7 & 8

August 26, 2015

[ Flocculent Reader: these are postcards 7 & 8, with only two more to go, to complete my “10 New Rules.” Mailed off to six bars in The Castro that Larkin frequents…or frequented, seeing as their execution any time after Rule #1 may have already 86’d him from one or more of these gay dives. Then again, maybe they had no effect whatsoever, in my desire to retaliate against him kicking me out of these same bars by unkindly accusing me of being his stalker. Either way, enjoy my latest “Frenemy Volley.” ]

NEW RULE #7 (posted 20 August 2015):

NEW RULE #8 (posted 24 August 2015):


(Tuesday, August 25th around 8:15 PM) I saw Larkin once more at Twin Peaks Tavern. He was buddying up with the typical old fart while I stood outside within clear view of his sight. My heart broke, yet I was joyful at the same time.

Minutes came and went before he finally stuck a Camel 99 between those lovely lips; thus I realized he was about to step out. So I positioned myself catty-corner to the tavern in order to behold him from any direction. Yet instead of standing outside and sucking on that stick, he marched down Castro towards 18th.

I ran across the street in order to stride parallel to My Darling Demon. About halfway down the block, he started to cut diagonally across the traffic. But he paused before a car and did His Little Victory Dance while the driver remained a captive audience. Then continued across to suddenly see me standing there, and naturally threw me an angry glance and rushed back to the opposite side of Castro Street. So I hollered:

“That’s what I like so much about you: always the kind smile and good cheer!”

He waved a dismissive hand in my direction, treating me like The Ultimate Nuisance Of All Mankind that he has since January 2013. I was not about to be silenced:

“You love anyone with a fat wallet. Otherwise, forget it!”

Once he turned the corner east up 18th Street, I hurried back to 17th & Market, where I was sure he’d return to Twin Peaks, figuring I would give up and walk home by then. Sure enough, a short time later he strode around the corner of Hartford Street and onto 17th, where I waited nearby. His fists were balled up in fury, and he pounded them together as he passed by. I did not flinch; instead I hollered:

“It all comes down to anger management, Larkin! It’s no big deal, really.” I wanted so badly to hold him in my arms and tell him how much he means to me. But he has denied me that honor for more than 2-1/2 years at this point.

“Get away from me,” he hollered from a distance. “Get out of my life, goddam fukker!”

“I can’t!” I called back, ready to burst into tears; for I could never imagine abandoning him. “I’m your friend.”


His cold rejection didn’t fool me for a moment, so I admonished: “Don’t take any wooden colostomy bags, Larkin!”

Yet he still ignored me, so I queried: “Where’s your sense of humor, buddy?”

Just before he reentered the tavern, I declared: “Get back into The Glass Coffin, where you belong!”

(Twin Peaks Tavern is nicknamed The Glass Coffin, because that is the one bar in The Castro where the elderly set hangs out…more so than any other dive in the ‘hood. I find it hilarious, especially now that I have recently turned 65, yet feel no older than 32. So be it: I have a youthful spirit. And a great love for Larkin, who must be 53 by now; though is so glorious in appearance, he appears 27 on a good hair day.)

So I stood outside another 11 minutes or so, during which time His Pea-Brained Housemate, Zachary, showed up. Therefore I had to position myself where the idiot wouldn’t see me, yet Larkin would. My Sweet Soulmate did not angle his face away from This Displaced Soul–as was his usual wont–but remained facing in my direction while chatting up a Methusalah queer. After smoking another Fortuna, I decided it’s time to return hovel and fill my belly with nourishment.

(Which these days was long-grain brown rice dabbed with Rosarita’s vegetarian refried pinto beans, steamed bits of green, yellow, orange or red bell pepper, chopped green onion, mild green or red salsa, vine ripened tomato cubes, marinated and grilled artichoke hearts…and topped with grated sharp cheddar once all the other ingredients are nuked for three minutes. Sometimes I’ll include a side dish of sour cream and onion CVS potato chips. A chill glass of diet Pepsi or Dr. Pepper completed the meal.)

Halfway towards Market Street I turned back one last time to gaze upon My Beloved through the plate glass window. Wherewith he smiled boldly and waved his arms with much enthusiasm. I gestured back with blown kisses and hand signals to indicate: “It’s okay. I will always love you, and thank you for the affirmation. Asshole.”

Thus I arrived hovel with a lightened heart. Nonetheless, once seated at Desk #2 I broke down and sobbed. I am such a wreck.

PS: As of a few days ago, a brown, carotenoid lump appeared on my right hand, between thumb and forefinger. Several weeks before then, it was just a flat, white mar. Melanoma? God only knows, ’cause I certainly can’t afford to see a doctor. FUK PRESIDENT OBAMA and his “Unaffordable Care Act.” I have only The Great Spirit to trust at this point, that I shall not be taken away from those I love…and even be victorious in my struggles for Gay Righteousness. Stupid drama.

A Native Breakfast

August 19, 2015


If you are underage, or in any way forbidden by your government or religious laws from viewing X-rated subject matter, please do not go there. If, however, you are not restricted by any laws in your geographical location, by all means click on the image above, to read my salty tale.

Zeke’s 10 New Rules

August 17, 2015

[ Exfoliated Reader: these Ten New Rules are roughly drawn to satirize Moses’ Commandments, updated for LGBT folks as channeled through my specifically personal adventures. Originally broadcast separately, each New Rule was snail-mailed on a postcard, to six gay bars that Larkin frequent(s)(ed), as well as to The Dragonfly Emperor Himself. Which occurred during the months of July and August 2015. (It was originally five bars until I discovered that 440 Castro was his latest addition to his hustler dives.)

Note: the paragraph above was written in the past tense, as I planned to release this blog entry after all postcards have been sent. However, I decided to publish this piece today, in advance of New Rules 7-10. I also mailed a copy of my 10 New Rules to Larkin yesterday, that he may be aware of what’s comin’ down the pike. I will mail the remainder three days apart.

Click on the Sufi heart below each section, to view an image of the actual postcard. You will have to scroll down to find it…first the front and then the back. In two cases (numbers 2 and 3, and numbers 7 and 8) two sequential postcards are presented in a single blog entry. After August 30th, links to postcards #9 and #10 shall be provided. ]

  1. Do not allow Larkin Kelsey to enter, or remain in, any gay bar, tavern, saloon or the like, without my company. Except for Moby Dick, whenever his roommate Zachary is tending bar.
  2. Larkin must commute from his home on a motorless go-cart no less than 5 blocks in any direction. This go-cart shall be powered only by a flock of 20 chickens tethered to the front, like a bobsled. No other form of locomotion is acceptable.
  3. Give Larkin as many hugs as he can handle. And tell him each time, how much Zeke loves him. And wants him to have a beautiful life with or without me. If he is in a gay bar, tavern, saloon or the like when you do this, kick him out immediately after your hug…unless of course if I am standing beside him at that time.
  4. Be kind to Larkin Kelsey, yet do not allow him to disappear from my world: geographically, socially or consciously. This includes watching over him, that he does not hurt himself (unlikely, but better safe than sorry). Know that whatever outcome is my lot with Mr. Kelsey, reflects directly upon the S.F. LGBT community at large.
  5. Like a popular sport, many denizens of gay bars go out of their way to destroy potential friendships outside their own circle. This must end. I fully trust my supporters (whoever they are) to bust their ovaries in order to make this change. And thank you ahead of time for all your good work. A new age is dawning…and it’s very gay. (This is writ in memory of Officer Jane.)
  6. We the SF Queer Family owe Friesen Press everything! For they are the only self-publishing venue that would even touch my novel, which is based on true tales of my adventures as a gay street activist here in Baghdad by the Bay. With Larkin Kelsey the protagonist, and my hero. So if at all possible, please publish the three sequels to my book, “Free Me From This Bond” via Friesen, as our community
    takes over the distribution of my writing. The link to the free version is
    http://www.gay-bible.org/free. My publishing advisor is Debbie Anderson, out of Victoria, British Columbia. 1-888-378-6793 ext. 307. danderson@friesenpress.com
  7. Flush out all the obvious and not-so-obvious street people who are homophobic. Thus you shall protect those homeless
    who are either LGBT or friendly to us, who are the most vulnerable to violent attacks (certainly more so than those living indoors). Please base your judgment on behavior, not words. For some who are gay nonetheless act very bigoted, believing that is necessary to protect themselves. They gotta go, too, no excuses. This will also make The Castro a much safer place for residents and visitors alike. You can easily expose the not-so-obvious by calculated words or behavior that you impart. We can then build on this accomplishment, by forming a more cohesive union among all queers and their allies.
  8. The borders of The Castro shall be defined much as the earlier delineation that is termed “Eureka Valley.” That is: Dolores
    Street is the eastern edge, the outermost (Waller Street) border of Duboce Park the northern extent, 20th Street is the southernmost border, and Douglass Street the western limit. So please confine all New Rules within those limits. And be confident that our victories shall swiftly expand beyond these borders, to finally encompass the entire planet.
  9. Do not be fooled by The Naked. For most of these
    guys and gals who occupy Jane Warner Plaza almost totally nude, do not give a flying fuk about LGBT rights. They are wannabe celebrity poseurs, who use the relative safety of The Castro in hopes of gaining financial glory, at the cost of queer denizens and visitors, who only wish to have a nice time in a safe space. Most of these nudists are hetero, but those who identify as gay, are self destructive with a perverted desire to fuk up The Castro
    Reputation as much as they can. For if they were sincere in The Right to be Naked, they’d have already expanded their cause into other SF neighborhoods. Their purpose is merely to serve as puppets for the homophobic right wing: to convince tourists and TV addicts that The Castro is indeed a boiling pot of sexually diseased sodomites. Give ’em hell and get them outta here!
  10. Give all glory to the Hypnotoad! But if not, then give it to me. Or to Larkin Kelsey thanks to his many incredible (and often painful) lessons. Or to the many excellent LGBT scouts under His Command: such as yourself, perhaps. For I/Him/We am/are The Be-All & End-All of LGBT Equality. This is my last New Rule, which I trust you will take to heart. Have fun with your life; just know there are others also queer, but who must suffer the slings and arrows of homelessness, poverty, redneck location, et cetera. Do your utmost best for each of these long-suffering angels. I hope My 10 New Rules will be an inspiration towards a more egalitarian and LGBT friendly existence. Thank you kindly for bearing with me…Larkin be exalted!

The Curse of Abraham

August 14, 2015

It is beyond my comprehension why so much of my calling reflects a heavily Judeo-Christian metaphor. Except perhaps this is the society I was born and raised in: thus most Americans will not grasp my intent unless it is cloaked in such Biblical ideology. My take on the matter is like so:

According to Carl Jung (the father of compassionate therapy, and great advocate of respecting the folklore intrinsic to whatever culture), the major symbols of any nation are based on the religious mythos most common among its masses.

Therefore, the major archetypes of These Disunited States are based upon Christian icons. It is therefore less likely that the majority of its denizens would comprehend my message, were it based on, say, Buddhist, Native American, Celtic or other non-current belief system that has been usurped by our present mythology which holds a firm grip on its citizenry.

Ergo, in order to reach as many souls as possible within my own nation of birth and education, I must appeal to them via whatever mindset most agrees with their concretized brains.

Though for myself (as a shamanic animist by virtue of long-term examination of life’s truths) I boldly resent having to reach out to the populace via a highly ignorant and destructive world view that has decimated and persecuted many vulnerable populations across the world.

For Christianity is nothing more than a usurpation of previous, and earlier, ethnographic belief systems…which they then claim as originating from their own (so-called) Supreme Divine Command. For example: this “Golden Rule” they claim to originate from a person who never really existed (Jesus Christ) holds no precedent to earlier history. Yet this is patently untrue.

For there have existed many sage women and men–centuries and even millennia before The Christian Era–who’ve taught their people that to “love one another as one would love oneself” is the most basic rule of human life.

[ Scopulous Reader: another example is the concept of “End Times,” which many Christian sects believe will be a prolonged devastation of our planet, of Boschian proportion. This is utter horse hockey, a distortion of the much older, Celtic/Pagan version of transition into a new and glorious Age of Man…which we call the “War of the Wizards.” A tremendous struggle between the evil sorcerors, and the good sorcerers, a.k.a. “Black Hats vs. White Hats.” And just who goes by those titles, in this present era? The White Hats shall win, of course, but the climb to victory will be most extraordinary…and hilarious. To read my particular take on how this shall come about, read my cyberpunk tale, “The Mighty Mouse Virus.” As well as the final part of the last chapter in “Free Me From This Bond (the sequel).” Jump to phrase “letter to the editor” and you’re good. ]

Yet I really have no other choice than to inform the world through a Christian perspective, no matter how much I rebel against it. For changing the hearts of as many people as possible–to love their LGBT brothers and sisters unconditionally–is far more important than being a stickler for historical accuracy.

For the kindly soul who hath declared “let he who is without sin cast the first stone,” has long since evaporated into dust, leaving Yours Truly to pick up the pieces. This is no walk in the park.

I therefore compare my relationship with Larkin, as comparable to that of Abraham and Isaac of the Old Testament. For YHVH commanded that Abraham sacrifice his son, Isaac, to the knife…in order to prove his devotion to The Creator. You may learn about this dramatic stand-off by reading “The Binding of Isaac“.

For it has grown quite clear in my perception, that Our Creator has placed me in a tragic scenario, whereby I must be willing to sacrifice unto death, He Whom I Love Above Any Other, in order to prove my devotion to Homophile Liberation. Thankfully–because I understand the process through shamanic lore–I fully realize that Goddess shall halt this sacrifice at the very last moment…just as Jehovah did with Abraham.

And I believe that Larkin is totally aware of my painful dilemma. For he is such a Benevolent Spirit that he is more than willing to sacrifice His Own Beautiful Life, that I may gain a victorious destiny that will benefit all planetary souls. And he shall never flinch, even for a moment, to bring this about. Just another reason to adore him more than any other man I have ever met (even in my dreams).

And this is why Larkin fuks with me over and over again: for that is the only way I will rise above whatever adversity: by placing the Buddha’s compassion before every challenge that confronts me. In order to discover the joyful solution, rather than one that is vengeful and rife with anger.

You should be so lucky to have someone who loves you so much as Larkin does yours truly, who puts his affection immediately behind life’s sacred lessons (albeit sometimes tragic), without any hesitation whatsoever.

So what is my point here? I guess to demonstrate Larkin’s exquisite sense of Spiritual Martial Arts, and his devoted role in accelerating My Soul’s Progress, unencumbered by romantic attachment.

In spite of my wishes otherwise!

The following postcard I sent out to those 5 proverbial Castro gay bars that Larkin hangs out in–or used to hang out in before I blasted him–on August 11th. Whether he actually can frequent any of them any more, or not, is irrelevant in This Activist Gay Dude’s World. For I am Fate’s Hand That Cannot Be Halted At This Point.

Allow me to close this piece with a cute Twitter post:


Date: Fri, 14 Aug 2015 22:22:03
From: Sean H.
Re: The Curse of Abraham
To: Zeke Krahlin

Abraham is cursed. If I have this right, there was Isaac and Ishmael. To favor Isaac over Ishmael was unfair and ungodly; you never favor one child over the other. Islam, as I understand, is the legacy of Ishmael. For the organized church of so-called Christians to go after Islam is simply pot meeting kettle.


Date: Sat, 15 Aug 2015 12:00:15
Re: The Curse of Abraham
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Sean H.

On Fri, Aug 14, 2015 at 10:22 PM, Sean H. wrote:

{{ Abraham is cursed. If I have this right, there was Isaac and Ishmael. }}

That is one excellent analysis…makes sense even though my conscious intent was not that Abraham himself was cursed. But that all his descendents are cursed. To put this another way: these 3 Abrahamic religions are a curse on all of us; and most particularly on LGBT’s!

Thus, any religion or other world view /must/ come to fully respect
sexual minorities , or their ways shall perish. That is The Ultimate
Litmus Test by which Universal Mind shall judge our world, as far as I
can tell. Seems to me that a sliver of Christian churches will come
through unscathed; same for the other two branches.

The asking of God that one sacrifice who one loves most–to achieve a
greater purpose–arose from ancient shamanic ritual. And it manifested
in a variety of ways…each way giving birth to a major Odyssey within
their folklore.

For each of the Abrahamic religions to claim such brilliant tales as
originating from /themselves/ (instead of earlier sources), is a gross
distortion of Truth…and thus, blasphemy.

Anywayz, I thoroughly enjoyed writing that essay, and I’m glad you got something out of it. Imagine my visiting your church group one Sunday, to read to them “The Curse of Abraham!” Think they’d crucify me…or just stick a few spears in my side?

– Zeke

It’s All Good

August 12, 2015

Date: Mon, 10 Aug 2015 14:23:28
It’s All Good (blog entry)
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Superlative E-friends

My blog post, “Blue Roses Blossom,” includes a scathing condemnation of Harvey Milk. For which reason I bring to your attention due to its direct opposition to current LGBT mindset. Sacred cows are /meant/ to be toppled!

For the ravages of time have proven me correct regarding his assassin Dan White: that instead of directing abject hatred towards him, we should have shown forgiveness; that he become transformed into Our Greatest Asset as a result (instead of him committing suicide). Along with many other anti-gay poseurs. Remember what the Buddha hath said: “we have no enemies, only teachers.”

Refer to my letter to the editor (the first I ever wrote to any gay rag, and which catapulted me into my role as an activist). That was back in 1985, same year I flew out to D.C. to stand by Randolph Taylor’s side:

Dan White Deserves Forgiveness

But please note that the title was created by the Bay Area Reporter and not by yours truly. For I never said he /deserves/ forgiveness, but that we should forgive him anyway. Their bias was an ignorant manipulation of my intent, for which I have suffered decades of unmerited scapegoating. Well, now my time has come!

Sean Harrison: you clearly remember that letter, and I greatly appreciated your friendly support. I will never forget those Harvey Milk heads you created out of artist’s clay (about 2.5 inches high and 1.5 wide), and attempted to sell on the streets of The Castro. I crack up in hilarity each time I recollect that adventure! Wish I had a photo of one of those heads, to include in my upcoming blog post, “It’s All Good” (of which this letter shall be included).

[ Here is where I would insert the image of a Harvey Milk head. ]

Now, I am in the difficult situation of pleading forgiveness towards Larkin. Since the Castro bartenders and customers have /finally/ figured out his treachery, and are now furious over Larkin using them to turn against me. Kicking me out of all the bars, isolating me socially, and possibly causing me physical harm. Thus my postcards to said bars, pleading that they show him kindness; and watch over him, that he does not injure himself in remorse. My prayer is they will not regard him with the animosity they did Dan White…as I ascend towards leadership and take the reins of Our Imminent Liberation.

For they now awaken to my role as Greatest LGBT Savior Ever. And that Larkin’s opposition against me threatens to sabotage the entire dream…not just mine, but that of every sexual minority on the planet. But I believe that Mr. Kelsey knows exactly what he is doing. For by playing my enemy, he’s placed these barkeeps et al into a most awkward situation. For if they do /not/ make up for their foolish rejection of me ASAP, they will go down in Gay History with unfathomable shame. In other words: Larkin has set things up that I may easily blackmail the entire San Francisco Homophile Tribe, to do my bidding!

Which includes providing myself and Kelsey with quality health care and living quarters, for a start. Much more shall I demand from them: you can imagine.

What a clever fellow, huh? No greater love is Larkin’s, that anyone shall know except for This Frivolous Faggot!

I like to think, though, that all those who play my enemy do such with conscious and willful intent. That in so doing they fulfill a Destiny Beyond Incredible, where I play the star role. Again: “we have no enemies, only teachers.” Since without them playing my antagonists, My Ultimate Odyssey would be a pathetic dud.

This is a complex scenario that I hope I’ve explained clearly enough for all of you, my e-friends, to grasp.

Sinqueerly yours,


P.S.: My first two postcards with “return to sender” on them have today arrived in my mailbox. Even though they were mailed to ‘Manager & Barkeeps” (and /not/ to Larkin) c/o the correct addresses. Which bars they originated from I do not know, since the addresses have been pasted over by a yellow USPS sticker. Though they both came from the same batch (the original New Rule that got Larkin 86’d). But I will continue to send out my “New Rule” cards until I reach the 10th (and final) rule…emulating Moses’ Commandments. Rejection be damned, I’m on a Holy Mission! You’d think I was at war with /them/, instead of homophobes. I’ll drive them insane if it comes to that.

Besides, such notoriety I might gain from this will in the long run, promote my novel. Seeing as Larkin has thwarted my plan for advertising my book via the bar circuit, I really don’t care at this point /whose/ feet I step on.

Because they’re /all/ A-holes.

{{ Reptilian/Humanoid Reader: This postcard was mailed on August 5th, after a rather pathetic confrontation with Larkin the previous day. He was more drunk than I’ve ever seen him before; probably blacked out awhile later. (Enlarge this page for a better read.)

This postcard’s gonna cause him worry, since he’ll believe I also mailed it to the five gay bars in The Castro that he frequents (or used to, minus one, since I got him 86’d from all but Moby Dick). Seeing as that has been my habit for so many postcards over these past two years.

I feel better now.

I will next describe our most recent and fabulous clash that inspired the postcard above: }}

According to my several scouts (and my own observation) Larkin has not been sighted at any of his regular Castro bars since New Rule #1 went into effect July 21st or 22nd. I was therefore chagrined to discover him lollygagging at Twin Peaks Tavern this afternoon (August 4th). I saw him through the plate glass, cleaning up tables and commisserating with the patrons, like the two-bit showman he is. Since he neither works there, nor seeks to strike up new friendships except to extract from plump wallets free booze and perhaps a 5 or 10-spot here and there.

Not that he doesn’t give a lot of bang for the buck, what with his charismatic nature, brilliant camaraderie and conversation, and (of course) his damnable good looks. It is just that he’s totally thrust me from his world 2-1/2+ years ago, that I may no longer bask in His Seraphic Aura. And if you’ve been reading my tales these past few months or longer, you already know that I’ve been busting my cajones big time, to win myself back into His Good Graces. Infuriatingly enough, however, all I get in return is wads of spit aimed at my feet, and cigarette butts flicked in my direction (which sometimes I pick up for the free tobacco)…along with banshee shrieks of “Leave me alone!” and “Get the fuk outta my face!”

{{ To his credit, Prostatic Reader, he has never really completely disappeared from my life, and always arranges to see me whenever I have a hilarious bon mot to toss his way. This particular moment no exception. So I hollered at him once he stepped out for a smoke, standing 15 feet east of My Trembling Presence: }}

“I don’t care if you wear a colostomy bag, Larkin,” I bellowed. “All I wanna know is: how do I fit in?”

“That’s not funny, Zeke,” he scowled.

“Not funny? It’s fukkin uproarious! Where’s your sense of humor, buddy?”

He tossed his still-lit Camel 99 onto the sidewalk like a grenade: “Stop sending postcards to the bars!”

“Well that’s not gonna happen, Larkin. There will be ten of ’em mailed, six more to go!” I slaked my lips in the retort.

It was then I noticed he was really, really snockered…and could barely stand erect, wobbling like a seaweed stalk in the tidewater.

“My god you’re drunk, Larkin!” I pointed out (and not without a certain degree of satisfaction, though at the same time concerned about his well-being).

He then approached me and performed a karate kick with his right leg, swooshing his foot within inches of my face. I did not flinch, for I knew he loved me, and would never really do me harm. Then he marched down a half block, towards that shop-door recess where he often blazes a doobie.

I exclaimed: “You called 911 on me some nights back, told them I’m suicidal! They’re on to you now, they blacklisted your phone number. The police will never respond to your calls for help any more! You blew it!”

He did not look back at all, as he scuttled like an ocean crab into a convenient alcove, out of sight but not out of mind.

Fifteen seconds or so later, I hustled across the asphalt to the streetcar island where I could view him from a safe distance. Puffing on a second Camel, he glared at me like he saw a dreaded Amityville poltergeist. I called to him:

“Colostomy bag man! Colostomy bag man!”

“Get outta here!” he commanded. “Go home! Go home!”

“Why should I go home, Larkin?” I shouted back. “I’m home most of the time. I’m lonely. While you play billiards, softball and bowling, I’m sitting in my stupid room, friendless and wishing to see you!”

There was a truce in our battle, since Larkin did not shout back. So I took a deep breath and persisted:

“Your happiness at my expense, huh? Looks like the more miserable I am, the happier you are. Well, I just won’t let you get away with this! You’re a psychic vampire, feeding off my energies! This will stop, I assure you!”

He approached me then, halting just eight feet away; and coughed up a gob of milky sputum that landed four feet from my sneakers.

“You’re lucky that didn’t hit you!” he chided as he turned away towards Twin Peaks.

I just stood there, wondering what kind of silly threat that was, if anything. (Why? Would it burn a hole in my Thrift Town denims?) And, I must say, pleased at his essentially nonviolent retaliation. For I really knew that his antics serve to provide me with an outlet against his most difficult challenges. The fact that I did not address him with anger in any of these moments, showed him that I was in complete control, loved him dearly, and was ready to accept The Mantle of Leadership. Yet further horse hockey followed:

Larkin reentered The Glass Coffin, while I remained outside, a lonely drifter with aching heart. Yet within a few minutes time, he came back outside, that we may continue our “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolfe” scripted scenario. I was actually standing on the western edge of the streetcar island, marking me almost 20 feet north of Larkin, once he stood right outside the tavern’s door. Always a good policy to keep a clear seperation between yourself and Your Ultimate Paramour before the honeymoon takes off.

A Muni streetcar rumbled between our designated corners of the boxing ring, and halted before the red light. I watched as he spurt a raspberry from his lips, demanding that the car move along.

“Go ahead and push it!” I called to him. Knowing of course that that’s impossible, and the car may even roll backwards, crushing him in the process.

He gazed at me, and I gazed back. Neither exchanged a word, and I drank in his kind regard like a hummingbird to nectar. Though this might have been my wishful imagination, as was probably his intent (to keep me guessing…and I’ve been guessing for almost 9 years now). Really, all I wanted to do–and with almost irresistable passion–was dash into his arms and never leave. But naturally, like always, he forbade such a miracle to occur. Fuk ‘im.

But then I yelled: “Sloan shook my hand several nights ago. I said to her, I’m sorry that Larkin put enmity between us. She said: it’s okay, honey, we’ll take care of it. All the bartenders now know you’ve been using them to get them to hate me, and even cause me harm. They’re really pissed at you. So have fun with that!”

Larkin listened carefully, without even once attempting to cut me off or drown me out. But at this point I was quite hungry.

“Enough is enough,” I thought, seeing as I’m starving half to death, and must get back hovel to prepare dinner.

My Sinuous Sauropod turned about and lumbered back inside. At the last moment I called:

“I love you, Larkin!”

He flipped me the bird as he crossed the threshold to disappear amid the throng of geriatric zombies. And I departed once the light turned green.

{{ Now for Rule #5, which I sent out to those five gay bars on August 7th:

The above postcard brings to mind a letter to the editor I sent out to our two most popular LGBT newspapers 7 weeks ago, but never got printed: }}

Dear Editor,

I have no idea what some LGBT folks find so wonderful in our so-called Queer Community. My experience of many years living here (since 1973 believe it or not) has been mostly filled with sabotage of relationships and backstabbing. Not just in the alcoholic-dysfunctional scenario of gay bars, but in our everyday life throughout San Francisco. While I have achieved many breakthroughs on behalf of gay rights (which you may learn about on my web site at gay-bible.org), I remain vilified by petty idiots, some of whom are established and respected for their own pro-gay efforts. The exclusivity of San Francisco’s Homophile Family is almost as egregious as the worst of our homophobic enemies.

We cannot expect any sort of liberation if our own brothers and sisters in power mock and injure those good souls who fight bravely for same-sex-lover liberation. My latest overtures to a potential lover (of more than eight years courtship to prove my devotion) have ended up in the trash bin, thanks to wicked souls that persist in wrecking my devoted efforts. At sixty-four years of age, I must toss in the towel and admit that the latest object of my adoration is my last hurrah. However much longer I live–and I do hope it’s short–I could never extend my heartfelt affections to yet another amour who will inevitably be coerced and poisoned by the countless jealous spirits that haunt our unfair city.

The man I’ve adored for so long (and strived to bring him true peace) knows who he is…as do numerous other residents and patrons of our gay bars and neighborhoods. All I can conclude is: no wonder so many among us commit suicide that has nothing to do with the homophobia intrinsic to our fucked-up society, but everything to do with evil wrought upon our own kind, by our own kind.

Most sincerely,

Ezekiel J. Krahlin

The Breakthrough is Nigh!

August 10, 2015

Date: Sun, 2 Aug 2015 13:54:29
Kudos Morticia!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney

Dear Eleanor:

I have been thrashed and cast about by the waves of misfortune…yet they have given me such strength in the resistance demanded, that I can feel nothing but gratitude for the rough regard. For I am a survivor, in ways that even yours truly couldn’t even imagine.

And Larkin has been A Great Taskmaster in this Brilliant Plot That Destines Me Towards Immense Glory. To be knocked about by He Who Loves Me Beyond Measure, is a form of S&M that–while it does not suit my own nature–has catapulted me into A Universe Of Dreams Come True that would have never occurred, had my own sensibilities ruled the day.

We (this world) are on the verge of An Incredible Revelation that shall touch upon every single life. Not just the human aspect, but all of The Great Spirit’s creatures and non-living objects, that is: /all/ animate and inanimate things that exist, have ever existed, or ever /will/ exist.

You are witness to My Personal Evolution Into Godhead…as are a handful of other benevolent souls. In fact, you (and those other kind souls) have played a vital role in getting me there.

So how can I say “thank you” without coming off as maudlin? I can’t. For we are all knit into the same fabric, and what benefits one benefits the other, regardless of any particular station in life that is deemed superior or inferior over another. Seeing as accepting my own Amazing Role in Life’s Adventure, does not make me better than anyone else–even among the lowest and most despised among us, such as Adolf Hitler for classic example–nonetheless I am asked by Universal Mind Itself to step forward and take the reins.

Though I shall acknowledge, each and every time possible, The Gracious Heroes Such As Yourself, who’ve busted your ovaries to get me there.

With profound love and astonishment,

– Zeke

Date: Mon, 3 Aug 2015 15:09:35
The breakthrough is nigh!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Carmen G. (Publishing Consultant, Twosome Press)

Hello again, Carmen. I figure you’d like to know that I am very close to bursting across the world in uber-popularity. Which means that soon, very soon, I shall gain tons of moolah from sales of my novel that your company has so kindly published (when all other self-publishing venues turned me down).

How do I know this? Well, amazing events have been occurring in my life at a very fast clip…and are reflected in my most recent tales. For example:

A Quiet Night at Mission Station


Misfortune is a Cookie Named Zeke

So tell Twosome Press to gird their loins in preparation for THREE MORE NOVELS by yours truly, to publish. They will be assembled from my WordPress blog, by trusted members of the SF gay community…so that I may relax and enjoy life after so much blood, sweat and tears sacrificed on my part (not to mention pizza).

I hope you can find the time to read those two tales linked above, as they will affirm my claim of imminent success.

While Twitter, Facebook et al have not been much help in promoting my book, I’ve found that people love a good joke. So I crack a lot of ’em, especially as silly replies to others’ tweets. Which has boosted my presence on the Internet into almost-celebrityhood. Just a few more baby steps, and I’ll be there!

Again, thank you SO MUCH for the blessing of your respectful treatment of my tales, for which I owe Twosome EVERYTHING! Canada rocks! I would change citizenship to your fair nation, except that I will soon declare myself the founder and president of the world’s first LGBT nation, Athenia. Formerly northern California down to the southern border of Santa Cruz County, and straight across to Nevada’s demarcation.

Most truly yours,

Ezekiel J. Krahlin

P.S.: Scroll down my home page to view the new jokes I’ve uploaded in image format, starting with “Sturgeon on the Mount”; they will crack you up. http://www.gay-bible.org

Date: Tuesday, 3 August 2015
The Four Gospel Truths
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Hermoine


Including the two tales I already suggested you read ASAP, here are four tales I recommend you read in chronological order, as listed below. They span a period from June 30th to July 29th. This will give you an excellent idea of my rapid spiritual progress, and how much magic is flowing into my world these days. You will LOVE each and every one, I am positive!


Birthday Magic 1

A Quiet Night at Mission Station

Misfortune is a Cookie Named Zeke

– Zeke


Scooby-Doo Porn

P.P.S.: Oh, and you /must/ read “Pillow Gossip,” written in late March. You haven’t lived until you’ve read “Pillow Gossip!”


P.P.P.S.: Attached is another photo of Larkin taken around 20 years ago. With his clothes on, this time. He loves softball, and this pic was taken when he still lived in San Diego, long before we met. How he came to S.F.: he was contracted as a private investigator for the SFPD, to discover which policemen were participating in a violent cult that almost killed me in 2007. It was my desire to be friends with him that put my life in danger; and I refused to walk away. You can read about that in Chapter 13 of my novel:


I have been his assistant since then. He’s even handsomer now, at 53!

P.P.P.P.S.: Also attached are two more pics: front and back of the latest postcard I sent to Larkin (on Saturday). Duplicates of which were also mailed to the four gay bars in The Castro he used to frequent until recently (’cause I got him 86’d), plus the remaining bar which he can still enter by my good graces.

P.P.P.P.P.S.: I know, I’m nuts. You don’t have to rub it in. <3

Date: Tue, 4 Aug 2015 12:20:00
Missive From Uranus
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney

Your Imperial Multi-Cosmic Osmium Empress:

I am at your mercy, in begging you to find some time in your uber-busy schedule, to finally read “‘A Quiet Night at Mission Station”:


For it marks the milestone in my life, where the tables are turned in my favor, and against My Mocking Mesosaur. Exactly what I predicted for many months and even several years!

I will gladly provide you free of charge: 100 crates of Misfortune Cookies, containing 1,000 cookies (with each misfortune replicated no more than 50 times) in each crate, in exchange for answering my desperate appeal.

Sinqueerly yours,

Ezekiel Joseph Krahlin
Co-president of Athenia
(alongside Reptilian Commander Larkin Kelsey)

It’s all horse hockey anyway.

Date: Wed, 5 Aug 2015 12:28:05
Re: Missive From Uranus
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney

On Wed, Aug 5, 2015 at 12:10 PM, Eleanor Cooney wrote:

{{ Okay, I’m waiting for those misfortune cookies! }}

Thank you /so/ much for reading it! Cookies are on the way, but since they are manufactured in a factory located deep in the bowels of Uranus, it will take some while before they arrive at your doorstep.

{{ Jeeziz, what a lurid and shadowy adventure! The colostomy bag was a stroke of genius on their part, wasn’t it? Probably the bag actually contained chocolate pudding. }}

More realistic than that: not as dark as pudding, a tad watery and slushy. Sure looked like the real thing…gotta hand it to the excellent lads and lassies at forensics! I will find out, eventually (what it really contains), when they present me with it at my retirement party. It’ll be wonderful: a lotta cops giving me hugs till the bovines come home.

Ha ha, instead of a gold watch I get /this/? Too bad they can’t /all/ sign their names on the ostomy sack, it’s just not possible!

– Zeke

Date: Wed, 5 Aug 2015 12:45:09
Re: Missive From Uranus
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney

On Wed, Aug 5, 2015 at 12:39 PM, Eleanor Cooney wrote:

{{ You need a special kind of pen to sign an ostomy sack. }}

Okay, I’ll play the straight man here (I’ll be George Burns):

“Oh? And just what /kind/ of special pen do you need to sign an ostomy sack, Gracie?”

– Zeke

Date: Wed, 5 Aug 2015 13:28:18
Re: Missive From Uranus
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney

In composing my “Mission Station” tale, I searched for a term or word that would suffice for an adjective conveying amnesia. And learned a new word:


For its definition is: “Of or relating to anamnesis; aiding the memory.”

“Perfect!” I thought, and used it in a sentence deep in the tale, like so:

“Is this affectionate cub one of them who still awaits my anamnestic return?”

Later that day, I decided to take a gander at the root word “anamneses”…and boy did definitions #2 and #5 blow me away:

“2. Platonism. recollection of the Ideas, which the soul had known in a previous existence, especially by means of reasoning.”

“5. (often initial capital letter) a prayer in a Eucharistic service, recalling the Passion, Resurrection, and Ascension of Christ.”

See for yourself:


– Zeke

PS: This ties in with my revelation in Chapter 13 of my published novel, that Larkin is a detective. And I suffered memory loss due to being drugged and left for dead by unknown perpetrators who don’t want us to work together. Part of that loss is that I, too, am a detective, as well as Mr. Kelsey’s lover. I don’t recall any of that, yet. But I wrote this following piece in 2007, describing my intentional erasure of my present life to create a false persona…that I may infiltrate a dangerous cult to better effect: “There’s a Succubus Born Every Minute.”

Blue Roses Blossom

August 8, 2015

Date: Wed, 5 Aug 2015 11:31:55
Blue Roses Blossom
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney


Larkin was trying to bump me off via 3rd party, or at least get me
badly beaten. This is the scenario he created the day he shoved me in January 2013, almost slamming me to the concrete. Telling bartenders and patrons alike that I’m psycho, and his stalker. But what I believe is really going on, is that a secret organization within the SF Gay Community (the Blue Rose Militia) is creating a great adventure, in which I play hero. In other words: they are all in on This Astounding Prank.

And it is up to me to figure all this out by piecing together the jigsaw puzzle which parts are scattered across more than eight years of struggle, defeat, broken hearts, insight, and sometimes victory. I discussed this with Hollywood, and offered a copy of my “Elephant Man” postcard, to hand over to Larkin. Though I do take the Buddha’s tenet “we have no enemies, only teachers” to heart.

My loyal soldiers will see to it that I come to no harm, nor does Larkin. But some intense scenarios have certainly been of the “close call” type. Though it seems at this point, the scary parts of my role have come to an end. I shall not perish; in fact I will flourish, with vision restored to 20/20, my teeth repaired, and so forth. They will bring me so many delectable males, I will most likely swoon into their arms every time a new one is presented me. Ejaculation never had it so good!

Since Larkin’s attempt to wipe me out reflects upon the SF Gay Family at large, the militia must bust their balls in order to establish my path to victory. I explained to Barbara of CVS, the brilliance of his script. For My Benevolent Brontosaur is the mastermind behind it all. I am Larkin’s hero, as he is mine. This astounding dilemma that he manifested, gave me the extraordinary opportunity to prove my courage and devotion.

Remember my “Thracian courtship” description in that piece, “Hilarious Respite?” How in ancient times in that corner of the world, courtship between two male warriors involved attempts to destroy each other. If their partnership was blessed by Zeus, no harm would come to either, no matter how violent the actions. This macho courtship would last for several months or a little more…but in rare cases, much longer. For my particular destiny, the destructive overtures have been going on for an extraordinarily long cycle: more than 2-1/2 years to date, and still persisting! But there is a pot of gold at the end of this rainbow: for the more prolonged the courtship the more rewarding the marriage.

Though honestly, El (I have to admit) I am as exhausted by now, as Sisyphus after a thousand years of grunting.

I should also mention that I’ve taken a lot of flack for posting my “Obamacare Defecates” manifesto on Facebook and Twitter! Most folks are too brainwashed that the ACA is a blessing on the poor; they accuse me of being a right-wing infiltrator. For instance (from a discussion on Daily Kos; and this a mild form of vitriol relative to /other/ hateful responses I’ve received):

* [new] Millions will die… (1+ / 0-)

Don’t be such a drama queen. Millions will not die due to ACA. If you so loath everything you listed, get the hell out of the US to another country where no one will give one shit about your situation. Anyone with the small bit of intelligence required to read, can have Obama care and thrive on it for a small premium. We can’t fix stupid. Possibly you are expending all of your energy and brain cells on hysteria so you don’t get it?

by leonine46 on Mon Jul 13, 2015 at 08:40:52 PM PDT

Harvey Milquetoast Was No Ally To The Gay Cause

The chief reason I despise Harvey Milk, is this: he repressed me from participating in the gay activist movement here in San Francisco. Thus setting back our liberation by almost thirty years. Other reasons I dislike the idiot are discussed in essays I wrote years ago, but care not to bring up right now. And by extension, other noted LGBT activists have perpetrated this unholy jihad against me…and Goddess only knows how many /others/ whose contributions /could/ have won our freedom at least two generations sooner! All because Mr. Milquetoast rejected his liberal base and kissed up to powerful conservative factions, especially the Irish Catholic.

And who assassinated Him? Dan White, an Irish Catholic! The dark side of Harvey has been swept under the carpet by the Queer Elite; they even made him a saint.

In completing this email, I want to end with a magnanimous THANK YOU ELEANOR for being such an amazing ally and sounding board for This Queer Straggler. Without you, none of these astounding events would have taken place in my life…and by consequence, LGBT rights would never blossom into This World’s Liberation, as shall soon occur. Who says hetero folks can’t be staunch supporters of Gay Rights? Bring them to me, and I shall smash them into the ground. Somewhere in Iowa.

All my love and more,


PS: As it turned out, on Happy Whatever Day (July 25th) I wound up dropping off the booklet “Scooby-Doo and the Vampire’s Revenge” in the gated doorway of an apartment building on a side street by the local library. In good faith it will find its way into Larkin’s hands, as that is the residence of a miniature poodle that My Goofy Godzilla walks daily.


[ Cantankerous Reader: the title “New Rules” is based on Bill Maher’s Real Time segment by the same name. While most impressed by his confrontational stance against right-wing dogma, I was put off one night while watching an episode where a guest turned from his chair to give Bill a hug. To which Mr. Maher pushed him away and stated: “Don’t touch me, faggot.” I guess he thought that was funny.

This faux progressive has from time to time, expressed support for LGBT Equality, yet numerous times he has denigrated The Cause by declaring it over the top. Ergo, I conclude that this celebrity is not a true ally of Our Struggle. For this reason alone, I refuse to watch any more of his shows. Nonetheless, I find it most gratifying to steal his thunder by claiming “New Rules” for my own. ]

Mailed to 5 gay bars in The Castro (and Larkin), July 17th:

Date: Wed, 22 Jul 2015 15:44:32
Very Close to the Home Stretch!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Carlyle Lambourne

Revolution is /just/ around the corner, as you can clearly discern from current news events. This one’s a real sizzler:

NATO Commander Wesley Clark calls for internment camps ‘to deal with radicals’ in the US and Europe

And that is why I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Larkin shall
assign a branch of my Blue Rose Militia to see to my safety, protection, and places to go into hiding (while also possessing a gorgeous environment with equally gorgeous Thracians).

– Ezekiel

Mailed to 5 gay bars in The Castro (and Larkin), July 20th:


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