The FINAL Final Final Chapter (part 15)

[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 3: Chapter 19o]

Subject: Scampy Packs Up Her Bedding [22 sec. video]
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 3, 2022 at 10:01 AM

After a full night camping out at the ATM depot below my window, with Deek and one or two others, she packs up to leave in the morning. All the bedding and bags are loaded onto a discarded, swivel office chair.

New developments w/Deek, too busy to write it all out at the moment, watching the pups outside. Will get around to a full update soon.

Click here for a larger view.
Click here for a larger view.

Subject: 2 quick pics
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 3, 2022 at 10:23 AM

Preparing two buttered English muffins, then stepping back out again to be with the doggies while I break fast. Gotta go!

Click here for a larger view.

Subject: Deek Finally Returns
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 3, 2022 at 6:10 PM

5:10 PM…meaning I was on the streets with the pups for seven fukkin hours! I was able to fix my breakfast (and later, lunch) and take it outside, walk the hounds twice, lie down and listen to Marshall McGee’s latest “Memo of the Weird” podcast on my tablet. Who BTW narrated my “I CAN’T KEEP UP WITH HIS CRAP!” post last Friday, that I accidentally sent off to the MCN lists. THAT is certainly an unexpected repercussion…I’ll never live it down, now!

Two very unique people stopped by at different times…one I know but haven’t seen for three years (Vince), the other (Sean) I don’t, but he imparted a lot of Bodhisattva wisdom with me outta the blue, much to my surprise and delight. Including my suspicion there are many shamans in the guise of vagrants.

Even Deek’s ex-girlfriend Scampy showed up for about an hour, and lay down by the mutts for a nap. She was still there when Deek returned, and he started hollering at her: “WAKE UP! WAKE UP!” She finally did, to which he noted: “Good! You’re alive!”

And that is when I realized he did a wellness check on her, common among homeless addicts.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: The tent arrived!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 3, 2022 at 6:32 PM

I cracked up when I saw the slogan on one end of the elongated box…in light of its purpose for my particular mission. In MY context, it’s like declaring: “Go homeless & enjoy life.”

Subject: Tent too big to set up in my room!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 3, 2022 at 10:46 PM

The cot on one side, and the storage bins on the other, make the floor space too narrow. So I’ll just practice setting it up and breaking it down outside. Easy peasy. EXCELLENT material, so durable and strong for something so thin! Anyway, time for another Deek Update:

He woke me early this morning and asked me to watch dogs while he gets other stuff done. Wow! I had to skip breakfast sitting outdoors, but it was worth it, anything for the pooches…and their master return three hours later. Set up a few large sheets of cardboard, threw those four doggy blankets I purchased down, fed and watered my brindlekin…and I even went around the corner for my Rosenberg’s morning brew.

But he first left the mutts leashed to his cart out front, near the bus stop…and about a half hour later Micah appeared out of nowhere, behind my back, and started pawing through Deek’s cart. He was muttering did he steal my boots, did he give you a new phone ’cause I think he stole mine, I can’t get anywhere out here on the streets if people keep taking my things, I’ve taught some of ’em a lesson before with a rebar, etc.

I didn’t say a word other than no, he didn’t give me a new phone and no, I don’t see a pair of boots in there…and kept the doggies close to me, wishing he’d disappear. After a few more minutes he finally walked away and only took from the cart what looked to be a can of WD-40. I decided then to move pups and cart around the corner, because too many crazies come by on this side of Market Street, attracted by the ATM alcove and the Hohokum smoke and paraphernalia shop. But Deek’s idea, albeit stupid, was I could watch Flaco & Lucky from my window while setting up his new smartphone (yes, he DID give me a new one, but that’s no one’s business. let alone Micah’s. He could be making this up, and claim ANY new phone Deek has to be his)

When I told Deek about it, he was of course furious. “Now I gotta beat him up!” I said no you don’t, there’s never an excuse for violence and hatred. Well, Wattson, he doesn’t care to see how similar he is to Micah when he gets in a mood! They both act like bullies, like they’re such tough, mean dudes.

Anyway, he asked me for a hundred dollars to get a really good speaker, but I reminded him it’s the end of the month and he’ll just have to wait till tomorrow. Besides, I said no way I’m gonna give you that much, you’ll get fifty as usual. And that if he needs more money he can always sell product, which would be either bud or glass.

He slept all night in the ATM nook, in the company of Scampy and one or two others…but they all departed some time after midnight, leaving Deek and furry charges to their rest. Cacophony broke out two hours later, thanks to some crazy A-hole who showed up, screaming and tossing bottles and cans into the street. That went on interminably long, at least a half hour. There was also a straight vagrant couple arguing out front at the same time. Needless to say, all this disturbance aroused the brindlekin, and they barked like wild. But they all finally dispersed, including Deek, who was already packing things up shortly after the A-hole wrecked the peace.

I decided to give him the full one hundred, since he promised he wouldn’t ask for anything for another week. So when he showed up this morning, before I marched on over to Chase, he requested I give it to him in all fives. Why, I asked, if you’re gonna spend most of it on a speaker? Hmm, I mused aloud, sounds like you have OTHER plans for that money. Never mind, he replied, it just looks better if you’re seen with a fat wad in your hand.

He also had a bit of a hissy fit about how always having the dogs around blocks him from getting other things done, so he might leave ’em with me all day. Realizing how rotten it is that they can’t reside with me any more, I figure I owe it to him to make the sacrifice and adapt to this new situation…for it IS awful to be so constricted.

I went ahead and withdrew twenty fivers, and he was delighted when I handed him the envelope. He had set the mutts and cart up behind my building, realizing now the good sense it makes to not park everything in front. I met that fascinating fellow, Sean, who essentially affirmed some of my Bodhisattva theories, as if he were a guardian himself to cheer me on. I gave him my card before he departed.

Vince, OTOH, has had it rough, been in prison for a total of five years (not consecutively, though). But he was SO grateful to spend some friendly time with me this afternoon. He has a LOT of respect for me, and I’ve never felt him to be a threat…he’s just has an edgy nature that disturbs my restful state of mind. However, I realized it was a good time to touch bases again, and I told him I’ll be out here quite often, and we can do this again soon.

Deek returned around 5 PM, with his new speaker, fairly large but not unwieldy. He was pleased to hear I was able to fix myself a quick meal and step back out with it, and that I took them for a walk not once but TWICE. Showed him a red cord that I will tie to the nearby post, to indicate I’m taking the dogs for a stroll. That way he need not panic, or start screaming up to my window. Until this morning, he was strict with my leaving the pups out there for more than a minute or two…but now he says I can take longer, so I can fix myself a meal. And he’d prefer I walk them and not worry about watching his cart, there’s never anything valuable in it.

He’s been crashed out back there since six o’clock, dead to the world. I brought the hounds their evening meal a little later, and took that snapshot of him sleeping, that I’ve already sent you. He had wrapped himself in a warm, colorful comforter, and did not forget to keep the canines covered as well. It’s now almost 10 PM, and a few minutes ago I heard the dogs barking. I figured he’s gotten up and packing to leave, so I stepped out to tell him both phones are at a hundred percent, and his Bluetooth speaker light is now green.

But as it turned out, Deek was still sound asleep while the doggies barked away, probably at some rowdiness from passersby crossing the street…or maybe that vagrant wrapped up in a blanket against the building’s wall about twenty feet away, stirred in his sleep, and the dogs went on alert. I heard him say when I peered out the hallway window to see what’s up, hey! hey! c’mon, I’m tryin’ to get some rest here!

So I donned jacket and shoes to step back outside and comfort the canines. They quieted down posthaste, and all it took was to caress them a bit; they lied down again and went back to sleep. The REAL trick is to cover their heads as well, for once out of sight, out of mind.

Anyway, that’s where I stand now, regarding my new adventure being a quasi-street person myself. Hope you have an elegant and peaceful evening, good physician! Perhaps Marshall’s latest reading of one of my tales will help lull you to sleep, it’s just under 5 minutes.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Click here for a larger view.

Subject: Deek just makes things more and more difficult!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 4, 2022 at 3:39 PM

This morning he claimed it’s too dirty and dusty behind the building, so guess what, Wattson…no doubt he wants to force me to stay with the dogs right out front! But before he said that, he showed me some dog vomit he says is Lucky’s, and it has red coloration.

“Doesn’t look like blood to me,” I observed. “More like dye or food coloring from something he snatched up off the sidewalk.”

He also claims they have worms, and I need to schedule another vet appointment. Which is actually impossible, because you need to prove you’re homeless with a signed notice from a social worker, after the first time you bring your pet(s) there. Attached is an actual copy of the form required. As for worms:

He doesn’t know the diff between heart worms and tapeworms, claims they have the former ’cause they keep scooting their butts. I tried to explain to him heart worms don’t make ’em do that, and they’re not a problem here in the city because no mosquitoes. And tapeworms are easy to treat, but the pups don’t have ’em as there’s no evidence in their poop. He said he took a semester of veterinarian classes, and I don[t know anything about raising dogs. What a SCHMUCK!

He said look at the dogs, they have no energy and their noses are dry and hot. No energy? They just got up and it’s damp with a gray sky. Besides which, I checked their noses and told them they’re cool and wet. IOW nothing’s wrong with the hounds, but everything is with their master.

Then he complained about the cushy blankets and coats he slept in last night, that they’re full of bugs and made him itchy. I said nonsense, I sat and laid down on them, too…they’re reasonably clean and I found NO bugs on ’em. Jeez!

He also griped that Lucky was barking all night, kept him awake, to which I replied that’s not true, they only barked for a few minutes until I stepped out to comfort them. They were quiet and slept soundly otherwise.

“Well, Lucky was barking at me to let him off the leash so he could go and puke his brains out over there!”

Also a lie, because the rare times he pukes, he just does it without a single bark, yelp or howl whatsoever. But he DOES need to lay down cardboard if nothing else, so they won’t have to rest on the concrete, because there’s plenty of GLASS pieces so small you can’t see them, all over the city. A dog could pick up such a piece with some food scrap, that COULD cause them to bleed inside and show up in their puke. It could even KILL the poor doggy.

Anyway, at least he didn’t fly into a rage…but that was probably due to the presence of OTHER houseless folks this morning, including Filipino Kai, Scampy and Boulevard Joe. Before Deek left, I told him I left a voicemail with VetSOS, as well as sent them an email…but I don’t think they’ll set up an appointment until he provides PROOF he’s living on the streets. And you CAN’T do that will seeing a social worker.

Once he was gone from there, I asked Blvd. Joe if there were any way around getting a social worker’s verification for a houseless person to take their dog to a vet. He said no, there isn’t, that MOST vagrants never see a social worker anyway. But the ASPCA will take care of your dog in an emergency, though with stipulations, such as: if it appears to be dying they won’t try to revive it, and if it needs surgery you’re fuck outta luck.

“So they just take their chances with their dog for the most part, no checkups or preventative treatments?” I queried.

“Yep,” he replied, “That’s the way it is on the streets.”

And I guess that goes for rabies and other shots as well, though I forgot to ask him about that. They CAN go to the VetSOS clinic ONCE, and one time only, for those vaccines, but after that, no dice without a social worker’s verification. VERY tragic, IMO.

I sincerely doubt Deek will ever get around to hooking up with a social worker, due to his dubious history out of Louisiana, including child support and deity only knows WHAT else! Blvd. Joe says if he DOES see a social worker, all that past will catch up with him. So there ya have it, good doctor: damned if ya don’t (’cause the doggies do without health care), and DOUBLE damned if you do (’cause you could go to jail and/or be penalized in some other ways)! Be that as it may:

The mutts are their usual, loving and playful selves now that the sun is out and the chill has dissipated. I fed them breakfast and they ate well. I don’t think either one is ill or infected in any way possible. Count our blessings! As for what is to be done about where I’ll sit the dogs outside:

Hopefully, still around the corner, assuming Deek gets off the bullshit train. Otherwise, I fear he’ll make the outdoor arrangement far more difficult for both yours truly and the brindlekin.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Also, Flaco’s sweater is gone, though Lucky still is wearing his! I asked him a couple of times where it is, I’ll put it back on. He mumbled something incoherent and did NOT comply. I was SO tempted to start pawing through his cart, but didn’t ’cause he’d just start screaming at me. That little darlin’ dog has to suffer the chills because of his apparent sadism. And then he has the nerve to fake their being sick and dump it all on me. What’s his end game, Wattson…destruction and misery?

Price of dog food keeps going up, and Amazon seems to have run out of the larger economy bags and cartons for the moment at least. The Rachel brand of dry dog food, which I like and is reasonably priced, appears only to have unreliable sellers anymore! In fact, there is only one distributor now, charging $45 for a 14 pound bag that normally costs $18. These past few months ordering dog food (both kibble and canned) has become a problem trying to keep the price down, or ordering a particular brand you prefer. I actually have THREE different brands I favor, but ALL of them are out of stock for the economy sizes…or have one or two dubious sellers who’ve marked up the price dramatically.

But let us not forget the advice of my Bodhisattva Premise: don’t worry, be happy. So I’ll drop my angst over Deek’s latest shitty behavior and trust the Divine Googly Face, that all shall come out “okely dokely” in the wash.

Click here to watch the video.

Subject: Kevin from Across the Street [14 sec. video]
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 4, 2022 at 5:23 PM

He’s on the way out, in more ways than one…his ambulatory days may soon be over. But then who will step in to replace him? I just happened to peer out the window as I grabbed a slice of toasted raisin bread from my little oven …and figured to grab my camera and shoot.

Subject: Did you see what George Dennis Posted?
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 4, 2022 at 5:51 PM

I never expected THIS from Mr. Dennis!

–begin forwarded email:

On Tue, 4 Oct 2022 11:19:27 -0700 George Dennis wrote:

> Spike Dequeers and the homo qweers have gotten somethin over on me
Litttle Spikey Queer and his Homo Squires Took over the list

Gee, Mr. Dennis, that's a fucked up thing to say about myself and
Alvin, just because we're gay! What the hell is wrong with you, dude? I gave you TONS of support regarding Mr. Dewar's horrific threats towards you. But after you just threw two decent gay people under the bus, you lost any further support.

- Zeke Krahlin


Re: Did you see what George Dennis Posted?
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 4, 2022 at 6:25 PM

> I missed this one. He’s pretty crazy. I like your answer to him a lot.

Hoisted by his own petard, what a fool. I don’t feel sorry for him, as homophobia cancels out any kind regard I may have had.

Re: Did you see what George Dennis Posted?
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 4, 2022 at 7:36 PM

> Agreed. Or even just exploiting homophobia.

Right. Because George’s playing it the way he did nonetheless legitimizes shamefulness for being “queer.” He may think holding up a mirror is a good tactic, but it’s still homophobia. Did I grasp your point correctly?

Re: Did you see what George Dennis Posted?
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 4, 2022 at 9:55 PM

> I think he’s the worst kind of hypocrite–he probably isn’t truly homophobic, but is willing to use homophobic slurs in order to seem “edgy” and “cool.” Never mind that he harms actual people in the process.

So he’s stupid. I was coming to that conclusion already, with his strange posts of recent vintage. Let’s see how he responds to my retort, if he does at all. At any rate, he’s placed himself in the same corner as Mr. Sewers. Ms. Merang is a piece of work as well!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Just as I thought, Vet SOS won’t see him…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 5, 2022 at 10:05 AM

..without a signed paper from a social worker. Here is their email back to me, in my message requesting to set up an appointment:

“I’ve saved Zach an appointment for our November 14th clinic at 11:45am. The clinic will be at the SF SPCA parking lot [24 Florida ST.] again. We are supposed to have an eligibility letter completed by a case manager or services provider attesting to a client’s housing status before their second visit. Would you be willing to pass along the attached form to Deek and tell him that he should have a case manger or services provider complete the form for him?”

So his ONLY option is the ASPCA’s emergency clinic, which is open 24 hours. Be that as it may, I have a NEW concern, regarding his tossing kibble right onto the sidewalk, instead of placing it on a sheet of cardboard or newspaper when he doesn’t have a bowl:

Glass fragments…they’re all over the city, some so tiny you can’t see them, even if you clear the sidewalk of debirs as best you can. Deek had tossed some kibble on the ground at our spot behind my building, where there WERE glass shards nearby which he FAILED to sweep away first. I did that a day or two later when I sat the dogs. Nonetheless he should NEVER force them to eat right off the sidewalk, as they could easily pick up a glass bit in their food. Heck, not just glass, but a sliver of chicken bone, hard plastic or metal.

Also a very good reason not to force them to lie down directly on the concrete, as a tiny sliver of glass or whatever could get in their fur; they’ll lick it off while cleaning themselves, and they could wind up swallowing it.

Of course he’ll probably scream me down as I try to explain this to him, because he wants to blame everything on me, and he knows all about raising dogs, don’t tell HIM about raising dogs. But one way or another I’ll make sure he listens. Deek is the King of Needless Misery and Crises.

– Zeke K-Holmes

From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 5, 2022 at 10:05 AM

Deek dropped the dogs off around 1:30 PM, and we camped out by the bus stop for a few hours, then when a chill wind kicked up, I moved our little family to the ATM depot for better shelter. Their master didn’t return until 7:45 PM, but apologized for being so late.

He was a bit pissy when he dropped the dogs off, yelled even when he saw me walk them around the corner…so that’s why the bus stop today. Which was okay, as the weather was great, and had I not been at that location I would have never met this incredible woman, Frigga Raisa Kady.

She ordered a meal at Super Duper and sat outside, smiled at me and admired the pups…and the conversation took off from there. The back and front sides of her business card are attached to this email. She no longer works as a tattoo artist, but she IS quite the artist. Told me she just got an award for her graphic novel, so I searched her name and, sure enough, here ’tis.

The Institute for Anarchist Studies, of all things…now THAT’S my kinda gal! She’s an activist of many causes, including Gay Shame. In a little while, Frigga joined me on the sidewalk and sat beside Lucky, and very much enjoyed hearing about my activism as an advocate for homeless LGBTs. Told her about my street friend, Deek, who owns these hounds, and I dog sit for him so he can run his errands without having to pay constant attention to them. I even told her a bit about Randolph Taylor.

Towards the end of our badinage, she said: “How’d ya like to be on Instagram?”

“Fine with me, I said, take all the pictures you want!”

So she snapped away, including a selfie of us. THE FIRST SELFIE I’VE EVER BEEN PART OF! She now has my own card, “Brindlekin Tales,” so can check out my writing and activist adventures.

“You should be famous by now!” she exclaimed.

“I agree,” I replied, “but everything in its own good time.”

“Well, I’m here for you now, so get ready for the boost! You’re a very good man, Zeke, you deserve it.”

I cracked up: “Gee, everything’s going so fast in my world all of a sudden like!”

The woman’s amazing: outgoing, cheerful, wisecracking and robust. She’s a large lady, though not obese. You would LOVE her, Wattson. I even brought YOU up, as my greatest confidant and supporter of my writings, and in more than half the chapters of “Free Me From This Bond.”

Gee, can you imagine my writing finally taking off, as a gift to the queer community, and Frigga my illustrator? Now get this:

In the middle of our delightful conversation while she still sat at the table, Boulevard Joe came walking by AND THEY KNOW EACH OTHER! Very well, it seems. But he didn’t stay to join us, so I know little at this point about their relationship. But I surely will bring her up next time I see Joe.

I just emailed Frigga to make our contact firm, and included my phone number. Meanwhile, shortly before Deek returned, I decided to get a cheap bean and cheese burrito two doors down, because I didn’t wanna spend too long upstairs ’cause the dogs would be left alone for too many minutes. It was only $5.95 and I brought a cup of my own soda from my fridge. Only cost ME ninety-five cents, since some very young fellow around 11 years old stopped by this afternoon where I was seated with the pups, and handed me two dollars. And two days before, some sweet little old Asian lady gave me three dollars to help me out.

Deek was very pleasant upon his return, and I am now upstairs while he’s resting below, waiting for his newest smartphone to reach a hundred percent, which is just about now, I think. But if I find him sleeping when I tell him the phone’s ready, I’ll just leave it in my room…along with two speakers and a battery back. Just so they won’t get stolend, ’cause he snoozes like nobody’s business…a bomb could drop and it wouldn’t even make him stir.

– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: Oh, yeah, and a young fellow who works at Super Duper stepped out a little while after Frigga departed, and offered me a generous serving of French fries and asked if I would like some ketchup with that. I said sure, thanks!


Frigga does a ton of activism in the Tenderloin, and invited me to attend some events with her. I told her I’d LOVE to go, but I have a major obligation to remain at home base, for the sake of Deek and his doggies. I found her website, it’s all about her tattoo art…but it’s temporarily offline. Yet an image search got me her photo from that site, see pic. I’m guessing the snapshot was taken 15-20 years ago, as she has a more filled out face and has dyed her hair blond. But you can see the Native American in her! And according to that anarchist page, she was then living on Ohlone land in Oakland. And she’s bipolar, like myself, Deek, and I guess you, eh, Wattson? The mark of the true artist, I suppose.

She very much enjoyed my telling her about my being an anthropology major, focusing on Native American culture. “Do you have some Native American in you?” she queried. I said, “Nope,” then described my incredible advisor who was half Sioux and half German, Erhard Krause.

So the Great Spirit has come to me once more, this time through a most incredible Native American lady, definitely a shaman, a medicine woman!

– Zeke K-Holmes

From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 5, 2022 at 11:20 PM

> Fantastic report. Where can I see the selfies??

I have no idea. I imagine once she responds to my email, she’ll give me a link or send them to me, maybe via smartphone.

> I love it that people are giving you “donations!”

Isn’t that a hoot! I have to admit: trickster Deek knows what he’s doing!

> It was a day and a night and a morning of drama here: about a week ago, Erwin went and got a puppy at the Humane Society without actually consulting me. He’d talked about it recently, I said I didn’t think it was a good idea at the present time, for all sorts of reasons. But he went to Fort Bragg to do errands, and decided to go get a puppy and bring it home, knowing that would be half the battle. Turns out the puppy, 4 or 5 months old, though cute as he can be, is totally untrained, hyper energetic, needy, leaps and barks and flings himself against a door if you put him on the other side of it. Surely is being a good sport, but he gets a little grumpy with the pup from time to time, so there are occasional sharp yips that make me jump out of my skin. The cats took it pretty well, though Princess Butterball didn’t go out for a whole week, wanting to avoid the whirlwind of puppy exuberance. Lots of chaos.

> Welp, yesterday afternoon, Erwin took both dogs with him on an expedition to the woods behind the house. The K through 8 school is on the other side of those woods, with a big playground on the side nearest to us. I can hear kids on the playground in the morning, far enough away and muffled by the thick woods between us so that it’s not irritating or sleep-disrupting, but distant and pleasant, dream-like, happy kids shouting and playing and yelling. Sometime during that walk, Erwin turned around and the puppy was gone. Called and called, tramped around for hours, both of us, as darkness fell, feeling ever more hopeless and certain he’d been eaten by a mountain lion. I posted on the Announce list, on Nextdoor and on a FB Lost Pet page. Went out again close to midnight, called and called, sinking into real despair, and of course, guilt.

> Woke early (for me) this morning, checked my phone, found a text: “We have your puppy at the K-8 office!” I called, and the gal said a teacher had found the puppy running around on the playground (late, no kids present), took him home for the night, where the teacher’s 7-y.o. son fell in love with him, wanted to keep him, but somebody saw my Lost Dog post, so the teacher brought him back to the school, where Erwin picked him up this AM. They’d set him up with a pad, food, and water, people and kids loving on him like crazy. When we got him home, it was as if he’d gone to an overnight Total Immersion Doggy training camp: he was much calmer, slept most of the day, didn’t rush after the cats or leap on us too much. As he rested up, his wild puppy energy returned, and here we are.

That is quite a doggy tale, Wattson! As I was reading about the family that found the pup, I anticipated you and Erwin deciding to gift them with it. But things turned out well, nonetheless. I saw your post about a lost doggy, but I thought you were doing a friend a favor, had no idea it was YOURS. So what is the doggy’s name?

– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: When you said I’d have adventures while dog-sitting on the street, I didn’t expect them to be so grand! You hit bullseye on this one, Wattson!

From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 5, 2022 at 11:39 PM

> Wow!!! She’s fantastic! And yes, you can see the Aboriginal in her, clearly! When I was younger, people sometimes thought I had some of that, too. I didn’t, but I let them think it!

I wonder if she lived on Ohlone land as a homeless person, maybe set up a tipi. Yes, she’s fantastic…like an angel descending from the sky to be my friend.

> Alas, I’m not bipolar…

There’s still hope! I only included you just to be silly.

> I have a solid core of sanity and self-control, made of some sort of tungsten steel. It serves me well, but it’s also to my detriment, because people discover they can pile their troubles on me and I’m incapable of breaking. Pair that with my pathologically compassionate nature, and…well, you get the picture.

“Pathologically compassionate:” has a nice ring to it.

> What I do have is a dark, deep, far-flung imagination, a molten lava core of anxiety and a lot of existential dread. It serves me in my art and my thinking, and I’ve learned how not to let it out of its cage so that it turns on me.

Extraterrestrial dread: fear of waking up on another planet.

> BTW, my bro’s and my best friend in childhood had a bipolar mother. She was the real deal–two months up, two months down, a wild roller coaster ride. She was by far the most fun grownup when she was in her “up” cycle. We kids were crazy about her. You may remember her from DEATH IN SLOW MOTION, pseudonamed “Katrina.”

A prophecy of the hurricane, perhaps. Her down cycles must’ve been horrendous. Well, tomorrow’s another day, another adventure! I could tell by Deek’s broad grin how pleased he was over my devotion to the pups. I sat by them the entire day, those two, happy little elves! And I gave him no grief over being gone so long. Instead, I told him that’s fine, I had a nice time.

When I delivered his charged devices, I thought he might have fallen asleep, so I first brought him just two of the three phones, rather than lug everything down. Easier to carry two phones back upstairs. To my surprise, he was wide awak, chatting away with two other vagrants, one of whom I know already, and who’s name is also Deek. He said hi and handed me this bottle of Gatorade that had no sugar in it, but concentrated watermelon juice. I’m sure I’ll enjoy ice cold in the morning!

I told Deek a bit about meeting Frigga, and how she and Hollywood are friends. And that, had I camped out behind the building, we’d’ve never met! He wished me a very good night, and thanked me for doing such a good job keeping the mutts safe. I told him I have a lot of writing to catch up on before hitting the sack…but I’m not complaining because the hounds come first.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: I keep forgetting Deek is Native American in part, himself…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 6, 2022 at 12:19 PM

…and it shows, in his hairless face and body. Images swept through my mind this morning, soon as I arose from my cot: about Deek being “Indian” himself, and how a vital connection and elevation of his material status will ensue, thanks to Frigga’s intervention. Not through any direct gifting on her part, but from the benevolent machinations of the Great Spirit sparked by our remarkable first meetup. Among these visions was Deek smiling at me, that he’s been guiding me along, and the latest was him forcing me to sit the dogs by the bus stop, that I hook up with Frigga.

Stupid old white fool that I am, I was under the mistaken notion that a Native American shows up in my world every seven years or so, to affirm my mission and commend me…which is how things seemed to be, because that is what’s been going on for decades. But this morning’s string of visions knocked sense into me, which is:

I’ve had one such indigenous person by my side for more than twelve years! And all his difficult maneuvers were either challenges to stand strong and not cave in (so I could move forward), or just his brotherly way of joking. For example, he KNOWS it would be a bad direction to have him enter my building anymore, but he berates me now and then over this, just to test my will…or simply to enjoy witnessing my noble choice NOT to have him visit, for the sake of a greater cause. Which includes preserving our friendship for the sake of the doggies at least.

But on a grander arc, these visions that came rushing to me immediately upon awakening, were an assurance and a celebration that a BIG breakthrough is coming down my pike, and very soon.

Among the many topics we discussed, I told Frigga how I’ve concluded there are many shamans on the street, and Deek is one of them.

“What KIND of shaman is he…a trickster?” she queried.

“Oh yes, definitely,” I replied.

“So he dumps a lotta shit on you!” was her comeback, and not without a hearty chuckle.

“Yep, that’s the way of a trickster,” I agreed with a shrug. “And he KNOWS how much I love these dogs, so I put up with a TON of shit than I would otherwise, for their sake.”

I understand she ALSO has a dog, Wattson, but she didn’t get into what breed, it’s name, etc. At any rate, she’s really big into DC and Marvel comic books, which I’m not, so when she asked me which superhero I think she resembles, I told her I have no idea. I’m not sure I remember correctly, but I THINK she said “Magneto,” which I later looked up in Wikipedia:

“The character is a powerful mutant, one of a fictional subspecies of humanity born with superhuman abilities, who has the ability to generate and control magnetic fields. Magneto regards mutants as evolutionarily superior to humans and rejects the possibility of peaceful human-mutant coexistence; he initially aimed to conquer the world to enable mutants, whom he refers to as homo superior, to replace humans as the dominant species. Writers have since fleshed out his origins and motivations, revealing him to be a Holocaust survivor whose extreme methods and cynical philosophy derive from his determination to protect mutants from suffering a similar fate at the hands of a world that fears and persecutes mutants.”

Frigga is also into astrology and tarot cards, so of course she asked what sun sign I am. “Cancer,” I said, and she made some favorable remark about that, but to which I paid no mind. She then asked me which tarot card I think she resembles. I told her I have no idea, but guessed “The Fool?”

“No, but that works, too,” she replied, then went off on the particular card that best represents her, though again I didn’t pay much attention, and have now forgotten. Not that I was being rude, but sitting there alongside a busy street, the din of traffic blurred her words at times, and I got tired of tilting my head/cupping my ear and asking, “What? Could you say that again?”

When I told Deek about my meeting this incredible person, Frigga, he interjected:

“Did you tell her those dogs aren’t yours, but belong to a good friend who is homeless? Or did you suck up all the credit for yourself?”

“Of COURSE I told her about you,” I quickly shot back, “and that I dog sit so you can run your errands without delay. In fact I spoke VERY WELL of you!”

He then retorted: “Does she wanna get fucked?”

Jebus Cripe, Wattson, I get so tired of his macho game, but it WAS funny. “No I don’t think so, Deek. She’s lesbian.”

Upon reflection, I think my reply was needlessly somber, and I thus regret not snapping back with a witty repartee such as:

“How would I know, Deek? I’ll ask her next time we conversate.”

Everything clicked into place as a result of these merciful visions: that Deek’s Native American spirit explains EVERYthing about his nature: mercurial and often over the top, and his trickster psyche. Thank the Great Spirit he’s not alcoholic to boot! Meth is actually a superior addiction by comparison.

You should also know that before I got beyond writing the first sentence of this missive, I stepped outside to purchase my morning brew…at Rosenberg’s of course. There is a NEW cashier these days: a young gentleman from Punjab! He’s quite amicable, though not particularly garrulous as Sa’daa was. And I say “was,” because apparently she is no longer working there, as I haven’t seen her for almost three weeks. I miss our delightful chats immensely. Be that as it may:

I sat down upon the steps of a corner shop to take some sips of java before continuing on hovel, as I always do, just to start the day right. Not that I wouldn’t appreciate a more pastoral view instead of this urban scene of a starbust intersection with vehicles rattling by and all-too-frequent jackhammers pounding my eardrums…but it is what it is. It was actually pretty quiet this morning. Wouldn’t you know it, good physician:

I espied Boulevard Joe at the far corner, preparing to cross the intersection on a bicycle. So I called loudly to him and waved: he heard me and veered in my direction. Once he arrived, I asked:

“What do you think of Frigga, I was really impressed with our first conversation!”

To my disappointment, his answer was a jejune “She’s okay.”

“You mean she’s kinda nutty?” I retorted.

“Yeah,” was his brief reply.

“Well, she must’ve been going through a stupendous MANIC cycle when we met yesterday!” I humorously concluded. “I very much enjoyed our tête-à-tête!”

I went on to describe our talk with relish, speculating that this may be the connection I’ve been hoping for, that will boost my own efforts to aid the homeless in spectacular ways, starting with Deek…then spreading beyond him, to benefit MANY.

“As you know, whatever boons come to me will also benefit the homeless, because of my dedication TO that cause,” I exclaimed with pride.

Joe nodded his head in agreement, though I sensed he had somewhere to be. I’m not surprised, as he’s a major influence among the local indigents and thus is burdened with responsibilities that go along with that role.

“She’s Native American, isn’t she?” I queried.

“Yes, I believe she is,” he answered.

“So is Deek, though I often forget that,” I elaborated, “There is something profound and hopeful about my meeting Frigga, which I believe will wind up benefiting Deek immensely. After all, he’s not gonna get a roof over his head or make any other improvement in his life in the usual manner, since he refuses to hook up with a social worker.”

“Yes, that’s right,” he acknowledged.

“So there’s gotta be some OTHER way to get the ball rolling,” I declared, “and I suspect the Great Spirit’s intervention will be his key to success, rather than the status quo. And I sense Frigga will play a part in this…maybe by interviewing Deek and posting pics and videos of him on Instagram and other social media. More people could reach out to him as a result.”

There was something else I needed to know from Blvd. Joe before he took off: “What is the name of that other Native American, that lady with the dog who’s Inuit?”

He looked at me in confusion. “Eskimo!” I stated.

“Oh! That’s Verity,” he replied.

“Thanks, I’d forgotten her name, but I hope this time it will stick. She’s been here now for how long, maybe a decade?”

“Yes, that sounds right,” he affirmed.

“Well, I know you’re running errands, so I don’t wanna keep you any longer. You’re a shaman, too, so I’m sure you grasp everything I’ve just said. Thanks so much for stopping by, Joe!”

And off he went. Now here’s an observation I now share with you, Wattson:

Don’t you find it curious that Boulevard Joe should make himself available to me, so soon after my meetup with Frigga, that I could ask about her? And that he made a point of strolling on by DURING my conversation with her yesterday?


– Zeke K-Holmes

From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: MCN announce, MCN discussion
Date: October 6, 2022 at 12:52 PM

On 2022-10-06 11:30, Lisa Harwood wrote:

> Glad you are contemplating (and perhaps seeking) publication of Brindlekin Tales. You are an engaging diaryist, Zeke. Your writings are a consistent Boswell-esque eye-view of a particular sector of San Francisco. There is a greater local audience out there for Brindlekin Tales. I hope someone helps you find it.

Thank you for such a kind compliment and your continued support, Lisa! I have had to hold back on releasing my latest chapters, because of a lawsuit. And, since you’re not allowed to discuss it while it’s going on, and since it has become intermingled with my Brindlekin Tales, my recent chapters are all on hold, though written out and backed up for later release. They total a grand 15 by now, and still growing!

But I have become tired of holding off on all the other scenarios composing my tales, so I’ve decided to start posting again, those scenes that do not include the lawsuit. Which I am well on the way of overturning and coming out of it with spectacular gains. I have a crackerjack attorney through SF Peninsula Lawyers Group, a young woman from the Netherlands, and is the Senior Attorney of that organization. All pro bono, of course. What a new and excellent adventure to add to my diary, eh? I’ve gotten to meet and associate with some brilliant lawyers dedicated to fighting for the downtrodden. Who may ALSO be impressed enough by my pro-homeless, activist tales, to assist me with publication. My GIFT to the LGBT community to support our cause, and I only want two percent of the royalties in exchange. These are very compassionate lawyers who’ve sacrificed the opportunity to make big bucks…they’re struggling, themselves, and deal with so many tragic cases each and every day. My case is a walk in the park on a lovely spring day, by comparison. “Mr. Krahlin,” said my attorney one day, “you’ve already won, it’s now just a matter of time, and the plaintiff finally letting go, especially since their OWN lawyer says what my accusers are doing is wrong, and a lost cause.”

I will soon begin posting a segment here, a segment there, from those chapters I’ve already created, but have held back on for so long. And Marshall has resumed reading my tales on his radio show, after some months’ delay. I believe because I’ve been posting a slew of messages each day, and it’s just too cumbersome for him to seek out my tales. So I’m drastically reducing my number of posts to no more than ten a day, to make it easy for him. Well worth the tradeoff, I’d say! I take whatever he reads of my work and upload it to my own WordPress blog…that is, I splice out just that part from each of his awesome podcasts, and add the growing collection into my blog’s KNYO section.

Have a superb day, Lisa…that’s an order!

– Zeke Krahlin

From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: MCN announce, MCN discussion
Date: October 6, 2022 at 12:55 PM

> We’re trying out “Pluto” on him. Let’s see if it sticks.

A lovely name. He’s orbiting your personal solar system!

Subject: Re: Speaking of Native American, Alvin…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: Alvin Hope
Date: October 6, 1:02 PM

On 2022-10-06 11:44, Alvin Hope wrote:

> Lovely! The Universe provides goodness and surprises for those who are ready and worthy!

Yes it does. And if, like most people, it is hard to believe that, it’s still the best path to take, by assuming so. And, in the long run, that goodness shall be affirmed in spades. We ALL have doubts, don’t we…at least when we’re young. But that is simply the Great Spirit’s way of testing our mettle.

> Thank you for sharing. Frigga is one of your people. It is SO helpful to meet our tribal members along the way. It reduces the terrible tearing loneliness of this world.

That’s not her real name, I always use pseudonyms in my tales. If you check out the link to her award page for her graphic novel, you’ll discover her chosen moniker.

Your friend, Zeke

Re: Did you see what George Dennis Posted?
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 6, 2022 at 2:24 PM

> Ha!!!!

Double ha. Capital punishment for any and all homophobes…they are purely violent by nature. This includes many leaders of religious organizations, declare them cults and shut ’em all down. IMNSHO (in my not so humble opinion).

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