The Eviction Fiasco (part 4)

[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 5: Chapter 21]

Subject: Looks like Kevin got to Chihuahua Man, too!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 31, 2022 at 8:24 PM

That’s Samuel who, as you may remember, yelled at my pups for barking one day six months ago…then a couple weeks later had a change of heart and has been kind to me ever since. Except now, for we just crossed paths as I stepped out to buy some groceries. He was walking from the other side of the street with his two effervescent chihuahuas.

I came strolling towards him, in a chipper mood with hands clasped behind my back…whistling a tune in my head (because I can’t do a REAL whistle to save my life). Samuel espied me from a distance while we both waited for the light to turn green. As we grew closer, he made a sincere effort to look in any direction BUT my face. Once I approached within ten feet of him, I made a half bow and waved a hand in friendly greeting and a smile. He failed to look at me even once, but puffed his cheeks and exhaled as if to say, “Whew. THAT was a close call!”

A close call indeed, good physician. He has no idea just how CLOSE things are gonna get, shortly!

Then, barely ten seconds after our close encounter, a gregarious, young vagrant in a curly shock of dishwater blond hair and a jet black pit bull by his side, tethered to a plain cord got in my face:

“Wanna hear a joke for a cigarette?”

“Aw, that’s okay,” I replied. “I’ll just give you one.”

But he insisted that he earn his keep, so told me this two-liner:

“A stoner, a Jedi and a surgeon step into a bar: blunt, force, trauma.”

But my brain was in a fog from the intensity of my day’s work, struggling for my very life against all odds, so I didn’t get it at first. Then I lit up:

“Oh! I get the stoner part, let’s see now, who was the second person?”


“Aha! The force is with him. And the third person?”

“A surgeon. Trauma”

“Oh I see now, that’s pretty good,” I concluded in a polite manner. “I LOVE word play!”

Seeing as that joke obviously didn’t satisfy, he then told me another:

“One day Donald Trump asked his wife why he always gets an erection when he looks in the mirror. Because, his wife said, even your DICK thinks you’re a pussy!”

“Yeah, that’s a good one,” I said with a feigned chuckle. “Thanks!”

I then handed him a cancer stick and as he and black-as-night doggy departed, called to him:

“Looks like I got the better deal!”

He laughed at that and turned the corner, as I did too at the other end of the block.

Jeez, I’m tellin’ ya Wattson, I can’t even step outside anymore without funny things happening! And it’s only started…each day is just gonna get crazier. Well, I look very much forward to having a friendly chat with Kind Warlock a half hour from now. I think I’ll record it with my spare smartphone, and send it on to you.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: My latest email to Thea Victoria
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: June 1, 2022 at 11:18 AM

They left a voicemail to me yesterday, which I didn’t realize till nighttime, way beyond office hours. I need to find an apt pseudonym for them, BTW, before uploading these “attorney” pieces to my blog. Their first name still needs to convey “light” one way or another. If you have any suggestions, I’m all ears. And I have just altered the name of their organization from “[xxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx]” to “Senior Eviction Collective.”

———- Forwarded message ———
From: BRINDLEKIN TALES (Zeke Krahlin)
Date: Wed, Jun 1, 2022 at 5:19 PM
Subject: Mx. Victoria: your voice mailbox is full!
To: Thea Victoria

But first, I want to apologize for calling you “Mr.” in my initial email. I didn’t see your pronoun preferences in your signature until sometime after we first talked. Now, regarding your voicemail message to me yesterday around 4:30 pm:

Since I couldn’t leave a message in your mailbox when I called shortly after 10 am today, let me post here what I was going to tell you via phone:

Yes, let’s get the intake form completed. I am on regular Social Security, but that option did not appear as one of the income choices on that form. The closest to it on the list was SSDI, which I had been on for many years until I reached retirement age, at which time I was switched over to standard Social Security. My sole income is from Social Security, and is presently $1,424 per month.

I will have my phone handy for your call, should you require further info to complete the intake form, as well as any other questions you may have, or instructions. Thanks again for your kind and speedy attention.


Ezekiel J. Krahlin

–end of forwarded message

Now, here is Mx. Victoria’s voice as recorded from her call yesterday (30 seconds).

And this audio file is a 45 second snippet of my hour-long phone call with Kind Warlock last night.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: My latest email to Thea Victoria
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: June 1, 2022 at 12:21 PM

> Lumen.

Yes, that’s a good choice, however, after searching for “girls names that mean light” I settled on “Thea.” In Greek mythology that’s the goddess of light. And for the surname I chose “Victoria” for obvious reasons.

> Did you talk to Kind Warlock last night??

Yes. You didn’t read the last part of my previous email, after viewing my post to Thea…right below “–end of forwarded message.” You will find there an audio link of our phone call (just a snippet), as well as another link to Thea’s voicemail. I recorded both via a second smartphone that doesn’t have cell service.

BTW, my conversation with Mr. Warlock was a delight, and it lasted for one, solid hour. We discussed mostly esoteric issues, and insights and experiences in our own lives around that. Looks like I need to upgrade my Tracfone service from 500 minutes of talk per month, to unlimited. That means an increase from $15 to $20. I knew the time would come, as my popularity gains traction. And the time is now!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: My latest email to Thea Victoria
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: June 1, 2022 at 1:28 PM

> Ah! Missed ’em both. Fascinating.

Voices of kindness reach me through the ether. The events occurring in my life since I received a 3-day notice are spine-tinglingly prescient…a remarkable affirmation that the Fates are on my side. BTW:

Facebook is giving me grief by refusing to log me in! It started with my installing the FB app to my smartphone yesterday, then signing in with the CORRECT email and password. Yet the app responded by a “wrong password” alert. It offered to send me a temporary login code to get in, which would be sent to my addie. So I went ahead with that, but they never sent me the code. So I uninstalled the accursed app, and just tried to log in a few minutes ago, via my laptop…which always worked just fine before.

Annoyingly enough, again they said “wrong password,” so once more I clicked on the “send me a code” option, which DID show up in my mailbox this time around. So I input the code, only to have Facebook tell me:

“Sorry, something went wrong. We’re working on getting this fixed as soon as we can.”

I take this as possibly my bodhisattva guardians’ wish to NOT share details of my present crisis on social media, which in this case would be Kind Warlock’s FB site. Not that I would wind up under malicious attack and doxxing, but that perhaps this amazing transition in my life is only meant for a select few to witness. As I concluded some years back:

“I am San Francisco’s best kept secret.” IOW: protected by unknown forces and certain people (most of whom I’ve never met) who’ve been watching over me for YEARS, as I’ve suspected for quite some time now.

At any rate, Mr. Warlock and yours truly can always contact each other via email or phone.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: My latest email to Thea Victoria
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: June 1, 2022 at 4:47 PM

> We don’t want certain list serve lowlifes to know anything about your tribulations.

They’d be like a ravenous wake of vultures pecking away at fresh carrion and tearing it to shreds, where only bones would remain in short shrift! Anyway, here’s Mx. Victoria’s most recent email:


From: Thea Victoria
Date: Wed, Jun 1, 2022 at 9:07 PM
Subject: Re: Mx. Victoria: your voice mailbox is full!
To: Brindlekin Tales (Zeke Krahlin)

Mr. is fine as long as it isn’t Miss or Ma’am lol. Thank you for respecting my pronouns. Please give me a call back when you can. My mailbox should be open now.

Thea Victoria (they/them)


BTW, they’re NOT a lawyer, they’re a “Right to Counsel Coordinator.” I kept forgetting to tell you that after I myself realized it. Don’t know why the time stamp says 9:07 PM, guess that’s just a strange glitch in the email service…maybe the mail gets routed first through another place on the globe. Both my gmail and gay-bible service often fail to get the time stamp even CLOSE to what it should be.

So, as a coordinator, they REFERS clients to an attorney, in hopes they’ll take the case. I just got off the phone with them, and they said they has (or “have?) two lawyers in mind that MIGHT defend me…but cases have accelerated, and the lawyers are all drowning in appeals these days. So THAT worries me!

But they DID say it looks like I did everything right, including getting the pups out of my building, and sending those two emails to Ablahblah’s attorney. Mx. Victoria also asked about my personal life, my activism, so I gave her a rundown of my Brindlekin Tales and my many years speaking out for the LGBT homeless…and my philosophy that is Buddhist in nature. “We have no enemies, only teachers” and such. So therefore my goal is to make this crisis turn out a “win/win” for ALL parties involved.

Thea said they’re sorry that the dogs have to be back out on the streets 24/7, and I told them yes, it’s a concern, but my homeless friend Deek is taking much better care of them, he’s taken the new situation in stride with impressive maturity, and his own scary mood swings have diminished greatly over the past several months.

We ended the half-hour conversation with their telling me to call whenever I receive a notice having to do with the eviction. So I expect to be phoning her tomorrow, as today is day 3, and the 30-day warning to quit the premises will probably be delivered tomorrow.

Change of topic:

One thing I told Kind Warlock over the phone last night really delighted him. So now I’ll share it with you, Wattson:

Monday evening I prayed to Ganesha, the Hindu elephant god, who is known as “Remover of All Obstacles.” He is Hinduism’s most beloved deity, FYI. As it says in Yogapedia:


Why is Ganesha the most popular Hindu deity?

With his elephant head and human body, Ganesha (or Ganesh) is one of the most beloved and popular of all the Hindu gods. This is because he brings good fortune while destroying all obstacles. He also looks endearingly cute, with a big pot belly and pretty little eyes. We all want success and good luck, which is why we all love mighty Ganesha!

Ganesha is also popular because he’s believed to make things happen quickly, spontaneously even. We all love the quick fix, especially in this day and age. Everything happens so fast in the modern world, and Ganesha is right on track with these rhythms. His superhuman powers move mountains faster than we ever could…

Ganesha also teaches us the tried and true yogic truth that our true source of happiness comes from within, not from chasing externals; that we need to calm our mind and remember our essential nature, which is without fear and full of love and peace.


Now, for me, praying is not some sort of ritual with burning candles, an altar and the like…or even just clasping one’s hands together and/or kneeling down. It is simply thinking STRONGLY of my appeal to the spirit world. I can be sitting down, lying on the cot, or even taking a stroll when I pray.

In this case, I was seated on my chair when I asked Ganesha to please put a swift end to this sad predicament, with a BENEVOLENT outcome both for myself and those who play my enemies. Then as the night was already late, I lay down a few minutes later on my back, took a few deep, calming breaths with closed eyes, then imagined Ganesha pushing all my enemies further and further from where I stood, in an ever-widening circle.

“Hmm,” I thought, “that’s not benevolent, that’s scaring them away!”

And with that thought, Ganesha bowed his weighty, gray head in my direction as if to say, “Wait, you’ll see!”

The wide center of the circle was now cleared of all but Ganesha and myself, who stood within a clean 20 feet of its inner edge in every direction. Ganesha then began a sermon about how compassion is the ONLY way to resolve a conflict, no matter HOW egregious, and that hatred, fear or any OTHER negative emotion is never a sane option, no matter HOW cruel the offense.

So his point in clearing a circle was NOT to drive the masses away, but to arrange a platform by which EVERYONE was in earshot! His voice echoed all the way to the far circumference, thus no one could NOT hear his divine words.

I then fell into a deep, luxurious sleep and woke up refreshed…and later that day I received my first contact with the Senior Eviction Collaborative!

And on THAT good note, kind physician, I end my latest missive.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Got the lovely pic, but texting not working…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: June 2, 2022 at 02:16 AM

> Oh, Gawd, how maddening!!!!!!!

I have a gremlin on my back. I just returned from the corner Palestinian family run shop, where I attempted to pay with my EBT card as usual: $22.29 total. The system said “insufficient funds,” to which I remarked: “That’s not right, I KNOW I have considerably more funds in my account.”

I then offered to use my debit card, but I paused, thought maybe I don’t have that much in my bank, either, so “insufficient funds” again! Because just minutes ago I had withdrawn $50 for Deek’s upcoming Sunday allowance, which no doubt he’ll ask for tomorrow. Plus $10 for THIS parsimonious pilgrim.

“Never mind,” I said, I’ll just put everything back and check my EBT account online, see what’s going on.”

The friendly young clerk then offered to ring up less items, and see if that’ll work. “And your receipt will tell you how much you have left,” he pointed out.

I said okay and I handed two items out of five: a share-size pouch of chocolate M&Ms, and a double-tub package of “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.”

Bingo, it went through! Then he handed me the receipt, which I carefully inspected, and finally looked up at him to declare:

“It says I have $310 remaining!”

The clerk then graciously offered to ring up the remaining items, rather than placing them back on the shelves. “Good idea,” I laughed, “let’s do it!”

Meanwhile, a scrawny, elderly fellow reminiscent of “Gothic American” holding two one-pint containers of ice cream and a large, green sack of gourmet cookies exposing their naked glory through an oval cellophane window, was patiently awaiting his turn.

“Let me take care of him first,” said the clerk with a nod towards the geriatric patron who gently grunted something unintelligible through a confetti-colored cloth mask…and who ALSO held an EBT card in his hand.

I happily agreed, and wished him luck because the EBT system seems to have a glitch, and we don’t want his ice cream to melt if we can help it!

Guess what, good doctor? HIS card was spurned as well, though for a different reason, which I can’t recall, though it had four words in it, not just two! The clerk tried again and voila it went through the second time: $28.79…WOW, inflation insanity!

Then it was my turn again, this time without a hitch. Before all this EBT brouhaha blew up in my face, the clerk was having problems replacing a new roll of paper tape into the payment gizmo. The roll was too fat, so he unrolled and unrolled and unrolled as I stood by the counter with my handful items, ready to pay up and get the hell outta there.

In the middle of his unraveling, he mumbled a “Sorry!” in my direction, and I kindly replied: “No problem, just keep on doing what you’re doing until it’s done.”

He guffawed at that, then tossed the roll for another not quite so corpulent. He tried shoving it into the gizmo, but it was STILL too wide, so again he went through the unrolling motions and, finally, stuck it in where it belonged, and the tape end slid through a thin slit, and was ready to go.

Almost ten minutes had passed from depositing my items on the counter, to when he was ready to process my card. He looked at me, said, “Sorry about that!”

“Oh, that’s perfectly fine. I seem to have a gremlin on my back today.” I answered in good humor. “Strange day all around, like reality has a glitch in it. Maybe we slipped into the Twilight Zone and don’t know it yet.”

“Ha, ha, yeah!” he responded.

“The gods are laughing,” I said, and that’s when my EBT card was denied, and the fun began. But once the two purchases were finalized, I said to the clerk upon exiting the door: “Told you I have a gremlin on my back!”

Earlier that day, my smartphone fought me when I tried to text you, but it eventually got through some time after I gave up and resorted to posting a screenshot of it, via email.

I also had a problem with my Linux sound editor today, when I attempted to fine tune the two cell phone recordings you heard in the raw, for public digestion. The editor kept crashing whenever I tried to snip a few seconds off the start of either recording.

So I rebooted into Windows, to use another sound editor. But I first had to download the two audio files from Google Drive because I forgot to copy them over from the Linux partition, to a FAT32 external drive. But then Google declared right in my face with a rude popup window:

“This drive is offline, so ya can’t do fuck with your files, and you’re a useless old fart, anyway!”

Not in so many words, but it came down to the same thing. But I WASN’T offline, this is one of Drive’s most annoying glitches that ALL its users must suffer through now and then. I think they want to remind us all who REALLY runs the show: Alphabet, Inc….the GOLIATH of cyberspace.

I’ll just have to wait till tomorrow to get it done.

Kind Warlock called me again, tonight, so I had to drop what I was writing (THIS), and he talked on for about a half hour before Deek called up to me and I had to hang up. We agreed to chat again tomorrow, but after I collected Deek’s gizmos and plugged them in upstairs, I decided to call him back. He’s really knowledgeable about Hinduism and Vedic text in rather DEEP and cerebral ways that are beyond most humans, including yours truly! But it was nonetheless a pleasurable interlude.

BTW, he wants to write about me and share it on the announcement list and other places, because of how much I’ve impressed him. I said okay, just leave out any eviction BS. He understood, and promised he wouldn’t bring that up. “I trust you, Warlock…I’m sure, however, you’ll be vilified no end by the MCN troglodytes.” He said he knows how to deal their crap, and I told him the time has come for the world to know who I am: a stellar author and activist whose words will ring like Notre Dame’s own church bells on a chill, silent night, across the globe.

Hopefully, that will happen days BEFORE my possible eviction, so that many newfound disciples will be ready at my beck and call, to provide me with whatever I need, including a comfy roof over my head and a spanking new Chromebook. And shelter for Deek and pups as well, close to where I’ll reside…preferably in the same edifice. Though in different wings so I can get far, far away from him when I need my own space to think, sleep and write without some bipolar banshee screeching at me.

Talk about a Gremlin on my back!

It’s a chilly damp night, now 11:45 PM and Deek and doggies are outside by the bus stop. He has them laying on a large, crumpled stiff duck canvas tote bag with nothing warm to cover them! Flaco, of course, loves being in my arms and gazing up at me. And when she stands beside me, she often raises a paw to plunk on my leg and express her fondness. She slipped out of her collar once, earlier tonight, and Deek got all in a huff, blaming me for fucking up his night.

I told him hush, calm dawn, you know better, I’m your friend and just doing the best I can, you need to hold her by the collar when I make to leave. I then approached her standing quietly by the gate, wagging her tail and dying to dash inside and up the carpeted steps to my hovel…gently picked her up and whispered sweet nothings into her Yoda ears as I returned her to her master and placed the collar back on.

Deek is actually getting better at quieting them down…instead of screaming bloody murder at them (which only serves to magnify the cacophony and does NOTHING for the mutts) he pulls them gently back to him, goes “Shhh!” and they calm down quickly. I have a weathered old jacket ready to toss, so I think I’ll bring it downstairs to cover the hounds, when I deliver his gizmos a few minutes from now.


So I returned his electronics and offered to cover Lucky with my old jacket. Flaco was already sheltered under a canvas bolt slung over her master’s legs.

“I’ll take that, I can use it to keep ME warm!” he said, then snatched the jacket off Lucky, and laid it beside him, bunched up.

“You usually don’t like these kinds of Jackets, Deek,” I remarked. “You want something more ghetto and flashy.” Then I queried in sad appeal:

“Can’t you throw it over Lucky for now? You’re not wearing it.”

He wasn’t listening to me at all, and then some codger on a bike came out of nowhere and stopped to talk in a raspy voice with Deek. He blabbered on and on, so I realized I wouldn’t get a word in edgewise, and decided to pay more attention to Lucky, with hugs and kind caresses for the several minutes I remained outside before returning to my former canine sanctuary, now vacant.

Earlier tonight, I had to climb up and down the stairs bringing a device here, a device there, to Deek…and returning one of them back hovel for further charging. During this time, Karlsen, my Bohemian neighbor down the hall, suddenly appeared reclining at the top of the stairs on my floor. He was comfortably stretched out and diddling with his smartphone.

“Oh, excuse me,” he apologized, “I just found this a cushy spot to rest awhile, don’t know why.”

“Nah, that’s fine, Karlsen,” I replied with a warm smile, “You just keep enjoying your cozy nook, it’s easy enough to walk around you.”

Once I passed him I turned a 180 to show him the small, oblong speaker in my hand, and explained:

“My homeless friend brings me electronic devices to charge. This is a speaker. He also rummages for old smartphones, which I convert to mp3 players and upload his favorite rap music on them.”

“Gee, that’s very kind of you,” he grinned with a friendly aura. “It’s important to care for those poor souls stuck out there.”

“VERY important,” I said, then: “I gotta bring this out to him, before he wonders what happened to me.”

He said okay, have a good night, and I said likewise, then added: “I’ll be up and down these stairs two more times, so I’ll see you again in a moment.”

When I stepped back inside several minutes later, Karlsen was still at his temporary rest stop. And I said: “Told ya I’ll be back!”

He laughed at that, then spoke these most remarkable words to me:

“It’s good there are folks like us who really care about the homeless.”

I thanked him for saying that, as it is something I rarely hear, and returned to my room. When I stepped out once more, some minutes later, the stairway was clear; Karlsen must’ve gone to his apartment for the rest of the night.

So whaddya think about THAT, Wattson. Well I’m gonna TELL ya what I think about that, Wattson. And it’s gonna blow your mind sky high, Wattson, once you hear me out! Here goes:

He’s checking me out, on behalf of all the other residents in my building, who ARE my bodhisattva guardians. When I first passed by him, he asked me how I’m doing, so I said with a smile: just fine, thanks. Tempted, however, to bring up this small matter of an eviction…but a little birdie told me hush, don’t bother. So I did NOT open that can of worms (thus denying that little birdie a tasty midnight snack).

And it’s a good thing I didn’t, for that wouldn’t have impressed him NEARLY so much as the calm, unworried demeanor that I showed him.

They want to WITNESS how I’m dealing with this crisis, and I’ll be DAMNED if I do anything less than NOT impress the fuck out of them, with my friendly ways and stable emotional quotient!

HE WAS ASSIGNED THAT STATION BY THE STAIRS…HE’S A PLANT! Just to catch me off guard, to see if I’d react with so much as a single, nervous twitch. I did NOT and thus, earned a gold star for tonight’s performance.

These frowns, residents avoiding me and looking another direction when they pass by (such as Chihuahua Man did yesterday), these angry faces: IT’S ALL AN ACT, THEY’RE TESTING ME!

It’s 12:49 now, and Deek and pups have departed to god only knows where: around the corner and behind my building? I doubt it but I’m not gonna check. His visit of several hours by the bus stop was assuagingly peaceful. The dogs barked on and off a bit earlier, but no so loud or frequent. They quieted down soon enough. And they were almost right below my quasi-fascist’s window, and that of the manager two stories up.

There is in the air, among both the houseless and the residents here, of something BIG about to happen. Something big AND beautiful AND awesome AND filled with benevolence and grace. And I think it’ll be all about moi.

One good thing that’s come out of this eviction crisis, is that the quality of my writing has grown in leaps and bounds under the pressure! As you can clearly witness, being the most fortunate and sole recipient of my latest tales.

I have been writing up a storm all day (including THIS piece before I hit the sack), my room quiet as a scribe’s cell for hours on end without Youtubes videos, TV shows or movies playing in the background. As much as I love to keep up with the news, I believe those days are over, for I MUST focus on my tales more than ever now. Besides which: I AM the news!

Time now for me to enjoy some horror animations and a share-size packet of M&Ms, then drift off to Slumberville. I presume you’re already there, and have prepared a large mug of hot cocoa with whipped cream for me, anticipating my showing up very soon to join you in sparkling camaraderie there in your mystical cottage of cats by the woods.

– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: On top of Karlsen’s already remarkable statement about caring for the homeless, he also said: “I’ve met some incredibly gifted people on the streets!” Blow your mind, or what?

Subject: This morning’s email to Kind Warlock
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: June 2, 2022 at 11:45 AM

I called Mx. Victoria this morning around 10:30, but her voicemail box is full again! So I emailed her, and hope we can touch bases today, that I may answer a few more questions she has. Don’t know why I’m not a blubbering, nervous wreck by now, but steady as she goes. Definitely, my writing diligently each day is a BIG help keeping me stable. It’s done the same for some prisoners locked away on islands for many years, so it makes sense that it would also benefit THIS reluctant pilgrim in his time of turmoil.

BTW, I read a somewhat lengthy passage of my latest WordPress-published chapter to Mr. Warlock last night, and he was STUNNED. My words gripped him FEVERISHLY to see how the story progresses. I told him who you are, whom I call “My Dear Wattson” in my Brindlekin Tales. He was curious about this excellent friend of many years up there in Mendoland, though we’ve yet to meet in person. Seeing as it’s so easy to figure out who you are with a little detective work, including having used your REAL name in my previous opus, I don’t really see a problem with this. He said he doesn’t recognize the name, anyway. So there ya go, Wattson!

———- Forwarded message ———

From: BRINDLEKIN TALES (Zeke Krahlin)
Date: Thu, Jun 2, 2022 at 6:26 PM
Subject: You’ll be surprised to learn that I’ve already been writing about you…
To: Kind Warlock

…and I hope, pleased, under the pseudonym “Kind Warlock” in lieu of your real name. I’ve been doing so for quite some time now, here and there in my chapters. Your true identity is concealed throughout. In my latest chapter, you are in two pieces (email posts), one TO you, and the other ABOUT you. Just search for “kind warlock” and you’ll find it.

I just watched the video “The Direct Path to Peace and Happiness with Rupert Spira,” and he seems to be very much aligned with Joseph Campbell’s approach and style. Of course, that was only one 6-minute video, so tell me if I’m wrong, and that Mr. Spira has something different to offer, or embellishes upon, than what Mr. Campbell has already shared with the world before he departed and left us all with a great loss. Nonetheless, I’m sure I’ll gain tremendous spiritual uplift via Spira’s words…so I’ve just subscribed to his channel. I will also peruse his earlier videos, though I am pressed for time during this demanding crisis like a monkey on my back. I can only hope and pray that this monkey is Hanuman himself! From Wikipedia:

“He symbolises the human excellences of inner self-control, faith, and service to a cause, hidden behind the first impressions of a being who looks like a Vanara. Hanuman is considered to be a bachelor and an exemplary celibate .”

Hmm, I like to think of myself as an “exemplary celibate,” too…as being freed from sexual intrigue has been a tremendous boon to my skills as a thinker, an author and an activist. Celibacy has removed me from the intense emotions and responsibilities that burden those who are at least reasonably evolved both intellectually and spiritually. Now, here’s an interesting passage from Wikipedia about Vanaras:

“Although the word Vanara has come to mean ‘monkey’ over the years and the Vanaras are depicted as monkeys in the popular art, their exact identity is not clear. As per Ramayana, Vanars were shapeshifters. In the Vanara form, they had beards with extended sideburns, narrowly shaved chin gap, and no moustache. They had a tail and razor-sharp claws. Their skin and skeleton were inforced with an indestructible Vajra, which no earthly element could penetrate. Unlike other exotic creatures such as the rakshasas , the Vanaras do not have a precursor in the Vedic literature. The Ramayana presents them as humans with reference to their speech, clothing, habitations, funerals, weddings, consecrations etc. It also describes their monkey-like characteristics such as their leaping, hair, fur and a tail. Aiyanagar suggests that though the poet of the Ramayana may have known that vanaras were actually forest-dwelling people, he may portrayed them as real monkeys with supernatural powers and many of them as amsas (portions) of the gods to make the epic more fantastic.”

I would love for you to embellish upon the nature of Varanas, and other characters (both groups and individuals) in our brilliant Vedic literary pantheon. We can possibly talk for an hour every evening, if you’d like…let’s see how that works out.

I just upgraded my cell service to unlimited talk this morning, so no worries over how much (or how little) time I have left per month. Especially important, now that I require legal counsel that would be MUCH more difficult to arrange should I run out of minutes. Though such frequency of daily calls of an hour long each, may prove a bit much for me, considering the stressful cycle I’m going through right now. Or it may indeed prove quite the opposite (a balm of kindness and wisdom, so to speak)…we’ll just have to wait and see.

In faith, brother/sisterhood and the blossoming of a better world, I say:

Namaste and om shanti.

– Ezekiel J. Krahlin

–end of forwarded message

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