[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 6: Chapter 10]
Re: “I’M GONNA GET YOU EVICTED, YOU’RE NO REAL FRIEND!”… (the whole story) ADDENDUM
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 17, 2022 at 10:09 PM
> Absolutely heinous.
The devil’s in the details, I’m sure.
> But…he’ll keep coming back for his allowance, I’m sure. And you can use a little bit of leverage with him–he gets his allowance if he demonstrates to you that he’s caring for the dogs, and lets you see them.
He already knows that because I’ve made it VERY clear numerous times: no dogs, no moolah…no friendship either, it’s kaput. And that is why when I asked if I can still see them should he keep the mutts elsewhere, he immediately answered yes, he’ll give me their location. But I’m sure that won’t happen, he just called my bluff and it backfired.
Filipino Kai is very BIG on respecting your elders, and I can see what a rage he was in when he witnessed Deek throw water in my face, and screeching. Good to see it was a CONTROLLED rage. I have a hunch he put the fear of god in him (so to speak) without crossing the line into violence. Though a serious THREAT of violence may have been employed, to get Deek to snap out of it.
Until recently, Deek has always kept his hateful rants private, that is, just between him and myself, so as not to have anyone witness his behavior. But remember, he exploded in my face before several other vagrants just a few weeks ago…so he’s slipping. It is possible that Kai knows OTHER folks who’ll make sure he starts treating me decently. But we’ll just have to wait and see, Wattson!
Deek NEVER intended to go to a clinic or hospital…it was a setup to fuck with me. He knows about the places he can visit in a medical emergency, including the Tom Waddell clinic. I offered to accompany him, but he turned me down.
He also had the nerve to bring up his fake broken-leg story, that time around three years ago when he was sleeping outside, by the curb…and I told him to pull himself further onto the sidewalk to avoid a vehicle backing up onto his feet. But he stubbornly refused to do that. You know the rest of that sordid tale…he FAKED a car hitting him in order to weasel some money out of the driver…never intending to go to the hospital. But I called 911 anyway, much to his anger. So when he brought up that leg injury, I told him he’s full of shit, it never occurred. What he does is keep saying something bad happened to him over and over again, though it really didn’t, hoping the other person will finally throw his hands up and say okay it did. DOESN’T work with me, and he should know better by now.
I even offered to watch over the pups outside, but he ALSO turned that down. Which is all for the best, as I suspect he might’ve traipsed off wherever, leaving the dogs with me and preTENding to go to a clinic. But instead he’d hang out elsewhere all night, leaving me stuck with the brindlekin, sitting with them on the sidewalk behind my building…and he wouldn’t show up till after sunrise, claiming they kept him overnight.
If I cave in to doing something like that, you can bet he’ll conjure up additional scenarios demanding needless and stressful sacrifice out of me. It’s a power trip. Well, at least he took the ointment with him and hopefully he’ll treat his cuts and bruises with it. I’m GRATEFUL that Kai showed up, though it just MIGHT have been a setup between the two.
I’ll do my best not to worry about ANY of this, but just trust the FATES that the hounds will be fine no matter what. Season 4 of “What We Do In the Shadows” is now out…up to episode 7 in fact. And I plan to enjoy the heck out of watching a few episodes this evening.
Thus begins chapter 19 of “The Eviction Fiasco” chapters of my Brindlekin Tales, with this missive.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Subject: There is also something going on…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 17, 2022 at 11:12 PM
…with the newer vagrants hanging out at the ATMs at night (including Micah) that has scared Deek away. I’ve heard no fights or arguments going on below, so I suspect it has to do with his ripping off Micah some time in the past. And perhaps that he smokes fentanyl while Deek does not; in fact he told me he’s scared shitless of that stuff.
Anyway, several nights ago he called me from across the street, and when I approached, he told me “Shhh! Shhh! Just take this and charge it, and bring me a C cord!”
“Well, okay,” I replied while bending down to caress the doggies.
“Go! Go now!” he exclaimed in a persistent whisper. “Something’s going on with those punks over there, and I don’t wanna get involved. I’ll be at your corner to pick up the cord.”
“Right,” I whispered back, and left with his gizmo. Upon stepping back out I saw him and the pups waiting beside his shopping cart, ready to scoot away soon as I hand him the cord. Which I did, and they were gone in a flash.
I suspect more of this intrigue has to do with Deek’s own behavior, not just a sense of guilt for his theft of Micah’s backpack. And maybe they’ve caught on to his abusive behavior towards me, as Micah has witnessed. Perhaps Kai spoke with him and some others there, too!
At any rate, Deek has not been dropping by at night these past few days…at least, not to park his butt in the ATM nook, but just to pick up or deliver whatever, then vanish till sometime later. Maybe he’s been STEALING other stuff from the homeless, and word is out. But who knows? I’m just trying to figure things out.
Micah can be loud now and then late at night: “HEY THAT’S MY SHIT, LEAVE IT ALONE!” or “YO! COME OVER HERE!” or “HEY, CAN YOU SPARE A COUPLA DOLLARS?” And some nights those Hohokum clerks can get terribly noisy shooting the bull outside, leaning on their cars, smoking and laughing in a rather sinister or forced manner, feigning they’re having the best times of their life, though I know better. It’s all fake “gangsta” shit. I haven’t spoken with Micah since a week ago…perhaps I ought to again, soon. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll give me an update re. Deek’s antics.
Oh, I forgot to mention that when I stepped out to see Deek this afternoon, Lucky plopped himself near my feet, and began squirming on his back in playful abandon. Flaco came to me as well, for hugs and pats while I scritched her brother’s belly and Deek spewed enmity like a geyser. Yet he did NOT demand I get away from the pups while he ranted on.
I did not see Filipino Kai later on today, so maybe tomorrow. Meanwhile, time to stretch out on my cushy cot and watch the latest episode of that delightful vampire spoof out of New Zealand. Hope you have a lovely rest tonight, Wattson!
Tomorrow will be a better day for me, I’m sure. It couldn’t POSSIBLY get worse.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Subject: Deek just showed up, for a few minutes…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 18, 2022 at 5:45 PM
…then departed. Called his usual “Yo!” and asked for more dog food, and his charged smartphone. So I brought them downstairs and gave Flaco & Lucky hugs and kisses. I asked him what about a bowl of water? He shook his head slowly, “No.” He had no words to share (thank god because no rant, either). My impression is that he’s going by his word for now, only to drop by shortly to pick up or deliver something, and allow me to greet the pooches.
He had a somewhat disappointed look on his mug, but not so much. Either he feels awful about yesterday’s temper tantrum, or has decided to play out a bit, brief visits. Before departing, I asked if he’d like another blanket for the dogs. At first he declined, then, as I opened the front gate to return back hovel, he said okay, bring it down.
That was one of those lush, mossy green curtains I presented to him, in a large trash bag.
“See?” I pulled some of the fabric out to show him. “It’s comfy, fluffy and large, enough for all THREE of you to stay warm!”
“Isn’t that a curtain?” he queried. Which kind of question peeves me, as he’s implying it’s not a REAL blanket…as if a curtain (or drop cloth or sleeping bag, etc.) could not provide the equivalent warmth and comfort of a blanket, so important for the mutts’ health and happiness. Just another flimsy excuse for Deek to complain.
“Yes, but it also makes a great blanket,” I cheerfully replied. What he doesn’t know is I slept on it the last two nights, so the hounds may be calmed by my scent. I will do the same for the three remaining “blankets,” one a thick drop cloth I also found on the sidewalk…and clean.
He also asked to borrow five dollars, so I gave him that, too…and will deduct it from his next allowance.
“Okay,” I said, “Anything else?”
He replied no thanks, so I pet the dogs once more, said god bless you and your little family, and returned hovel. I looked out the window a few minutes later; they were already gone.
His hand seems fine now, BTW…but I didn’t ask about it or bring anything else up from yesterday, seeing as that might trigger another bout of pointless rage. But I DID ask him: “Did you have a nice talk with Kai?” He just shrugged his shoulders in response. “Well, he strikes me as a good guy, so I thought I’d ask.”
It amuses me to think Filipino Kai gave him a taste of dragonly wrath, that he’d better damn well respect me for all the good things I do for him and the doggies, or he’s gonna make his life so shitty he’ll beg for a swift death.
Or, perhaps (and as I mentioned twice before) it was all an act scripted by Kai and Deek, for my benefit. I now want to mention here something my attorney said that I forgot to tell you, and which echoes in my cranium like a sweet promise:
“If they can prove one of the dogs bit someone, it WILL be difficult to get permission to bring them back inside.”
Get it, Wattson? She said “difficult,” not “impossible!” ALSO implying that if they CAN’T provide evidence, then my chances are quite GOOD! And you’d THINK that, if they actually DID have any proof, they’d’ve already presented it to her, which they never have.
I guess Deek will drop by again, tonight, to collect his phone. We’ll see how he behaves…I’m guessing like he just did a short while ago. A brief visit, with no words to impart. I’m HOPING to see Kai again soon, maybe this evening when I step out for some air.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Subject: A surprisingly pleasant 2nd meetup!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 18, 2022 at 10:08 PM
I stepped out barely a half hour ago to pick up some bananas from the corner shop at Noe & 17th, and when the gate closed behind me I saw Lucky prancing about on the corner, chasing the pedestrians with gleeful woofs, back and forth, back and forth in little circles, nipping at their heels and backing off (an invite to play)…inspiring much laughter among them in the process. Soon as I approached Lucky spotted me and came running up for hugs, with Flaco a close second! I got down on one knee to embrace them both and shower them with kind words.
Deek was sorting through his shopping cart. I saw the curtain I gave him earlier was attached to it from one corner, and to something else from another, to form a tilted, A-shape tent for the pups. The doggies ran into the tent soon as I stood up to greet their master. He said he needs a lighter, and to bring him the smartphone. So I returned back hovel to do just that, wondering if he provided some cushioning for the dogs to rest upon, inside that tent. “Maybe I should bring down another curtain,” I thought.
I did not do that, though, figuring to check it out first, before jumping to conclusions. Sure enough, when I peeked inside where Flaco & Lucky raised their heads to greet me, there was a plush sleeping bag for them to rest upon. “Good job, Deek!” I thought to myself.
I don’t know how long he was already out there before I saw them, but it was clear that Deek was preparing to move along in a little while. So after handing him the lighter and phone, I continued on to the shop. The burly, overly friendly shopkeeper was there and, after I brought a hand of large bananas to the counter, he rushed to the produce section to procure aNOTHER bunch of well-ripened ones to give me for free. Which he does now and then, and which I greatly appreciate, as once I get home I peel and freeze them.
So as I crossed back over Market Street, I noticed Deek and mutts still there, minus the tent which he had folded up and placed in the cart. The dogs, however, were still happily cuddled together on the sleeping bag that was colored a deep blue with a thick, pink stripe on one side. I pet the pooches once more. They were so responsive to my caresses, pressing their little heads into my hand…but no way were they gonna rise up from their cozy nest, it was just too comfy, and a chill ocean breeze was blowing inches above them!
“Would you like a couple of bananas, Deek?” I asked. He said yeah, and I gave him two of the ripe ones. They were large, so I knew his stomach would be sated.
“Well, have a lovely night, you and your little family!” I said.
“Okay, thanks!” I heard him call back as I moseyed along towards the gate to Hotel California North, and entered, eager to give you my latest report.
BTW I took a closer peek at his injured hand without him knowing, and I could hardly see a scratch or spot of blood on it…like it never happened! No swelling anywhere, either, no bruise marks. I find that very interesting, don’t you, good physician?
And Deek’s pleasant demeanor suggested it WAS a scripted scenario all along, probably to witness whether or not I’d lose my temper…and report back to headquarters that I most certainly did NOT.
[pause]
Before completing this missive, I walked down the hallway to peer out the window at the end and see if Deek and doggies were still there. Nope, all gone…but he left behind an empty storage bin, a swivel office chair, and some other junk. I couldn’t discern all the items, so decided to step back outside to see if he left the curtain or sleeping bag (or both) behind. In which case I would bag them and bring them back upstairs.
Once there, I was glad to see he took the curtain, though NOT the sleeping bag. As I was about to gather it up, a middle-aged stout black fellow appeared as if out of nowhere and said hello, that’s my stuff.
I immediately apologized, told him my friend Deek was just here, and I thought it was his…and since he left the sleeping bag behind, I figured to stash it for him, so he could use it later on down the line, for the dogs.
“But you’ve already claimed it, that’s fine,” I concluded. He then offered it to me, but I said no, that’s alright, kind of you but I’m sure you could use it on this cold night. So I wished him a good evening, he did same, and I returned back hovel to send this off.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Re: Deek just showed up, for a few minutes…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 18, 2022 at 11:07 PM
> Further, since there is zero proof that the dogs ever bit anyone, it’s ipso facto that they invented the dog-bite story out of whole cloth. All the other phony accusations will follow. They will be exposed.
They certainly will. My attorney now understands the entire situation, and even called my building manager an asshole. But I say “asshole” is too kind a word for someone who repeatedly called these precious doggies “vicious and dangerous,” the initial accusation as prelude to putting them down. I will never forgive him for that. Though being so side-tilted doddering these days, shuffling along with a wobbly gait and lowered head, he’ll probably croak before my day in the sun, denying me the satisfaction of seeing his expression once I strike back. But maybe I can still do that, if he has an open-coffin funeral…my golden opportunity to spit on his face!
And THEIR attorney now has a good idea what’s coming down the pike, should Ablablah Realty refuse to drop all charges. And HIS career will be on the line, too! No wonder he was so apologetic when serving the summons. I got ’em ALL by the gonads, Wattson, including any resident who has made a signed complaint…because FALSE. And what about that cop who knocked on my door, claiming the dogs are definitely vicious and dangerous, hmm? So glad I kept his name, badge and phone number in my records. Just wish I had the good sense to video record his visit, drat!
– Zeke K-Holmes
Subject: The Turret and the Tent
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 20, 2022 at 11:29 AM
This morning I thought I’d shoot a pic of the eastern point of our flatiron building, to show you the “turret.” Notice how the apartments on the 2nd and 4th floors have their shades drawn. THEY ARE ALWAYS LIKE THAT, windows never exposed to the outside whether night or day. And guess who occupies those units? The resident manager on the 4th story, and my quasi-fascist neighbor down the hall on the 2nd.
The shabbiness of this edifice sticks out like a gravedigger’s dirt-stained thumb. Minimal maintenance, maximal rent. It COULD be a beautiful structure, and I’m sure it is in a parallel universe. But in THIS world it’s always been a sketchy proposition, and why I call it “Hotel California North.”
I also took a shot of the latest tent-like structure behind our building that showed up yesterday. Don’t know WHO occupies it, but I’ve seen this makeshift home-on-wheels in various locations around the Castro. Inevitably he WOULD gravitate towards our building, as it’s like a MAGNET inviting the downtrodden to rest a spell in the shade, right around the corner from cash-laden passersby and little eateries and a tobacco/paraphernalia shop open till the wee hours, that provide perfect begging spots. Which, unfortunately, also means vagrants standing around the front gate, or right next to it by the ATM alcove.
– Zeke K-Holmes
P.S.: Besides binge watching season 4 of “What We Do in the Shadows,” I’ve also been enjoying immensely, a new series called “Reservation Dogs.” Absolutely brilliant, heartfelt and GREAT acting. From Wikipedia:
“Reservation Dogs is an Indigenous American teen comedy drama television series created by Sterlin Harjo and Taika Waititi for FX Productions. It is a notable first in that it features all indigenous writers and directors, along with an almost entirely indigenous North American cast and production team. It is also the first series to be filmed entirely in Oklahoma.”
Re: The Turret and the Tent
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 20, 2022 at 1:51 PM
> I’ve definitely seen your building! Nothing quite like it anywhere else in the city!
Urban legend has it that Aleister Crowley lived in the top of the turret for awhile…I think in the late ’50s. I’ve been inside the manager’s apartment long before he showed up, and the ceiling was artfully painted in some exquisitely new-age, tarot card kind of way. You could lie down on a bed and gaze up at it for hours. Sure wish I had a photo of it! Sad to say, it’s long-since been painted over a dull shade of white. Which certainly reflects the drab spirit of its present occupant.
> I’m aware of Reservation Dogs, am eager to watch it!
It’s only into its second season. When you get around to it, you will be SO pleased with the outstanding QUALITY of this series on every level. A show you could watch more than once, and learn something new each time. There is not a single character I have NOT fallen in love with! It really does great honor to our First Nations…at last. Which is a HOPEFUL sign for this crippled, perverted society.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Subject: A Deek meetup like you wouldn’t believe…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 21, 2022 at 12:23 AM
…all good. No, MORE than good! I dare say it’s a MIRACLE, and you’ll know what I mean, shortly. He showed up early afternoon, with the pups and a half-filled, portable garbage bin that belongs to the city but now contains his own possessions. Looked quite tidy inside, too; no leftover debris. Good thing because the bin was BLACK, which means it once contained non-recyclable material that COULD have been toxic. Many of the homeless confiscate such bins for their own use (of whatever color), and I don’t blame them…for they ARE handy, compact, and with wheels and a waterproof lid! Don’t see why Deek doesn’t use one all the time, instead of a shopping cart. Maybe because finding a clean one isn’t so easy?
Deek handed me two smartphones, than said: “I need to go somewhere for an hour…no, LESS than an hour. But I can’t take the dogs with me, so could you watch them AND my bin?”
“Sure,” I replied, “but how about I sit with the dogs behind the building instead of right here?” I really didn’t want to hang out with high foot traffic passing right by, seated in the ATM nook for all the world to see, especially the residents of 9666 Market Street.
“Alright, that’ll work,” he said.
“Let me bring your electronics upstairs first and plug ’em in; I’ll be right back down.”
“Hurry up,” he called as I entered the gate. “I have to be there by four o’clock.”
Upon returning hovel I saw the time was 3:25 PM, then connected the devices. Before stepping back out I replaced my slide slippers with sandals, and pulled a zippered hoodie over my summer shirt, just in case the temperature dropped while he was gone. I had already brought a bowl of water downstairs for the pups, so I was good to go.
I expected Deek to have moved bin and pups around the corner, but he was still in the same spot when I returned downstairs.
“That tall white dude over there will move the bin for ya,” he pointed to my right where two chaps were standing about fifteen feet away. Neither looked tall to me, and only one looked homeless.
“Uhh, okay,” I replied, a bit confused, and he took off.
So there I was with a large bin and two doggies looking up at me while seated upon a large, crumpled tarp in a corner of the ATM alcove.
“Oh what the heck,” I thought, “plenty of space right there, and he won’t be gone long.”
I then looked up at the two guys, the raggedy one gazing back at me with a grin and a nod of his head. He was gaunt, had a mop of reddish brown hair and was around 5-foot-nine. (Is that tall? I don’t think so).
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Nah,” I replied. “Why bother, it’s fine right here. Thanks anyway.”
And with that I plopped myself beside the hounds, whereby Flaco immediately scrambled onto my lap (to beat Lucky to it I suppose, though he was fine just sitting there and looking through the railing for his master to return).
I thought the string-bean fellow was going to leave then, but he just stood around there on the sidewalk, fiddling in his bag before sitting down by the other end of the ATM depot. At first he seemed to be muttering to himself, so I just ignored him and lavished my attention on the doggies. Flaco was now lying on her back with one head turned sideways, eyes closed, while I rubbed her belly. She was in heaven again!
“C’mere, Lucky!” I said with a light tug on the leash, hoping he’d settle down beside me. “Your master won’t be back for awhile.” But he refused, so I kept a light grip on the leash, that he may continue to peer down the street.
With Flaco in my arms, I zoned in on the moppy-head to hear if he was making any sense. He was saying something about how strange his life’s been, and he thinks he’s a prophet, that other homeless are prophets, too. My god, I thought, he knows!
“You’re absolutely right,” I chimed in. “I’ve believed for a long time now that many shamans live on the streets, but most people don’t realize it.”
He spoke further on this subject which, as you well know, Wattson, is one of my major conjectures that I promulgate EXTENSIVELY through my Brindlekin Tales, though I have discussed it here and there in previous works.
“I forgot your name,” I interrupted his musings.
“My name is Anna,” he replied.
I recognized that voice! It was then I realized THIS was the person who stood in a dark corner across the street a few weeks ago and said “Hello Zeke” as I walked by. I had no idea who he was, never saw him before, but said hello back and wished him a good evening without stopping to chat.
He certainly knows ME Wattson, so I think maybe he (and one or two others) was with Deek a few times at night sitting in a circle on the sidewalk as I dropped by to bring him a drink or return his gizmos, and I just wasn’t paying attention.
“Sorry for my interruption, Anna,” I apologized. “But I wanted to know your name. Go on now, tell me some more, what you’ve already said is impressive.”
So he described how God makes some people be homeless, but are destined to be prophets. They learn about what life is REALLY all about by living on the streets. But humans are complicated creatures, so it’s difficult to find any common ground when you yourself are not like them at all.
“Now God’s sending MORE prophets to the earth, through the homeless,” he finished…at least for the moment.
I was amazed to hear such wisdom…no, not amazed, DELIGHTED, because he just affirmed my suspicions all along, unbidden!
“You are certainly on the right track!” I spoke enthusiastically. “Though I call them shamans rather than prophets, as I like to avoid Judeo-Christian terminology whenever I can. And I see this through the lenses of Buddhism and Native American tradition, more than through the Abrahamic religions.”
“Prophets are simply gifted people on a mission,” Anna explained. “Shaman’s a good word for us, too.”
“Us,” he said “us” I thought, not them…he’s including ME among the shamans! If this isn’t yet another scripted scenario and he ain’t another one of my bodhisattva guardians, I’ll eat my boxer briefs! Nothing else explains it, not even “coincidence” (or “synchronicity” as Jung calls it)! He then lowered his head, turning it left and right with some sorrow:
“I know I have a greater calling besides just being homeless. But there’s this cloud in my mind blocking my vision, I don’t know what to do next!”
“You’re doing FINE, Anna,” I assured him. “I know you don’t FEEL like it right now, but you ARE headed in an excellent direction. This cloud WILL dissipate. In fact the only reason it’s there right now, is the EXPERIENCE of foggy doubts is part and parcel of GETTING you beyond it! A breakthrough too soon is not a breakthrough at all. Sometimes you just have to accept the roadblock, be patient and realize it’s temporary. Don’t FRET over it, do something like put a smile on someone else’s face, or listen to your favorite music, or whatever else will work for you, until the cloud passes.”
“Thanks!” he replied. “That makes a lot of sense.”
“And DON’T let people who don’t understand you get on your nerves. As a shaman, that goes with the territory most of the time. But DO know they will all come around in their own time. And I’m sure you know we are LIVING in these times when all good things will manifest, starting with us shamans!”
Before we could speak further, Deek showed up surprisedly soon (barely a half hour after he departed), and the dogs rose up to greet him with their unconditional joy.
“Oh, see how happy they are to have their master back!” I remarked as I rose from the concrete. “Can I go now?”
“Yes,” he said, “thanks for watching over them. And can you bring me a drink…and one for him, since he helped you?”
“Sure,” I answered. “Just don’t make it a habit ’cause I’m already stretched thin with the doggy expenses.”
When I returned with two cups of ginger ale, I told Deek what a great conversation I had with his friend, then turned to Anna and said:
“You blew my mind by all the good things you said. I will very much enjoy talking with you again, soon!”
Deek remained there an hour longer, asked me if I could fix the dogs a meal: I did just that, then left them to their world.
So there’s the miracle, Wattson: a vagrant who I never talked to before brings up my Bodhisattva Premise outta the blue!
I was hoping to end this missive on a positive note, but Deek showed up in the middle of my writing it (about forty-five minutes ago), and was absolutely nasty. So I refused to charge his phones and drove him away. More on that in tomorrow’s email. But after that horrid clash, I decided to complete this piece as if it had not happened. But the truth is: he shat all over it.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Subject: 3 Morning Pics
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 22, 2022 at 10:42 AM
Deek slept by the ATMs all night. I brought another curtain downstairs to cover the pups, but later on I saw Deek had pulled most of it over him, exposing Lucky while his sister was probably in his arms. So I brought down an old jacket and placed it over him, to abate the chill air. By the time I stepped out for coffee next morning (around 9 AM), they were all on top of the blanket, which is fine because the day is warming up. So that’s the first snapshot…Lucky in front, Flaco draped over him.
The second pic shows Flaco deciding to soak up the sun, when I returned from Rosenberg’s.
And the third one shows they all moved by the curb about a half hour later. I had already brought Deek his electronics, a cup of soda, and water and food for the doggies. They’re still down there now. Will fill you in about last night and the night before, in an email later today.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Subject: Three nights ago: Deek returned, everything was fine at first…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 22, 2022 at 11:10 PM
…and I was glad to see him thanks to a non-drama, friendly meetup earlier that day. I watched the pups for him, had an incredible conversation with Anna, and he returned much sooner than expected. He was cooperative and gracious throughout, thus I expected his return last night to be at least REAsonably courteous as well. But it took a sudden turn for the worst.
It all started when he handed over three devices and I stood up from petting Flaco, who walked through the bicycle hoop rack to greet me. (See pic of what I mean by “hoop rack;” there are two in front of my building.)
Since Deek had twined the two leashes together at the handle end by a few twists, and Lucky was standing towards the right of the hoop and outside of it, I realized I’d have to either nudge her kindly back through the arc towards her master, or unclip the leash and reattach it.
But Deek, in his constant efforts to find excuses to yell at me, didn’t give me a chance to do either of the above, for just when I crouched down towards Flaco, he exploded and commenced tugging on Flaco’s leash while she resisted with equal force, her collar now pulled diagonally across her head and pressing down on one ear. So I did the only thing I could in the midst of her master’s fake panic:
Freed her from the collar, whereupon she ran to the front gate and stood beside it, hoping of course to finally enjoy my sanctuary once more. I proceeded to go to her and pick her up, but Deek beat me to it, screeching at me all the while:
“What the fuck are you doing? You were standing in the way, you piece of shit!” I had also set his two devices down before assisting Flaco, so of course he added: “My stuff coulda been stolen!” As if ANYthing were more important than Flaco & Lucky…what a royal asshole!
Well, Wattson, he screeched a lot more than THAT, from the moment I crouched down to when I approached the gate, in a foul blur of expletives and gross accusations. But I WAS able to get a few lines in edgewise, in bits and pieces between HIS screams, such as:
“No, Deek, I was NOT standing in the way, you’re just being a drama queen again, you like to guilt trip me…Had you stayed calm, it would’ve taken just a few seconds to bring Flaco around to you…You could’ve even done that yourself, with a bit of patience and some kind words to summon her!”
“Go!” he bellowed, “Go upstairs and charge my stuff!”
I had picked them up just a minute before, but refused to hop upstairs like an obedient bunny rabbit. Instead, I stood around him in an outraged posture, for having yanked on one of the dog’s necks for the umpteenth time. Then exploded:
“That’s SHAMEFUL, Deek! You should NEVER treat your dogs like that! Flaco’s a sweet little pup, what the fuck is WRONG with you?”
He then walked to the corner, cart and all: “Get aWAY from me, get outta my FACE!”
“No I’m NOT gonna get outta your face!” I said as I stepped up to him. “That’s DISGUSTING what you did to her.”
I said more than that, berating him in a strong, angry voice. So he turned in the other direction, walking towards Castro Street. At that moment, when he was just passing the garbage bins outside my building, someone who knows him appeared out of the blue:
“Hey, Deek, how’s it hangin’!”
Wouldn’t you know, good doctor, someone ALWAYS shows up right in the middle of my confronting him, and so it happened again. But I stuck around to see whether or not they’d walk off together (usually the case), instead of marching back upstairs in frustration. To my satisfaction, the thoughtless interloper DID move on, after exchanging a few more words.
So I continued haranguing him with charges of dog abuse as he proceeded up the block, hollering: “You’re a crazy man! God bless you and have a good night! Crazy many stalking me!”
I continued to berate him for another half minute. I knew his game, turning the tables by trying to summon bystanders to his side and dupe them into thinking I’m assaulting him. It didn’t work, and I knew it wouldn’t, for I sensed the time was right to condemn him loud and clear. But I abruptly stopped as we approached the corner, and walked on home with his electronics and plugged them in.
Not two minutes had passed when I thought: “NO! This is wrong. What he did to Flaco is inexcusable, he doesn’t deSERVE to have his devices charged!”
So I disconnected them, gathered them up and rushed back outside to track him down. Fortunately, he hardly went far at all, for there he was at the end of the block pawing through a trash bin, with the pups tethered to his cart, standing about like the good guard dogs they are. They calmly watched me approach.
“Here, take this!” I surprised him outta left field. “I can’t in good conscience charge your stuff after how you treated Flaco. That is disGUSting!”
He accepted the items while calling me a crazy idiot, but once my hands were free I departed back hovel. Halfway there I turned about and hollered at him several times until I reached the front gate:
“DISGUSTING! SICK! SHAMEFUL!” And as an afterthought added: “DON’T COME BY IN THE MORNING!” Because I wasn’t about to be awakened to finally charge his gizmos, after his abuse of Flaco.
Some passersby looked at me and around, to figure out what was going on, who I was screaming at…but I hurried too quickly inside for them to grok the scenario. He did not return that night (thank Gendwitha), but something curious occurred later on around midnight.
I heard Filipino Kai speaking jovially to someone, right outside. So I poked my head to see him out there, and two other people with him…and decided to go downstairs to ask how his talk went with Deek after the fool splashed water in my face and they walked off together.
I stood several feet away, waiting to catch his attention as he was wrapped up in festive camaraderie, and I couldn’t possibly jump right in without causing anger. He finally looked in my direction, gave a brief grin, then turned back to his comrade who was hugging and chatting away like a magpie. The guy was blonde, tall and strikingly handsome, I couldn’t HELP but notice.
They could all see I needed to talk with Kai, but no one offered me that option. So I sidled up to him, said: “Did you have a good talk with Deek?” To which he replied like a SPIT to the ground:
“What he did to you was DISRESPECTFUL. Forget him! Stop his allowance, see how he likes THAT…he’ll change his tune!”
I made it clear I’d forget him in a pinch, except it’s the dogs I love, and the ONLY reason I continue associating with him. They would’ve been dead or lost long before now if it weren’t for my help. But get this:
I had to blurt out my points between his amiable badinage with his pals, and it was almost like he had two mouths: speaking to both them and yours truly at the same time. I also told him there was no medical emergency, I’m sure he lied about his hand being run over by a car, that Deek was trying to control me, that I gave him antibiotic for his hand and offered to escort him to the Tom Waddell Clinic just six blocks from here, where they’d patch up his hand and I’d wait outside with the dogs. But he didn’t really WANT to go to a clinic, he just wanted to dump on me! After all the good things I do for him he still treats me like shit.
“That’s right, he fucked himself over,” he declared with some fury. “He started a fight and got his hand stomped on. He did it to himself. I was disgusted how he talked about you, but because we’re street brothers, I took care of his hand.”
Our exchange was brief but vital (AFAIC], and when he indicated he’d like to get back to his friends I said thank you for listening, and returned upstairs.
The next day (yesterday) Deek finally showed up in the late afternoon, and this time I took his devices to be charged, and returned with water and a prepared meal for the pups. He was NOT belligerent, and soon crashed out by the ATMs with the doggies curled up beside him, atop a large crinkly tarp he laid out for all three to rest on. Not very cushy at all!
So later on I brought another velvety curtain down to toss over the pups. By then Deek was fast asleep. They both greeted me with drowsy nods, eyes half closed. I didn’t disturb them so as to get some of that cloth beneath their little bodies and atop the canvas, but Flaco made a point of arranging her half of the blanket so that she pulled some of it beneath her for extra coziness, yet remained covered.
I pet them awhile under the warm cover before returning hovel. But about an hour later when I stepped back out to check on them, I saw Deek had wrapped the curtain around him. Flaco was sheltered in his arms and hidden, so still covered, but Lucky was left exposed, curled up against his master’s back. NOT shivering…nonetheless I retrieved an old jacket too ragged to wear anymore, and gently dropped it over him. Boy did he appreciate that! His little doggy sigh and lick of my hand said it all.
All was quiet on the Western Front, I finally drifted off to a good sleep. Until 3 AM or so, when I heard Filipino Kai downstairs:
“Hey, Po’ Boy, you awake?” he cheerfully greeted. I rushed to the window to peer down and saw Kai accompanied by another vagrant…they were both on bikes and in good spirits. (“Po’ Boy” is Deek’s street name, BTW.)
The conversation only lasted a few minutes, and wasn’t loud at all. In fact, I really couldn’t make out most of what they said, as I returned to my cot and laid down again, glad to know people like Kai were out there, patrolling the ‘hood and watching over the houseless. I heard him offer Deek a PB&J sandwich and otherwise crack some jokes, laugh awhile and then disappear to parts elsewhere. I almost decided to step outside to bring Deek his charged devices, since he was awake, and say hello to Kai…but something told me don’t bother.
So now we come back to today; you’ve seen the pics I took of Deek and hounds this morning. What I DIDN’T tell you is what I now call “The Ginger Ale Faux Pas.” For when I stepped outside for coffee and paused to pet the pups, he woke up and asked for a drink. I said sure, I’ll be right back. So I went upstairs to pour him a cup of ginger ale, then stepped back outside to hand it to him before taking off to Rosenberg’s. About an hour later when I came downstairs to bring the pups their breakfast, I noticed his cup of ginger ale with the lid off and still filled to the brim, sitting there in a corner of the ATM depot…which annoyed me that he hadn’t touched it. By this time they had migrated to the curb to catch the sun’s rays. I thought of bringing it over to him but figured what the fuck, and went back hovel.
About a half hour later he called up to me, asked for a drink. “I already gave you a drink,” I replied through my window. “Bring me another one, then.” I decided instead, to simply return downstairs, pick up the untouched cup of ginger ale and hand it to him. So when I opened the gate and stepped out, I addressed him: “You still have a whole cup of soda sitting there by the ATMs, I’ll get it for you.” To which he replied: “That’s not soda, that’s my piss!” Upon which I returned upstairs to pour him a fresh drink.
They departed around 11 AM and didn’t return until shortly after 7 this evening. So far, so good, but things went awry pretty fast. He said all his things were stolen earlier today, so there went the second curtain and the old jacket I gave them last night. (I don’t really think people steal his possessions, but he simply dumps them.) Filipino Kai showed up when I came back downstairs an hour later with more water for the hounds, and their dinner.
They were sharing a blunt; the scent was strong and clouds of smoke swirled about our half of the ATM nook. (Ah, the sting of cheap tobacco mingled with the cloying fetor of damp shake in my nostrils makes me sick every time I smell it…which isn’t often, thank deity!) Kai was seated on the rounded edge of a concrete abutment that supported a cylindrical steel beam, barely a foot away from where Deek sat directly on the sidewalk. I was surprised Kai didn’t greet me, but just continued shooting the bull with Deek as if I weren’t there. I sat myself onto the concrete and pet the poor doggies who had not a comfy spot to rest upon, even though their master could’ve easily done something to rectify that. This was in the corner of the nook where drunks stop to pee! Flaco climbed onto my lap while I scritched Lucky’s neck as he leaned warmly against my thigh.
A few minutes later Kai departed, and Deek said to me: “You can go now, I don’t need ya!”
“Oh, right,” I replied in a calm tone, “Talk shitty to me, but talk nice with all your other friends. You need to stop that, Deek.”
“I’m not your bitch, Zeke,” he retorted.
“Oh, so being friendly to a friend means you’re someone’s bitch?” I queried. “You’re friendly to Kai, so does that mean you’re his bitch?”
He didn’t reply, but just looked up in the sky in various directions. I remained with the pooches for another minute or two, then got up.
“Do you have a spare jacket?” Deek asked. “Everything was stolen, I don’t even have a jacket to stay warm.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I have an old plaid jacket, but I offered it to you some weeks ago, and you turned it down because it’s not your style.”
“Well, I’ll wear it this time, until I find a better one,” he responded matter-of-fact. “Just bring it down.”
When I returned with the jacket there was Kai again, standing beside his bike and talking to Deek.
“Here,” I interrupted and held the jacket out so Deek could take it. He did, but a few seconds later went into panic mode:
“GET IT AWAY FROM ME, IT HAS BUGS!”
So I took it back, examined it and said, “No it doesn’t, those are just old stains, see?” I showed him a few spots in the hoodie lining that were dark gray and could be mistaken for bugs.
“NO, I DON’T WANT IT, GET IT OUT OF MY FACE!”
“Well, why not give it to the dogs to sit on, instead of the filthy urine soaked concrete?” I suggested while pointing at the corner of the ATM alcove where the doggies sat.
“NO, THE DOGS WILL GET COVERED WITH BUGS, TAKE IT OUTTA HERE!”
Kai then grinned, shrugged his shoulders and addressed me: “I guess he just doesn’t want it!”
“No,” I answered back, “he’s just playing the drama queen because you’re here. Or maybe he just sees bugs EVERYwhere.”
Kai didn’t reply to that, so I added: “It’s okay, I’m used to Deek talking shit to me half the time. He claims I treat him like a child, but he’s the one ACTing like a child!”
I then returned upstairs and tossed the jacket back onto the bad. I use it folded up for a pillow, to raise my head while watching a movie at night. It really bothered me that I’m up here charging his devices again, while he once more erupted in rudeness. The image of his yanking on Flaco’s neck a few nights ago also floated up in my mind. So I decided right then and there:
“Nope! Fuck him, I’m gonna bring his electronics back downstairs.”
As I stepped back out and approached him, he exclaimed with furrowed brow: “Why are you bringing them back so soon?” (As if he didn’t know!)
So I calmly explained if he can’t be friendly and keeps treating me like shit before all his friends, then HE doesn’t get his devices charged.
“You threw water in my face, you tried to get some of your friends to gang up on me, Deek,” I elaborated. “You’re a FOOL, it’s just gonna backfire on you. Your friends are disgusted with you, including Kai!”
I also accused him of faking his hand injury, that he started a fight and got his hand stomped on…no car ran over it. And his broken leg story (that he’s been bringing up again) is a lie.
“What are you TALKING about?” countered Mr. Innocent. “I don’t start fights with NO ONE, I’m a peaceful dude, I keep to myself.” Then he changed the subject:
“Oh, ha ha, I just cooled you down. You’re upset ’cause I read your beads.”
“No, that’s not it at all, Deek,” I patiently retorted. “Easiest thing in the world to be nice to me, just as I am to you, and as you are to all your other friends. If you can’t be friendly to me for all the good things I do, that’s you’re problem, not mine. So I’m not gonna charge your electronics anymore, unless you change your ways.”
I also told him he’s forcing his dogs to sit on hard concrete that also stinks of urine.
“Whatta you talkin’ about?” he snarked back. “They cleaned that up yesterday!”
“No excuse, Deek,” I replied. “You can easily give them something clean and comfy to sit on, instead of the hard sidewalk. I could even bring that jacket back downstairs for them. Or another curtain, I have one left.”
He turned it down with another stupid “bugs” rant, so I just sighed and said: “Look, before you go, would you like a fresh supply of dog food?”
He said yes that would be fine, and so I went back upstairs to put it together in a plastic grocery bag, and brought it back down. Funny thing is, Wattson, he didn’t act upset through the entire confrontation, this time around. Didn’t even start screaming, even though I said go ahead, scream all you want but it won’t get you anywhere. I might even come back down here and scream WITH you!
And that was that, Wattson, I’m all caught up with my latest Deek updates! Don’t know where he is now, since he left shortly after my multi-reprimand. But I just can NOT abide his mistreatment of either dog…even more than his insults towards yours truly. And what’s up with Filipino Kai, siding with Deek over the jacket? What’s he afraid of? He could’ve gotten on his case, the peer pressure would’ve been a great help!
Curious how Filipino Kai has been showing up so frequently these days, when I’m with Deek…don’t you think so, Wattson? But I just chalk it up as part of their bodhisattva script…after all, they’re my guardians! Deek’s outrageous, ranting insults and threats before friends and acquaintances seem quite contrived to me! Though something ELSE may be going on that I haven’t figured out yet. Does he control the local meth ring, now, so none of his “clients” will oppose him no matter what? Is Kai in his grip too, though he’s told me more than once he never touches the stuff, just marijuana. Has this, perhaps, changed?
– Zeke K-Holmes
Re: Three nights ago: Deek returned, everything was fine at first…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 23, 2022 at 9:34 PM
> So exhausting and outrageous.
Very much so…but my inner strength is far greater than Deek’s idiocy. Dealing with him, along with this eviction fiasco AND persistent bedbugs is beyond absurd. It’s a long haul, an uphill struggle that seems like it will never end. But it will, and I shall win hands down, on all counts.
> And you know, now that you mention it, his behavior does seem a little “methy.” I’ve seen people behave like that on coke, which is not so different in its effect.
I’ve met plenty of assholes who DON’T take drugs who are just as nasty, sometimes worse. So it’s hard to tell, especially when some meth heads ARE surprisingly stable. Deek needs to mellow out, regardless. He also called me a faggot for the second time in a week; he thinks it’s cool to be a smartass. But I’ve warned him more than once his rotten behavior is gonna explode in his face.
> So sad, Flaco running to the front gate. Just about unbearable.
Another sad moment (among MANY) was that time Deek let me walk the dogs for a few blocks (about four months ago). As I escorted them up Noe Street, Flaco leapt on a concrete stool, looking at me with hopeful eyes for a treat, which was our routine when they stayed with me. Broke my heart, as I had nothing to offer, so I hugged her warmly, said I’m sorry. She’s such a sweet dog, she didn’t whine or show disappointment, but just jumped back down to continue our stroll.
> You’re very strong to withstand this sort of heart-grief.
Thank you. Because I follow my Bodhisattva Premise to never get caught up in worry, sadness, fear or doubt…all metaphorical devils attempting to tear me down and ruin my day, my life. But I know too well that forbearance is always the winning formula. And being of good cheer to others, no matter what, boosts one’s sense of self-pride immensely.
> I don’t think I could.
Yes you could. Your compassion is equal to mine, if not greater. I am MOST curious how Filipino Jay will address me (or not) next time our paths cross. I will remain friendly. As for the next time I see Deek:
I am so bereaved over his continuing to yank the pups’ necks I can NOT bring myself to charge his electronics ever again…or do other little favors such as getting him a drink, a razor, lighter, etc. IOW;
The buck stops here. Hopefully, that will force his hand to turn in a better direction.
– Zeke K-Holmes
ZekeBlog 2.0 