[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 6: Chapter 6]
Re: Last Wednesday I had another talk with Micah… ADDENDUM
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 10, 2022 at 5:57 PM
> Good report, and reassuring. Many thanks.
Pretty good overall, but then later on when Lucky suddenly barked up a storm I looked outside whereupon that raspy black lady started hollering:
“Bite him, Lucky, bite him good! Rip him apart!”
Then, later still, the sex thing going on in front of my building, Deek and another dude goin’ at it.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Subject: Last Wednesday I had another talk with Micah… (cont’d)
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 12, 2022 at 8:04 PM
As I said in a previous email, I saw Micah again on Wednesday, the same day Deek showed up for the last time with Silver, and pressed my buttons while I gave him good advice on focusing his care and love towards Flaco & Lucky.
A short while after I stepped out to visit with Deek, Micah showed up and stood some yards away, fussing with his bulging backpack as if he didn’t notice me. But soon as Deek stepped into the Hohokum smoke shop to purchase a cigar, Micah approached and said he needs to talk to me about Deek, just like he did the first time we chewed the fat.
“He’s got a lot of people angry,” he said, “because he stirs up so much shit.”
“I know!” I replied. “But I’m doing the best I can to move him in a better direction. He’s made some really great improvements in his attitude, but he’s still got a ways to go.”
“Hey, what’s goin’ on?” Deek broke in as he stepped out of the shop, like a copper who just stumbled into a drug den. Micah gently turned back to tending his possessions, without saying a word.
“Nothing really,” I replied with a shrug, “just sayin’ hi.”
It was then we began our tiff over the pitbull situation, and my lecturing him…which I’ve already written about in some detail. I want to note here that, once our surprisingly gentle clash was over (with Deek remarking he was just pressing my buttons), and just before I returned hovel, I told Deek with a smile that I’m not worried because I know he’ll do the right thing (meaning of course he’ll return the pitbull), and I hope he and the doggies have a lovely evening.
It wasn’t for another 45 minutes before Deek finally departed, and I wondered if Micah would still be there, so we could talk. Well, Wattson, when the time came he WAS still by the ATM alcove, still bent over his large pack, but also fumbling with a glass pipe. A torch lighter lay on the sidewalk by his left foot, so I picked it up and handed it to him.
I learned that Deek had stolen his entire backpack some time last year, when he was sound asleep. And it contained memorabilia from his childhood and later years that Micah valued very much, and gave him succor.
“I’m aware of Deek’s dark side,” I assured him, “and I’m very sorry he stole such cherished items. He owes you and a lot of other people, profuse apologies.”
“Well, I’m hoping he’ll return them to me,” replied Micah.
“I don’t think that’s in the cards, Micah,” I regretfully explained. “He doesn’t hold onto anything he has, I’m sure your stuff is long gone. But there’s another way you’ll get those items back.”
So I explained to him how the universe preserves valued items of heartfelt sentiment for us, and eventually returns them. And described exactly HOW that happened to me, when I was still homeless and my journal was lost for good in a car accident on my way to San Francisco via hitchhiking. Or so I thought. But a few months after I had landed in the city, the driver who caused the accident suddenly appeared before me as I was strolling the Mission, said he now lives just a few blocks from here, and would I like my journal back! I had no idea WHERE he was, for we never kept in touch, because, well, he was just a stranger kind enough to give me a lift. Long story short:
Micah appears to be much wiser than his age…he did not express anger towards Deek, and agrees with me to put one’s faith in a higher force. He understands now, my difficult situation with Deek, that I’m only being so patient and generous for the sake of the doggies…and how it’s making me a better person for the challenge. We both agreed not to mention to Deek his theft of Micah’s belongings. He also brought up other issues, some personal, his reflections upon life and how best to deal with them.
Micah has been lingering around the ATMs for the past month or so, around two or three evenings a week…and remains there for two or three hours. As if he were another guardian offering me a shoulder to lean on, and when his job is done, will disappear from my world.
My eviction chapters now number 15, in such a short time, Wattson! Each one averaging a 40-minute read. How much longer will this go on, I wonder. Exhausted.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Subject: Marshall read my poem last Friday night!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 14, 2022 at 10:09 AM
In the middle of composing my latest missive to you (still in the works), Marshall’s latest podcast of “Memo of the Weird” was playing in the background, when my ears suddenly perked up: he was reading a poem I posted to the announcement list three days ago!
So I took this opportunity to splice that audio clip from the podcast, using Chromebook instead of my main system. Worked great!
1.5 minutes of sheer delight…play attachment.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Subject: For the Love of 2 Doggies
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 14, 2022 at 11:01 AM
Deek dropped by so early, I was still sound asleep after two consecutive nights of insomnia: 7:45 AM. It was a gray, pleasantly chill morning.
“Do ya got the money, that’s all I need!” he called up to my window when I looked out, my eyes still blurry with the Sand Man’s dust. Flaco & Lucky were looking up at me, too, each tethered to separate shopping carts instead of the usual one. My little angels, nothing but goodness!
So I slipped on my floppies, skipped the jacket and hat, and lumbered on down the stairs with $50 in hand, secured in a folded Chase Bank envelope. Upon opening the gate and presenting the cash to Deek, I said:
“Now that ya woke me up I gotta say hi to the pooches!”
And with that I stepped outside to crouch down between the two darling quadrupeds and sweep them into my arms with kisses and kind words. Upon standing up and telling Deek now I need to get back to bed, Flaco tapped me with a paw, then stood up and leaned against my leg…so I knelt down once more to embrace her with all the fondness in the world, while Lucky eagerly drank up extra neck scritches and pats. I gazed into Flaco’s eyes for a moment to see she was already looking up at me with that loving, sweet little face. She is so damned SINCERE.
It was all over in a flash, Deek thanked me several times as they took off and I returned hovel. Two nights I ago, a bit past midnight, Deek had screeched like a wild man again, though just for a few seconds. Nonetheless, I didn’t appreciate his disturbing the peace of my neighbors, which could target me for yet MORE enmity.
His unjust conniption was all about my returning three smartphones he acquired from god only knows where, after plugging them in for fifteen minutes, to see if they were any good. They weren’t. So I handed them back:
“The batteries are dead in all of them, Deek. Sorry.”
Well, that was the last straw for the enfant terrible…he accused me of lying because it was so late, and I didn’t want to be kept up beyond midnight. Well, that’s not true of course, Wattson, though I DID gripe to him that he woke me up. For he arrived around 11:30 PM, a half hour before the cutoff point for his visits. But since I NEVER know whether or not he’ll drop by shortly before midnight, I sometimes prefer to hit the sack a bit earlier, sometimes as early as 11 PM.
The thing is, he sometimes shows up shortly before midnight with a new smartphone that will take me considerable time to set up, and copy tons of music…at LEAST an hour to accomplish all that, usually more. Because CHARGING the fukkin device from zero percent to full takes a friggin THREE HOURS, and he wants it back soon as it’s done, won’t take no for an answer and wait till the following morning to pick it up!
He doesn’t get the point, or, more accurately, he TAKES ADVANTAGE of my generosity. The cutoff hour MEANS not to expect me to stay up beyond midnight, so if he has a new smartphone bring it by MUCH earlier, or wait until the next day. And whatever he DOES bring over at night for me to charge or work on (say around 9 or 10 PM), pick it up NO LATER than midnight; don’t force me out of bed by showing up any old time after that (like 2 or 3 AM)! What a mind fuck he can be.
But my seeing the hounds this morning, even at such an early hour, and even if but for a minute, was a wonderful reminder that I’m putting up with all his crap for one reason, and one reason only:
For the love of two of the sweetest little doggies in the universe.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Subject: Thanks for reading my poem!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: Marshall McGee
Date: July 14, 2022 at 12:41 PM
Listening to your latest podcast this morning, I was delighted to hear you read my satirical (though prophetic) poem, “Welcome to Athenia.” Honestly, I did not expect you to ever read such a piece that undeniably harbors a large dose of “woo.” Though upon reflection I can see why you did, what with it being a mockery, in part, of Christian fanaticism…almost a declaration of war, in fact, against their violent ideology. Be that as it may:
I have been withholding announcements of my latest Brindlekin chapters, due to a lawsuit that suddenly struck me like lightning. A 3-day notice to quit the premises, in fact, posted to my door by the building manager on May 27th. I refuse to comply, as this is a case of blatant and false accusations with a heavy dose of unwarranted, extreme prejudice against me, for being a strident activist on behalf of the homeless. Presently I am awaiting a summons to appear in court…a second delivery because the landlord’s attorney fucked it up the first time around. Hilarious!
I have an incredible lawyer pro bono, a senior attorney from Bay Area Legal Aid. She’s from the Netherlands with a lovely accent to show for it. Their case is so weak and mine so strong, she’s surprised they haven’t yet dropped it. But if they DO proceed with a properly served summons, I will force their hand by replying with a cross-complaint with solid proof of ongoing harassment, including a video of said harassment, and a signed letter from the manager that reveals extreme prejudice against the homeless, and calling the pups I’m dog sitting for a friend, “violent and dangerous”…regardless of his giving me tacit permission to sit the dogs 1-3 days a week for more than a year.
That phrase “violent and dangerous” is a setup for (or prelude to) putting the dogs down, that is: kill them…because it’s a legal phrase to justify exactly that. The dogs have never bit anyone, this is just a bunch of nasty queens outraged that I am having a couple of homeless dogs visit me every week, and who am I to get away with that when they pay through the nose to live here, which their financially privileged big, fat egos can’t deal with. In sum: they have “screwed the pooch” so to speak!
Funny thing is, when this building’s attorney showed up June 8th to deliver the court summons he was actually apologetic, said errors were made and we can work things out…just let my attorney know about the summons and they’ll take it from there. I have THAT conversation video recorded via my Chromebook that sits quite innocently on my desk, facing the doorway.
[ASIDE: This Chromebook is a new addition to my work station BTW, got it barely a month ago, and I’m loving the heck out of it: 64 GB built-in storage, 4 GB RAM and a 14-inch screen, with a 128 GB micro-SD card I’ve added to it. All for just $130 from Amazon, because refurbished, but in like-new condition, not a single scratch, mar or bad pixel on it! And its expiration date doesn’t kick in till June 2029, which is when Google stops updating this model. I installed Linux side by side with chrome0S, and my VPN app works just fine for both operating systems. There are some things I need to do that chrome0S (or I should say “Google”) does not allow, but Linux does. But the best thing of all is: I don’t use Windoze anymore, for anything! My main laptop, an old Thinkpad x230, has finally been stripped of everything Microsoft, so now runs purely on Linux Mint.]
Otherwise, everyone else in the building adores Flaco & Lucky. I have MANY videos on my Youtube channel showing just what darlings they are, which you can see for yourself, here.
Meanwhile, back to why I haven’t been announcing my latest chapters to the MCN lists:
Because they include updates re. my ongoing eviction-threat fiasco, which details I can NOT discuss with anyone, at risk of losing my attorney…even though all parties involved are pseudonymous in my tales. (In fact, you are also included in my stories, with pseudonym “Marshall McGee,” and I call your show “Memo of the Weird.”) But once this lawsuit comes to an end, I will post links to what I call “The Eviction Chapters” to the MCN announcement list…or, more likely, to mendo.org, as MCN itself will soon go under.
These eviction chapters already number 15, and I have no idea how much longer they’ll drag on. They average 40 minutes reading time each, so I’ve already gotten one thick book out of this. They are part of my larger opus, “Brindlekin Tales,” which is close to completing Book #5 (or 6, depending on how I eventually decide to break it up), and still going strong. At any rate:
I am telling you all this because you just might enjoy reading my eviction chapters, or parts thereof, somewhere down the line. Though I imagine, since each chapter is so lengthy, you’d probably read each one in two parts. There is also the difficulty in narrating tales that employ an email format, that is: with the header above each entry (subject title, sender name, recipient name and date stamp). But I’ve figured a way around that, which I can adapt for you in text format, and send you a copy of each chapter when you’re ready for the next one. Or maybe I’ve underestimated your own narrative skills, and you can adapt accordingly without my first redacting them. Though I’d still convert them into plain text before sending each one off.
Thank you for your kind attention, Marshall, and know that I continue to enjoy listening to each and every one of your podcasts, since I first began doing that back in March of 2017. Sure wish Ajax Gobswirth would start calling in again, though…I miss his waggish badinage and extraordinary backstories. Kody is a fine addition to your show, BTW; his reports from his far-flung adopted country of Vietnam are awesome! Feel free to read this email on the Mendo airwaves, if it pleases you.
– Zeke
Subject: Homophobic Nazi Spike Dewars strikes again!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: MCN announce
Date: July 14, 2022 at 6:38 PM
His latest anti-gay, vitriolic terrorist rant addressing me in the discussion list. For the record, I’m reposting it to the announcement list. I am SO glad these MCN lists will be shut down very soon, as MCN administrators have been criminally irresponsible for allowing such monsters to freely post here, under the questionable legal premise of being part of the California public education system.
–begin:
Date: Wed, 13 Jul 2022 12:53:29 -0700 From: Spike Dewars Re: [MCN-Discussion]- [MCN-Announce]- Mendo Railways Land Fraud Scheme. Hey ! Mentally ill faggot pedophile ! Go use the money Tom pays in taxes to support you and pound the sidewalks seeing if you can get a nice young nigger boy to suck your dick. Then, when you can't find one because you're too old, you can return to your keyboard and take out your sexual and social frustration here on our LOCAL List by making fun of people who have cancer and WORK to pay the taxes to keep you warehoused. I dropped notes all over the sidewalks in SF when I go there once a week with your room number and address that you were kind enough to give me saying your a homosexual pedophile who has a sexual attraction to young black boys that spreads AIDS. I am willing to bet someone will pick that note up and decide to do something. A person not even known to me that I have never met. Tom LIVES and WORKS here and you LEACH off his taxes he pays on his LABOR, same you you LEACH off mine, you mental disability check welfare queen.
–end
Re: [MCN-Discussion]- [MCN-Announce]- Mendo Railways Land Fraud Scheme.
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: MCN discussion
Date: July 14, 2022 at 6:54 PM
On Wed, 13 Jul 2022 12:53:29 -0700 spike dewars squoinked:
> I dropped notes all over the sidewalks in SF when I go there once a week with your room number and address that you were kind enough to give me saying your a homosexual pedophile who has a sexual attraction to young black boys that spreads AIDS. I am willing to bet someone will pick that note up and decide to do something. A person not even known to me that I have never met.
An action like that (distributing hateful flyers targeting one person without any evidence whatsoever, including “doxxing”) would have the FBI banging down your door, Mr. Dewars. You like to THINK you are immune to criminal charges because you THINK you are so clever playing right at the edge where legality does not quite cross the line into illegality. I know you have NOT distributed such flyers, because you know better.
Meanwhile, I continue to document all your offenses against me, for your day of reckoning is inevitable…and soon, I predict.
And shame on Ms. 2-Biased for once more missing out on an opportunity to prove her loyalty towards LGBT equality, by refusing to confront you on this matter, in spite of the fact her condemnation of your homophobic vitriol and terrorist threats will do MORE to temper your words, than anyone else in this list could do. Her refusal to call your actions for what they REALLY are, and labeling it simply as a “personal clash” is beyond shameful and disgusting…it’s HIDEOUS, and homophobic by proxy. Woo-hoo!
Re: For the Love of 2 Doggies
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 14, 2022 at 10:37 PM
> This melted my heart. Those doggies are worth every sacrifice you are making.
They have turned my life into a glorious fairy tale…I owe them everything!
Subject: A row of tents behind my building!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 15, 2022 at 10:08 AM
Four tents, one rather large. Recorded from a hallway window, as some of the campers are already up and about, and I didn’t want to upset them by filming them outside. Imagine being a resident on that side of the building, with your window barely two feet above them! How do they sleep?
Re: What Biden doesn’t get about his dismal poll numbers
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: MCN announce, MCN discussion
Date: July 15, 2022 at 4:09 PM
On Fri, 15 Jul 2022 04:10:27 +0000 Calvin Hope posted:
> So, what needs to be asked next is “Who would you prefer?”
Why, moi of course…haven’t you figured out yet that I am CLEARLY the best candidate to fill the position as head of state, commander in chief and all-around bullwhacker, in these tumultuous times?
> and “How well do you expect that person would do against the GOP candidate, be it Trump, DeSantis or someone else?”
I’d be INCREDIBLE, I’d whip all their asses into strips of flesh right there on Fox News and force-feed it to their minions, if that’s what it takes to reduce them into abject submission for the gibbering knaves they are! My platform is premised on ONE goal only: to totally eradicate homophobia/transphobia across the continent, including every crack, crevice or corner in which it may linger in smouldering resentment.
For I know that, by that ONE achievement alone, all other egregious problems will resolve themselves automatically and posthaste: bigotry of any other stripe, class division, civil and financial inequity, christianized dogma, violence, homelessness, social isolation, ecological imbalance, climate crisis, bad hair, erectile dysfunction (except for hetero males) and so on.
Zeke for Prez in ’24!
So lick my ass, you clueless whore!
Subject: 3 more pics of the mini-village…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 15, 2022 at 5:21 PM
…behind my building, now that I can take snapshots under cover of bright sunlight and pedestrians milling about. Home sweet home, eh? Ah, the domestic life!
Re: 3 more pics of the mini-village…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 15, 2022 at 6:29 PM
> Grimsville.
Now an annex of 9666 Market Street…with a friendly Siberian husky to guard the premises. Safer than a gated community!
Subject: So I walked by Scampy today…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 15, 2022 at 8:24 PM
…as I stepped out of the Palestinian shop on Noe & 17th. According to Deek, she’s his ex; don’t know if that’s true or not, just using that as a reference to my previous emails about her. At any rate:
She was walking in my direction, pushing a small cart half filled with neatly folded clothing. I intended to say hi to her as she approached, but she beat me to the punch:
“Hello, I love you, Zeke!”
Which caught me pleasantly off-guard, but I quickly recovered and said in passing:
“I love you too, Scampy!”
We didn’t stop to talk or anything, but it made me reflect:
This is the result of my being kind to Scampy over the months whenever I DID see her, and treating her with respect. SO rewarding to see one of the fruits of my labor pay off so handsomely in such a short time! She ADORES the doggies, BTW.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Re: Wonderful site and app to put you in Dreamland!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 16, 2022 at 12:29 PM
> Thanks for this!!
Certainly. While the selection is limited if you don’t pay, what is offered for free is a delight, and puts me right to sleep. My two backup smartphones have finally died on me, because their USB ports no longer connect (cheap parts I guess)…so I can no longer go to sleep with a smartphone by my ears. I DON’T use my cell-service phone, as it’s too precious to risk dropping it on the floor when I roll over. Same reason I don’t bring it with me when I step outside (theft and loss also a concern).
One backup phone failed almost a year ago, the other just a week back. So I now use my Chromebook to play my sleepy-time tales, with a small Bluetooth speaker by my pillow, which also allows me to control the volume. In addition I place a Bluetooth keyboard by the bed, so I can control anything else on the Chromebook, if need be (like switching from a podcast app to a web page, or loading a player to listen to downloaded Youtube scary videos). I got this down to a science! Deek update:
He dropped by last night around 9:30 PM, so I could charge a portable speaker. It was a peaceful meetup this time, and I got to spend a few minutes, twice, with the doggies…though it hurts to return upstairs while leaving them behind. Flaco is especially sensitive to that: she watches me as I depart, all the way up to when I disappear behind the gate. I always look back at her and throw a kiss.
Unfortunately, Deek starting pushing again to let him inside, “so I can do a quick wash-up, then I’ll get outta your hair. All I wanna do is clean myself up.” Yeah, right.
He had another vagrant visit with him by the ATMs after I returned hovel. Around a half hour later I decided to bring some cardboard sheets downstairs (that I got from the basement), so the pups would have something to rest upon, other than the filthy concrete. Deek STILL does that, even though he has plenty of spare old sweaters and jackets in his cart! Shameful and disgusting. I also brought down yet another leash, as Lucky’s was partly chewed up. I don’t like either pooch to appear shabby.
Upon my returning outside with the cardboard and leash, I saw Deek had placed an elastic-strap covid mask over his nose and mouth: “My friend here can watch the dogs while I go upstairs to wash up and get my backpack! See? I got this mask on, so you’re safe.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Deek,” I softly replied while replacing Lucky’s leash. “You know I never have guests over…and there’s NOTHING of yours upstairs except that speaker I’m charging.”
Then he made some vulgar joke about all he wants to do is get jiggy and shit on my chest, to which his momentary companion burst out in a chuckle. He was stretched out on the sidewalk close to where Deek sat in a folding wheelchair. I ignored the “joke” and continued to adore Lucky & Flaco with pats and hugs.
But he yammered on about coming upstairs anyway, so I decided enough was enough, and stood up: “You need to treat your dogs better by providing them with some comfy old clothes to lie down on, you have plenty in your cart.”
He didn’t respond to that, but told me his friend’ll watch the mutts while he’s upstairs for a few minutes to use the restroom and retrieve his pack.
“I’m going back home now, god bless you all and have a good night,” I curtly replied.
Once I opened the gate (while watching him from the corner of my eye in case he suddenly leapt up and tried to barge his way in), he called to me:
“Hey, wait! Hold up! I’m talking to you!”
I simply ignored him and plodded up the stairs to my sanctuary, where I fixed a late supper and watched some of my favorite Youtube news videos. He did NOT holler out to me once I closed the gate, which I feared he might do while I sat in my room. THAT’S something to be grateful for!
Some time later I peered out my window to see Deek and pups had departed, so figured they’d return some time before midnight to pick up the speaker. Which is exactly what happened, around 11:40 PM. Once I opened the gate to deliver the gizmo, some burly gay dude barged right through where my arm held the gate open.
“‘SCUSE ME! ‘SCUSE ME!” he bellowed with head lowered like a charging bull. Another rude, soused queer barhopping, I suppose.
Had I not withdrawn my arm in startled reflex he would’ve knocked me over. I looked at him with anger as he plodded onward. I was about to call him a piece of shit, but Deek tempered me with a “don’t even bother” wave of his hands. I looked at him and said:
“One of these days I’m gonna take a club to these jerks. It’ll go down in history as Bloody Friday Night in The Castro!”
Deek said not a word, but grinned at that. So I took that moment to tell him homeless people are far less violent and rude than those with roofs over their heads. But they BLAME street people for all the crap that goes on, though housed idiots are responsible for most of it.
“Well,” he replied, “Not everyone homeless is nice.”
“I know that, Deek,” I agreed, albeit with the following stipulation: “but generally speaking, the poor and the homeless are a kinder group than any other on this planet. No one takes the time to talk with me anymore, and be friendly, except them. They’re the best.”
I figured this boost to his still-shaky self esteem would further his growth in the right direction…eh, Wattson? Anyway, he didn’t continue to press me to come inside, as he did earlier, and I got to shower the hounds with love once more, before they departed into the murky embrace of Nyx.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Re: So I walked by Scampy today…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 16, 2022 at 12:37 PM
> I use the same technique with Dan’s widow. She’s loony as a bedbug, but responds well (most of the time, only occasional lapses) to kindness. Plus, being kind to her makes my life way easier.
Hopefully, your persistent kindness will finally persuade her to sign up for SSI and other benefits. Keeping my fingers crossed, and a candle lit.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Re: So I walked by Scampy today…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 16, 2022 at 12:50 PM
> I fucking hope so.
I feel ya.
Subject: Skin tag nightmare…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 16, 2022 at 5:13 PM
…also my latest silly comment on one of Cyberdemon531’s video pages:
–begin:
Regarding that blemish on your right cheek that you mention in some recent videos (can’t recall which ones, so I’m posting this here): I’ll trade you MY skin problem with yours any old day! Here’s the skinny:
About four months ago a little skin tag formed on my neck (something which is common in old fogies like myself), and it grew to almost a quarter inch long before I decided to do something about it. Which was to dab a spot of tea tree oil on it once a day (per instructions from a natural health tips page), and it finally dried up and fell off after a couple of weeks. Well, you’d think that was that, problem solved, but no:
About six weeks later the damned skin tag sprouted again, so I decided right then and there to keep applying the tea tree oil for at least 10 more days after it fell off. But it never did, it kept growing and growing and growing. Until now, it sticks out almost four feet, and I even need to turn sideways when passing through a doorway! So, being the stalwart trooper I am, I decided to make sport of my fleshy twig and have been hanging a small rainbow flag from it whenever I step out. (I live in the Castro, BTW, and have since 1983.)
You can imagine the stir I make whenever I enter a restaurant or coffeehouse…not to mention all the gay bars! But I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks…and besides, we’re supposed to keep a social distance from each other, due to this ongoing plague. One day the far end of the skin tag got caught on a truck’s antenna when I was crossing the street as it jumped a red light! What a bloody mess, but I’ll leave THAT sordid tale for another time.
–end
Her response was as brief as brief can be:
“aaaaaaaa”
– Zeke K-Holmes
Re: Skin tag nightmare…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 16, 2022 at 17:38 PM
> Thing is, I was picturing it in great detail!!!
Imagine Buster Keaton playing yours truly in those skin tag scenes, silent film and all!
Re: Skin tag nightmare…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 16, 2022 at 6:38 PM
> Or Fatty Arbuckle!
Or Charlie Chaplin for that matter. However, let’s just stick with Buster Keaton for the nonce as I outline the scenes:
– Fussing with his skin tag as it grows to a ridiculous length, pressing against the wall as he tries to sleep, getting it stuck in the closet door, a window he shuts, and various other “stuck” scenarios in his apartment. Accidentally tying it up in his shoelace would be a nice touch!
– The whole slapstick thing of his exiting through a revolving door, alarming an elderly dame as they wait to cross the street and his skin tag slides down her bosom, then pilfers a watch from the vest of a gentleman also standing at that corner…after which a fire engine comes clanging by and catches his skin tag on a ladder and drags him down several streets turning corner after corner before they realize what happened.
– Keaton going to a barber shop as the barber attempts to work around the skin tag with a straight edge razor…and which tag keeps knocking shaving items from the counter, and pokes another customer in the eye while waiting his turn.
– Next, the hapless Keaton seats himself in a restaurant, the waiter keeps trying to hand him a menu but the skin tag gets in the way; then disturbs a table of patrons nearby, bobbing its tip over a bowl of soup; gets impossibly tangled in a matron’s impressive crown of piled hair, and so on.
You get the idea…the script writes itself. Harold Lloyd’s another excellent option to play the role! Heck, why not throw Woody Allen into the mix, though not from the same generation of comedic film stars?
– Zeke Krahlin
P.S.: How could I have missed the obvious chance to mock the Castro, by neglecting to append the phrase “…not to mention all the gay bars.” at the end of this line:
“You can imagine the stir I make whenever I enter a restaurant or coffeehouse.”
Rest assured, Wattson, I’ve corrected that in my final draft!
Subject: A surprise encounter with Filipino Kai this morning!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 17, 2022 at 1:58 PM
I got up much later than usual, 10:15 AM, due to a restless night of itchy dry skin, the bane of old age no matter your social status. NOT a bedbug thing at all (in case you were wondering, Wattson…also having zilch to do with social status, I might note). Be that as it may:
Still somewhat groggy when I stepped through the gate, I saw some homeless woman with an upright cart and little doggy with long, black and white fur and a curly tail approaching close by. I quickly jumped aside so they could pass in a straight line, unobstructed.
“Thank you,” she said with a smile, but before I could say you’re welcome in reply, there was Filipino Kai standing before me, arm extended for a fist bump, and a broad grin! He must’ve been accompanying the lady and her pup, to appear so abruptly.
Soon as I raised my own arm and clenched my hand into a ball, he turned his palm flat, ready for a handshake…so I did likewise. But upon doing THAT, his hand reverted once more into a fist, then back to a handshake, upon which we finally gripped each other’s paw in a robust greeting.
Kai’s gunshot salvo of compliments caught me off-guard, so I can’t recall his specific words, though kindness washed over me
like an April shower. Our hands clenched for the brief seconds it took to awaken me in full with those salutary affirmations. He then released his grip and caught up with lady and pooch who now stood by the ATM alcove. His not allowing me enough time to form an equally hearty response, I simply called out:
“Likewise!”
Then proceeded towards Rosenberg’s with a lighter step than before. I did look back, however, pleased to see them smiling and chatting away…and how neatly they were both attired in clean, warm coats, dungarees, socks and jazzy sneakers. A happy little trio all around!
Does it not strike you as suspicious timing that Kai appeared before me the moment I stepped out this morning, to bless me with a flood of kind words…in light of his more frequent appearances over the past several months, each time in support of my relationship with Deek and the pups?
Suspicious in a bodhisattva guardian kind of way, I mean. The timing was impeccable…and a not-too-shabby hint that my breakthrough into the next level where recognition and fame are my reward, is just around the corner. Especially when you tie it in with this eviction fiasco, a crackerjack attorney entering my world, and Deek’s pups forced back onto the streets 24/7… which latter misfortune surely can’t go on much longer, as such a situation further drawn-out would be unforgivably cruel. Since:
Initiation though this may be (as I strongly suspect), no matter how arduous for the novitiate, it should NOT involve risking the health and happiness of two darling doggies. Unless, of course, they HAVE another sanctuary Deek brings them to, unbeknownst to yours truly. Which I desperately hope IS the case!
– Zeke K-Holmes
Re: A surprise encounter with Filipino Kai this morning!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 18, 2022 at 1:27 PM
> The timing IS a little too good!
They play it right along the edge, just enough of a hint…or even series of hints within a short span of time such as months and then weeks as the benevolent outcome approaches a crescendo, so that it becomes easier and easier to believe than doubt.
> I want the universe to give a you a fine home where you and the doggies can live.
It’s gonna happen, I can feel it in my doggy bones. Your goodwill is phenomenally contagious…the Elder Thing hears you! In fact, you so impressed it lately, it kindly asked me to send off a pic of it, one of its favorite portraits because painted by Hieronymous Bosch during its latest visit to planet earth.
Though sending such a potently destructive image via email could do great damage to a big chunk of cyberspace in its convoluted travels from MY node to yours–in light of just WHICH Awesome Deity of Stygian Darkness this photo represents–I decided it’s best to simply provide you with a link.
FYI some months back I asked Elder Thing if it has a gender preference such as they/them/their, as I know it does NOT have sexual organs in the way we humans think of them, and it doesn’t even mate at all, because there’s only ONE of it (thank Yog Sothoth for that, as Elder Thing’s celibacy is the ONLY force that keeps the universe intact). His response was curt, though with a sigh of incel-type frustration:
“IT will have to do for now.”
It also muttered a fury of curses against Mx. Sothoth which I dare not repeat for fear of my soul’s eternal damnation. These Lovecraftian monsters are rather conservatively CATHOLIC in their outlook, I’ve come to conclude!
DEEK TRIED TO SCAM ME LAST NIGHT!
The scam I’m talking about in particular has to do with those times he brings me a shabby gizmo he KNOWS doesn’t work, but pretends it does, and all I have to do is recharge it for him. But upon plugging it in, I discover it won’t charge, the battery’s dead, or the USB port is wonky, or a chip is fried, or whatever. By that time, Deek has already scooted off to parts unknown, so I can’t just step back out to give him the bad news. Instead, I have to wait two or three hours until he returns.
By which time he has the PERFECT excuse to accuse me of fucking up the device, it’s all my fault, he just bought the [speaker/smartphone/charger], it was working fine before he handed it to me, I must’ve jammed the port by shoving the plug in too hard, he paid eighty dollars for it, blah blah blah.
This time it was a speaker that I charged for him the first time, three evenings ago. Did NOT look new, and was so lightweight I can’t imagine the battery would last beyond an hour. So he brought it back yesterday for another recharge, around 8:30 PM.
“DON’T pick it up by the handle!” he warned, so I wrapped one arm around it and marched upstairs. When I plugged the micro USB cord into the port, a tiny red light blipped on for two seconds and that’s all she wrote! So I tried several different cords to see if that would help, but none of them made that light blink on again.
I therefore presumed it was either (hopefully) already fully charged, or a cheap piece of junk. Of course, by that point Deek had disappeared and I had to wait the customary two or three hours for his return, upon which I’d present him my sorry report, and he’d rake me over the coals. Been there, done that, numerous times before, though it’s been quite awhile since he last played this kind of ruse on me.
“It’s brand new, I paid fitty dollah for that,” he exclaimed, though to my surprise without much angst, not even one syllable of a screech, as he sat between shopping cart and illuminated bus stop with pups curled up on his lap and thighs. I pet them both, and calmly retorted:
“I don’t think so, Deek, it looks kinda banged up to me!”
“Oh, you think it’s old because I put graffiti all over it!” he griped. He had scrawled childish designs and indecipherable words all over the speaker in thick metallic-silver strokes, since he last brought it over. I COULD make out two words, though, right on top: “Po Boy.” That’s his street name. God forbid he should ever learn about the existence of the apostrophe and when you should use it!
“Of course not, Deek,” I replied, “it already LOOKED pretty worn before you gave it the old, artistic flair.”
Suddenly I heard a voice above from where I was crouched down attending the dogs: “Hey, Zeke!”
I peered up to see Deek’s cousin, Dominic…much to my chagrin. He’s WORSE than Deek when it comes to scams, accusations and all-around bullshit! I’ve been avoiding him since he stalked me two years earlier after he saw me hand some cash to Boulevard Joe one night and not to HIM.
Never mind I didn’t even KNOW he was somewhere nearby (it was nighttime and he stood almost twenty feet distant hiding behind a telephone pole, and he’s skinny enough to pull that off); never mind I only gave Joe two fukkin dollars, though that’s none of his business how much or how little money I give ANYone; never mind I gave him a Jackson just five days prior (the last time I ever gave him ANY cash whatsoever, learned my lesson); never mind I already pepper sprayed him once, four years ago for threatening me, claiming he has a knife in his pocket!
Soon as Blvd. Joe dropped a couple of Camel 100s onto my palm, I thanked him and took off, not realizing Dominic was anywhere around, let alone spying on me. But as I crossed Market Street I heard Joe call out:
“Careful Zeke, Dom’s stalking you!”
With that, I turned around as I reached the opposite corner and, sure enough, there he was fifteen feet behind, but stopped because I had as well. So I resumed my walk back hovel and, once halfway there, looked back again to see if Dom were still tailing me. He was, so I slowed down, proceeded ten more paces, then turned to face him from six feet away:
“Oh, it’s you, Dom. How’s it going?”
He then muttered something about how people always fuck him over, rip him off and deceive him, to which I replied while he now moped along beside me:
“Well, the best way to handle that is to AVOID such people, don’t get caught up in their bullshit and find a harmless way to release your anger, so you don’t take it out on someone innocent.”
Upon hearing my advice, he glared down at me (Dom’s quite tall, 6-foot-4, just like Arwyn only ganglier) with raised eyebrows as if to say: “Oh, is that so?”
“And count your blessings,” I added with raised index finger: the twist of a metaphorical knife in his back because I knew he was implying I’M the kind of rat fink he’s talking about. (The NERVE of him trying to terrorize me into coughing up moolah!)
“I don’t know, Zeke,” he answered back in staccato syllables, “I’m tempted to release my anger on their heads.”
I then stopped several feet before my building:
“Sorry to hear that, Dom, I don’t agree. But I hope you have a pleasant night anyway. Go out of your way to put a smile on someone’s face…believe it or not, that’ll help.”
And with that, I pulled my keys out, indicating I’m stepping back inside and he needs to move along. He did. What a waste of a young man, eh, Wattson? He’s only thirty-four years old. Anyway, back to last night and Dominic’s unwelcome appearance:
He just stood there and observed while Deek and I argued: him with false accusations, me deflecting each and every one of them while petting the hounds, who were quite comfy in Deek’s extended lap, and not the least bit perturbed. A few minutes later I stood up:
“I’m going to bed now, I’ve heard enough of your crap for one night.”
And off I went, with a goodbye nod to Dominic who waved back as I turned the key in the gate. But as soon as I entered the building, I heard Deek’s juvenile summation as he began pushing his cart towards Noe Street, dogs in tow:
“He’s just like every other fag I’ve met. Fukkin with my head like a know-it-all, ripping me off every step of the way. Stupid fag!”
Well, I wasn’t about to let him get away with that, so stepped back out and approached him but kept some distance between us:
“Hey, Deek, don’t call me that! You did NOT spend fifty dollars on that crappy speaker. You probably didn’t even spend TEN, ’cause you got it in trade, or found it in the trash. You’re just SCAMMING me, you KNEW it stopped working before you gave it to me, it was a setup. You LOVE to guilt-trip your friends, I know that game…you’ve done it many times before!”
I stopped chiding him once he started to cross Noe, then turned to Dominic who stood all this time by the bus stop.
“Did you hear that, Dom?” I called to him from the gate once I reached it. “That was a SCAM! Just what kind of a dummy does he take me for?”
Dominic did not reply, but remained in that one spot, his face screwed up like a weather station’s satellite image of a hurricane.
Seeking some affirmation from his witness, I let go of the open gate and walked up to him, halting just five feet away. It was then I noticed his shabby appearance and dirt-stained mug…and an awful stink of fresh kak invading my nostrils. He made no effort to support my claim, instead he spoke these words in a whiny tone:
“Do you have any pants?”
He shat himself! I realized and looked at his legs: sure enough, the brown stain of diarrhea showed through beige trousers and dripped onto the sidewalk! No wonder Deek left in such a hurry. I immediately backed off in alarm and declared:
“NO way José, your cousin’s already a handful, I can’t deal with YOUR drama, too!”
Upon reopening the front gate, I called back at him with another useful piece of advice to add to his Zeke Words of Wisdom Compendium:
“You need to take better care of yourself, no one can do that FOR you!” Besides which, I mused, what makes him think I’d have any pants his length; I am NOT the Salvation Army.
So there ya go, Wattson: Dominic never fails to conjure up one conflict or drama after another, never a moment of friendly conversation or plain old hangin’ out together on a lovely day…always scheming for the next dollar, the next hit, the next fast-food handout, the next shag, the next whatever. He makes Deek’s hornswaggling antics look like pre-school prep.
Sad to say, amid the tempest of Deek’s needless brouhaha and guilt-tripping, I had forgotten to give him a fresh supply of dog food, which he requested earlier that day, telling me to bring it downstairs upon his return. The bag remains sulking in my closet.
BODHISATTVA PREMISE:
They’re punking me again, and Dominic’s diarrhea prank was the perfect touch…with Deek’s guilt-tripping merely a prelude! Foolish of me to think that, as my celebratory honors grow imminent, my guardians would slow down their capers somewhat.
Ha!
– Zeke K-Holmes
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