The FINAL Final Final Chapter (part 25)

[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 3: Chapter 19y]

Re: Picked up his money and left!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: December 4, 2022 at 2:04 PM

> I don’t recognize that phone number. My landline is heavily infested with junk calls. The perps now have the ability to imitate a local number, to trick you into picking up, but they’re junk/SPAM/scam. Prolly that’s what you got.

I presume so, as my new phone number isn’t even included on the one phone lookup service that reveals the person’s name, age AND number (but you have to pay for any further data). They just showed my old number. I forgot which service that is, though.

> That Fentanyl business is VERY disturbing. Takes so little to kill a person, even less for a little dog! Fucking terrifying.

Yes, especially with someone like Deek who neglects the pups in many ways.

> The day Erwyn got stuck in the woods, and I didn’t hear him yell, I was indeed on the phone–with my covid-stricken pal. Have tried to get Erwyn to carry a phone, but he won’t.

Disappointing for one so intelligent and sensible.

> My friend with covid spent a few nights in motels, some of the nights paid for by health dept. voucher so he could quarantine for a requisite number of days. Last night, he had to pay cash for the room because the front desk told him the voucher had run out. He paid, knowing he’d have to check out the next day, today. A few hours later, in the middle of the night, somebody tried to climb in the window. Turns out the sliding lock mechanism had been diddled with. The intruder was a girl, who ran away immediately when she discovered the room was occupied. I suggested to Jimmy (my friend) that he try to get a refund. He did try, but was told that the manager was “in the Middle East” on vacation. So poor Jimmy left, made contact with another friend, went to the pharmacy for a covid test, is now negative, and will be sleeping on the other friend’s couch.

In the MIddle East, eh? I wonder if that was Ablahblah Realty…they own property up and down the Left Coast. I conjecture people attempting to break into residences for sanctuary will soon become epidemic.

> Trouble, trouble, trouble all around me, my own resources growing thin…

These are the times that try men’s souls. Sorry to hear that.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Picked up his money and left!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: December 4, 2022 at 2:54 PM

> He’s extremely intelligent, but not reliably sensible…I think if I got him a flip phone, he’d carry it. Says he’s reluctant to get a smart phone because it would suck him in….

I hardly use my phone at all, except to make calls and chats…rarely do I use it to get on the ‘net. I couldn’t be less interested in staring at an itty-bitty screen. He doesn’t strike me as the type to get sucked into the smartphone Borg. Just get him a BLU phone and tell him to give it a try; if he doesn’t like it after a week, then go for the flip. But it’s quicker and easier to make calls on the smartphone than on a flip, especially when it comes to emergencies.

> Could be Ablahblah! Or a close relative!


– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: I just read Erwyn’s piece on the midterms called “Red Tsunami!” I especially like where he wrote “No one has ever proved that democracy can work on this big a scale.” I’ve been saying that for years: “Look at the so-called democracies with the largest populations: India, Brazil, Russia, the United States. You just can’t run a true democracy with such large numbers. That is one good reason why the Western European nations and Canada, New Zealand and Australia fare so much better, democracy-wise: lower populations.”

Subject: My attorney’s reply:
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: December 5, 2022 at 9:48 AM


Good morning Mr. Krahlin,

I am happy to hear that you are doing well and amazing to hear that your tales are narrated on the radio every week!

The landlord has still not filed an amended complaint and I don’t know if they will.

Have you tried to pay the rent recently? You are saving the rent right? I think it would be a good idea to have you put the money in our trust account, there are no fees for that or you can do it through your own bank of course. Just make sure to save the rent because at some point you will have to pay all the back rent back at once.


Re: My attorney’s reply:
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: December 5, 2022 at 11:11 AM

> Whew! Good to get an answer!! And I know you are saving up the rent.

Of course. Here’s my reply:


So I'm wondering if there's a time limit for how long they can put off filing an amended complaint...I hope not forever! Wouldn't there be some kind of penalty against them if they keep dragging this out? And what is the possible strategy behind their extended delay: avoiding repercussions against them (such as admitting they erred) or hoping I'll slip up such as frittering my rent money away?

As for attempting to pay my rent, I see no point in that, as it would likely come off as a sneaky attempt to trip them up. They don't use online payment, but the old school slipping a check under the manager's door. If I do that, he'll just return it in an envelope stuck to my door like last time, with a note explaining why. I'm sure if they want my rent money, the manager will inform me immediately.

Yes, my rent money is accumulating in my account; I will always be prepared to pay the lump sum of all months due. Let's go ahead and set up an escrow account via BALA. Send me the instructions again on how to do that. Thanks very much!

- Ezekiel Krahlin


Subject: What, Me Worry?
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: December 5, 2022 at 9:21 PM

Maintaining a cool demeanor through any of Deek’s tirades appears to be paying off. And it’s about time! Anyone who says I have the patience of a saint will gain an instant friend in me.

He gave me five devices to charge last night: two speakers and three smartphones. One speaker was water damaged and wouldn’t even charge. The other he just acquired, hefty for its small size, but a loose wire connected to a small chip hung out of it, and thus was defunct as well. When I told him neither is operable, he went into a snit, accusing me of “breaking” them.

“You don’t take good care of your electronics,” I rebutted. “You drop them, bang them around, get them wet…then you expect me to work a miracle, and if I don’t it’s all my fault. And you sometimes bring me a device that’s ALREADY broken, so you can guilt-trip me when I bring it back downstairs and tell you it doesn’t work. This is nonsense, Deek.”

He calmed down in a short while, much sooner than usual, so the evening overall was pleasant. He saw to the pups’ warmth and comfort with a pile of clothes for a nest right beside the shopping cart. Somehow, he managed to keep all his possessions dry (except those speakers) through our latest rainfall. Dogs were dry as well, and clearly in good spirits.

I fed the dogs, hugged and pet them, and made sure they were settled in their little nest before returning upstairs and hitting the sack. About an hour later I got up and saw that Deek and pups had moved to the corner, with two friendly vagrants for company. Had I not looked out the window I would’ve assumed they weren’t anywhere nearby, they were that quiet.

So this morning I looked out the window and didn’t see him sleeping at the corner, so assumed he had eventually departed at a wee hour. But upon stepping out there they were, camped immediately to the right of the gate. Deek was sitting up against the plywood, awake but groggy and enjoying the warm rays of the morning sun. The hounds greeted me with joy of course, and I told him I’m going for coffee now but as soon as I return I’ll tend to the dogs’ needs, and his.

“I found this, and it works” he said and showed me a triangular speaker just small enough to grip with one hand.

“Okay, I’ll take it upstairs and charge it soon as I get back,” I replied then took off for Rosenberg’s.

Once back hovel I prepared the pups’ breakfast, brought it down along with a bowl of water and a sheet of cardboard I plucked from the basement for them to sit upon. Also: a hot cup of blueberry tea with a heaping tablespoon of raw honey for their master.

He was out there for a bit over two hours, futzing around with stuff from his cart while the mutts rested in the sunlight upon a heap of clothing. I downloaded two more rap artists he requested (“Baby Face Wood” and “Young Moe”) and copied them to his phones. When he was ready to go I brought down his gizmos and noticed Deek had thoroughly cleaned up after himself. But another indigent was hanging around in the same area, with his own debris scattered about.

“That’s not MY stuff!” he commented as I crouched down to engage with the mongrels, Lucky playfully nibbling on my sleeve while Flaco stood on her hind legs to lick my face. “I picked everything up that was mine.”

“I know, I saw,” I replied. “Thank you!”

I then watched them cross Noe Street, waved at the doggies every time they looked back at me with sweet regret, then returned hovel.

Minus that minor tantrum last night, our meetup was mellow. Deek was otherwise friendly and courteous…especially this morning. No edginess or sharp retorts, just a pleasant energy. Which makes me consider that his aim has been all along, to bring me to the point where I did not suffer even a twinge of resentment towards his snotty behavior, but forge through it in a calm (and even joyful) manner, having faith in my own rightness.

Assuming he really IS my bodhisattva guardian, this makes good sense. Which explains why he has been less reactive lately to my criticism of his childish behavior, and has not persisted with prolonged rants in response, like he used to. He SEES I am finally “over the hump” in dealing better with conflicts, that they become more readily resolved. For it is a lesson learned that I can apply to every other crisis that comes my way.

As a consequence of such an amiable meetup, I enjoyed a relaxing two hours just lying down on my cot and watching some enjoyable videos (of the horror genre, original animation and tales by brilliant amateurs). Rather than dealing with little bursts of angst throughout the day ’cause worried about the dogs or Deek’s most recent offenses. In conclusion:

It is really, really fukkin NICE not to worry about anything!

– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: He mentioned something about a local photographer pasting a poster of him on the ATM plywood. I told him that would be great, as the folks depicted now are not from here. And he deserves the recognition.

Subject: Disappointing response from my attorney
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: December 7, 2022 at 3:42 PM


They are technically too late, they should have filed it within 5 days of the order in August. However, there is not much we can do right now. It seems that if they don’t take the case to trial within three years, we can file a motion to dismiss the case for failure to prosecute. See Civil Code of Procedure Section 583.420. We could reach out to opposing counsel but we also don’t want to poke the bear. If they end up filing an amended pleading now, we will file a motion to strike a late-filed pleading but with our current housing judge there is no guarantee that we will win such a motion. The court can still decide to allow the amended complaint and then your case will start moving again. Either way, I think you should come bring the rent money into the trust account for the past months and for future months. You will need to bring a money order or cashier check (NO PERSONAL CHECK) payable to ”Bay Area Legal Aid”.  I am not sure why they are not dismissing the case at this point. But it is important that we save the money. If you want I can reach out to the opposing counsel asking him when they are going to dismiss the case, but like I said we maybe don’t want to poke the bear, but curious what your thoughts are.


THREE WHOLE FUKKIN YEARS waiting to try to have the dogs back inside! This is outrageous. I’m gonna ask Magdalena if it is feasible to go ahead with my own lawsuit for false accusations and harassment. I’d say prolonging their case is also a form of harassment. She doesn’t want to “poke the bear,” but what harm would that really do? The worst that will happen is a judge will deny the motion, right? I thought it was part of her job to get the case closed ASAP, but THREE WHOLE FUKKIN YEARS?

I’m gonna mull this over for a day or two, before posting any further queries.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Click here for a larger view.

Re: Disappointing response from my attorney
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: December 7, 2022 at 5:00 PM

> Exasperating!!!!!

To weigh me down with such a nightmare for at least three more years is disgusting. More immense heartbreak than exasperation. I think Ablahblah’s strategy is to delay my ability to sue them, as I may not be able to do so until their case is resolved. (Since if they know they’re gonna lose, they may as well drag it out, hoping I’ll move on.) Then it would take two or three MORE years to get a settlement in my favor, if at all. Will the dogs even live that long? And, as Magdalena told me early on, judges in SF are mostly pro-landlord these days. There is something absolutely WRONG with this picture.

Here’s my reply of a few moments ago:


Thank you for the thorough explanation. I want to mull this over for a day a two, after which I will send you another email with one more question. Meanwhile I'm gonna procure a cashier's check for the sum of my rent from June through December, and bring it to your office for deposit. I presume I can just walk in during business hours and someone will take care of it? I will probably do that tomorrow, or another day very soon.


Meanwhile, Deek is out there right now, slumped and asleep by the ATM plywood…after I gave him advance payment for Thursday, whence he picked up a bite to eat at Chevron while I watched the pups. They did not have their sweaters on, and I think they weren’t wearing them for the past two bone chilling days. Even though I know he has them stashed deep beneath a pile of clothing, blankets and weighty whatever else. He said he doesn’t wanna deal with unloading everything now to get them! I was tempted to tell him I’m not gonna charge his devices until he puts them on, but I had two new doggy jackets upstairs.

They arrived on Monday, but as it turned out, they didn’t fit when I tried them on while their master was up the street. Even though I ordered the correct measurements, they’re too small by inches to close the snaps over their chests. So that was a waste of money…and I thought it was a good deal: package of two for $20, And I have to wait three more days for the slower delivery of those maroon sweaters I ordered two weeks ago, that I KNOW will fit.

Telling Deek that this court case is gonna stretch on for three more years is not gonna go over well at all. He’ll hold it against me, always. If he dies on the streets or disappears and leaves the hounds stranded, I won’t be able to adopt them. I probably won’t even know what happened to them.

– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: Pic shows in the foreground: pups hunkered beneath a thick black coat and atop a fluffy blanket. That’s Deek in the background of course.

P.P.S.: Deek didn’t even bother to lay down something cushy for Flaco & Lucky; he just dozed off, leaving them to sit on the cold concrete, lashed to the cart. I put the comforter down for them myself, and the coat, both of which I extracted from his pile of clothing. How could he let them just sit there out in the chill air, temp dropping as the sun sets…and not even be able to curl up beside him? He’s still there now, asleep. At least I got to hug and pet the doggies, let them know how loved they are, and they ate a hearty meal. I’d go down there to keep them company right now, but they’re more interested in keeping warm cuddled up in their tiny lair, so I’d rather not disturb them for my own pleasure.

Subject: He departed on a sour note…though not too badly.
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: December 7, 2022 at 7:40 PM

Deek’s been pretty civil, otherwise. In fact, I was across Market Street, returning with an empty laundry cart when he called to me from outside my building. I waved back at him, as I waited for the green light. And when I showed up told him I need to get back to the laundromat in a half hour to pick up my second load. He made sure to return within minutes after purchasing a burrito from Chevron and, once he got back and requested I bring his devices upstairs, he made sure to remind me not to forget my laundry.

It was when I arrived back hovel with my wash, I saw him dozing alongside the ATM plywood, and the dogs sitting patiently beside the cart. So I decided to make them comfy and warm with that blanket and coat stuffed away. Later when he awoke and called to me, I stepped outside expecting him to be angry that I freely rummaged through his shopping cart and got some items “dirty” by throwing them on the sidewalk. But he didn’t say a word about it. So that’s TWO gold stars for him at this point. But wait, there’s more:

A good two hours passed before he was ready to collect his electronics. But when he called up to my window, he also said: “Did you take my money?”

I shook my head no. He was talking about the wad of lettuce in his partly open hand as he slept. TWICE I woke him up to tell him to pocket it, else someone might come by and swipe it. Yet even though he said okay, they remained in his hand. The second time I alerted him he DID close a fist around the bills, and I left it at that. Apparently, his hand opened again as he drifted off.

“You should have taken it,” he grouched.

“No, you should have stuck it in a pocket,” I replied in a matter-of-fact voice, then said: “It’s really cold outside, so I’d appreciate you go through the trouble of finding their sweaters.”

“I’m not worried about that,” he interjected.

“Well I am,” I answered back, then pulled out those two doggy jackets from my backpack. “If you can’t bother with the sweaters, then put these on. They don’t fit around their chests, but they’ll stay on and keep their tops and sides warm.”

“I’m pissed right now, I don’t wanna hear this,” he griped.

“Okay, I’ll just leave them here,” I replied and laid them down where the pups were snuggled together beneath a coat. Flaco poked her head out to greet me, then rolled over on her back for belly rubs. As I crouched down to scritch her sweet little tummy, I heard Deek mumble, “They stole twelve dollah, now I got jus’ twenny-five.”

He added they also stole his green backpack that was lying on top in his cart. I looked to see and sure enough, it was gone. Then I noticed something ELSE missing:

“Looks like they stole your speaker, too!” That was the large one on wheels I offered to stash for him upstairs till he was ready to depart, but he waved his hand in an annoyed fashion and told me no, just leave it there. I decided then to conceal the speaker under three pairs of pants also in the cart.

“Oh fuck, I didn’t see that, you’re right!” he exclaimed. Honestly, Wattson, it was a crappy speaker to begin with, so I’m glad it was gone since now I wouldn’t have to deal with a wonky connection that failed last time I plugged it in. For which he accused me of breaking it.

I think he was telling the truth about his backpack and speaker being stolen, as it’s highly unlikely he moved them somewhere else so I wouldn’t see them, then concocted a story. And it IS possible that same thief absconded with the moolah, as it’s a cinch to pluck from the hand of one who sleeps like a hibernating ground squirrel. Besides which, he is very well known among the homeless, including how soundly he dozes off, sometimes with cash in his grubby Cajun paw. So they all KNOW he’s easy pickin’s.

“It’s your fault,” he mumbled. “You weren’t watching my stuff.”

“But I already offered to stash the speaker upstairs for you, and I would’ve gladly held onto your backpack as well if you asked,” I retorted. “And woke you up TWICE to tell you to pocket your bills. So how is that MY fault?”

He didn’t respond to that, but started to pack up his stuff…so I told him I’m going to Rosenberg’s now and I’ll be back in five minutes. But upon returning I saw him crossing Market Street perpendicular to where I stood on the corner of Noe & 16th as I waited for the light to change. The dogs were NOT wearing those jackets, so I wondered if he just left them on the sidewalk. But upon reaching the front gate I saw he did not. Hopefully, he’ll put them on in a short while…keeping my fingers crossed on that one.

I want to point out now, Wattson, that he didn’t make much of a stink over the stolen moolah and other items. Including not trying to coerce me into handing him twelve buckazoids. I WAS, however, tempted to do just that withOUT his asking, but I stopped myself and thought no, bad idea.

So, no drama queen hissy fit, no insulting me, and no screaming. He remained calm in his griping, and it was brief to boot. BIG change from the old Deek I’d say…and for that I give him one more gold star. THREE IN ONE MEETUP! As for this grievous update of the landlord’s case against me:

Something’s gotta give in my favor, soon. Though I can’t imagine how at this point in time, I think I’ll pray to Artemis tonight, for whom Canis familiaris is most beloved. It will be good mediation if nothing else. Didn’t I post to you just two days ago a piece called “What, Me Worry?” Then look what happened! It’s another challenge I must answer to, starting with flushing out this latest, sudden attack by The Devils of Dismay. Though I must also note:

If this is yet another plot hatched by my bodhisattva guardians (who include not just Deek, but my attorney and landlord as well) in order to strengthen my mettle, all I have to say is:

“Job well done, teachers!”

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: He departed on a sour note…though not too badly.
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: December 7, 2022 at 10:47 PM

> Glad it was only 12 bucks!!! Sheesh! And glad you didn’t offer to replace it.

No matter how pleasant a meetup he almost always finds a monkey wrench to throw into it.

> I always look for the moment of doggy contact in these stories. It’s like the prize in the Cracker Jack box, only better.

Imagine a monster owning these sweet little creatures, and whenever you show them some love and they respond in kind, his eyes flame like jealous embers…and you fear he may take it out on them behind your back, so maybe you should start giving the pups a cold shoulder. And THAT’S the frightening situation I’m in. I think he DENIES them sweater warmth because he knows it matters to me.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Texting with Wattson – 12/07/22

Click here for a larger view.

Subject: Well I got THAT outta the way!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: December 8, 2022 at 12:48 PM

I couldn’t use a money order because over a thousand dollars. Cashier’s check is $10 but the Chase teller waived it as a courtesy and wished me happy holidays. I’ll use a money order for now on, since my monthly rent is only $301.59 (ha-ha), and MOs just cost $5 each.

Then I zipped on down to SF Peninsula Lawyers Group, just four blocks up Market Street. My attorney’s assistant (well, one of ’em) Mei Wu took the cashier’s check and gave me a receipt, which you can view in the attached pic. I told her it’s a few pennies over the full amount of seven months because I rounded it off to the next dollar.

I have to praise SF-PLG once again: amazing people and good fortune to have them in my world. I always believe in turning a sad situation into a favorable one, and the doggies’ well-being is top priority. So we’ll see what comes next in my attempt to have the case against me dropped posthaste, and My Lovely Brindlekin allowed back indoors.

I like the idea of dropping by SF-PLG every month, as it keeps the contact alive, rather than not hearing from them for months on end, which definitely spooks me out.

Marshall’s antique laser printer stopped working because he needs a new drum, and I guess in adjusting to reading directly from loaded web pages last Friday, he forgot to include my latest tale. But it made him decide to bite the cyber bullet and no longer print anything out, but read from a screen. “Imagine all the paper I’d be saving,” he exclaimed on his show. Yesterday I sent him the same tale to be read this Friday, and gave him these tips for reading off a monitor:

1) You can save web pages to your drive with the browser’s “save as” feature. That way, you don’t even need the Internet to read any articles, letters, etc. Especially useful should you lose your connection while on the air, or one of the websites is down.

2) Save all your material in a “Friday” folder, numbering each text or audio file in the order you want to read or play them (just insert the number at the beginning of each filename). Or create a master list of these items in the same order, and refer to that. Either way, should you accidentally lose a page onscreen it can be quickly restored.

3) Have a backup system ready to employ, should your main device crap out on you. The backup can be a laptop or a tablet.

4) For best readability, the screen should be 14″ or greater. Nice thing about this method is you can enlarge the text to suit your eyeballs, unlike printouts.

So it should be interesting how tomorrow night’s show unfolds, now that he’s gone full geek mode! I wished him good luck and said I’m sure everything will go smoothly.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Well I got THAT outta the way!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: December 8, 2022 at 5:26 PM

> Fantastic that you got this done!!! Nice work!!

It shows good faith in the organization that’s got my back. Didn’t think of that before.

> And yes, going by there every month with your rent is a great idea. Keeps the case alive, as you said!

At least I get a dose of face-to-face SANE people once each month. Good medicine.

> It’s cold, wet and nasty up here. Guessing it’s the same down there.

Cold here, too, gray sky all day. No rain yet, but feels like it’s about to come down. My weather app says rain in 9 minutes.

> Hope doggies are warm and safe…

I sure do, too. I just checked and it predicts light rain starting in 24 minutes. So it won’t be TOO bad.

Another pair of maroon sweaters arrived today. Let’s see: Deek’s got THREE sweaters already, though refuses to dig ’em out of his cart for the pups to wear, or for me to wash. Soon, he’ll have five. Not counting the TWO jackets I gave him last night. Having a meth head for a friend, living on the streets and with two darling hounds, is no easy calling.

I notice a pattern in my Brindlekin World: there’s always something new popping up to make me worry about the dogs. Recently, fentanyl and being informed my case may drag out for three years. Teaching me not to worry, ergo it’s all scripted. According to the rules of my Bodhisattva Premise.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Speaking of “the prize in the Cracker Jack box:”
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: December 8, 2022 at 6:07 PM

The other day when I came across two doggy blankets that I forgot about, so stepped outside with them to place over the wee hounds, awhile later when I came downstairs again I saw Flaco sniffing around the lamppost with the blanket still draped over her. Very cute with those white paw prints on a fuzzy moss-green background! I almost told Deek “Look at that!” but decided not to ’cause he doesn’t appreciate the pups like I do.

People just walked by paying her no mind…which always surprises me as they’re so damned cute I wonder why everyone who sees either mutt for the first time doesn’t drop to the ground in a faint of adoration. Seeing BOTH at the same time calls for the smelling salts, or maybe even resuscitation, IMO!

And a day or two before that while I was talking to Deek, Lucky was making silly growls while rubbing himself back and forth across my calf until I paid him some attention and started scritching his back.

Now how is that, good physician: TWO prizes in one box!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Speaking of “the prize in the Cracker Jack box”
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: December 8, 2022 at 7:52 PM

> Ah! Didn’t even have to root around for those two prizes!

Assembly line snafu.

Subject: “They’re hoping you die before then!”
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: December 9, 2022 at 7:34 PM

Morey exclaimed while ringing up my purchases, soon as I told him Ablahblah Realty could drag out my case for up to three years. That hadn’t occurred to me, Wattson, but Morey’s blunt observation made me realize of COURSE they are. Talk about ageism on steroids!

I will take a few more days before replying to my attorney, as I continue to ponder what to write…but I already have the first line down:

“Poke the bear? I’m ready to kick it in the butt!”

Deek dropped by last night and when I stepped out he suddenly told me to watch the dogs for a bit, maybe as long as a half hour, he’s gotta rush off somewhere. I said okay and, as it turned out, he returned less than fifteen minutes later. Whew! The pups were soaking wet but were NOT shivering in the least, they seemed perfectly happy as I dried them off with some clean rags…then ran back inside to bring them water and dinner.

He had another hissy fit, but again it only lasted several minutes and he calmed down upon another vagrant arriving to keep him company before he nodded off. I made sure the doggies were snug and warm before hitting the sack myself, including putting the new sweaters on and tossing the last two squares of that mattress cover over their furry forms, topped off with a large trash bag for additional warmth.

He slept by the sealed-off ATM nook until 8:30 AM when a handyman woke him up because he needs to do some maintenance in there. So Deek moved his cart and the pups over by the corner and continued to rest in the morning sunlight until a couple of compadres appeared around 10:30. I brought the mutts more water and served them breakfast.

As I was about to enter the front gate after dropping off Flaco & Lucky’s meal, a burly gay dude leaning against the street sign and diddling with his phone addressed me:

“Do you help clean up the sidewalk?”

I turned to him and said I certainly do.

He smiled then and replied: “Great! That’s all we ask.”

Well that was strange, but I think he saw me feed the dogs beside Deek and his unwieldy shopping cart, so regarded me as a potential problem re. the homeless issue. For his tone of voice was not so much friendly as a warning. Worse yet: around ten minutes later Deek called up to me to bring down his gadgets, and when I peeked out the window that same burly dude looked up at me. IOW: now he knows where I live! So now what, good doctor: I’m gonna have rich, Republican gay thugs target me?

Well, if that’s what’s going on (perhaps the building manager instructed some of his buddies to intimidate me) I’ll find some way to turn this around in my favor. Say, suggest he talk with Deek in a kind manner, get to know him, check out the sweet hounds, etc.

When I came back outside to deliver his electronics Deek was already at the far corner, waiting. He said he had to move on because he doesn’t get along with “that dude.” At first I thought he meant Mr. Burly, but it was actually that annoying, skinny meth queen who stole his sandwich the other night, and sat down by him again this morning.

BTW Wednesday night Deek told me he wants to call in to KNYO and speak to Marshall himself! That could be great or terrible, depending on his mood at the moment. Plus, the very thought of handing him my phone makes me EXTREMELY nervous. I kinda like the idea, though. Sometimes he acquires a phone with cell service, so maybe I’ll tell him next time he gets one, he can call in. And hopefully the service will still be functioning when next Friday night rolls around. Right before he dials the number I’ll run back upstairs and listen to him live stream. That should be a hoot! Of course, I’ll make Marshall aware that Deek might call the station some Friday soon.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: “They’re hoping you die before then!”
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: December 9, 2022 at 10:21 PM

> Delay, deny, hope you die, is their motto.

Well, gives me another good reason to live a long life, when an enemy wants me dead. So the little birdie Bodhisattva Premise tells me.

> That WOULD be a hoot. Marshall could definitely handle that!!!

I know he would, he is patient and compassionate, and appreciates character. When Deek said he’d like to call in, he blurted:

“You say you’ve written six whole books about me so far, and I can’t even speak my own mind about it to your listeners?”

But it’s not like he’s read a single one of my Brindlekin Tales, or listened to even ONE of Marshall’s narrations! Though I’ve offered him BOTH, several times. Including copying a couple of Marshall’s readings to his smartphone. Obviously, hearing Marshall’s brief comment about my homeless “dog-sitting” one night with my tent up got Deek’s wheels spinning.

“Dog sitting my ass, you fucked that up big time!” he added while I focused on the poochies’ affections. I didn’t really respond to his remarks, we went on to another topic…but it just hit me today that it’s a GREAT idea to have him call in! I look forward to telling him that. I should also tell him I don’t write about dog-sitting per se, that’s just Marshall’s humorous twist.

– Zeke K-Holmes


My room stinks of skunk weed right now, as I’m drying a pound of it Deek gave me to cure. It’s spread out on a large, clean frying pan, close to my space heater turned on low. He got pissed at me when he told me to take it from the cart, where it sat tottering along one side and it fell to the ground before I even touched the open bag. Very little spilled out and I picked most of it up, but as you know quite well by now, Deek always seeks one excuse or another to guilt-trip me.

“Sometimes I think you do that intentionally, just to fuck with me,” he snapped as I opened the gate to bring the musky bud upstairs. He probably got it from a pile of discarded shake somewhere in the outskirts of Hunter’s Point. I don’t know how he keeps getting away with selling such crappy product.

Subject: This Morning: Wet & Windy!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: December 10, 2022 at 5:43 PM

The rain tapered off by the time I stepped out for my morning java around 9:30. As you know, Wattson, I enjoy starting my days slow and peaceful like. But no, there were Deek and pups right around the corner, sheltered in the Mediterranean Restaurant’s parklet. Don’t know how he does it, but the hounds were dry and warm, sweaters on and resting by him with Flaco on his lap. He also had a light turquoise beach umbrella towering over them all, including the shopping cart.

From her master’s lap, Flaco stood on her hind legs and tapped a dainty paw on my knee for attention, to which I immediately reciprocated with scritches behind her ears and along her neck. Lucky, meanwhile, remained curled up beside him while gratefully receiving my pats and neck rubs with my other hand.

In spite of being stuck out in the rain, Deek was in a mellow disposition, told me he has to move because the cafe’s opening, and he still hasn’t figured where else to go. I asked if he’d like his $50 now, along with his cured marijuana. He said sure, then added:

“They’re gonna give me a cabin Monday if I want it.”

Startled and delighted to hear this, I replied: “That’s fantastic. The city’s opening up tiny homes for street people all over the place.”

Deek queried with a furrowed brow: “How do YOU know this?”

Dumb question in my surmise, because he already knows what I told him in response: “Because I keep up with the homeless news here in SF.”

“They’re probably gonna stick me somewhere at the edge of the city, away from everything!” he griped.

“I don’t think so, Deek, one of the tiny homes locations is South of Market just six blocks from here,” I responded. “But you can get anywhere fast with public transit, or just walk. It’s a good deal and the dogs need shelter; I hope for god’s sake you don’t turn it down.”

He had already moved to below the Super Duper awning out front, by the time I returned with his moolah and pot, gave me several devices to charge and asked me to feed and water the mutts. As I was halfway up the stairs to my hovel, I heard him start hollering, though didn’t know why. Upon returning with the doggy meals believe me, I found out:

“You ruined my stash: it’s all dried out like crumbly shake! Now it’s good for nothing!”

“Well I’m sorry, Deek, I thought you’d be pleased,” I replied.

“Pleased? Ya gotta be kidding!” he squawked, followed by a litany of expletives rolling off his tongue.

Once he calmed down I explained: “That’s how my drug dealer friends cured their product. ‘Cause if it’s damp it won’t light up, and mold would grow on it.”

“Dealer friends?” he snapped. “You don’t HAVE any dealer friends!”

“I did back in the seventies,” I replied. “And I helped them dry the damp buds and leaves, just like I did for you.” Then he quacked incessantly like a venomous Daffy Duck while I just stood there resigned to yet another pointless barrage of false accusations and let it roll off my back like, well, a duck. ‘Cause I know how to play the game to the best advantage of all players involved, which is: don’t panic, instill calm in a respectful manner.

Deek continued his fusillade of insults while I stood there not saying a word, so I finally interjected: “I’m going now!”

“You always do that,” he railed. “Walk away whenever I have something important to say.”

So I turned to him halfway towards the gate: “No, I’m listening, but you’re just repeating yourself and I have better things to do right now.”

“You always act so cool, like it’s no big deal,” he retorted.

I then walked up to him and said: “I’m being calm for your sake, instead of acting like a bitch.”

And with that, I left him to his grumpy little world and returned home, knowing that he loves to complain even over the littlest thing, and there’s no point standing around any longer. He will ALWAYS find fault with me, no matter what.

As I sat at my work station, I realized the pups could use a box to shelter in. Since I already had three large, flattened boxes ready to go, stashed in a corner of my hovel, I just grabbed one and brought it downstairs. Told Deek, “This’ll keep them warm.” I opened it and secured the flaps at one end in overlapped fashion so they’d remain closed. Soon as I set it down, My Brindlekin Pixies scurried right into their cardboard cave.

Of course, upon my reappearance Deek struck up another tirade, though less strident this time around, more on the grumpy side. I simply ignored him, set up the box and zipped back upstairs. By then, the rain had subsided and around two hours later Deek had transported his little family further up Market Street towards Castro. Like so, in which pic you can readily see the umbrella:

Click here for a larger view.

While back upstairs I searched for “tiny homes homeless san francisco” to see where some are located. Here is one among a slew of articles I found:

San Francisco will build dozens of tiny homes for homeless

Quote: “In addition to the tiny homes, city officials are also considering buying more properties to use as homeless housing, including potentially using vacant apartments around the city, and opening an RV site, according to the report.”

Talk about good news, it’s really happening! Two little doggies could be quite happy in a place like that.

Awhile later I stepped back out to inform Deek they’re setting up tiny homes in various abandoned lots around the city, and many of them are congregated nearby, or reasonably so. Scampy was there now, too, talking to herself with periodic outbursts to whatever imaginary soul she was addressing. Nicely attired, though, in warm clothes including a pink quilted jacket. Deek also brought the box with him so the pooches could remain huddled together in their makeshift shelter.

I noticed how placid and actually happy he appeared: what a contrast to earlier in the day! But which makes me suspect his tirades are nothing more than putting me through my paces as my chief bodhisattva guardian. Otherwise why would he so quickly drop his angst-ridden nonsense if he really believed I fucked things up royally?

“Deek,” I said while crouched on one knee to address him beneath the tilted umbrella, “I wish you the very best in getting that cabin, you know my prayers are with you!”

To which he replied, “Thanks, but I don’t know if I can handle all the appointments and other bullshit I’ll have to go through. I know one lady who already lives in a tiny home, and she told me it sucks, she only uses it for storage and sleeping over. But she IS a drama queen.”

“Sounds like it,” I replied. “But at least they still allow her to remain there, so she has shelter she can count on. Plus THREE free meals a day, a restroom and shower, and a warm refuge for the night.”

“They said they can get me on SSI,” Deek continued, “but I come from a hardworking family that NEVER accepts government handouts. I don’t think I can accept free money for doing nothing. My mom worked three jobs to care for us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I exclaimed. “It was much easier to get work back then, and you yourself told me many times you don’t want a job because it’s bullshit…which is true! And you can always get off SSI whenever, if you really land a gig you like. But most importantly, you’ve got two sweet doggies to watch over, and they need SHELTER. At least go through with it till the rainy season ends!”

I took a deep breath before completing my appeal, nervous as I was that he just might NOT accept this fantastic offer of a lifetime:

“You DON’T have a job right now, this will HELP you get a leg up. You deserve it, you earned it…no one should be forced to live on the streets, that’s just cruel. I was on SSI for decades, now it’s Social Security, yet I keep busy doing work that satisfies me, writing my stories and speaking out for the homeless. You can do charity work, too, like serving free meals. You used to be a short order cook in New Orleans, if I recall.”

I sensed he was about to cut me off, so I ended my spiel with the following promise:

“If you ever need someone to verify you’ve been a street resident of this city for years, that you didn’t just blow in yesterday, I’ll be glad to speak up for you. And in any other way I’ll vouch you’re a good dude! And when you have your own digs I’ll make sure to keep in touch, visit you, dog-sit/dog-walk whenever you need. But you should NEVER tell them anyone helps you out with money or you might lose whatever funds come your way. I’ll be happy to keep providing you with an allowance and doggy vittles.”

Deek then raised his palm in my direction: “Okay, okay, I’m sure you will. I know how to deal with this, you don’t have to worry. Just stop talking please, it’s weirding me out.”

Well, Wattson, I wasn’t the least perturbed over his latest cheap shot, as he DID listen to all I had to say, and he was in a jovial mood. He actually grinned from ear to ear when I presented my promise about being there for him well beyond his life on the streets. But before standing back up and departing I said one more thing:

“I think it’s a great idea if you called in to that radio show where they read my tales! I’m sure Marshall will be delighted to hear from you. I can talk to him and we’ll set things up.”

“Oh, no, no, don’t bother!” he retorted. “I was in a bad mood when I brought that up; I don’t wanna come off like that over the air!”

“You don’t have to, Deek,” I assured him. “But you can speak your mind however you want, I won’t be upset.”

He still turned down the offer.

“Okay then, but if you ever change your mind just let me know,” I finished, then stood up and returned once again to Hotel California North, where I deliberated upon our latest meetup with immense satisfaction.

Around forty-five minutes later he called up to my window, and when I saw him with a crazy black wig on that made him look like a cross between SNL’s unfrozen caveman lawyer and a troll doll, I let out a guffaw. No idea where he got THAT from, but you never know what you’ll find in his cart if you dig deep enough.

“Bring down my stuff, I gotta go!” he said as he grinned up at me.

He also gave me two large bags of REAL shake and instructed me to pour it into a box and just let it sit for two or three days on my loft…don’t dry it off with a heater or do anything else to it. No sign of anger for my supposedly fucking up his bud stash. He was cool as a cucumber, smiling and at peace in fact. Here’s a couple of “shaky” snapshots (before and after):

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

So the box of shake is now parked on my loft, and I still wonder how he gets away with peddling such crappy product. My room continues to stink of janky Mary Jane. But I’m happy. Because if performing certain pointless errands (which he often has me do) is part of what helps get Deek to a better space (both head-wise and habitat-wise), I’m all for it.

Though my Bodhisattva Premise suggests this is all scripted, that Deek is playing a role as a homeless person to put ME through changes, not him. It is obvious to me he knows exactly what he’s doing, takes excellent care of the doggies, and probably HAS had a roof over his head all along. His radiant friendliness today implies all that, and more: that I’m almost over this convoluted, long path of trials, challenges and worry. For his job is almost done, elevating my soul to a more enlightened and joyful dimension. Indeed, heaven and hell truly ARE a state of mind, as the Buddha once claimed.

This premise ALSO implies that my attorney’s recent unwelcome surprise (that my case could drag out for three years) was to shock me into discovering more ways to rise above negative emotions. Another guardian in my life, my newest in fact!

But I think the most delightful part of this meetup was the several times Lucky dropped to the sidewalk on his back and began squirming with boundless glee and silly grunts…his way of saying how happy he always is to see me! And dear Flaco’s warm affections, of course…gazing upon me with such kind regard and respect, it blows me away! How I wish I could provide these darling critters shelter from the storms. To see them on my cushy cot again, blissed out in doggy dreamville, Lucky’s stubby legs on the upper side poking out because too short to reach the blanket, and Flaco’s Yoda ears pinned back like folded bat wings. They are angels!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Are you receiving my emails?
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: Marshall McGee
Date: December 11, 2022 at 10:45 AM

Hi, Marshall. You haven’t read my latest tale for the past two shows, and I’m wondering if my emails from my Gay Bible address are not reaching you. Or maybe in the flurry of printer snafus and switching to onscreen reading, my emails got lost in the transition? Unless I had a brain fart listening to your last two podcasts, I did not hear you narrate my tales. I can change how I send you my stories, if that would help…such as switching to html format, or using my gmail address, or storing them on my Google Drive where the link will be “https” instead of just “http.” I have a great true Xmas tale coming up that I wrote in 2020 from my early Brindlekin Tales phase, that I’m hoping you’ll read on Friday the 23rd. Thanks for your attention!

– Zeke

Re: Are you receiving my emails?
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: Marshall McGee
Date: December 11, 2022 at 11:46 AM

On Sun, Dec 11, 2022 at 7:28 PM Marshall McGee wrote:

> Saturday night I included in a note in my weblog: “… Ah, no, dang it– I see now that I forgot /again/ to include Ezekiel Krahlin’s story in the show. Zeke, that was not on purpose. I’ll do it next week. I’m marking it in the show file right now.” Emails from Brindlekin Tales go straight to my Inbox. Thanks. Sorry. There are a million things going wrong for me right now –my car, Carlita’s car, my job, Carlita’s job, my health, Carlita’s health, all the byzantine paperwork, equipment problems and related crap, no money for anything, and it’s hard to keep up, but I’m having no trouble dealing with anything about the content of the radio show. Please send me what to read and I’ll read it.

I figured it was a matter of disruptions in your life, but I had to be sure my mail was reaching you. Will send you my usual latest tale Wednesday. New twists and turns in my true tales coming up. Thanks!

– Zeke

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