dragonfly, says:
“By affinity with the dragonfly aerial lightness, those who have this animal as totem can develop the ability to take things lightly even in the darkest moments. Lightness in feelings, lightness in thoughts. The dragonfly spirit animal invites people to keep a light, positive outlook no matter what.”
https://www.spiritanimal.info/dragonfly-spirit-animal/
A most apt strategy for my present circumstances around Deek and pooches. The dragonfly also symbolizes the Fairy Kingdom. Of course.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Subject: This happened four nights ago (Nov. 17):
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: November 21, 2021 2:58 PM
Deek crashed outside by the bus stop, with the pups. Just yards away from my hovel, yet he wouldn’t let them sleep indoors. Infuriating. Barking ensued, on and off, though it was just Flaco, whose barks are not robust like her brother’s, and really not disturbing. Except what disturbed ME is that when I stepped out to check on them, Flaco was walking about, sniffing here and there, and sometimes barking at passersby…right there on the corner.
Just an hour before this incident, I had already brought the pups a box and two, jumbo-size terrycloth towels I had found on the back porch days earlier…clean and neatly folded. By then, Deek was already sound asleep; nothing could wake him at this point, not even Armageddon. They had nothing cushy to sleep on, just Deek’s body, so I figured the towels would help, for both warmth and comfort. Lucky was already curled up in the box, but when he arose to greet me, I placed one towel partly inside the box, and he began to rearrange it to his liking. Meanwhile, Flaco was sitting up on Deek’s hips, attentive to any potential intruder into their space. She was very glad to see me, and I draped the second towel over her, which she graciously accepted. But soon as I did that, Lucky grabbed onto one edge and began to pull it inside the box, with the other towel already formed into a nest. I told him no, that’s for Flaco, and gingerly pulled the second towel back upon her. He seemed to understand, and returned to the cozy seclusion of the box, which was set right beside his master, and Flaco.
Deek’s custom when sleeping, is to secure the leash loop to his wrist, for both dogs. However, Flaco’s slipped off, thus she was free to roam. Her barking had alerted me, and when I peered out the window, I saw her standing around, freed from her owner’s hand and warning strollers to keep their distance. I could not wake him up even if my life depended on it, so lifted his hand to secure the leash once more. I comforted both pups for a few minutes, then returned hovel. But a little while later, I heard her barking again, so stuck my head out the window to see, this time, LUCKY had untethered himself from Deek’s loose grip, and was walking about, sniffing here and there!
So I stepped outside again (it was around 12:30 AM) and summoned Lucky back to the box. Just before I reached him close to the crosswalk, and picked up his leash, someone said to a friend while waiting for the light to change, “Where’s the owner?”. I escorted Lucky back to the box, and slipped the leash’s loop back over Deek’s wrist. It was a bit of a fuss to accomplish that, since his available hand was partly closed into a fist, and I had to first uncurl it. Flaco was still tethered and sitting atop her comatose master, barking at those who came too near (which distance seemed to be less than three feet).
I decided at this point to bring both pooches upstairs, for their safety. Flaco was eager to go, but Lucky wouldn’t budge, refused to leave his master, and even made a point of that by firmly resisting my tugs. The best I could do, was nudge him out from the box, whereby he immediately plunked himself in the crook of his master’s legs, intent on remaining there, come hell or high water. He looked up at me as if to say, “How dare you…WTF are you doing?”
I saw then he’d be perfectly fine remaining beside his shepherd, and wasn’t the one barking. So I covered him with both towels (lending Deek some warmth as well), and attempted to remove the end of Flaco’s leash from Deek’s other hand. Impossible! For it was tucked under his torso, and I’d have to turn him over to get at it. So I rushed back hovel to retrieve a spare leash, then returned to unhook Flaco’s collar and replace one leash with the other. Then off we went!
I knew that once Deek awoke, he’d probably be screaming his lungs out right up at my window, “Where’s my dog? Did you take my dog?” Thus creating yet MORE needless drama and disturbing the residents…building manager and my quasi-fascist neighbor down the hallway, in particular. But that is a price I’d gladly pay, so long as Flaco was safe and allowed to get some solid rest. I decided not to worry about it (que será será), and returned to my cozy cot plump with comforters, with Flaco totally blissed out as I held her in my arms and gave her those cherished belly rubs. She went out like a lamp in less than one minute flat. By now it was almost 2 AM, and I remained awake, though restfully so, hoping that Deek would stay zonked out until some time after sunrise. But that was not to be.
3:35 AM to the second, he called up to my window in a blustery timbre, “Is Flaco with you?” I quickly leapt out of bed and went to the window, nodded at him with a smile. “Bring her down right now! What the hell is wrong with you?” He rattled on with a few more choice retorts (including something about taking just ONE dog inside) but, to my surprise, was not particularly loud or angry. He gets a gold star for that.
I brought Flaco back downstairs in quick order, and attempted to explain WHY I brought her inside, struggling uphill all the way to squeeze my words between his nonstop lambastes:
“Flaco kept barking, she needs her rest, and so do I and everyone else in the building…
“She’s a very cute little pooch, someone could’ve stolen her, or reported a stray dog to animal control…
“Both her and Lucky were roaming free, and I couldn’t wake you up to tell you I’m taking them inside…
“Lucky wasn’t the one barking, and I saw he’d be fine staying outside with you…
“If you crashed behind my building, none of this would happen, there’d be no distraction from noisy clubbers and drunks, they could even roam around a bit to poop and pee…
“You did NOT provide them with a comfy spot to sleep on, forcing them to lay on the concrete, in the cold night air…
“NOTHING wakes you up, even if they were barking furiously to stop someone from stealing them…”
I ended my sharp admonishments with: “I didn’t know what else to do, Deek.”
He calmed down then, held up a hand palm-out and responded: “Okay, okay. You’ve done too much already. I’m awake now, everything will be fine. But I’m pissed right now, because it looks like my pot stash was stolen, and some other stuff.”
Everyone on the street knows how nothing can wake up Deek, once he’s off to slumberland…so absurdly EASY to steal anything around him, even on his own person, including pilfering his pockets. Much earlier that night, as I was returning from my pre-bed stroll up and down Noe Street, a homeless black dude, portly and of middle age, was attempting to wake him up, in order to purchase some weed.
I approached and told him he needs his sleep, best not to wake him. Flaco had begun to emit some low growls, so I comforted her with caresses and told her it’s okay. But the fellow persisted, so I managed to wake him up (to my surprise) and tell him this guy wants to buy some pot. Whereupon he sluggishly sat up, procured a pile of shake (about four handfuls) that he poured onto an open sheet of newspaper, folded it up and handed it over…receiving in exchange, four one-dollar bills.
“Oh, I know it’s good,” the black dude replied before taking off. “You always have good leaf.”
Good leaf? I thought. That stuff is crap, but who am I to thwart a transaction?
Deek immediately lied back down and fell asleep once more, while I managed to tuck the pups back in: Lucky in his box and Flaco atop his chest. I placed a towel back upon her little, brindle form and gave Lucky a few pats as he settled down upon his own towel. But this was some time before Flaco’s barking ensued, and her and her brother’s roaming-free escapades began…and my night turned out to be a sleepless one.
So I’m guessing it was this “customer” who later stole his remaining stash. Seeing as he could easily see where he kept it, as Deek grabbed some from a plastic bag…and returned later on to abscond with it, knowing what an extraordinarily SOLID sleeper he is. Whatever else Deek found missing, may have likewise been stolen by that same fellow.
I returned to bed by 4 AM, after wishing him a good remainder-of-the-night…though I got a good rest, I don’t think I actually fell asleep. But the late-night gaggles had finally dispersed, the street quieted down…so no more barking and Flaco finally got to sleep, relieved as she was from her watchdog duties. Later that morning, well after sunrise, was when I shot that video of the pups I call “Morning Corner Greets.” That was three days ago, as I now compose this missive.
I thought about what if Deek refuses to crash behind the building, or allow Flaco to sleep upstairs with me, and came up with only ONE, last-resort solution: that I join them outside, on the sidewalk, to keep Flaco calm and watch over them all, for the entire night. An unfair situation for yours truly, but I’ll do ANYthing to keep the pups safe…including from Deek’s own foolishness.
THIS is precisely why I’ve requested time and time again, for him to NOT hang out around my building. Because to do so puts me smack dab in the eyes of residents, making my situation with him and the dogs an open book, causing possible alarm and antagonism on their part. For SOME resent my sitting a couple of HOMELESS dogs. Had they not seen them with Deek, they’d logically assume I’m the owner, and there’d be no problem. But no, Deek insists on FORCING upon me, additional and needless conflict that threatens my ability to help take care of his dogs. Doesn’t he realize that fucking me over also fucks HIM over, too? And, by extension, the doggies?
I obviously have NO choice in the matter, Wattson, due to Deek’s thoughtless persistence in doing the WRONG thing that dumps a pointless cross upon THIS exhausted pilgrim’s shoulders! Thus, applying my Bodhisattva Premise, I accept it as an intrinsic part of my Hero’s Journey, and must find whatever strategy works to lighten my burden, and leads me toward a joyful outcome…not just for myself, but for all parties involved. Which at this point includes ALL the residents of 9666 Market Street! And, I suppose, the entire Castro district as well.
You will not be surprised to learn that, just Friday morning, Deek decided to tear into me again, for taking Flaco upstairs against his wishes. But I made it VERY CLEAR to him that I did the right thing, repeating some of the reasons for doing so. And that, should it happen again, I won’t hesitate to repeat my actions. INCLUDING taking them BOTH upstairs, should I deem that necessary.
He gave me ADDITIONAL grief later that day, in the eventide, accusing me of lavishing all my attention on Flaco, and ignoring Lucky. Which is bullshit, of course, but it is in his devious, trickster nature to constantly find SOMEthing to gripe about, and dump it all on me! He KNOWS Flaco squooshes herself between me and Lucky (just as she does with Deek), to soak up ALL the affection raining down. But he ALSO knows I find a way to reach out to Lucky in equal measure…if not at the exact same moment, then shortly afterwards, to balance things out.
Deek never ceases coming up with one NEW problem after another! He’ll even MANUFACTURE a problem where none exists, just to keep the angst rolling along. Ruining for me, what could’ve been a wonderful interlude with the brindlekin. For I gently placed Flaco on the sidewalk so I could stand up and get real close to Deek, whereby I took a swing at his hat to show him he’s behaving like a punk. I then crouched down to where he sat, and stared at him with fury:
“I do all these good things for you and the dogs, and you still talk shit to me?”
I remained glaring at him, while he rattled on about how he’s just calling things as he sees them, shrugging his shoulders like the smartass he is, saying if I hit him, I won’t see him and the dogs for a LONG time. Upon which mealy-mouthed declaration I stood up again and gave the bag of dog food lying before him, a wallop of a kick. But because it was all stashed in a tough, plastic grocery bag, no damage was done, and it was heavy enough that it only moved a few inches forward to touch one of his legs.
Right then and there, Flaco approached and tapped on my leg with a dainty paw, looking up at me with those darling brown eyes. So I returned to my seated position and returned her onto my lap. Rather than curling up, she stood with front paws planted firmly on my chest, and gazed sweetly into my own eyes. My heart melted, and I demanded of Deek:
“Now just shut up and let me enjoy the rest of my minutes here with BOTH dogs.”
He continued to spew nasty accusations at me, but this time in mumbling undertones. So I once more ordered:
“I said shut up, I can still hear you! Let’s have some peace around here, please.”
He then quieted down as I pulled Lucky closer to me, where he lay down upon a towel Deek had provided earlier. That way I could give them BOTH my attention, just to appease their master’s irrational charges against me. Which I KNEW have no grounding in reality, but were simply his latest guilt-trip poppycock.
Several minutes later he softly called Flaco over, but she couldn’t get there because her leash was tethered to a bicycle pedal some feet away. No danger of the bike falling over, because he had set it down on its side…it was just too far removed for either dog to sit by Deek. So I asked:
“Did you want Flaco to sit by you? I’ll have to remove the leash from your bike, first.”
He said yeah, so I stretched backward in a half twist to reach the peddle with a fully extended arm, and raise the loop free from its bondage. It took some struggle, because my fingertips could barely touch it, but I didn’t want to stand up again, since then I’d force Flaco back onto the concrete. Once accomplished, I nudged her to go ahead and sit by Deek. She wouldn’t budge, so I told him to call her over again. With that, she quickly switched laps, and I was now free to give Lucky ALL my hugs, pats and scritches. Which little doggy moans of pleasure expressed eternal gratitude for my small kindness.
After ten minutes or so, I stood up and wished them all a lovely night, about to head on hovel. But just before I did, he pulled another one of his nasty tricks out of his hat: he suddenly draped two, large gauze curtains that appeared out of nowhere, over himself and the dogs (who were nuzzled up to him on either side). Then he lit up his meth pipe, waving the flame beneath the bowl to warm it up properly.
“Wait a minute, Deek,” I abruptly warned. “Those curtains are gauze, they can ignite real easy. PLEASE remove them when you do that!”
He didn’t look up at me, but DID snuff out the flame. “Leave me alone, these are not gauze, I know what I’m doing! Get outta my face!”
“Yes they ARE gauze,” I corrected, but thought better of defining just what “gauze” IS at this alarming juncture, in order to get to the point. “But even THAT doesn’t matter because ANY thin cloth so close to a flame can flare up in an instant. And both you AND the dogs are wrapped up in it! PLEASE listen to me and remove those curtains first, before smokin’ whatever!”
He still told me to fuck off, and I did because I made my point and didn’t see any sense in repeating myself. So I put my trust in the Fates to protect them, and simply departed hovel without uttering another word. But I looked out my window soon as I got inside, and saw he had removed the offending cloth, while puffing away on his pipe.
See what I mean about his cooking up one new problem after another? Almost every time I turn my head around! For which reason I believe he does these things intentionally, while NEVER planning to carry out the offense…just does it to press my buttons. Soon as I’m gone he reverts to non-POS mode.
An hour later I stepped out again, this time for my nighttime stroll. I saw the doggies still in that spot, leashed to the bike and quietly resting. Deek was nowhere to be seen, so I crouched down beside them, to give reassuring comfort with my words and caresses. A couple of minutes later their guardian showed up, said: “I’m watching them, don’t worry.”
I eased myself back up to a standing position (while my achy knees objected from so much kneeling and crouching out of love for the mutts) and replied, “I know, I just stepped out for a short stroll.”
For Deek had been just across the street, stuffing recyclables into a large garbage bag from the several bins scattered along that block. I then wished him an excellent night, but the moment I turned away to proceed upstairs, he said what has now become music to my ears:
“I guess you can have them over tonight.”
– Zeke K-Holmes
Re: This happened four nights ago (Nov. 17):
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: November 22, 2021 10:39 PM
> Nerve-wracking and harrowing! Especially the part where Flaco was wandering around loose. She could have been stolen or run over. Terrible!
On a good note: neither she nor Lucky wander more than ten feet from Deek…they just sniff around, quite comfortably among the foot traffic. I think they only get up to relieve themselves, explore a bit, then return to their spots. They NEVER walk off the curb, but stay on the sidewalk. It is just that, until the number of pedestrians diminishes later in the night, Flaco feels she must protect her family, thus barks at anyone who gets too close, which is within three or four feet…or if they’re acting crazy. So she doesn’t get any sleep the first half of the night. Lucky, however, remains pretty mellow through it all.
Deek said they won’t allow anyone to touch them, and will begin to bark furiously if they try. He’s correct about that. However, since NOTHING wakes him up, they COULD be absconded and he wouldn’t even know about it till way too late. That is why I told him it would be better to sleep behind my building, so there’d be no distractions to keep Flaco on the alert. And they could even sniff around, and no one would be there to possibly bother them. But he’s stubborn and will most likely not follow up on my suggestion, and remain crashing by the bus stop now and then. They could just stay with me, for cripe’s sake!
Or if he gave them a cushy, semi-sheltered arrangement in which to rest, I think Flaco would be less prone to play guard dog.
> You totally did the right thing. So sorry you lost a night’s sleep.
Well, it looks like there may be more sleepless nights ahead for me. This is a new development, as it’s the first time he’s done this. Before that he’d hang out there with the pups, waiting for his devices to charge up for two or three hours. He’d remain wide awake, with the company of one or two others who show up. Deek used to hang out a block or two away as his gizmos were recharging, but now he’s determined to camp out right in front of my building…something which I’ve told him over and over again to please NOT do. The antagonism from the smoke shop is no longer, due to an employee changeover several months back, and that’s why he’s resumed parking his ass almost below my window.
He doesn’t care to realize that not only is this not safe for the pups, but I CAN’T GET ANY SLEEP WHEN HE DOES THAT! Because I’m always checking up on them, every time I hear one or the other barking. But on another good note: at least he’s no longer noisy with his rap music, or his visitors when he IS nearby at night. They’re all quiet.
It is infuriating because there are three EASY solutions to keep the doggies both quiet and safe, yet he stubbornly refuses to respect my suggestions. Those are: (1) sleep behind the building, (2) let Flaco or even both dogs stay inside with me, and (3) set up a little doggy tent or shelter with a cushy spot where they can sleep and stay warm.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Subject: Deek was planning to let the pups stay over, but…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: November 25, 2021 12:08 AM
..it was under the condition I let him drop by, too, for just a few minutes: “I wanna see how you’ve fixed up your room, and watch the dogs hop onto your bed, then I’ll leave!”
I told him no, I don’t have ANY human visit me any more, not since the pandemic started. Only the pooches can visit.
“But I got my shots,” he persisted. “And I’ll keep my mask on.”
I told him again, “No, because I’m an old man and not interested in doing that with anyone anymore.”
“Doing what?” he played dumb. “I just wanna see your room and do a quick wash-up.”
“You can do that outside, Deek,” I replied. “I’ll bring you a razor, and some sanitizer.”
“Oh c’mon, I won’t ask you ever again,” he persisted, feigning like he was about ready to shed tears, “My nuts are aching, it’s Thanksgiving, I let you have the dogs visit. I’ll even do it myself, you don’t have to touch me.”
“Nope, I’m sorry,” I remained firm. “Let me bring these devices upstairs, and i”ll come right down to pick up the dogs, if you allow that, without YOU coming inside, too.”
All this while I was giving Flaco belly rubs as she lay supine in my lap, while petting Lucky who was curled up on a small towel right beside me. Deek continue pestering me, it went on for more than ten minutes while I ignored him and gave Flaco & Lucky my complete attention. I DID make it clear that I can NOT have the pups over, under the terms he set, because that’s using them for selfish purposes. Like if he demanded another twenty dollars from me, or I can’t have them visit. I wouldn’t agree to that, either.
“Okay,” I finally said, and stood up, after gently rolling Flaco off my legs. As I proceeded to take the speaker and smartphone upstairs, he escorted me towards the gate, with doggies in tow.
“No, Deek, you can’t come in!” I repeated, and waved at him to move back so I can enter alone. I glared at him until he did just that, and I could step inside sans him and the mutts. I then returned downstairs to sit with the brindlekin awhile longer, seeing as Deek continued whining about letting him visit.
“No, Deek, I’m not gonna break down, no matter how much you beg,” I repeated myself. “You are not respecting my wishes…that is OVER, you can easily find someone else closer to your age, to play around. I’m too old to care to do that stuff anymore, and I’m glad to be done with it. But you know that already, so stop it, please.”
After several more minutes of enjoying the pups’ company while Deek ceaselessly begged, acting like i’m being mean to him on Thanksgiving, and other BS. Crocodile tears.
“I’ll never ask you again, I promise,” he whined on. “Let me bring the dogs upstairs with you, I’ll even carry the speaker.”
“No, I can do all that myself,” I asserted. Flaco was again in my lap and, as I rubbed her belly, saw her hind legs tremble. “She’s shivering, Deek. Let me bring them inside.”
But he said once more, only if I let him drop over for a short while, too. So, with a sigh, I stood up again and said to the doggies, “I’m sorry, but it looks like your master isn’t gonna let you stay with me tonight.”
As I began to return hovel, I told him: “If you change your mind later, about letting the pups visit, just call up to my window.”
I also offered to come downstairs once more, with my smartphone, to show him pictures and videos of the dogs in my room…to see how happy they are, and how nice I’ve done up my place just for them. But when I returned downstairs with my phone, I saw they were gone. So I went back hovel.
About twenty minutes later I decided to step out for a stroll…to find that artist, Alex, seated on the sidewalk with his lovely art.
He smiled, said, “Am I on your blog, yet?”
“Oh, hello Alex,” I grinned back. “Yes you are. You’re in my latest chapter I released just yesterday. Give me a moment to load that page on my tablet, and I’ll bring it down to show you!”
So I did, with the page set right in the middle where he is featured, including two photos of him. He was most appreciative, and wished me a happy Thanksgiving. I did likewise, and went back upstairs to drop off the tablet before stepping outside again.
Deek and pups are presently sleeping behind my building, though much further up the hill than usual. It’s dark up there, so I didn’t get too close where I’d alert the pooches, but just close enough to discern it was him, by the silhouette of the shopping cart, and two dogs resting upon his legs and chest.
My grave concern, Wattson, is that this is an ego thing, a power play, on his part. And so long as I refuse to let him “visit” me, he’ll act offended, and refuse to let Flaco & Lucky come over anymore. For if he did that, it would be conceding to me, in acceptance that he’ll never be able to enter my room again. Like I’m being mean to him, as if he’s been castrated.
But I can NOT cave in to his urgings, as that would be damaging to our friendship. The two things just won’t mix. He would come to think I’m paying him for his “services,” which would corrode my association with him AND the doggies. He is also unpredictable, in that sometimes when he DID visit, he’d start an argument…under my own roof! Nor can I afford to have the building manager see him come and go, not to mention what Moe Fleisher would say. Hard enough dealing with the dog issue, I don’t need Deek’s difficult presence to make things worse.
I tell ya, he’s always coming up with some NEW grief to dump on me, it never seems to end. He loves to create problems when there are none in the first place. Though one good thing about tonight, is this:
At least they’re crashed out behind the building, and quiet as church mice. I just hope he doesn’t drag this latest conflict out…for the sake of the pups, more than for myself.
At any rate, when I returned from my stroll, a whacked-out black dude blocked my entry and wouldn’t step inside. Kept muttering about the resistance, are you with the resistance, do you have two dollars? I dared not try to get around him to insert the key, so just moved on, down the block then across the street and up the opposite block, where I could watch him from a distance. He finally moved about ten feet to the left, and sat down in the ATM alcove. I managed to slip inside behind another pedestrian, who I used to block the idiot from spotting me.
He’s still out there an hour later, spewing scary nonsense! So glad Deek didn’t decide to sleep at the bus stop tonight, since Flaco would have none of that…she’d keep barking furiously at the disheveled miscreant, and get no sleep. I would’ve had to stay out there with them, to calm her down.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Subject: Oh, and another good thing…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: November 25, 2021 12:36 AM
…besides seeing Alex again, and that Deek slept behind the building:
I got my booster shot this afternoon. Took awhile to find a place that had the Moderna vaccine, but I was determined, as the CDC claims it gives you the best protection over Pfizer or J&J. Safeway three blocks up Market Street has it, so I logged onto their site to schedule an appointment. After going through all the crap with filling out their form, they tell me there are no openings for the rest of November…and all of December is booked up as well!
But I found another place, a medical center called “Mission Wellness,” which is about an eight block walk from hovel. Not a walk-in, I had to make an appointment online, and it turned out they were available today…or tomorrow, or the next day, etc.! So I got my shot this afternoon, at 2:30 PM. Relieved and feeling GREAT about getting that done, here comes Deek to suck all the joy outta me.
He was even mocking me, saying he’s not gonna get no fuckin’ booster, he’s sorry he even got a shot in the first place (J&J)…the vaccines are killin’ people. I advised him to not be a fool, that everyone who’s died from COVID-19 was not vaccinated, and that NO ONE has ever died from taking the jab. It’s saved untold millions of lives.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Re: Deek was planning to let the pups stay over, but…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: November 25, 2021 2:01 PM
> Oh, that’s just despicable. “My nuts are aching. It’s Thanksgiving.” As if it’s YOUR problem that his nuts are aching, and your responsibility to “relieve” him. And to introduce that into the already-complicated mix, and use it to try to blackmail you! Fucking, fucking asshole.
I despise white-trash behavior, and have always avoided those kind of people…believing once upon a time, foolishly, that moving to San Franshitsco would spare me from that. Now, I’m all wrapped up with such antics, thanks to Deek, and am coerced to figure out ways to counter his BS, like walking on egg shells or through a field of landmines…actually both!
> Glad you stood your ground. Giving in even once would open the door to further abuse and exploitation.
Exactly, Wattson…even if it meant never having the dogs over again, ever. Which was a TOUGH call for yours truly. But he seems to have cooled down by this morning, as he was amenable to my visiting him outside, where he was by then camped out on my block, though much further up towards Castro Street. (Another crazy, loud dude was hanging around in front of my building, so I guess he figured it’s better to keep his distance, so the dogs could have a peaceful morning, lying in the warm light of the sun.) He had blankets set out in a comfy pile for the doggies, and was sitting with one of his friendly allies, Kurt. The whole arrangement was neat, colorful, and quite inviting. They wished me a Happy Thanksgiving, as I did in return.
Seeing such a cozy layout for the pups assured me that most likely, the pooches slept well last night behind my building, in warmth and security.
> And the other whack-job blocking your way later!! Awful!
Yes, right when I was in the middle of dealing with a grievous conflict that was flung in my face by surprise, THIS had to get thrown into the mix, as well. *sigh*
As for Deek’s attempt to blackmail me for sex (using the pups as collateral): who knows, Wattson, but maybe he was testing me? Conjecturing on the bodhisattva level, he wanted to see how strong was my will…and had I caved in, he’d’ve seen that as a failure on my part. And report it to his bosses, who’d then conclude I need to go through further painful episodes until I learned my lesson fully by growing stronger in spirit. All I know is: many of the homeless here in Eureka Valley are now well aware of me, more from an angle of respect and appreciation, than from any hostile intent.
I did buy him a pack of cigarettes for Thanksgiving (not the pricey kind, but a brand that only set me back $10), which he and his company much appreciated. And tomorrow, when he picks up his Sunday allowance of $60 I’m gonna toss in an extra twenty, just because it’s Thanksgiving. I’m actually doing very well with my finances, and it looks like I’ll have $100 left in the bank by the time my next payment from Uncle Sam shows up.
So it’s all good, and I have Moderna’s benevolent protection on my side…she’s a goddess! Though her name sounds more Roman than Greek.
– Zeke K-Holmes
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