[Brindlekin Tales – Book 8: Chapter 2]
Subject: Today’s email to my attorney
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 17, 2023 at 3:03 PM
–begin:
Subject: Another update, looks good!
Cortez Garciak is not the manager, he is a young fellow assisting our maintenance man Victor, but has been assigned to straighten out the missing check debacle. I know this now because he came to my door just a little while ago (with Victor) to ask about my April and May payments. I explained to him in a nutshell my situation, and that I’m working this out with my attorney. Adolfo explained that April and May checks are missing for other residents, too, and he has been asked to look into it. So he jotted off on a printout of residents, “talk to attorney” beside my name, and thanked me for my patience. So he now realizes my payment is in the process of being straightened out between my attorney and opposing counsel.
The exchange was amicable, and we now know that I am not the only one with this missing check issue. Which is certainly a relief! Adolfo also started to explain that our building manager, Kevin Bond, is ill…but I cut him off, told him I understand perfectly, and have no anger over this, but every sympathy for his medical condition. He said the “missing” checks are probably somewhere in Kevin’s apartment, but he’s not privy to going in there to search for them himself. In short:
So I DO know who Cortez Garciak is, and he’s a very nice fellow. I asked about receipts, and he said his method is to cut a receipt for each tenant after he gathers up all payments. But he’ll be glad to give me a receipt for both months immediately. Otherwise, he’ll deliver receipts to all residents this Friday.
I’m comfortable with this, so if you give me the go ahead, I’ll hand Adolfo my rent for April and May later today, or tomorrow. Thanks again!
–end
Subject: A Lovely Evening with Deek & Pups!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 17, 2023 at 4:22 PM
My plantar fasciitis had simmered down by yesterday morning, thanks mainly to the treatments I applied to my ailing left foot, as instructed by “Bob & Brad, the two most famous physical therapists on the Internet” via this video: “The 5 Things Anyone With Plantar Fasciitis Should Do Every Morning.”
But for two days I really wasn’t amenable to marching up and down the stairs, so hoped that Deek wouldn’t show up until I had recovered at least SOMEwhat. And that’s exactly how it went down, Wattson! By yesterday afternoon I was feeling my chipper self, with barely an ache in my heel. And then Deek and furry charges arrived around 9:30 PM. Perfect timing, especially since I had JUST finished my dinner! (Coincidence? I think not; he KNEW when to keep away, being the bodhisattva guardian he is.)
I was two-thirds of the way through watching that delightful movie, “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” for the second time (the first time, years ago), when Deek called up to my window. The pooches were already off leash (well, the leashes were on, but not tethered to anything), so the moment I appeared at the gate, they ran up in eager greets, jumping up and down with delight.
“Well hello there, my angels!” I spoke while maneuvering through the open gate so they wouldn’t dash inside. But it looked like they weren’t gonna do that anyway, they were just so HAPPY to see me. Deek had already laid out a generous heap of found clothing for them to rest upon, so I brought them back to that spot before kneeling down and showering them both with hugs and kisses. A fine prelude to what turned out to be a splendid evening from start to finish. Now get this, Wattson:
Deek even had little shirts for the doggos! Lucky’s was an orange and black “Giants” T-shirt, and his sister’s was light blue with a nursery rhyme about the cow and the moon, in dark gray script with images. “I must’ve died and gone to heaven,” was all I could think! But if such really occurred, I surmise it was on the afternoon of April 21st when I had my “LARC-apade.” For that is when my life truly took a turn for the better. Though maybe the truth is: we ALL die and go to heaven every night, and we just need to wake up to that epiphany.
I spent a solid two hours outside with the mutts while their master commiserated with another indigent, off to the side, tended to rolling some blunts, “niggah-rigged” another pair of sneakers, and so forth. And once more, Heimdall showed up, which made last night’s get-together that much more festive. He loved watching Flaco attempt to fluff up a pillow that was already at maximum fluff. Her effort was futile of course, but we both enjoyed the doggy fanfare before she finally plopped herself down in triumph.
Just before I returned hovel to prepare their meals, Deek handed me a one-pound bag of specialty kibble. “What is this?” he asked. “Would the dogs like it?”
“Probably,” I said. “I’ll check it out upstairs.” Turned out to be a good quality chow for mixing in with their regular meal, or to use for treats. But then I discovered that the bag had already been open (albeit resealed), so I decided to toss it. When I returned outside with their din-din, I told Deek:
“It’s good stuff, but since it was open I didn’t wanna take the chance.”
“Whadda you mean?” he queried.
“For their safety,” I replied. “I know most people mean well when sharing dog treats, but ya never know. If the bag was already open, don’t accept from strangers, is MY rule of thumb. Or take it, say thank you and get rid of it later.”
Instead of arguing, he simply said, “Okay.”
While I was reclining beside the pups a car pulled up and parked, and the hounds began to bark like wild when the door opened and they saw another canine inside. I grasped their collars while their master yelled:
“QUIET! FLACO! LUCKY! JUST WHAT THE FUCK YA GONNA DO…BITE ‘EM AND THEY’LL TAKE YOU AWAY AND PUT YOU TO SLEEP?”
The brindlekin quieted down immediately, looking at their master with shame.
“They don’t know any better, Deek,” I remarked while clutching the pooches close to me. “They grew up on the streets and think they need to defend you at every turn. All the crazy people roamin’ around, they have to DEAL with that, just like the rest of us.”
Again (and to my pleasure), he accepted my take on the matter and spoke not a word in opposition.
Before departing, Deek also asked for a fresh supply of doggy vittles, as well as new rap songs:
“I didn’t care for most of the new music you put on my chip last time.”
“Sorry to hear that,” I replied. “But I’m not a mind reader…I just looked for rap artists from the last several years till now.”
“That’s okay,” he answered. “You said you have some MORE new rappers for me to try?”
“Yes,” I said. “Eight more artists, almost 500 songs. It’ll take less than ten minutes to copy them over.”
So I went upstairs to do that, and stuffed a plastic grocery bag with eight cans of “stew” style dog food and two gallon-size baggies of kibble. Along WITH that I dropped several handfuls of doggy treats into another baggy, from my OWN stash: soft Milk Bones and gourmet duck breast wedges…to make up for the quality kibble Deek gave me, now discarded.
He then wished me a good night and took off with the demi-dachshunds, and I returned hovel to finish watching “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.” In a greater state of bliss than before.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Subject: “I, Elevator!” (13 sec. video)
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 18, 2023 at 10:44 AM
Subject: Success (another email to my attorney)!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 18, 2023 at 3:13 PM
–begin:
Subject: Got my receipt for April/May!
I decided to go ahead and slip my 2-month payment under Mr. Garciak’s door last night, as an act of good faith. Seeing as he was respectful towards me, and, thanks to his explanation, it is now clear no nonsense is going on re. my missing rent check. And, as he promised, he delivered the receipt soon as he got my check. When I returned from grocery shopping this afternoon I found my receipt folded and stuck in the crack between door and frame. Here it is:
In order he knows for sure I got it (and for good will’s sake), I texted him the following:
So, all’s well that ends well? I think yes!
– Ezekiel
–end
Subject: Keeping One Muffin Ahead of the Game
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 18, 2023 at 9:28 PM
To be clear, Wattson, for this particular missive I’m talkin’ BLUEBERRY muffins, not English!
[SIDEBAR (see pic): That’s my Chromebook behind the muffin, with the “SF 10-33” page on display, a streaming station described as “ambient music mixed with the sounds of San Francisco public safety radio traffic.” I’ve been playing it almost nonstop for the past few weeks as I compose my tales and contemplate the world’s impending obliteration. VERY relaxing, plus I enjoy hearing all these excellent people devoted to saving lives and keeping a sense of community alive. To the left of my Chromebook are two external hard drives: bottom one with the rounded orange corners is 1 terabyte, used to back up all my data and miscellaneous crap…top one is 2 terabytes for all my downloaded movies and TV shows yet to be viewed. They are stuck together with Velcro strips, and secured to the desk in the same manner.]
I’ve only recently resumed enjoying my daily morning repast of a blueberry muffin WITH my battery acid, something I USED to do frequently during my coffeehouse years. But Rosenberg’s ran OUT of ’em several weeks back, and wouldn’t have any more till the next delivery some unknown days later! Turns out there’s this fellow who purchases a dozen muffins every Sunday before he goes off somewhere to share them at whatever meeting he attends (maybe church, maybe LGBT group, maybe Alcoholics Anonymous…who knows, but I curse him just the same). Mind you, he orders OTHER muffins, too, besides blueberry: Frosted Crumb Cake, Chocolate Chocolate Chip, Vanilla Cream Crunch and Banana Bread Revelation. But rest assured, Blueberry Fiesta is among them! And this is how I came to learn of that:
Some ten or so days ago I was disappointed to discover yet again, no more blueberry muffins! No sooner did I realize that, than some tall, skinny fellow in his mid-fifties steps in, checks out the muffins himself, and declares to the cashier: “You’re outta blueberry muffins today!”
Pallas replied: “Yes! We’ve had a run on them this month, like hotcakes!” (Of which they are a close cousin, I should note.)
So I turned towards the other patron and addressed him censoriously: “So YOU’RE my competition!”
He chuckled, said, “Yeah, I guess so, since I purchase three or four every week, along with all the OTHER flavors!”
“Actually, I have a confession to make,” I sheepishly admitted. “I’M the competition, as I’ve only commenced my daily binge of blueberry muffins barely a month ago. I DO apologize, but I’m NOT gonna stop!”
Then, about a week later it occurred to me to buy an extra blueberry muffin later in the day, whenever there were only one or two left that morning, after my purchase! So when the next day of sparsity arrived, I did just that: stepped back into Rosenberg’s later that evening, and bought myself a muffin to enjoy the next morning! That way, I’d gain at least another day of blueberry muffin joy before the famine strikes once again. But get this, Wattson:
There has BEEN no shortage ever since, presumably because Felix, the owner of Rosenberg’s, made the wise choice to increase his weekly delivery of this cherished comestible, so that NO muffin wars would break out in HIS Establishment! Truly, a man of peace.
But as a result I am now stuck with an extra muffin every morning, and must ingest the one acquired the day before, instead! I guess I COULD skip a day’s purchase to rectify this needless hoarding, but the fear of running short of blueberry muffins some time in the future, keeps me up at night! Conclusion:
I HAVE A MONKEY ON MY BACK, AND HIS NAME IS “BLUEBERRY MUFFIN!” IS THERE A WAY TO SHOOT THIS DIRECTLY INTO MY VEINS? I’D BE EVER SO GRATEFUL!
But maybe there’s a positive spin to this…after all, I AM keeping one blueberry muffin ahead of your average Joe! But like a house of gingerbread cards, it could collapse at any moment! Perhaps if I shuffle the deck now and then, I’d come up with more than just crumbs? I dunno, Wattson, seems kinda risky to me. Maybe it’s “batter” to just let the blueberries fall where they may: into the bowl. “Walk softy and carry a wooden spoon,” as the paraphrased saying goes. No point in stirring things up when blueberries abound, eh, good physician?
MORE RE. LAST TUESDAY’S MEETUP
Heimdall (the Viking dude) showed off this elegant tapestry he had folded up in his cart. Of thin, off-white cloth with a rough texture, it featured a large, dark blue silhouette of an elephant bordered in triangular and square blocks of solid green and orange.
“Soon as I get my apartment,” he boasted, “I’m gonna frame this and hang it up!” He added he’s gonna have his own place soon, two or three weeks from now.
“Wow, that’s EXACTLY what I need!” Deek exclaimed…as he does for ANYthing someone has that he thinks can be sold for a princely sum of ten “dollah” or more. But pretends it’s of personal value for his own enjoyment, and nothing more. IOW a trickster’s scam.
But Heimdall saw through that, said “No I’m keeping it,” and tucked it back away. Good for him. But let’s ponder upon the image ON that tapestry for a moment, Wattson. Signifying, perhaps, another greeting by Ganesha waving right in front of my face: the Hindu elephant god known as “The Remover of All Obstacles.” Who previously paid me a visit through an elephant idol Deek showed me one day, many moons ago. At least, that’s how THIS devout pilgrim likes to see it, considering all the obstacles I’VE recently overcome!
I like this new Deek, he brings up interesting (and important) topics without my goading him. That night he asked about the trans person who was recently executed by a Walgreens security guard.
“I didn’t get to see the video!” he exclaimed. “Did she do anything to anger the guard?”
“Not really,” I replied. “He grabbed her first, she pushed him away and then suddenly he threw her down to the ground and beat the devil outta her. She then got up, and upon exiting turned to him and hollered something, then just when she was about to turn around and leave for good he shot her in the chest.”
Long story short: Deek agreed what the guard did was downright evil, as was the judge’s decision to declare him innocent of any wrongdoing.
“But neither judge nor guard will get away with it in the long run,” I concluded. “They’re cool as cucumbers right now, but you just wait and see how fate turns against them a little further down the line. Justice will have its way.”
THE TIMING OF CORTEZ’S RENT CHECK CHECKUP
Like all the other situations of critical import in my world these past several years, and their resolution: the timing is spot on. More like a SCRIPT than anything that occurs in real life, which is inevitably sloppy, convoluted and loose-ended. Although at THIS point in my trail of adventures and mishaps, I wonder if “real life” was ever a thing at all! I’m so far removed from what most folks call “reality” I can’t even grok Saturday Night Live anymore. But maybe that’s because they jumped the shark when Elon Musk hosted the show back in May of 2021. Be that as it may, my point re. “timing” in this latest adventure is explained herein:
No sooner had I hinted to Magdalena that she query Ablahblah’s attorney as to what happened with April’s check, than our new quasi-manager, Cortez, knocked on my door to provide a concise answer! And so it goes: every crisis in my Brindlekin Tales always comes with its own resolution in short shrift, like a plot in a comedy of errors, that is: SCRIPTED. As for my decision to slip my April/May rent check under Mr. Garciak’s door:
It didn’t come easy, as much deliberation preceded that history-making act of courage. The urge to do so first stirred while hovel and finishing my evening sup last night.
“Go ahead and slip it under the door!” a little birdie told me (though more likely a pterodactyl, but I digress). “You have nothing to lose at this point, Zeke, and everything to gain!”
The urge was so strong by the time I finished washing the dishes, brushed my teeth, did my plantar fasciitis workout and downloaded the latest Youtube videos for later viewing, I actually broke out my checkbook and filled out a check for two months’ payment, with the memo “Rent for Apr.-May ’23,” signed it…but left the date part vacant. Figuring I should wait until I hear from my attorney first, which would most likely be tomorrow, but not so sure about that.
Then I set aside the check and kicked back to watch some of those new videos, until I could no longer resist the nagging slide-the-damn-check-under-his-door-already voice clanging in my skull. So I grabbed the check and wrote yesterday’s date on it: “May 17, 2023,” placed it inside an envelope sealed with a puppy sticker, then suddenly found myself standing outside room 209, still hesitant and pondering whether or not it’s a good idea.
“I forgot my camera!” I thought. “Should I go back and retrieve it? Is it absolutely necessary? Do not the good words of devilishly handsome Cortez count for anything, along with Victor as my witness? Would this not be a profound act of good faith in a young buck obviously proud of this new responsibility, that my thrusting this check under his door with but little resistance be like a rocket’s ejaculation into space that would send him off to the stars? Wouldn’t I feel good about that? Wouldn’t HE feel good about that? Wouldn’t we BOTH be orgasmically relieved of this long-tumescent tension spurred by an unresolved issue building up within the loins of our passionate itch to work things out amicably? Or would my continued resistance be a more responsible way to handle this mishap, though droolingly succulent Cortez be blameless?”
Well, Wattson, I stood there for several minutes while these thoughts bounced around in my cranium, but finally, it all came to a head, whereupon I bent down towards the foot of the door to force the envelope through that narrow slit which, to my boundless ecstasy, was sufficiently tight, but not overly so. For it provided just enough pressure to coyly resist for a few savory moments before I could thrust it all the way inside, as far as it could possibly go without actually fusing the two of us into one being of pure bliss: door and Zeke. At this euphorically trembling point I knew NO ONE ELSE could manage to work it back out with their fingers, except Cortez himself, should he choose to do just that, and decouple with a deep, slow moan of a job well done. Or just let it remain stuffed up that proverbial, tight crack according to his pleasure. And my ability to firmly deliver my long-suppressed payload with the rigid and prolonged salute of a decorated war veteran obedient to his sergeant, pumping wads and wads of utmost devotion like a gushing fire hose let loose and outta control. In sum:
It felt GOOD to put my thrust in the budding lad, and so I returned to my room a better man for that (and hornier to boot)!
– Zeke K-Holmes
Subject: My New Halvah Recipe
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 19, 2023 at 12:36 PM
[Specifically concocted for the toothless or those well on the way, though anyone can enjoy this healthy delight.]
One could hardly call it “halvah” at this point, due to all the added ingredients. Suffice it to say it’s a wholesome, sticky blend of ground up grains, seeds, nuts, tahini, honey and cinnamon, that goes great with a cuppa tea, my fave being “Twining’s Black Currant.” Before I came up with this “pimped-out halvah” recipe, I was adding the ground up nuts, seeds and hemp hearts to my banana smoothie, along with some peanut butter. But due to gastric disruptions caused by ingesting my smoothie, I’ve had to eliminate the source, which I discovered to be bananas and possibly peanut butter. I’m also sick of cow milk, so eliminated THAT from my diet as well. And switched to soy beverage, either plain or with added cocoa powder and Sweet ‘N’ Low. So instead of creating smoothies I now have added the nuts and seeds to my halvah to come up with the following recipe:
1 multigrain crispbread cracker (3×4″ or equivalent)
1 plump handful of raw pumpkin seeds
2 tablespoons of hemp seed hearts
2 handfuls of mixed, raw walnuts and pecans
1/4 teaspoon of Ceylon cinnamon powder
4 tablespoons of tahini
5 teaspoons of raw honey
– Toss broken up cracker, pumpkin seeds and hemp into a blender, then grind it all down into a meal.*
– Toss walnuts and pecans into a smaill food processor, then grind it all down into a meal.*
– Pour the above ingredients into a bowl.
– Thoroughly mix into the bowl the cinnamon powder, tahini and honey.
This makes two to three individual servings (attached pic shows a 1/3 portion). Refrigerate what you won’t eat right away in a sealed container for later consumption. Lasts for days.
* Note that instead of a blender to grind up the seeds you can use a clean coffee mill or similar appliance. Also: a blender is not sufficient to grind up the nuts, so that’s why the food processor.
– Zeke K-Holmes
Subject: I now have a pterodactyl cursor!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 19, 2023 at 8:59 PM
Only for my Firefox browser, but I use that app far more than any other. Found it while searching for “pterodactyl mouse cursor.” See attached video.
Would’ve been the highlight of my day (well, either that or securing my two USB hubs and the external hard drives to the bottom of my desk riser top with Velcro strips, thus freeing up more space on my work station)…but for Deek and pups’ arrival mid-afternoon.
It went great! I fed the pups while he went off somewhere for fifteen minutes or so. While I was sitting the angels some young woman came up and offered me two boxed dinners. I didn’t open them, just passed them on to Deek once he returned a short while later.
“See, Deek?” I declared upon handing him the vittles still in their brown paper bag with those twine handles I remember from childhood. “You asked for five dollars, I said no, and you wound up getting over TWENTY dollars in a delicious double-repast!”
Upon opening the first box, it Looked like the grub was from the Mediterranean Cafe around the corner: juicy plump drumsticks in a savory red sauce, pilaf salad and home fries.
Soon as he scooped his fingers into the treasure with gusto, I procured four GWs and quarters from my pocket and placed them on his cross-legged lap. He grinned at me with sauce around his mouth, said “Hey thanks, didn’t expect that!”
“You’ve already gotten your full month’s allowance two WEEKS ago,” I admonished with a wag of my index finger, “so do NOT ask me for five dollars every time you drop by, PLEASE!”
But I fear, Wattson, he’s now likely to visit MORE often, just for the sake-a-da-moolah, since I caved in today. And put the thought in his head in the first place.
The dogs were disappointed their master didn’t share (and I’m glad he didn’t), but I soon distracted them by bringing down their own duck breast and milk bone treats. I hanged with ’em for almost an hour, enjoying the mutts’ company with Lucky zonked out on my lap and his sister stretched snugly beside me. Of course I had already provided them with a large sheet of cardboard and a sleeping bag.
Deek played the asshole for awhile, blathering how homosexuality is not natural, Michael Savage is a wise man, and other nonsense he knew would irk me…as he noshed happily away. But it did not, for I realized it was another test of my emotional stability, so all I said (while scritching Lucky’s belly) was:
“Keep on spewing idiocy all you want, I’m not listening and I’d much rather enjoy your darling dogs’ company in peace! I know you’re tryin’ to work my nerves.”
But he kept it up for ten minutes more while I focused on the brindlekin with adoring words and pats, before he decided it’s better to simply enjoy the lovely spring weather in friendly company. After, of course, performing his bodhisattva duty to observe my constancy (or lack thereof), that is: to see whether or not he could get under my skin. I obviously passed the test with flying crullers.
“No doubt he’ll report the upbeat outcome back to headquarters, where Larkin rules, shortly after he leaves,” I mused in silence. I have NO idea where it’s located, but I’m sure somewhere nearby!
Some time later, after a few satisfied belches on his part and fussing with the contents of his granny cart, he picked up the leashes, thanked me for all I do, and wished me an excellent night.
“God bless your little family, Deek, and happy trails!” I matched his words in kind, feeling pleased as punch that a joyous future was secured for us all. And I sensed he felt likewise. In conclusion:
Deek’s raucous behavior over the years was a ruse all along…to get me to where I am now: a beautiful space beyond my greatest expectations!
– Zeke K-Holmes
ADDENDUM
Before uploading the video to Youtube I created a new screen recording on a dummy email with your addy “My Dear Wattson <mdwattson@geemail.com>” and mine: “Ezekiel Krahlin <gay-bubble.org>.”
Don’t know why that little companion showed up when I enlarged the screen! Maybe a glitch in the screen recorder, or perhaps a conflict with the display chip. But I like that Pterry has a mini-me for company…who knows, could be yers truly!
Re: Keeping One Muffin Ahead of the Game
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 20, 2023 at 10:09 PM
> There’s a pretty good blubbery muffin available up here, too, made by Boont Farm in Boonville. I don’t get one every day, but maybe once a week. Eat it in the car, moist crumbs falling.
“Blubbery?” Were those ericaceous fruits fermenting? Or did you get all blubbery with joy upon the first bite? Be that as it may:
Watch out, Wattson, blueberry muffin addiction creeps up on you when you least expect it, et voila!, you’re hooked and scarfing them up every day. Sadly, nearest BMA (Blueberry Muffins Anonymous) is way out there in Sacramento. Cold turkey is my only option, but who on Glob’s green earth even MAKES turkey muffins? So it’s “gobble gobble gobble” those “blubbery” muffins till the cows come home, for “moi!”
> I’m out of Rudi’s, must endure inferior Orowheat muffins. The only similarity is the shape.
Greek tragedy is toying with you! But I have a confession to make: those Thomas’ multigrain muffins were so AWFUL they make Orowheat shine! Absolutely NO flavor, like eating margarine on weathered cardboard. I managed to consume two in one week’s time before I threw the rest away. Small price to pay, though, for that outstanding Pterry dialog!
> What kind of a piggy person would buy ten muffins?
One who has a whole sounder of pigs to feed?
> I limit myself to two packages of Rudi’s at a time.
Your self control is admirable, good doctor.
> Oh, naughty, naughty rent-paying escapade. I know smutty innuendo when I see it!
Leave it to highbrow YOU (Morticia) to catch my subtle allusion to weaknesses of the flesh…it’s my trademark! I would never DREAM of knocking my readers over the noggin with such filth. Though I fear my oblique, Victorian-esque approach may go over way too many pulsating heads, like a strong breeze across a field of stinkhorns! But for those who DO grok the schlock, I give fair warning:
My fans will need to keep the smelling salts handy to get through THOSE two salty paragraphs! I suspect pheromones wafting through the doorway cracks that put me in such a randy spell. It was a trap! Had I lingered even a second more I’d’ve collapsed into a quivering lump of ecstasy, and my rent check would’ve dissolved into the carpet. Furthermore:
Eat your heart out, Edward George Earle Bulwer-Lytton!
– Zeke K-Holmes
P.S.: Ironic that just when I finally resolve this drawn-out struggle to resume paying my rent, looms the imminent threat I may soon be homeless anyway, if this sorry nation defaults!
Subject: Yay! Another letter on my door!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 21, 2023 at 8:59 AM
Of course I was apprehensive about opening it, and not too pleased to start my day like this. “Now what is THIS about?” I wondered, sand still in my eyes. “Another 3-Day Notice? Deek being noisy with his boombox for a few minutes last night? A proposal from Cortez that we elope?” It was neither hand delivered with a knock on my door, nor sealed in an envelope. It was simply folded in thirds and taped to my door.
– Zeke K-Holmes
TEXT VERSION OF THE LETTER:
ATTENTION ALL TENANTS OF 9666 MARKET STREET In case many of you were not aware, Kevin Bond has once again taken a leave of absence from his position of Building Manage and some handwritten notices have gone up by someone telling us to give him the rent checks instead. If like myself, you have not met this Cortez Garciak do not give the rent checks to him. Syet Ablahblah has not taken it upon himself to even send us letters to let us know Cortez has been assigned as the new contact person. Let's not forget all the mounting other issues that are going on with this building. 1. No hot water most of March 2. No elevator availability for coming up on 7 years 3. The blood smear upon the wall just to the left of the first landing coming up from the stairs from the foyer 4. Holes in the hallway / staircase carpets that needs replacing 6. No access to the washer / dryer units that is well known to be in the building but not allowed to use by Building Manager 7. Continuous bedbug / mice problems and no sign of any pest control visits to get them under control 8. Tiles in the foyer in desperate need of being replaced 9. Lack of communication for owners / management about when things are going to be fixed or whom is actually going to be in charge with Kevin out of commission 10. Backed-up plumbing issues (toilet or sink) that takes more than a day for a plumber to come and take a look at Basically, this is just a small sampling of what's going on and I'm sure you all might have additional issues that have not been listed and if you do, let Syed know by calling / texting him at 415-xxx-xxxx and make your voices heard! At this moment and time, I'm calling for RENT WITHHOLDING by the entire building until we meet Syed face-to-face and he starts owning up to these issues as well as getting us updates as to when (not if) they're going to be fixed with a set schedule and plans to follow-up on them. Make sure that even though you're withholding the rent to keep the funds in a safe account until these issues are resolved. Now if anyone here is threatened with an eviction type notice for not paying the rent, I assure you that the City Housing Authority as well as the City Rent Board are majorly aware of the issues going on here and are open to hearing more complaints come in as well as provided a website for us to go to in order to fight any evictions. Jackie Thornhill: Jackie.thornhill@sfgov.arg Carl Nicita: carl.nicita@sfgov.arg Dennis Yee: dennis.yee@sfgov.arg https://evictiondefense.org/contact-us/
Subject: Yay! Another email to my attorney!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 21, 2023 at 9:23 AM
–begin:
Subject: Another letter taped to my door this morning (Sunday)!
Turned out to not be aimed at me, but one posted to every resident’s door regarding shoddy management. I’m sure my rent check will get to Ablahblah shortly, regardless. This letter shows me that a lawsuit is likely to be instigated by others in the building, which of course will take this burden off my hands. I could just join the lawsuit if it comes to that, like I did for a previous grievance among tenants well over a decade ago.
[google drive link to that letter]
–end
Subject: Request to keep my gay-bible.org website active (annual renewal).
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: Support at Online Policy Group
Date: May 21, 2023 at 12:17 PM
Per this notice received last month. Thank you IMMENSELY!
——– Original Message ——–
Subject: 90 Day Renewal Reminder 07-21-2023
Date: 2023-04-22 19:56
From: Online Policy Group
To: Ezekiel Krahlin, gay-bible.org
Dear Customer,
Your domain name(s) will expire in 90 days. Act now to avoid any disruption to email or website services and avoid losing your chosen name(s).
The domain name(s) due for renewal are:
DOMAIN NAME = gay-bible.org
EXPIRY DATE = 07-21-2023
DAYS UNTIL EXPIRY = 89
AUTORENEW ENABLED = N
Thank you for your attention.
Subject: IT’S ALL SCRIPTED!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 21, 2023 at 1:36 PM
As I’ve claimed many times before, Wattson. What gave it away in that letter is the mention of the blood on the wall. For it is one incident I’ve neglected to inform my attorney about, and it’s been nagging at me to add this to my list of grievances already in her “Zeke” folder. So I was gonna report this to her some time this week, with a photo. But instead, the surprise letter posted to my door this morning took care of that! Seeing as bodhisattva wizards are TELEPATHIC when need be, among their many other great talents. Now for the rest of this script as I predict per My Bodhisattva Premise:
Remember that Ablahblah Realty, along with their attorney, are in on this too, gleefully playing their Snidely Whiplash to my Dudley Do-Right. After all, who DOESN’T love to play the evil protagonist on stage; it’s a cherished role actors often FIGHT over for the honor. A class action lawsuit will ensue, with all plaintiffs awarded a payment of around $15,000 each…based on a previous suit I was part of, in which we each collected $14,000. But unlike the first case, it won’t take almost three years to resolve, but three months or less. After all, Ablahblah WANTS me to have that moolah, which I will hold onto for emergency veterinarian care, though I certainly hope the need will never arise. This settlement will ALSO grant me permission to have the pups visit whenever I’d like. In addition:
Dispute resolution will eventually lead to POSSESSION of Hotel California North by the residents themselves, with arrangements for yours truly to continue my low, monthly rent as legitimate payment towards OWNING my humble unit…no hidden fees involved. Around this time stardom shall come my way, and a nonprofit organization will be founded on my behalf in order to cover any and all expenses towards keeping me housed and FULFILLING my activist goals. Including my own OFFICE at the LGBT center, where Bay Area Legal Aid ALSO has offices! IOW I will WIND UP being Magdalena’s next-door neighbor, workplace-wise! And the doggies will have a SECOND home…or third, if you count my sanctuary along with Deek’s cabin! Which doggies’ master shall ALSO benefit by the provision of a free studio apartment in my building. Now here’s a most REVELATORY tidbit regarding that LGBT Center:
On the granite wall beside the elevator on the third floor, where BALA has their offices, are names carved into it, of major donors that made this Center possible. ONE of them is Robin Kovax, who ALSO happens to be an incorporator and founding director of Online Policy Group which has been hosting GRATIS my gay-bible website since 1997 (and the associated webmail service)! I’ve never had the honor to meet him personally, and he’s since moved to Toronto years ago, but their headquarters remain here in The City (I think). Here’s their website BTW, which is in dire need of an update.
THIS IS NO COINCIDENCE, WATTSON, THIS IS A SCRIPTED SCENARIO WRIT BY ENLIGHTENED BEINGS! At least, IMNSHO (in my not-so-humble opinion). Anyways, onward and upward with my prophetic vision re. the evolving script of “This is Your Life, Ezekiel Joseph Krahlin a.k.a. Eugene Frank Catalano:”
Around this time there will also occur the collapse of these dis-United States, and the establishment of NEW nations carved out of these states, including the secession of what is roughly defined as Northern California, to be renamed “Athenia” with THIS globsmacked pilgrim its very first GAY President…or Prime Queer Minister, or Benevolent Fagtator or Grand Uranian Poobah, or some OTHER title in the vein of national figurehead. Needless to say, for this and countless OTHER reasons (such as my Brindlekin Tales becoming a blockbuster success exceeding every other publication, movie or play by an astronomically LONG shot) I will become THE most notable and influential hominid ON the entire planet! And it will STAY that way for time immemorial…no flash in the pan THIS borderline schizophrenic!
[SIDEBAR: Speaking of schizophrenia, I intend my NEXT publication to be entitled “How to Turn Your So-Called Mental Disability into a Cash Cow of Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious Proportion”…a self-help book on steroids!]
So there you have it, old chap…straight from the Me-nicorn’s mouth. May all your wishes come true, and your days be blessed with pterodactyl magic!
– Zeke K-Holmes
Subject: Deek’s visit last night: a bit rocky!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 21, 2023 at 3:54 PM
He came by really late this time: 11:30 PM. And he knows very well the cut-off hour is midnight. Wanted me to change the music on his chip, which took but a few minutes ’cause he only wanted TWO rappers: J.I and Teejay3K. I also fed the pups and, since he did not offer them anything cushy to rest upon, but left them seated beside him on the damp, cold, filthy sidewalk, I brought down some cardboard sheets and a sleeping bag. But before I did, I admonished him for shoving Flaco off his lap (“Hey, get offa me!”) when she attempted to flee the concrete:
“DON’T treat her like that, Deek! She has nothing but love for you, and nothing but immense respect is what BOTH dogs deserve. Shame on you!”
“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! LEAVE ME ALONE, I’M NOT IN A GOOD MOOD!”
“NO excuse, Deek,” I retorted. “Be KIND to these angels, ALWAYS! Your bad moods are BOGUS and unforgiveable. Look at that! YOU are sitting on a thick, folded coat, when it’s YOU who should sit on the sidewalk and give THEM your coat!”
“WHY DO YOU ALWAYS START AN ARGUMENT WITH ME!” he blasted his foul words into the ether. “STOP BOTHERING ME, GET OUTTA MY FACE!”
“No, YOU stop bothering ME, and these lovely pooches,” I persisted. “YOU’RE the problem, and always have been. Do you REALLY wanna keep playing the stupid redneck? Where is THAT gonna get you?”
Anyway, he quieted down after that, and I returned hovel while he and mutts sat outside beneath the Super Duper awning. It was pleasingly cool last night, with a very light and sporadic drizzle. Soon as they finished fluffing up the comforter, I placed the edges over them so they could enjoy a more thorough rest in their makeshift hidey spots.
But since I had to retrieve the sleeping bag when Deek decided to leave (whenever THAT would be), I was forced to stay up well beyond midnight. It wasn’t until 1:40 AM that he finally decided to depart, with no concern for MY need to get some shuteye. In fact, shortly before he ended the visit, he began to blast his speaker like some outdoor concert. I waited a few minutes in hopes he wouldn’t keep that up, but he did, so I stepped back outside.
“You need to lower the volume,” I loudly proclaimed, seeing as he otherwise wouldn’t hear me, nor even notice I was right beside him because facing the other direction and half drowsy. “You’re not letting me sleep, or anyone else on this side of the building. I will NOT put up with that!”
Before abiding my request he blurted (as he has numerous times before): “Whatever I do outside should be of no concern to the residents of your building. And it should have nothing to do with you!”
“BULLSHIT!” I exclaimed. “YOU know better, Deek, and you need to stop acting like a dumb punk!”
“Okay, keep that up,” he snarked, “and I WILL turn up the volume!” He then reached for the wheel in a threat to raise the noise to a head splitting level once again. But he did not. Though he DID mutter:
“Want me to throw water in your face again?”
With that, I picked up the water bowl, now almost empty, and shook it right in his face. “Do YOU want ME to pour this on your speaker?”
I then reached over him (whereupon he recoiled in fear I’d carry out my threat) to turn the volume wheel ALL the way down to zero, then said: “You do that one more time and I’ll sic the cops on you!”
“FUCK the cops,” he groused. “They can’t do nothin’!”
“Oh yes they can, and they already have, several times,” I countered. “They’ll chase you away just like before.”
He then stood up to declare he’s leaving now anyway.
“Well good riddance,” I replied, then crouched down to caress and scritch the doggies, who were most attentive throughout the conflict…though not particularly distraught. I told them kindly how much they are loved, with hugs and kisses to seal my words.
Upon returning hovel once they had vanished up Market Street, I put up my clothesline, one end of which is always tied to the radiator feed pipe, to hang the sleeping bag over it. Because it had gotten wet in some spots from the hounds spilling the water bowl earlier. And FINALLY managed to crash out by 2:15 AM, thank glob!
It was OTHERWISE a peaceful evening. I guess Deek just can’t flow with pellucid waters for too long, and feels like he’s gotta kick up some waves. Like the BRAT he often is.
– Zeke K-Holmes
ZekeBlog 2.0 