The Eviction Fiasco (part 10)

[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 6: Chapter 1]

Subject: Above and Beyond the Call of Duty
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: June 18, 2022 at 12:44 AM

Just this morning when I stepped out for my java break, there was Shorty (Deek’s ex-girlfriend, or so he claims) sitting on her haunches by the bus stop, and munching on a smallish loaf of fluffy dessert bread chock full of plump, juicy blueberries! It was like a ginormous muffin, chunks of which she picked out with her fingers and placed in her mouth, one by one. So I turned to her and said:

“Hello Shorty, nice morning isn’t it?”

She looked up at me for a flash, nodded her head in agreement without pausing in relishing that succulent street score. I bent over to take a closer look:

“BLUEberries, my all-time favorite!”

She did NOT respond, but continued diving in to her blueberry cloud…and who could blame her? I, for one, was HAPPY that such simple enjoyment was hers on this lovely morning. And then I blurted:

“You look very SHARP today, the way you’re dressed…great outfit! Nice haircut, too.”

“Thank you,” she replied in her usual, raspy voice without a pause from noshing.

Not wishing to disturb her taste-bud reverie any further, I said it’s good to see her again, wished her a wonderful day, and departed. But no more than a few steps later, I decided to say something else that would bring her cheer, so approached her once more, to declare:

“I saw you and a friend behind my building two days ago, cleaning up after Deek!”

She nodded again while still focused on her berry-cake delight, and I tossed her this compliment with a wink and a smile:

“That was above and beyond the call of duty!”

“Thank you,” she replied once again.

I decided some minutes after returning hovel, to step back out and take the following snapshot:

Click here for a larger view.

You can see that Shorty is neatly attired and sports a spiffy crew cut these days. And from her earlobes dangled a pair of petite gold earrings that shimmered in the sunlight flickering beneath the breeze-kissed leaves. Can’t show you her face, as I don’t want to offend or frighten her by taking a photo without permission. Suffice it to say she has a fresh, pixiesh visage with silver-cerulean eyes. If only her teeth were not so decayed, she’d look fabulous from head to toe!

Enlarge that image and you’ll see the b&w design on her hoodie depicting the word “MONEY,” a few dollar signs, and what appears to be a movie reel. I have NO idea what that’s all about, but it is what it is.

Now, another pic showing her at rest an hour later:

Click here for a larger view.

I was glad to see she had additional tasty vittles awaiting her next repast: a quart-size container of pineapple chunks and what looked to me like a big, fat empanada, or something similar. Other fresh comestibles lied strewn about her slumbering form, but I wasn’t ABOUT to take a closer look, out of respect for her personal space, as tenuous as that is.

Now here’s a snapshot from my hallway window, of just SOME of the junk Deek left behind Wednesday, on my building’s 16th Street side:

Click here for a larger view.

It’s mostly twenty or so small tubes of artist’s paint, that Deek used to spot up his baggy denim pants. I guess my trickster thinks he’s a bird of paradise, or trying to pass himself OFF as one! In addition to the tubes, he left OTHER assorted debris strewn about, including old clothing, hard-plastic paraphernalia, a broken, brown-leather and plumped-up office chair and small, lumpy bags filled with god only knows what!

But about two hours later–to both my surprise and delight–I saw Shorty and another drifter cleaning up the entire mess! Here’s a snapshot showing them still active at their self-assigned chore, but almost done:

Click here for a larger view.

Now let’s rewind to around 7:45 AM that same day:

I had just arisen from my cart (oops, I meant to type “cot,” I’m NOT homeless yet!) to begin another day, when I heard Flaco’s distinctive barks outside…just several, and no more. From my window I espied Deek seated at the bus stop, his two pups (of course, and may that always be so), and another transient seated alongside them. It was a friendly gathering, and hushed. Since the pandemic fiasco took off, Market Street in the early morning is often so quiet you could hear a rubber dildo keychain-bauble drop.

“That’s nice,” I thought, “Deek’s showing enough consideration to wait until 10 AM, or until he sees the curtains pulled back. I think I’ll step out now to surprise him.”

My decision to allow the disruption of my early morning hours comes from the heart, in light of Deek’s new burden of having the doggies foisted upon him 24/7, rather than my providing them with healing sanctuary on a frequent basis, as I’ve been doing for more than a year and a half. Until the Ogre Manager and one of his Nasty Minions decided to toss a monkey wrench into the works, possibly costing the dogs their good health and spirits, and maybe even their very lives, in the long run!

“Oh, hey,” he turned to me upon my unexpected appearance, “I hope Flaco didn’t wake you up!”

“No she didn’t,” I said. “I heard her bark, but I was already up.”

I then handed him the usual plastic grocery bag to deposit his electronics, and while he rummaged through his cart I greeted the hounds with loving hugs and kisses. When I finally stood up to reclaim the bag, his companion had left his seat to stretch nearby. He’s around 32, skinny and dressed in a raucously hued tie-dye shirt, a pair of faded jeans a size too large but held up by a cheap belt, and a pair of floppy Converse sneakers THREE sizes too large. His hair was a bright, artificial shade of reddish orange.

He winked at me then, and flashed a broad smile, exposing a horrid set of badly stained teeth, with one missing here, two missing there, and two or three MORE missing from various OTHER gum locations. His upper front ivories were SHOVEL teeth…pointing down proudly over the entryway to a deep, dark caven. Like my OWN single remaining incisor.

“He sure looks HOT with his shirt off!” he confided to me in an embarrassingly strident timbre and bright, glassy eyes. “I’ve seen a LOT of dudes his age naked, and I’m tellin’ ya NONE of ’em look NOWHERE near good as Deek!”

Needless to say, Wattson, I was DESperately eager to get the fuk outta there at that point, but I DID notice Deek’s bare chest suddenly puff up in pride.

“Ya gotta be kiddin’ me,” I thought. “He’s nothing special in the looks department. But who am I to judge, as it appears that Red-Head here may have finally gotten me off the hook with Deek’s periodic attempts to cajole me to take him upstairs for a few minutes of ‘manly’ relief, much to my alarm and disgust!”

“Uh, I suppose so,” I replied with a wan smile, then scurried on back hovel with gizmos in hand.

Some minutes later a patrol car pulled up alongside the bus stop, until Deek and gang (by this time two more vagrants had joined him) got the hint and migrated around the corner on 16th Street.

Some time later, after I ate breakfast and got some more writing under my belt, I realized the pups probably would appreciate a couple bowls of water, so I brought it downstairs where Deek and hounds were camped out behind my building. By now his companions had departed, and Deek was busy dotting up his dungarees with colorful splotches of paint. Open tubes were scattered all over the place, while Lucky was comfortably resting upon the cushioned back of that broken chair (because it lay askew on the sidewalk with the seat now vertical), and Flaco was walking around the shopping cart further up the hill, sniffing about.

It was then I noticed she had a wide stripe of iridescent gold across her right side from haunch to shoulder…not opaque, but a ghostly overlay that actually heightened the beauty of her brindle fur. As if someone had painted it with a broad brush. Then I put two and two together, with a jolt:

“Deek, she has that paint on her, you need to wash it off!”

“Do I?” he mused. “It’s not permanent.”

“I don’t know about that,” I warned, then picked up a tube to see if it were oil based, acrylic, or watercolor…but I could NOT read the tiny print without my glasses. So I threw down the tube and told him:

“It doesn’t matter, Deek. The ingredients could be poisonous for dogs, so you don’t want her licking on it.”

“Well, I don’t know how it got on her,” he softly replied with a subtle grin. “It’s not my fault.”

“Yes it is,” I admonished. “You have all these open tubes lying around, with splotches of paint on the sidewalk. It’s YOU’RE responsiblity to keep the dogs from lying down on that crap.”

He didn’t respond, but continued decorating his jeans, so I pushed further:

“THAT is why you should always provide cardboard for them to rest on, instead of the dirty sidewalk, Deek! They could pick up germs and get sick or infected, or gum get stuck in their fur, and if they chew it off they could CHOKE to death! Or some kind of toxic liquid or sludge!”

“But I don’t HAVE any water to clean it off,” he nonchalantly retorted, “so I guess YOU gotta take care of it.”

“Right,” I sighed while examining Lucky to see if he, too, were likewise colorized. He wasn’t.

I returned a few minutes later with a large bowl of water and four microfiber rags and began wiping the gold paint from Flaco’s side. Fortunately, it washed off after five minutes or so, withOUT any soap, and she was very patient and happy to receive my gentle touch and kind words. And I enjoyed giving her many hugs in the process. Later that day it hit me:

She didn’t “accidentally” lie down on the paint, otherwise she’d have SPLOCTHES here and there, not a lovely stripe so artfully brushed across her fur! Deek did it INTENTIONALLY. “I don’t know how it got on her,” my ass!

More of Deek’s screechings occurred yesterday afternoon, but it didn’t go on long, nor was it as loud as previous times. Plus, he was surrounded by three street comrades there by the bus stop…unusual, because he’d always made it a point, previously, to only scream at me when no one else was around.

“I’m sick of your jaberring nonsense,” he screehed as I approached him upon exiting the front gate. “You never have anything to say, it’s just yammer yammer yammer!”

I calmly stopped before him, with his buddies seated between us, and calmly replied:

“I never say anything to you that isn’t important, Deek. And besides, ALL your friends know about your temper tantrums and are sick of it.”

“Oh they do, do they,” he snarked back. “I suppose I need to take medication to help me cope? Do you have a doctor to recommend?”

“Cut it out, Deek,” I countered. “You’re actually doing GREAT, I just want you to stop having anxiety attacks around my building, if you don’t mind.”

I had to walk by him and his gaggle several times, on my errands, seeing as they were parked right out front. The seond time I stepped out and walked in his direction, I intended to just pass by without speaking to him, as I was just going to the corner shop two blocks up Noe. But he wouldn’t have it, instead he smiled up at me from where he sat:

“So ya gonna go shopping right now?”

“Look Deek,” I retorted, “I have a life outside of you, I didn’t come out here to have another argument. I feel like you’re SPYING on me.”

He just tilted himself further back, with palms pressed behind him on the concrete, for support:

“Well, I just wanna know because I’m planning to pick up my devices soon!”

I then stood there looking up at the sky to think, then told him: “I’ll be back in ten minutes or so, you can wait THAT long.”

The FOURTH time I had to stroll by Deek and pals, he called to me as I attempted to elude his attention, but failed:

“You know I’m just fukkin with ya, right?”

I turned to him and agreed:

“Yes, Deek, and you’re very GOOD at it. Now let me go around the corner to sit on the bench, enjoy the warm sun and cool breezes, and my break from writing, please!”

So I’d say it’s a good report on Deek’s latest behavior. It’s just HEARTbreaking to see the pups for barely a minute, each time they’re out there…even though their master may be camped out by the ATMs or the bus stop or behind the building for HOURS. Imagine that: they’re often RIGHT BELOW MY WINDOW and I can’t hang out with them! Just earlier this evening, Deek and hounds dropped by, and as soon as I reached out to pet them both, Lucky rolled over on his back and started to squirm and twitch all over the sidewalk, with tongue hanging out from the brightest doggy smile I’ve ever seen! His amazing way of saying just how HAPPY he is to see me again! And Flaco, in her usual, infinitely sincere style, pressed herself firmly against my legs as I stroked her lovely golden fur and she reached out to touch my lowered face with a dainty paw.

They want so BADLY to visit me, they are always overjoyed whenever I appear in their world, but sad and disappointed that my appearances are brief. Part of the problem is that their owner won’t ALLOW me to spend a little more time with them. But I guess it’s better that way, as they need to remain accustomed to being stuck outside 24/7 until that extraordinary breakthrough occurs any day now, and the world will be my tofu oyster.

NOW, TO WRAP THINGS UP (7 vignettes):

That fellow with orange-red hair who’s been hangin’ with Deek lately, and helps watch over the mutts, is called (appropriately enough) “Red.” And I believe he’s the one dressed in drag last Monday, zoned out near Deek behind my building, and wearing a large floppy hat and pink gown.

Two days ago I attempted to retrieve two, large discarded hoodies resting on the trash bin out front…the start of my collecting warm clothing to provide blankets for the pups, for when the nights are cold. The idea is to stash a large supply of such items, since Deek repeatedly fails to gather these provisions himself, to keep the dogs warm. I figure come next winter, I’ll be better prepared, especially since their master keeps LOSING stuff, and I may need to replace them every few days, or even sooner!

I saw them on my way back from Rosenberg’s, checked ’em out to discover they were weighty, warm and clean…so I rushed upstairs to procure a trash bag, so I wouldn’t risk bugs infesting my room, and I can launder them in due time. But once I stepped back outside, some elderly homeless lady was standing by the bin and looking them over!

“Drat!” I thought. “I was only gone less than a minute and THIS happens!”

I decided to stand around from a distance of twenty feet, acting like I’m waiting for an Uber, though actually hoping she’d lose interest and move on, so I could claim the hoodies. But no, she took her sweet time checking each one over…first she’d toss one into her cart, then yank it back out…then the other one, then yank it out, too…then take BOTH, then change her mind and place them back on the trash bin…and right when it looked like she didn’t want either one and began pushing her cart towards Noe Street, she suddenly turned about and snatched them up! Meanwhile, my coffee I left upstairs had grown cold by this time…perhaps even moldy.

Ironically, about a half hour later when I peered out the hallway window to see if Deek were still parked behind my building I saw that yes indeed he was…and guess who was with him, chatting away? That same old lady who still had the hoodies in her cart! Can’t win for losing.

Last night around 11:30 PM when I had stepped out for a few minutes to enjoy the chill, night air, a patrol car followed by an ambulance had rolled up in front of my building with sirens wailing and cops jumping out of their vehicle to reach the front gate. I ran up to them and said I live here, I’ll let you in. Turned out that, once again, they were here for my Bohemian neighbor, Karlsen, as they asked if I’m the one who called from 207. I told them no, but I know who he is.

Once I swung the gate open and the officers stepped inside, I expected them to dash to the second floor to reach his apartment, but they didn’t. For here came Karlsen hobbling down the stairs to meet them! Once he reached the lobby, I told him to take it easy, and returned hovel. Now I wonder, Wattson, just what kind of medical emergency is this, where an elderly person can escort himself down the stairs, rather than wait for the medics to reach his abode? Maybe someday I’ll find out, if he doesn’t kick the old bucket first.

He has, BTW, landed a job as an “ambassador” for The City. Good for tourism, as they are assigned to various districts and walk up to those who appear to be vacationing, greet them and offer them directions and/or interesting discussions about this or that place, local history, and so on. $21 an hour, not too shabby! I told Karlsen this is a good job for him, as he’ll meet all sorts of interesting people, one or more of whom just might need an illustrator or other artwork, and could hire him! Karlsen has been assigned to the Embarcadero/downtown area, which is PERFECT.

Hohokum tobacco and gift shop may be on the chopping block! As indicated by a postcard delivered to all residents by SF’s Board of Appeals. Apparently, they’ve been caught selling flavored tobacco…ha, ha! Here’s the postcard:

Click here for a larger view.

They will likely be suspended for fifteen days, from selling ANY kind of tobacco. Heck, that’s just a slap on the wrist, good doctor! But hopefully, this will lead to reports and discoveries of OTHER illegal behavior that will eventually shut down that abortion of an establishment!

I’m just a teensy bit away from completing THIS chapter, which I was hoping would mark the finale to my Brindlekin Tales trilogy. In fact, THIS missive is so lengthy, it’s bound to be this chapter’s end. I sincerely DESPISE the idea of breaking into a NEW chapter with a string of sub-chapters from A to Z for yet a third time! So now I’m thinking about POSSIBLY extending Chapter 18z into “Chapter 18z – 001,” “Chapter 18z – 002,” and so on, for as long as it takes to culminate into the happiest outcome possible. Surely that will occur long before I reach sub-segment “18z – 999!” Though I imagine our LGBT Family will be more sensible and break Book 3 down into three separate books, thus giving a total FIVE books composing my Brindlekin Tales: not a trilogy, but a QUINTERNITY! Speaking of which:

I just discovered this page (from Reddit’s Carl Jung sub of all places), by searching for “quinternity” to be sure of the spelling, and if it’s even a real word because it couldn’t be found on, which said instead “Did you mean quaternity?”:

Christianity – Trinity, Quaternity or Quinternity?

Well, it’s now 11:37 PM and Deek dropped by to pick up his gadgets and get more dog food. He was seated by the bus stop atop some bedding, and the pooches were enjoying a meal: Lucky five feet away from Deek, and Flaco right beside him. He does that so neither one nor the either starts eating from their sibling’s bowl. But they weren’t eating at the moment, so I reached out to pet and hug them each…when all of a sudden their master hollered at me:

“Get outta here now, let them eat! They stopped eating because YOU’RE here!”

“Deek, that’s not true,” I said. “They were taking a break, so I greeted them before going back inside.”

“Well you can go back outside NOW!” he barked.

So I then looked down at him and directly in the eye:

“You need to snap out of it, Deek, you hear me? SNAP, SNAP out of it! SNAP SNAP SNAP!”

“Alright, alright, just leave me alone,” he muttered.

“Leave you alone?” I replied. “I’m not even bothering you. One day you praise me to the heavens, another day you fuck with my head. This has gotta STOP, Deek!”

“Shut UP!” he hollered from where his head and the rest of him was now tucked inside the large comforter.

“Why are you even sleeping here, Deek?” I admonished. “I asked you many times to not crash out in front of my building at night, because of the heavy foot traffic that keeps Flaco awake and barking on and off through the night, to protect you.”

He didn’t say a word at that point, so I pet the dogs one more time and returned hovel. But some twenty minutes later I realized they also could use some water, so filled two bowls and brought them down, where I set them beside the shopping cart, close enough to get to the water while still leashed up. The dogs were now tucked in beside Deek, Lucky by his bent legs where you could only discern him as a lump under the blanket, while Flaco lay close to his chest and in his arms, her head poking out to watch all who passed by, in her desire to guard him with her life.

I HOPE Flaco gets some sleep, but she keeps pushing her nose and eyes back outside from under the cover every time Deek attempts to pull her beneath it. At least, this time around, she hasn’t emitted a single bark yet, but silently watches, instead. In spite of her master’s nasty behavior towards me, I am nonetheless gratified he’s doing a good job of keeping them comfy and warm tonight. Though I don’t understand WHY he insists on sleeping right outside my building, with so much foot traffic and brassy jerkwads slinking by. Before returning upstairs, I took this snapshot:

Click here for a larger view.

I haven’t heard from you since you emailed me that you’re here in the city with Erwyn, for his medical appointment at Ft. Miley. That was two days ago, Wednesday. In the early afternoon. So now I’m a bit concerned, since you haven’t sent off a quick note via email or text, that everything went fine and you’re back in Mendocino.

I even texted you earlier today, hoping to get SOME kind of a response, but no cigar! (Don’t worry, it’s not flavored.)

Now it’s almost midnight without nary a word from you, Wattson! Of course I trust you’re BOTH okay, and that you’re simply overwhelmed with work and chores. However, I shuddered when the image of your vehicle careening off a cliff on Highway 1 upon your return north came to mind! What on earth would I do without you, how would I go on?

There would suddenly be NO one in my life to confide in, be silly with, and do all the other wonderful things close friends do! No one. Not even Deek, as he’s a very DIFFERENT kind of friend, though a good comrade just the same. And then I shuddered once more at aNOTHER horrid thought:

What if I lost BOTH you and Deek-and-the-pups around the same time? Then what? I can only say this: that I would PERSIST no matter what, because you BOTH have shown me the way, with a sterling attitude that makes one a winner no matter HOW egregious seem the odds! I would maintain a cheerful outlook and demeanor to anyone I meet, or know. But let us not dwell on such a dark fantasy any longer, for I conjecture a more OPTIMISTIC reason why you haven’t reported back to me yet, besides probably being busy as fuk, tending to both your SO and your calling as an author. Which is:

You didn’t come to Baghdad by the Bay for medical reasons at all…that is just a RUSE. You are STILL down here now, in preparation for my debut to the world, and the great celebration that goes with it! You, and Erwyn, and my attorney, and Deek (once he arises in the morning and departs to join up with you), and Arwyn Miles and Medusa only knows who else! A final thought, and then ends this o’erlong missive:

Wednesday was a BEAUTIFUL day, was it not, Wattson? And I now realize exactly WHY it was. Because you brought your radiant self TO our troubled city, and filled it with brightness, love and enduring friendship, oh Osmium Empress of the Sky, the Earth and the Underworld and all things that dwell between!

– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: I just peeked out the window and I see now that Deek is sitting up, while the pups are curled beside each other on that large, very plump striped pillow. Not a single bark outta them! 12:38 AM, time to put my “pen” down and kick back in bed and watch some scary videos and a good movie or two. And a “share size” packet of chocolate M&Ms that I WON’T share with anyone!

Subject: So peaceful last night, almost magical!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: June 18, 2022 at 10:15 AM

Not just peaceful, but foot traffic was low in spite of it being Friday night…with friendly vibes in the air! Deek and dogs were parked alongside the bus stop, where he slept all night. NO barking whatsoever!

Here in the Castro, Friday and Saturday nights are usually the worst: drunks, meth heads, crass behavior, pissing behind cars, drama-queen fights breaking out, someone having a nervous breakdown right below my window, puking on the sidewalk, double parked vehicles booming rap music loud enough to shake down the walls of Jericho, etc. But not THIS Friday night! I wonder what they put in the water…or the air! Whatever it is, I wish they’d keep it up.

Re: So peaceful last night, almost magical!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: June 18, 2022 at 11:22 AM

> Yay!! And all quiet with the “eviction?”

I suppose so…haven’t had another spooky letter stuck to my door since that 30-day notice to quit the premises. Haven’t heard from my attorney since her email five days ago, and since she’s not in her office Fridays, I don’t expect to hear from her until this Monday, at the earliest. AFAIK she is attempting to persuade Ablablah Realty’s attorney to drop the charge(s) and accept my rental payment for this month. I’m guessing she’s already spoken with their lawyer, or is trying to get in touch with him, still.

Their position is weak on both counts (alleged dog bite and breaking a contract rule), so I’m not the least bit worried.

Deek is still outside, resting on a thick comforter with the hounds. They have (all three) been quiet all night long. About two hours ago, just before I stepped out for coffee, I heard Flaco bark a few times, so I looked out the window:

She had escaped her master’s hand (which held loosely onto her leash while he slept), and was almost a half block up, barking at another person’s much larger dog…whose owner simply told her to stay, don’t follow. Flaco obliged, but never got closer to them than five feet anyway, and her barking was low key and brief.

When I stepped outside I discovered she was now sniffing about, maybe forty feet away from where I stood. She didn’t notice me, even though the gate made its usual loud “click.” So I crouched down and called to her in a friendly tone, whence she turned to me and began to trot in my direction…and after another moment, she realized it was ME and came dashing into my arms!

I sat down on the sidewalk where she immediately crawled onto my lap, and I embraced her, rubbed her belly, and whispered sweet doggy nothings into her floppy Yoda ear. She was SO happy to be with me! After a few more minutes of this joyful reunion, I kindly escorted her back to her master, who was by then half awake. She didn’t even pay attention to the front gate by trying to pull me in that direction, but allowed me to escort her back to her resting spot with Deek and her brother.

“Here, take the leash,” I said, “she was wandering up the block.” He did that right away. I decided then to bring more water down, but first gave Lucky the same lovin’ care I just did Flaco.

Deek also requested a ginger ale, so I brought that to him, along with fresh water for the pooches. In sum:

The entire night and into this morning has been delightfully serene and amicable, including Deek’s behavior. A day that I thought might never come, but always strove to achieve.

– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: Well, it looks like I must proceed with a NEW chapter that starts with the first letter of the alphabet, since “Chapter 18z” (book 3) was completed last night. AAMOF, I’m removing the final section from that chapter, “Above and Beyond the Call of Duty,” over to the NEXT chapter, to be entitled “Chapter 19a” whether I like it or not! Obviously, my Brindlekin Tales will NEVER end, but I so desperately want the pups’ living on the streets 24/7 to end ASAP.

Click here for a larger view.

Subject: Bad News (of a sort)
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: June 18, 2022 at 3:05 PM

I just received a notice of Unlawful Detainer in my snail-mailbox today. See attachment. I have already phoned my attorney and left a voicemail, as well as sent her a copy of this detainer via email. I’ll have to wait till Monday to hear from her. I have only five business days to respond, or I will be evicted very soon after that.

Re: Bad News (of a sort)
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: June 18, 2022 at 4:13 PM

> Oh, crap! wasn’t there supposed to be a 30-day notice first??

I already got it.

> And who is the “other person listed” on the last page??

Ablahblah Realty’s attorney…and that’s it. I just logged onto my case file in Superior Court’s website. Nothing mentioned re. a dog bite. No explanation for why they want me evicted. So I think they’re just going for breach of contract, not allowed to have a pet in a single room. However, the manager’s tacit permission allowing me to do just that for well over a year, knocks that outta the ballpark.

Refusal to remove a pet based on false accusation of a bite, and no evidence provided, is another issue altogether…and for which reason I believe their attorney sees no point in addressing that.

So I am NOT being sued by the complainant of the alleged bite, AFAIK. Though Ablablah’s attorney MAY be suing on behalf of the resident, but they don’t have a case in that regards. I see NO mention of that in my files. I think their attorney is just pushing a case through without any REAL consideration of the specifics (such as manager’s tacit approval), hoping to just shove it through the court system and win.

This is just my conjecture, we’ll have to wait on Ms. Elvensborn’s advice in two days. I’m sure she’ll contact me on Monday. She told me she’s hoping to avoid litigation, and just have the plaintiff drop all charges…because if it proceeds to litigation, I’ll have to fight it in court, and there is no guarantee I will win. Though in her informed opinion, my chances of winning ARE very good, should it come to that.

It’s just another day in paradise, Wattson! Glad to hear that Erwyn and you are doing well.

BODHISATTVA PREMISE (and a reminder):

Worry is never a productive approach. Stay calm, enjoy each day, and all shall be fine in my world. This is just a game, teaching me how to become a better player. And ALL that’s really asked of me is to maintain the coolness factor…I really need do nothing else.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Regarding my Bodhisattva Premise about not caving in to worry: it ties into a grander perspective as described in the Tibetan Book of the Dead. Which essentially states that should a demon or demons approach you with horrific threats and ghastly weapons, do NOT collapse in fear, but just remain as calm as possible, and trust no harm shall come to you…and in that manner you will pass to the next higher level, rather than get stuck in the present one for another lifetime.

Worry is, of course, simply one of those demons.


While the Tibetan Book of the Dead (TBOTD) is intended to instruct one who is dying, and to guide them through various levels to go to the highest one possible, I concluded years ago that our present life is but one of these levels…and that, since the Buddha has declared that heaven and hell are a state of mind, the Book of the Dead’s instructions ALSO apply at ALL times in our lives, not just when we’re on the death bed!

For when you allow fear to take over, you have descended into your own personal hell. But when you learn to overcome fear, and all other negative emotions, your mind is in heaven. These demons, claims the TBOTD, will shed their masks of horror to reveal themselves as benevolent angels, should you succeed in suppressing a negative perception…and let you pass through to the next level…IOW a more heavenly state of mind.

This is not to say you FAIL if you don’t conquer your fears, for under circumstances where your good works are remarkable, you shall win no matter HOW you react. But why put yourself into some needless state of agony, grief or terror, for even a nanosecond? So the TBOTD’s lessons are ALSO ways to live a better life NOW, which is really entirely based on your perception and attitude. DON’T wait till you’re close to death, to apply these teachings!

I have described many times in my essays and stories, my conclusion about the wisdom contained in the TBOTD, but it’s always good to refresh one’s take on the matter every now and then, and perhaps better express your findings this time around, than in previous writings.

Now, apply this insight to my particular circumstance regarding this eviction hoopla:

Those who play my demons are OBVIOUSLY the complainant, the building manager, and Ablahblah Realty’s attorney…and perhaps a few others I’m not aware of at this time. (Oh, yeah, there’s my quasi-fascist neighbor Moe, almost forgot about him). It’s like a kid riding through an amusement park’s haunted house, where this or that monster pops up in your face when you least expect…IOW you never know when some OTHER fiend will appear along the way. So, there may manifest another imp or two–or even a whole plague of ’em–in my world, before this chapter comes to a benevolent close!

In a nutshell:

My bodhisattva guardians who play adversary just tossed another worry bomb my way…testing my mettle so to speak. But I take it all in stride, remaining kind and cheerful, continuing to do my good deeds for Deek, the doggies, and other homeless people here in the Castro, regardless of my own personal challenges. For I also know this:

THEY ARE WATCHING ME, and my behavior through this drawn-out trial is utterly important in how these so-called “villains” (and those straddling the fence) judge me. I WILL IMPRESS THE FUK OUTTA THEM!

If I haven’t already.

Texting with Wattson: 6/18/22

From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: June 19, 2022 at 5:39 PM

I plan to send this off to my attorney, but only after you look it over and give me your feedback. Thanks immensely ahead of time!


POINTS IN MY DEFENSE (Ezekiel J. Krahlin)

To: Senior Attorney Magdalena Elvensborn, Bay Area Legal Aid

I hope at least one of my points below will facilitate your handling my case. Some of the incidents noted herein are not directly related to my eviction crisis, but I believe they tie into it as regards the resident manager's on-and-off hostility towards me, due to an earlier conflict last year and, more generally, a harsh bias against my homeless advocacy and other progressive viewpoints, my decades-long occupancy at a low rent, and god only knows what else. At any rate, I spent most of this day thinking this through.

1) I was sitting the dogs for a friend in a pet-friendly apartment building; they weren't living with me. They would stay with me anywhere from one to three days a week, especially during hot or rainy weather.

2) Resident manager Kevin Bond gave me tacit permission to have the dogs visit me for well over a least since October 2020. He never told me to remove them from the premises, other than one false dog-bite accusation last year in February (which I ignored and nothing came of it), and another, recent dog-bite accusation with no evidence of any injury presented to me...other than when a police officer came to my door (June 9th or perhaps the 8th) and showed me a grainy blowup print of someone's foot, but it was not clear to me any bite had occurred.

Had Mr. Bond just told me at any time to cease dog sitting simply because it may be a breach of contract, I would've done so immediately, though with sadness. Or if he or the present complainant had shown me real proof of a bite, rather than just an accusation, I would've promptly removed the dogs from my building.

3) The false accusation mentioned above was claimed by two residents who lived together, down the hall from me: Myrtle Haversak and her son, Adisa. And appears to be retaliation for my mailing a complaint to the landlord (Ablahblah Realty) about her son and friends harassing me, lingering for one, two hours or longer (in the hallway close to my door, and that of other residents) various evenings throughout December 2020 and January 2021 without wearing covid-19 masks, and acting raucous and intimidating. I believe you already have my letter of grievance dated January 11, 2021.

Because just one day after receiving a copy of my complaint, they told Mr. Bond one of the dogs bit Adisa...and that she (the mother) was there when it happened. Not only is the timing of their accusation highly suspicious, but I know for a fact it never happened, as I do not allow the dogs to roam freely in the building...nor have they ever claimed a dog bite on the day (or soon thereafter) it supposedly occurred (whenever that was), to either Mr. Bond or myself. Nor have I ever seen them together whenever the dogs were with me.

I have a video of Adisa and friends harassing me at my building's front gate, which link I believe you already have, via a copy of an email I sent to Ablahblah Realty's attorney.

Adisa is the person on the right, leaning against the open gate in the beginning of the video. This unpleasant incident occurred on April 5, 2021. Some days later, Mr. Bond asked if I had evidence of the altercation, so I sent him that same link. I asked him if they were moving (and that's why Adisa and friends were standing around in the lobby) to which he replied, "I don't know." Nor did he care to explain exactly why they were congregating downstairs. Be that as it may:

Ms. Haversak and son moved out abruptly on May 22, 2021. And I don't think they were evicted, though I could be wrong.

Then, about two months later (July 30, 2021) assault and theft occurred at a convenience store I shop at frequently. I witnessed the tail end of the fracas from across the street, as I happened to be walking the pups at that time, and didn't want to put them in harm's way.

Turned out that Adisa was among the small group of two or three teenagers; loud arguing and a scuffle ensued. I understand one person (who I think is the brother of an employee there) was jumped, but he managed to push the attacker away. The suspects had a weapon or weapons (one or more knives I think) and stole some items before departing.

Since the dogs were with me, I decided not to approach them to be a better witness, but turned the corner and strolled a half block down and waited until the disruptive scene ended, which it did a few minutes later. By the time I arrived at the shop, police were already there, though the suspects were not, and one of the clerks told me what went down. I don't know if a police report was filed.

I decided later that day, to inform Ms. Haversak of her son's criminal behavior, but had no way of contacting her. Fortunately, I discovered she is registered on Facebook. So I posted a brief message to her about the incident, and that was that...she never got in touch with me, which suits me fine.

4) Regarding Mr. Bond's signed letter to me, dated Feb. 12, 2021, about Myrtle and son's false complaint: I find it both childishly hostile and prejudiced against the homeless. It speaks for itself. 

He conveys a exaggerated description of the dogs' behavior, painting them in a malicious light, including calling them "vicious." Nor is his claim true, that I allowed the pups to run about freely. What he saw is from the lobby camera, which only shows them running across the lobby to the front gate, and my catching up a few seconds later. The camera did not show that I always walked them down the stairs holding their leashes, and once I reached the lowest landing, could see whether or not someone was either in the lobby or standing outside by the gate. If neither was the case, I let them dash to the exit, then picked up their leashes again a moment later to step outside. Furthermore:

He accepted Myrtle/Adisa's dog-bite testimony without any evidence offered.

5) In light of the first dog-bite accusation being obviously false, I figure this current claim to be likewise. For no evidence was offered that a bite did indeed occur...even now, at this late date. Thus, I ignored the complaint just as I did for the one last year, in February. I saw no sign of a bite anywhere on the accuser's feet, ankles or legs, not a single mark and certainly not any blood, when I rushed downstairs to collect the dogs and hurry them outside. You'd think if such occurred, the manager would get on it immediately by showing me bona fide proof. Why didn't the resident himself show me the alleged injury that day, or one or two days later? Why didn't Mr. Bond send me a picture or video, or both, when I emailed him that I haven't seen any evidence, the same day he posted that complaint on my door? Had real proof been shown me, I would've removed the dogs from the premises posthaste.

In that letter he did not state a deadline when the dogs are to be removed, or warn that this could lead to an eviction. So, due to a previous accusation that was false, I ignored the letter, and planned not to remove the dogs unless I finally received solid evidence of a bite. Upon which case, I'd evict them immediately. But it never happened (being shown proof). And I was not about to ban the pups based on hearsay, which would be an admittance on my part that an injury did indeed occur.

6) Then on May 27, 2022 Mr. Bond handed me a 3-day notice to quit, dated May 23rd. And that was the first time breaching my contract was thrown into the mix. I thought about that, and concluded it's time to stop dog-sitting, as it's the same as the resident manager telling me to get rid of the dogs, because it might be considered a violation of my renter's agreement. I was not about to argue the difference between dog sitting and having them live here full time. So on May 27, 2022 I removed the dogs from the premises to never return, and informed both the resident manager and Ablahblah Realty's attorney that same day, by email.

7) The dogs have never bitten anyone when they were with me, and I've often had to squeeze by someone going up or down the stairs, with them on my leash. While in my room, they were amazingly calm and quiet, glad for the respite from the streets...never any undue barking, nor did they chew on stuff or mess up my place in any way.

These are small dogs (25 pounds each), half dachshund, with tiny, weak jaws. So even if they were biters they could hardly do any serious harm to anyone. But having said that, if they did have a tendency to bite, I'd never have had them visit me, even just once.

9) Ariakat Realty's attorney stated in that 3-day notice to quit, that the dogs were attacking other residents. Hardly the case. These are trumped-up charges coming from one person: Kevin Bond. 

10) I never encouraged my homeless friend, Deek, to adopt a dog, as I think it's cruel to force a sweet natured creature to live on the streets. Yet he went ahead and did just that, anyway. Then, he adopted a second pooch around seven months later! This is not a situation where I suggested he adopt a dog or two, and I'll help take care of them. But once he had the pups, and I saw how sweet they are, and vulnerable to the vagaries of the street and their owner's scary mood swings, I suggested I dog sit for him from time to time. For doing so would increase the odds of the dogs living a healthier, happier and longer life. They have become very popular in the Castro, and greatly adored.

11) There is always the occasional exception to this or that rule, even when part of a signed contract. A good example is those laws from a more ignorant era that still exist in most every state that are highly prejudiced, and for that reason ignored...though they should, of course, be erased for once and for all. It's the same thing with some landlords or apartment managers, who sometimes look the other way, because the tenant is respected and responsible.

12) False accusations of dog bites are common, especially if another person or people hold enmity towards a dog owner because they are not of a like mind, politically, religiously, or in some other way. I have taken a lot of flak over the years for standing up for our homeless and other disenfranchised LGBT folks, even here in "Gay Mecca," because so many in our community have turned frighteningly conservative.


I am not sure yet how to compose my appeal to the unlawful detainer in a brief statement, as this is all new to me. Perhaps:

"I have yet to be shown any real evidence of a dog bite. The dogs were not living with me, I was sitting them on and off for a friend, and the resident manager Kevin Bond gave me tacit permission to do so for well over a year."

My Superior Court files do not reveal the cause(s) for eviction, just that they want me I have no idea whether or not an alleged dog bite is part of their attorney's grievance.


From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: June 19, 2022 at 6:26 PM

> It’s a good letter. Thorough, reasonable, and clear. Send it off!

Thanks, cap’n will do! I’ve added one more point to that list:

13) We live in very stressful times, the news is downright frightening. In such times, those who are already prone to attack others for no good reason are more likely to perpetuate that with a vengeance. In other words: some people are freaking out.

And I’ve changed the title to “13 Points in my Defense.” Lucky number, I guess.

The great thing about this letter, is it’s also a good preparation for a possible civil suit against the landlord, if my present attorney thinks I have a good case. Though she is only here to help me not get evicted…she’d have to refer me to another attorney in their group, who handles civil suits.

Meanwhile, if I DO wind up losing the case and going homeless, I found an excellent storage service just four blocks from here ($122/month for a 4×5 container).

That will keep all my papers and computer devices and peripherals safe. So THAT’S a load off my mind! And to think all this eviction crap exploded in my face right when I was planning to purchase a Chromebook soon. Just what kind of voodoo is IN their chips, Wattson?

– Zeke K-Holmes

From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: June 19, 2022 at 6:46 PM

> That must NOT happen.

It won’t, I was being silly.

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