There Goes the Leash!

January 27, 2021

I recently received the kind donation of two sturdy leashes, among other needed items. Neither Lucky nor Flaco seems to have any interest in standard doggy toys, so I make do with old jackets, rubbery plastic containers, bandannas, extra thick plastic bags that once contained puppy treats, an old shoe or slipper, and so on. So of course the leashes would become a handy favorite…handy for me as well, because it’s a great distraction while taking them for walks, in that they’ll bark less often, at things they perceive as a threat to their guardian, imagined or otherwise. Sometimes they’ll even bark at a pile of rags or clothing because it resembles a homeless person sleeping beneath it (and sometimes they are!). They’ll also bark at anyone standing at, and looking out of, a second-story window…as if that’s just logically wrong!

So, while I may need new leashes less often, since they are no longer under the care of my homeless friend, Deek (whose doggy possessions are quickly worn out) I will still need them replenished more often than I first thought. They’re pretty durable (the leashes that is, but yeah, the pups, too), but I’ll have to remove the thick rubber coating around the handle and two other sections before long…as their teeth cut into them, causing pieces to break off and thus be swallowed. Still, the leashes are perfectly intact and sturdy, minus the rubberized protection. A win/win situation all around. That’s the “leash” I can do for such an exquisite canine duo.

Letter to the Landlord (part 3)

January 26, 2021

Subject: Sweetening the Pot
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: January 24, 2021 5:22 PM

So I printed out an updated resolution, folded it into a legal size envelope, and taped it to their door. Upon returning to my hovel, I glanced at the revised statement once more, to discover that one of the several times I typed “[real name of realtors deleted],” it was, instead, spelled “Ablahblah.” A small panic ensued, as I quietly rushed back to their apartment, hoping they didn’t see it yet. Thank god they didn’t, it was still there. So I gingerly reclaimed it as I heard voices within, and skittered back to my room. Where once again, I had to go through the miserable process of lugging my printer from the storage bin, hook it all up, insert more paper, and reload Windows (because I can’t figure out how to interface Linux with my Deskjet 3000). There is an introductory page this time, which briefly states:

I have given much thought to my proposal for a happy resolution all the way around, and have decided to include these additional conditions: free utilities, Internet service, and garbage pickup…all locks changed and a decent security system provided…partially furnished…complete laundry facilities…no rent increases…occupation of the new residence for as long as you want to stay there, provided you never have more than one housemate.

Enclosed you will find my updated letter. Please toss out the first one, and keep the new one in a secure place. If you should ever misplace or lose it, just let me know, and I will gladly print out a replacement.

Please also note: any false accusation you make against me, will only serve to make my proposal more difficult to achieve, though not impossible.

The actual, revised proposal in full can be read here, in rich text format:

Turns out this will be the opening piece to “Letter to the Landlord (part 3)”…sure hope it’ll be the FINAL segment of this nerve-wracking scenario. Though I DO understand that, as bodhisattvas playing the enemy, they are pressuring me to sharpen my thought processes and writing skills.

Well, whaddya know, just when I completed the paragraph above, there was a knock on my door (around 5:15 PM). It was Adis, with a friend by his side. He told me to stop posting letters to their door, it’ll just cause problems. I replied I have no intention to, and it’s a good resolution. (I noted he wasn’t wearing his mask, but just waving it in his hand.) Then he started to discuss other matters about our conflict, which were pointless. He said it’s not gonna happen (referring to their eviction, I guess). After making the false accusation that one of my dogs bit him, he doesn’t have a leg to stand on (pun intended).

So I told him I don’t want to discuss this, have a good night, then returned to my room. At least, this time he was calm and soft spoken. What an improvement! But look what I had to go through to get his friends to stop potentially exposing residents to covid-19, as well as creating a nuisance and loitering.

I presume his mother will see the letter, because I’m done with this particular approach, and waiting on that attorney to get back to me. I’m open to speaking with her, but in a limited fashion. They both continue to pretend they’ve done no harm. What nonsense, as I’M the one who’s been most impacted by their foolish antics. At any rate, this case SHOULD be elevated to the manager and Ablablah Realty, seeing as they are ultimately responsible for this conflict.

I am accustomed to some people labeling me “crazy,” but I know better: I have a unique way of addressing issues that do NOT employ hypocrisy or lies in order to achieve results. No status quo guy here, Wattson! Besides which, calling someone crazy is a quick tactic to shut down the other person’s side of the argument, and poison people against you.

On another note: Marshall hasn’t read any of my pieces for the past two Fridays! Don’t know why, as he seems to really enjoy reading my material. And it looked like he was going to narrate my Brindlekin Tales chapter to chapter…after all, he’s already read chapters one and two! I was hoping I could splice each one, and upload it to my Youtube channel every Sunday. Now, it looks like I’m gonna have to record the chapters myself, which is far less preferable. Not just because I don’t have the quality audio setup he does, but having another voice read my tales adds diversity and color to my channel. At any rate, it should nonetheless be a good experience for me.

  • Zeke

Subject: URGENT! Deek now wants the doggies back!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: January 25, 2021 9:50 PM

No sooner does one problem begin to subside, than another pops up. Deek came by about 10 minutes ago, and is still outside, sitting in a recess by the corner. When I came out, he told me he wants the dogs back, that I stole them from him. I reminded him we made a verbal agreement, and it’s recorded. I told him I’m taking care of them for him, they’ll die on the streets. I did NOT accuse him of animal abuse, although that’s quite true.

He said he’s missed them, couldn’t be with them for his birthday, and he thought I was his friend. I told him to stop feeling sorry for yourself, I’m doing you a BIG favor…I’m holding the dogs FOR you, not stealing them. (Of course I didn’t add that he was ABUSING them, so I’m protecting them from HIM as well.) But, as usual, no matter how good a friend I am, he somehow manages to find fault and insult and threaten me.

He said the dogs are registered in his name at the SPCA, and he can get the police involved, but he doesn’t want to do that, because I could go to jail. He also said he’s told over fifty street people I’ve stolen them, and they told him to call the police. And he can get these vagrants to beat me up. I just told him to bring it on, I’m not afraid, but I don’t want to stand here any longer and listen to his crap. And if he makes a scene by my building, I WILL call the police. I repeated more than once, that he needs to focus on taking better care of himself, and to trust me that I’m not taking them away from him, permanently.

I know he’s making this all up (about dogs registered in his name, and about how he has many friends ready to attack me), but I’m concerned he’ll start a ruckus near my home. Well, I think I may have friends on my side at this point…including Adis and his mom. And possibly, the manager. He’s not being noisy, I’m not even sure if he’s still outside near the building. At any rate, I seem to never get a break. I tried to tell him he’s blowing this all out of proportion, that he needs to take care of himself while I care for the dogs.

Earlier today, a few homeless dudes were outside the front gate, they had paused by the curb as I stepped onto the sidewalk with the pups. They were not in any way here to confront me, I think it was more of just a coincidence. They were very friendly, and one of them said those are Deek’s dogs. So I said, well, they were, but he sold them to me, and I promised him I’ll take good care of them, and when my publishing takes off and the money comes rolling in, I’ll have a better home for them, and for Deek. Then I departed and wished them a good evening; they did too.

Oh, and I also mentioned they’re little doggies, they’d die out here in all this cold weather. One guy DID kinda sneer at me, saying that’s ridiculous, they’re perfectly fine out here. I did NOT mention that Deek has been abusing them, not just by allowing them to be totally exposed to the rain and cold, but yelling at them often, shoving them, and even kicking them (not hard, but not gently, either).

Hopefully, this is not a sign of things to come re. Deek poisoning the homeless against me! But I can handle that, too…I doubt any of them have it together enough to be a serious problem. What I DON’T need is for him or any of his “friends” to start making a big scene around my building! What I DO need is for Boulevard Joe to see my video, as he is an important arbitrator for me, to the houseless crowd. In fact, he’s the only one, and leaves a lot to be desired; nonetheless, he’s better than most out there.

Now how long is THIS gonna drag on?

  • Zeke

Re: URGENT! Deek now wants the doggies back!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: January 25, 2021 1:07 AM

You‘ll prevail, I have no doubt.

Yes, of course. A couple of dudes are hangin’ out with Deek, they’re not noisy, but almost loud enough to disturb my semi-fascist neighbor. This sucks donkey balls. However, they seem pretty darn friendly, and have indicated no sign of any kind of hostility. Deek’s probably gonna stick around into the morning, when I’ll have to take the dogs out again. And I really can’t go out back in the morning, unless I stay close to the back gate again. And there’s a camera overlooking it, so the manager will see me jam the door with a bottle and get upset…so I’ll have to explain about Deek, and he’ll get even MORE upset!

I think I’ll just take them out back for some days to come, then step out by myself through the front, to get my groceries. And if I see Deek, I’ll tell him the pups are staying at a friend’s place where they have a backyard to freely (and safely) romp around. If only that were true!

He DID call to the dogs earlier, but not loudly. Just some whistles, then called “Lucky! Lucky!” several times. Well guess what, Wattson: neither dog paid him any mind. I think they KNOW to keep silent.

Lucky threw up his entire dinner tonight…it was clear fluid mixed in with the food. I think perhaps the duck jerky treats I crumble up into his kibble are too rich in the long run. But I need to find SOMEthing extra to put in it, to keep their appetite up. He didn’t eat anything last night again…this morning he ate a full meal, and late afternoon he did, likewise; but that’s what he threw up later on.

Maybe he’s sensitive to prolonged cold weather, as last night he just wanted to curl up on the bed…and you could really feel the temperature drop, as I leave one window wide open, usually. Flaco, too, curled up early, even though she ate her meal. Their little bodies seek to preserve heat, so eating is not always a priority. Once I shut the window, the whole room warmed up nicely. Still, it’s not SO cold they really need to do that…more like instinct. They love fluffing up the comforters, and I love tucking them in.

I took my brindlekin out the back way tonight, told them “shh” keep quiet, and they did: silent as can be, as we made our way down the rickety old stairs (where they stepped very cautiously, as it was new to them), then through the basement, then up a concrete stairway and out the gated door. Lucky threw up some more, outside, also plopped diarrhea…Flaco didn’t need to poop. They’ve both been having solid, firm poops for quite some time now, so I’m disappointed and a bit worried about Lucky’s change. Anyway:

I swear, this is like living in Nazi Germany. In this day and age I have to sneak around like this! I could say now I know how Anne Frank felt, but that’s over the top.

  • Zeke

Subject: Is your crisis still surging, or beginning to subside?
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: January 25, 2021 10:54 AM

Referring to your email of Nov. 7, when you said:

I’m under huge pressure on several different fronts. My survival is at stake, and that’s not an exaggeration.

I am hoping with all my heart, that things are on the upswing by now. I do NOT like to think of you going through such a terrible ordeal. You are SUCH a good person, and so important to many, including myself of course.

Anyway, got up this morning, stepped out w/o the doggies first thing, to see if Deek were still around and, much to my relief, he was not. So resumed our regular walk up and down Noe Street for three blocks. Lucky was in cheerful spirits, growling and playfully gripping his teeth about the heel of one or the other of my sneakers (and sometimes the shoelaces), as I carefully but clumsily guided them down the stairs and out the front gate. What a muttley crew we make!

  • Zeke

Re: Is your crisis still surging, or beginning to subside?
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: January 25, 2021 1:00 PM

Things are a little better. I still have to solve the same problems, but the main one, completing a piece of work I’m being paid to do and meet my deadline, seems to be moving along pretty well. Finishing that, and doing a first-rate job of it, will quite possibly lead to solutions to the gang of problems that follow me around like tin cans tied to a dog’s tail.

EXCELLENT news, Wattson! That is EXACTLY what will happen. I look immensely forward to reading your latest masterpiece. HOPING it will fast become a bestseller as well.

Very glad Deek moved on.

Well, just for today…he could return at any time and cause trouble. Keeping my fingers crossed he does NOT. I have this fantasy of him starting to holler and strike out at me, when just like that, Larkin appears out of the blue and knocks him to the ground and orders him to leave immediately, or he’ll see worse. I then thank him profusely, and begin to tell him about my situation with the doggies…but he stops me, says “I already know!” Meaning that he reads my Brindlekin Tales, or more likely, his roommate, Zachary, does, then describes each chapter to him in capsule form. What soon follows is a small cadre of the Blue Rose Militia organized and run by Larkin, occupying my part of the Castro 24/7, in order to protect me and my brindlekin from any further harassment. This would then lead to many OTHER incredible scenarios, like the blossoming of a rose…and a blue one at that.

Some nerve–he collects $300 from you, then says you “stole” them. So fucking childish.

Well, it was actually $400, if you include the $100 I gave him in the morning of that same day (and $400 WAS the amount he’s been saying all along, is his asking price for the pooches…which set me off in a panic, because I didn’t HAVE that sum, and Deek refused to accept monthly lumps of a hundred dollars). But this is EXACTLY why I demanded to video record the transaction…because I know his devious nature: that he planned to collect the moolah, then turn around some time later and accuse me of stealing his pups. However, let us not stop at such a dark level of summation, but move to higher ground, like so:

Deek, like Larkin, is one of my guardian angels (or “bodhisattvas,” to put a Buddhist spin on it) acting out a scripted scenario, wherein I am the main character and HERO of this amazing play. It makes perfect sense, then, that almost immediately after my conflict with the occupants of apartment 208 (that mother-and-son duo) begins to peacefully resolve itself, Deek would show up from stage right and begin the NEXT act, the NEXT challenge. Though it may be sufficient just to threaten yet another debacle, without it ever really manifesting. Whether true or not doesn’t really matter, because it’s already been writ that I shall beat all odds, no matter how unlikely that seems.

Change of subject:

Disappointing that the Duboce Triangle Newsletter has skipped their January issue, as that is the one that was supposed to print my New Year’s satire. Which would’ve drummed up at least a handful of locals who’d visit my Brindlekin page, and see my homeless doggy appeal with those links to my wish list and GoFundMe project. MAYBE my tale will come out in February, but I’m certainly not holding my breath. What a painful slog this has been these past few months, albeit with many a miracle tossed my way…so how can I really complain?

I forgot to inform you, when I uploaded that brief tour of my hovel to Youtube, that, as the camera pans from left to right, you get a glimpse of your book “Twilight in Somalia” atop the storage bin next to my closet. Nice touch, eh? Here it is, again:

And I wonder if there will be further repercussions with the building manager and Ablahblah Realty, over the maskless intruders. If that attorney I appealed to DOES finally get in touch with me, I hope he’s actually qualified to decide whether or not I have a good case at this point. I’m sure I will, if my neighbors across the hallway provide solid witness to my complaint. The likelihood that Kevin Bond (our manager) AGREED with 208 that these teenagers were free to hang out in our building, maskless or no–without even asking or informing residents in that same hallway–does not look good for either him OR Ablahblah. But, due to the added, and most egregious, offense of their refusal to wear a mask, I’m kinda sure they’d prefer an out-of-court settlement. But a girl can only conjecture, can’t she? Seeing as obviously, they, too, are actors in this “Zeke the Hero” play, a very different scenario could play out…one which, nonetheless, works in my favor. I’m SURE that the realtors have finally received my remailed letter of complaint by now. Oh, what an interesting world this is!

I have also changed pseudonym “Moohammud” to “Adis,” in order to avoid any accusation of Islamophobia…a phobia which, I firmly believe, does NOT exist. Nevertheless, it could weaken my case, due to pin-headed droids that populate the legal system (and more generally, society at large). So I went ahead and redacted all chapters relevant to this name change.

As for the next stimulus payment–which will probably be $2,000–I’m sure Deek will show up again, to demand his half. But I reFUSE to give it to him, as ALL that money will be transferred into my GoFundMe project as soon as it shows up. Furthermore, I consider the chapter of “The Book of Zeke & Deek” where I help him with an allowance and half of all my stimulus boons, to be finally CLOSED, now that I have the responsibility of caring for the doggos, which of course includes veterinarian expenses. This sum will allow me to get them ALL the recommended shots, health checkup, chipping and rabies tag. I’m guessing the whole enchilada will come to around $300 at most. (Maybe less if I prove my low income by providing them with the required papers.) But I need the additional money from this stimulus, as an emergency reserve for Lucky & Flaco.

Whew! That’s it for now.

  • Zeke

Subject: Around 4:35 PM today…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: January 25, 6:21 PM

…upon returning from my afternoon stroll with the brindlemutts, I bumped into Dieter right outside our building. So I told him all about my conflict with the Bonnie & Clyde duo in 208, how the manager posted a letter to my door about one of my dogs supposedly biting her son and drawing blood, and a whole bunch of other stuff, but in quick, outline form. I ended with explaining my Buddhist solution for the most compassionate resolution as possible, and if it goes to court I will demand a decent apartment for them, with all the amenities I laid out.

Well, right when I finished up out comes Kevin, and Flaco starts barking…though not loudly, but more like a “hey, there’s that nice guy from the lobby” kind of greeting. This was around 4:35 PM. So Kevin crouched down a bit to extend his hand, at which point Flaco grew quiet and started sniffing…then backed up and barked her little yelps all over again. This entire time, Lucky remained silent, as if he were actually bored.

So then I pointed to each dog, and said: “This is Flaco, and this is Lucky, the stars of my Youtube channel and my WordPress blog; and soon to be the stars of the Castro. Have a great evening, gentlemen!”

Funny thing is that Adis (Myrtle’s son who accused one of my pups of biting him) and a friend were near the front gate, hanging around, when I approached with my key already in hand. As I worked the lock, the doggies kept barking at him, and I told the mutts: “C’mon, you’re not the big shots around here, calm down!” Finally, the gate opened and we arrived once more at my hovel, a.k.a. “Doggie Rescue Sanctuary.”

So now Dieter knows all, and he loves the dogs. At first five or so encounters they barked at him, but after several more times they grew friendly, till now they love greeting him, and they’re not wary of his wheelchair any more, whether he’s sitting on it, or walking it along in its folded state. Best of all:

He is now a WITNESS to their peaceful nature, as they did not bite, or even nip at, Kevin’s hand.

Now, here is how I’m gonna deal with Deek’s probable returns to my building…who thinks I’ll have to step out eventually, to walk the pooches. He may come to realize that perhaps I use the back gate, and station someone there.


I’ll have a bottle of “Woolite Advanced Pet Stain & Odor Remover + Sanitizer” handy, some rags and newspaper, and latex gloves. There will be absolutely NO odor remaining, when I’m done. Easy to clean, as the floor’s cement. And NOBODY HARDLY EVER GOES DOWN THERE, it’s quiet as a church on Monday morning. A big plus is the utility sink. The basement has a back gate where air flow constantly cools and airs everything out. IOW it’s not a real door that shuts off the outside. There is a camera down there, as well as over the back stairs. And if Deek stations someone by that gate, his face will show up on the camera. Plus he won’t hear us down there, as the steps leading to it from the gate are about fifteen feet to the far end of the basement, and the dogs are really quiet.

Of course, the manager will eventually notice my activity via the security videos, at which time I’ll explain the situation: that I’ve led Deek to believe the dogs are now staying at a friend’s home with a nice backyard so they get plenty of exercise. And probably, this situation won’t go on for long…and besides it’s only at night, and probably won’t be very often. Deek will come to believe the dogs now live elsewhere, so no point in continuing with his little spy game. And if one of his “detectives” sees me walking the mutts, I’ll just convey to Deek that I visit them every day and take them for their daily strolls, as well as feed them and play with them in the backyard. And that two COPS live there. Ha, ha.

This afternoon, for the first time, the doggies went wild in my hovel! They dashed around the room like ricocheting nerf bullets, bouncing on and off the bed and into the walls, chasing and wrestling each other down. They are really happy! Of course, that totally obliterates the orderly way I have newspaper sheets laid down, to give them a clean floor to lie down on, when they want. And in case either dog pukes, or has an accident. Oh, well, still no biggie to thoroughly clean up. My room has absolutely no doggie stink, because I am so prompt with wiping up and disinfecting and deodorizing. Even if it’s 4:30 AM or some other wee hour, I’m on top of it.

Oh, and I found a new technique to get them to eat their entire meal…seeing as they’ve gotten better at pick the little pieces of treats I so carefully broke up with either my fingers, or a heavy utility scissors. The answer is to GRATE the damned turkey jerky, so it’s totally diffused into the rest of the food, thanks to the wet canned vittles I mix in with the kibble. But the cheap grater I now have takes a hell of a lot of work to grind down three pieces of jerky, which average two square inches each, and are rather tough. Time to look up what quality graters are available on Amazon, and purchase one with my GoFundMe account! I COULD put it on the wish list, but I don’t want to wait very long, as it IS a tedious chore that gets my goat, and I’d like to put an end to that ASAP.

So there’s my day for ya…other than working on my tales, videos and recordings.

  • Zeke

Re: Around 4:35 PM today…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: January 26, 2021 2:56 PM

You’re a fine Doggie Daddy. The basement plan sounds good. You could maybe train them to “go” directly on newspapers. But it sounds ideal.

That’s the plan. Once, when I ignored Lucky’s pleas to take him for a walk, because I didn’t know that’s what he needed, he finally trotted over to some sheets of newspaper near the window, and pooped! So, no training necessary, just lay the paper on the concrete, and they’re good to go (pun intended). In fact, they prefer to lay on the floor instead of the cot, when the room is not chilly. But the floor is dirty, and impossible to keep clean, due to its exposed, softwood condition. They’ll lie down on the floor anyway, but the moment I lay down some newspaper, they’ll move to THAT spot immediately. But I now keep most of the floor covered with newspaper anyway, so they’ll have clean spots on which to rest.

Just FYI–another friend in SF, also 70 and not exactly rolling in $$, reported to me that she got a COVID vax yesterday. An appointment, no waiting in line, free. First she called this number: 682-1900. They asked a few questions, set up the appt., and she got the shot at SF General.

Like I really want to go all the way to SF General with the doggies. That’s not gonna work, but thanks. I’m not about to ride a crowded bus with dogs that have never been on one, so their reaction is totally unpredictable…besides, I avoid public transit for obvious reasons, even w/o the pups. And I’m not gonna hoof it on over there, going through the sketchy Mission District, and Artemis knows how many lunatics I’ll have to deal with. And then do it all over, to get back hovel. I’m guessing your friend had a vehicle, or took a cab. Also, that hospital is rife with filthy, crazy, addicted (and often quite scary) vagrants who have nowhere else to go for emergency care. I do NOT care to mingle in that trash…and I can’t imagine how the dogs would deal with it. In fact, I don’t see WHY everyone doesn’t just AVOID that hospital like the plague (pun also intended)! Slapping Zuckerberg’s name to it should’ve been a wake-up call.

I’ll just wait till the vaccines are available closer to home, such as Walgreens or a pop-up clinic. It’s not like I go to, or through, any high or moderate exposure areas…not even supermarkets. So I’m not worried at all. Besides which, my destiny has grown crystal clear these past few months, and catching covid or any OTHER illness is NOT in the cards. Not that I foolishly abandon all the safety measures because of that, I just know I’ll be perfectly fine through anything, any more. What’s happening in my life these days is astounding, and definitely NOT normal. Now, for some doggie updates:

I LOVE my Alvarado Street sprouted whole wheat raisin bread, but it’s a five-block journey to Golden Produce Health Food Store, so I have to take the pooches with me. I know no other place closer that sells it, except perhaps Whole Foods and Safeway…both within the same walking distance as Golden Produce. But, as I said, I avoid supermarkets entirely. I don’t care to take my brindlekin inside ANY shops, but it worked out fine, two weeks ago, when we went to the health food store. They were calm, silent and stayed close to me without any urging on my part! Between my favorite raisin bread replenishments, I go for five or six days on organic oatmeal breakfast, which is great, too, because I add to it chia seeds, hemp hearts and flax seed meal. Anyway, today I returned again for another loaf of raisin bread, with the dogs.

It is run by a Cambodian family that is typically Asian when it comes to keeping shop. IOW: they feign friendliness, up to a point. They actually NEVER treat long-term customers any different than sporadic (or even one-time) customers. Today was a perfect example. Soon as I stepped in with the pups, the woman who works there immediately pointed at them and started blabbing about how sometimes dogs run around in the wine section and break bottles. This IS a store that allows pets to enter. In fact, one day a man stepped in while I was there, with a large dog UNLEASHED! And I remarked to that same woman, that I find it alarming you allow dogs to come in here without a leash. Anyway:

She was not there the first time I appeared with the doggos; instead, her brother was…and he saw how well behaved they are. (Nonetheless, he did not say a THING about my doggies, even though it was the first time after shopping there all these years, that I’ve walked in with a pet, let alone two.) But SHE treated me like this was the first time I brought them in because it was the first time SHE saw them. Instead of remarking how lovely the dogs are, or something else of a friendly nature, she literally BARKED at me! And I’ve never seen her act that way towards anyone else accompanied by a canine. So I just cut her off:

“They’ve been here before, and no problem, they’re perfectly fine and I keep them on a leash!”

“Oh,” she replied, then scooted away.

You know what? I BET they voted for Trump…most shop owners are Republican, after all. That is one reason I said to them more than once: “I don’t see WHY anyone would ever vote Republican, they’re such an evil party.” Each of the several times I’ve said that, or something like it, none of them made any remark in return.

Now, once I arrived hovel, I removed their leashes halfway up the stairs, because I heard not a peep from any activity in the hallways. Thus, they could romp about for a couple of minutes before stepping inside. But just when I unlatched their collars, I heard someone enter the front gate. So I quickly hooked a couple of fingers with each hand, around each dog’s collar. Because in such a situation, it is impossible to get the leashes back on, without letting go of one of them. I slowly began to drag them to my door, but the resident was too quick for me, and arrived right beside us.

So, of course, barking ensued…but this time from Flaco only; Lucky remain peaceful. But this fellow likes them both, and has no problem with any barking. In fact, he asked if he could watch them “zoom” up and down the corridor. I told him they don’t do that if someone else is here, because they’re not used to seeing ANYone else in the corridor or lobby, except me. (A dearth of residents passing through is one of the results of this pandemic.)

Anyway, he was quite friendly to the dogs, even though Flaco kept on barking, and I really wanted to take her into my room, but this guy’s a potential ally in a possible lawsuit against Ablahblah Realty. Wanna guess why? I’ll give you a moment.

[a moment’s pause]

Because HE is one of the couple that lives across from me, who was even MORE impacted by the maskless, teenage loiterers than I was! They would make the BEST witnesses in support of my grievance, than anyone else in the building. He then asked if I know Lucky’s history, and I said, well, I think I know some of it, but it could all be hearsay, so, yes, I’d like to hear it. BTW, my dear Wattson, he KNOWS who Deek is, and has seen him and the doggies many times…and KNOWS I now own them, that I purchased them from Deek, and recorded the verbal contract. (He did remark that time, that he hopes this won’t bring problems to the building; I just firmly said “Nope.”) But here is what he told me:

Lucky was STOLEN from that middle-aged fellow who owns another dog that is almost the spitting image of Lucky, except HIS has not been neutered. I’ve mentioned him to you before, that I see him around two or three times a week, strolling up and down Noe Street. But I haven’t seen him any time recently, at least four months I’d say…and even Les brought that up to me just a couple days ago.

So I said that story IS different from what Deek told me, who claims he was gifted that dog, because the owner couldn’t handle or afford two of them. But I made it clear to my neighbor that this, too, could be hearsay, as Deek often makes things up, due to his bipolar nature.

At any rate, he was very cordial, not accusatory or upset in any other way. He just enjoyed sharing (I presume, though there could be a hidden motive). Besides which, Deek and Lucky were in the Castro almost every day, while the original owner was out and about, walking his OWN dog. You’d think if he wanted Lucky back, he could’ve easily achieved that, long before now.

But I’ve researched what my rights are and, at this point in time, ownership is legally mine. And he and Flaco are very dear friends to each other; so it would be a major heartbreak for both, were they separated. I just want to point out here, that one dilemma after another keeps being hurled at me, and I am SICK AND TIRED OF IT! I wouldn’t bother to step out any more, only that doesn’t seem to work either, as trouble comes to me no matter what. I could stay in my room 24/7 and still, it will hunt me down, and bang at my very door! This has LITERALLY happened to me more than once…in fact, quite a few times over the years…maybe as much as twenty or so.

So we ended our chat amicably, and I FINALLY got to bring the dogs inside. There was no Deek anywhere in sight last night, nor any confrontations with his “friends.” But who knows? This may just be the eye of the storm. This city is rife with people who just love to stir up shit, to whomever they decide to fuck with. It’s been like that, and keeps getting worse, ever since the Free Speech Movement died out. And THAT’S a long, long time, mon incroyable confidente. And my SRO situation, having lived in the same spot for many years–smack dab in the middle of Gossipville–makes me a sitting duck.

Quack, quack for now!

  • Zeke

One Picture is Worth a Thousand Heart Throbs

January 17, 2021
Taco is on the left. Click here for a larger image.

No story, just a sweet photograph. What the hey: I’ve tossed in ten short videos for your further muttly pleasure.

Title: Not a Good Idea

These pups don’t really have any doggy toys to play with, so I try to come up with items that they like to chew on, and are safe. This one didn’t work out. But look how cute Wiley’s ears are! I sometimes call her “My little Yoda.” And check out those laser eyes: she’s got super-powers! Notice I inadvertently called Taco “Lucky,” because that’s his real name…which I changed in my work-in-progress, “Brindlekin Tales.” Wiley’s real name is “Flaco,” which is Spanish for “skinny,” and pronounced “flah-koh.”

Title: Some Harnesses are Just Good to Chew on

Twelve of these orange harnesses (with leashes) were left behind about a year ago, at some SPCA event here in San Francisco. This was back before Deek adopted Wiley, but already had Taco for seven months. The harnesses turned out to be a loose fit, and couldn’t be adjusted. But they also came with leashes that were very good… but have since been all used up. I still have these harnesses stashed away in a bag on my loft. So I thought today, maybe they’d like to use them for chew toys, and that is exactly what they did.

Title: When Lucky Doesn’t Wanna Eat

It’s rare when Lucky isn’t hungry, but when he really doesn’t want to eat, he lets you know in the clearest way possible! He’ll even knock over the dish, if I don’t take it away. This is totally unrelated to the two pups’ recent and simultaneous sudden loss of appetite that lasted for almost five days, but was finally resolved with a slight change in their diet. Please note I’ve been calling him “Taco” when he was owned by someone else…for book publishing purposes. Now, I’m dropping the pseudonym, since I’m his new guardian, as I am also for Flaco, whose fake name was Wiley.

Title: Play-Fighting (1 of 4)

Always a delight to watch them play and fight!

Title: Play-Fighting (2 of 4)

Always a delight to watch them play and fight!

Title: Play-Fighting (3 of 4)

Always a delight to watch them play and fight!

Title: Play-Fighting (4 of 4)

Always a delight to watch them play and fight!

Title: Post Play-Fighting (1 of 3)

Check out Lucky’s teeth…they remind me of that cartoon doggy character Mr. Peabody’s teeth!

Title: Post Play-Fighting (2 of 3)

Are they calling it quits, or do they feel imposed upon by my camera? They certainly don’t mind pooping in front of the entire world.

Title: Post Play-Fighting (3 of 3)

Jus’ chillin’!

Dog-In-A-Box: Order Yours Today!

January 15, 2021

A 30-pound package of Pedigree brand kibble arrived today from a kind donor of my Amazon Doggie Wish List. Naturally, it arrived in a large box, which the doggies took over for their own little hidey-space. Four lovely pics and eleven sweet videos (plus a bonus special video at the end)…all wrapped up in a box for your canine pleasure! Click on any pic for a larger view.

BONUS: special nighttime video!

Letter to the Landlord (part 1)

January 12, 2021

URGENT: my letter to the landlord
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 11, 2021 8:10 AM

Tara, I am ready to send this letter via certified snail mail to my landlord, with a cc to the building manager, and Myrtle (the target of my complaint). I will need to haul out my printer for this, which I haven’t used for over two years. Fortunately, I have two unopened boxes of ink (black and color) that will now come in handy. Please read my letter, and send me some feedback. MUCH appreciated. (The ink cost me $42 total three years ago, so printing out one letter is what this will cost me…since I have no other need to use the printer. Or the inks will dry out before I do.)

To Ablahblah Realty:

This regards an ongoing, and most serious, problem at 9666 Market Street, where I have happily resided since 1983, in room 505. Which problem for some unknown reason our building manager, Kevin Bond, has refused to resolve, or is incapable of resolving. It has to do with one woman, Myrtle Haversak, who lives down the hallway from me in apartment 508, with her teenage son, Adisa(sp?).

It seems she has an arrangement with another mom or two, for their sons and daughters to hang out in the hallway at least one day per week, for hours. Which mostly impacts myself, because they are usually parked right in front of my door (at the end of a short hallway), often talking loudly, even yelling sometimes. This is a direct invasion of my privacy, and much worse: they don’t wear a mask! Thus putting myself and everyone else in the building, at risk of catching and spreading the novel coronavirus. I am most at risk, obviously because more exposed to their presence…and in addition, I am seventy years old.

I also do not enjoy hearing teenagers (or anyone else) saying “niggah” this and “niggah” that, even though I realize it is a colloquialism that is acceptable among African American youth. But why should I be subjected to such language outside my own door, for hours on end…along with their “gangsta” style tough talk? Honestly, were I a parent who adopted a black child, I would never raise him like that.

I find it rather intimidating that strangers hang out in the hallway, and close to my door. So much so, that I try not to step out during the lengthy time they are there. And this includes using the restroom I share with two other residents, one of whom is elderly like myself. Talk about discomfort! I really do not like strangers seeing me come and go, especially when they’re hanging out but ten or so feet from my door, and right in front of it.

Not only do they refuse to wear masks, but freely use the same restroom I and two more residents use. Thus exposing me and others to the scary possibility of greater exposure to COVID-19 than need be. This is a problem that’s been going on for at least several months, with no resolution in sight. For I have already spoken with both Mr. Bond and Ms. Haversak twice about this, two and three months ago. Both times Kevin said he’ll get on top of this, and Myrtle gave the impression that she will, too. But things have not changed one iota. So I don’t see any point in confronting either one about this, any more…but simply wonder:

“Doesn’t either Ms. Haversak or Mr. Bond even care about how this uncomfortable scenario is a threat to any and all residents’ lives?” Especially to myself, and other tenants who reside on the second floor.

I have found Kevin Bond to be a most congenial and responsible manager overall, but this takes the cake. Now, I’m sticking my neck out by reporting this to you, due to possible retaliation by one or more parties involved. Nonetheless, my health is at risk, as well as everyone else who lives here, due to Adisa’s friends’ refusal to wear a mask. This is such a dangerous situation due to the potential exposure to a deadly virus being thoughtlessly spread (at least, the potential is there), that I feel compelled to also bring this to the attention of our health authorities, if this problem isn’t truly resolved promptly.

Most sincerely,

Ezekiel J. Krahlin

Re: URGENT: my letter to the landlord
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 11, 2021 2:21 PM

It’s fine. Couple of teensy tweaks (in red).

I’ve redacted the letter already, thanks.

Send it!!! What a horrible, fucked-up situation.

I hesitate because of possible retaliation, and the dogs’ safety is my top concern. Retaliation potential may be high, as this could include Adisa’s friends who’ve been hanging out in the hallway at least once a week for months. Myrtle’s son, Adisa, used to be a nice little kid, but he’s big now, around 6-foot-3 and of an athletic build…and unpleasant any more, like he has a chip on his shoulder. The occasional times I say hello to him, he speaks not a word and walks on. Myrtle herself is a petite, straw-haired lesbian around 5-foot-3, who attends the Unitarian Universalist Church, which is composed of mostly milquetoast, rich liberals. She’s been living with her son in that studio apartment for years now, maybe eight or nine. I sense hostility from Adisa, and that his mom probably turned him against me by telling him to never have anything to do with me. Because why? Because I associate with homeless people. Many people around the neighborhood regard me as a dropout and loser former hippie. And no doubt our current manager has played a role in perpetuating this stigma, as have all the former ones. Boy do THEY miss the mark!

Yet my conscience won’t allow me to remain silent, as this is potentially deadly to all who live here. Should I succumb to the virus, what would happen to the doggies? I’m thinking now of just mailing ONE letter first class, to the landlord, and nothing to either Myrtle or the manager. I’ve done this once before, many years ago, over one of the landlord’s myriad relations (this one a nephew six times removed, I think), who just got off the boat from some middle eastern Arab country, and who was given a room on my floor, so of course we shared the bathroom. He was scary-crazy as a loon, probably high on meth…frightened everyone in the building. So I sent Ablahblah Realty my letter of concern, and they moved him out immediately. Funny how the building manager herself NEVER contacted Ablahblah to rectify this problem…so I, a low-paying, long-term renter, did instead.

But here’s an awkward thing that happened on the same day I refused to return the mutts to Deek:

Since my phone was dead, I rushed to Myrtle’s apartment to ask to use her phone. Thinking SHE would be the one to open the door, but no, it was Adisa. So I told him this is an emergency and my land line is dead. He handed me his phone immediately, and I made my first 911 call that day…and informed them that I’m using a neighbor’s phone. Then I handed it back to him, said thanks much, and went on my way. It wasn’t until about a half hour later I remembered I could STILL use my non-cell-service smartphone to dial 911. Wish I had realized that earlier. Two days later, I was just arriving at my hovel when Adisa was walking in my direction on the way out…so I thanked him again, saying that was most appreciated. He just acted like I wasn’t there, and walked right by me, while the brindlekin barked up a storm. They don’t like him.

Also, I seem to finally have the manager on my side regarding the doggies. But that could all change, as a result of my letter to the landlord. So, it all sucks right now.

One more thing: I e-posted this matter to the building manager, and clicked on the “return receipt” tag before sending it. Since I also bcc’d it to you, you were likewise tagged. YOUR receipt came back, but not Kevin’s. Conclusion: he doesn’t use that email, but just gave it to me as a deflection! (OR he chose NOT to click on the “respond receipt” link which, as you’ve suggested, is more likely.) Dontcha love how they treat me here?

Subject: Two significant additions to my letter to Ablahblah Realty.
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 11, 12:16 AM

Just below the paragraph ending with “and in addition, I am seventy years old,” I’ve inserted the following:

“Furthermore: we already have at least one resident who’s come down with the virus…possibly more, since the information as to who and how many is concealed from us by law. What limited information tenants have, is posted in the lobby. I would certainly conclude the possibility that Kamari’s maskless friends may have contributed to spreading this contagion, and may still be doing so.”

And where I say: “Honestly, were I a parent who adopted a black child, I would never raise him like that,” I’ve appended this final, but brief, sentence:

“It’s as if their adult guardians are training them to fail as grownups.”

Precisely the kick in the gut these wee-brained parents seem to be begging for! Why, it may even divide offspring from sire, as predicted in Matthew 10:35.

I am truly OUTRAGED that a resident of this building doesn’t give a fuck about the well-being of others who live here. Doesn’t even sound like she cares about her OWN well-being! ALSO outraged that our building manager is complicit with Myrtle’s deadly agenda.

So I WILL be sending the letter off to ’em all, as it’s the most righteous thing to do. There is something very sinister going on here, so it’s “Friendly Ghost Detective Agency” to the rescue! Time to dust off the old magnifying glass, briar pipe and queerstalker cap…they’ve been neglected for way too long, eh, Watson!

  • Zeke

PS: Look at how well-rested and content the doggos seem tonight:

Subject: The cat IS now out of the bag!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 12, 2021 4:55 PM

I saw Dieter this afternoon (the guy with the wheelchair), by the Mediterranean restaurant a couple doors up from Rosenberg’s…and told him what’s going on with Myrtle, the manager, and Adisa’s “friends” hanging out in my hallway without masks, and acting rowdy, and how it goes on for three or four hours every week and sometimes more often. He said he had no idea that was going on, and rarely speaks with Kevin (the manager) much any more. That, I believe, is a lie. They live on the same floor only two doors away, and I see them commiserating quite often. So I also asked him does he know where he goes late at night, ’cause I see him returning to our building almost precisely at one AM, two or more nights a week. But of course he said he doesn’t know…humph! So I ALSO confided in him that something wicked is going on with Kevin and Myrtle, so keep an eye out.

Well, I know he’s gonna run up to the fourth floor where he resides, and gossip about all the latest Zeke news. So I got THAT ball rolling…especially since I also told Dieter I’m ready to send a certified letter to Ablahblah Realty, as well as inform the health department…and make other moves in the legal arena.

Then I walked the dogs to where Les works, and also told HIM the dirt. He said he hopes it all works out for me and I replied that yes it will, because when you’re in the right and stand your ground, you always win, and he agreed. So now I got aNOTHER ball rolling…that makes two, so far.

Well, get this, Tara: upon returning to my building, me and the brindlekin encounter Kevin coming down the stairs, so I asked him, did you get my email? He mumbled what I THINK is akin to a yes, so I reminded him this is a health hazard, as well as a gross imposition on my privacy, I don’t even wanna step out to use the restroom while they’re there. He then moved away from me, said they’re teenagers, what do you expect, so I said THAT’S your answer? And he replied, well whaddya want me to do, so I said I’m not TELLING you what to do, I’m just keeping you informed, and you ARE the manager, and I think at this point you need to get the police involved.

He just continued descending the stairway and once he disappeared around the corner I called out why are you being so rude to me, this is a serious matter, a health hazard, they’re putting everyone in the building at risk, including yourself and Myrtle, not to mention ME who is MOST exposed to the danger because of their proximity to my door, to where they hang out.

Well, he stopped responding, so I remember that Adisa and a friend had stepped out about twenty minutes ago to play some rounds of basketball there in Duboce Park. So I figured now’s a good time to confront Myrtle…so I knocked on her door, but no one answered. Then I saw the apartment door opposite Myrtle’s was open and Miguel, our main handyman (he’s been working here almost daily, for over two decades now…and a good guy) repainting the walls for the next sucker who moves in to this travesty of a Hell House Horror. So I informed him about my conflict with the manager, that he might keep an eye out for me. Now that’s THREE balls rolling!

As I turned away from him and proceeded hovel, there was Kevin again, climbing the stairs with another resident, so I immediately addressed him as they ascended:

“This is WRONG, Kevin, you can’t look the other way when some teenagers are hanging out in the hallway for hours at a time, and they’re not wearing a mask, this is a health hazard for everyone in the building, you DO need to do something about it! They don’t even live here!” Zing! Ball FOUR just got rolling!

Now allow me, my most Amazing, Intelligent, Benevolent-Yet-Harsh-Empress-of-Truth, She-Who-Goes-By-MANY-Names-But-Whom-I-Prefer-To-Call-Tara-For-The-Nonce:


They WANT me to take action to stop this…they are playing my enemies, that I become even MORE of a hero than I already am! So I’m not gonna bother certifying my mail, I already have stamps and envelopes here, and an excellent printer with fresh ink. It shall all be accomplished tonight, and mailed tonight, as well.

  • Zeke

Re: The cat IS now out of the bag!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 12, 2021 8:35 PM

Aw, you flatten me!

In a two-dimensional world, that would TRULY be the case!

Something tells me things are gonna get nice and quiet real soon.

Yes, but the snare has already sprung…and they can’t cover up their history of more than several months violating my right to not be unduly exposed to COVID-19, and to not have rude, bullying strangers hang right outside my door for as long. They are so TOTALLY screwed. I’m sure I’ll find a GREAT attorney…it’s in the cards (or perhaps I should say “it’s in the law books”)!

Re: Letter to My Landlord now posted on my blog
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 12, 2021 9:18 PM

Good work!!

Thank you, Tara. I’m rather proud of it…but I couldn’t have done it without the strenuous efforts of mine enemies to try to wipe me out. If any one of ’em attempts to flatter or buy me off into softening my opposition, I’ll feign to do just that. But slice their throats just the same, when the time is ripe…metaphorically speaking of course (heavens to Murgatroyd, I couldn’t even kill a ladybug). The final result of the letter I shall soon print out and deliver unto the eagle wings of the USPS, has one additional appendage you are not yet aware of:

“P.S.: I have just confronted Kevin Bond again, over this, and he was both thoughtless and rude, with the ridiculous excuse that they’re teenagers, what should I expect? This is abhorrent. Now I’m beginning to wonder if I’m being targeted! If that is the case, it surely will backfire.”

I must say, my dear Watson:

‘Tis GOOD for the Friendly Ghost Detective Agency to hang its shingle out once more, after all these years twiddling my pipe tobacco stained thumbs while staring out the window overlooking Baker Street through the dreary smog, as Professor Moriarty grimaces at me from behind the curtains of a passing coach.



Subject:This is so STUPID!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 13, 2021 3:05 PM

So I dusted off my old HP Deskjet 3000 printer, only to find it refused to print, kept declaring that the paper feed is empty! Even though I could see with my own eyes that it contained ten 8-1/2 by 11 inch sheets, properly inserted. So I went through the troubleshooting process, but no cigar. Then, after about a half hour futzing around with the devilish device, it suddenly started printing out. I was delighted!

Until I retrieved the two sheets from the tray, only to discover they were a printout of some bank transaction record dating back to 2017! So MORE futzing around ensued, and finally, it coughed up the Ablahblah Realty letter. So I made three copies, then packed the printer away. Which is a pain in the ass, both unpacking and packing, as it’s stored in the lower bin, so I gotta lift the equally heavy top bin off the lower one, and set it on the floor…in a gingerly fashion mind you, as I have my lamp, desk storage bin, Android tablet, land line telephone, and a smaller bin containing daily items such as wallet, bandanna, scissors, foldable reading glasses, etc. Can’t have it all slide off and crash to the floor!

Then I realized I still need to print addresses on three legal size envelopes which, of course, I did not have…though I thought I did, but failed to check first. This means I’m gonna have to go through the whole, cumbersome process again, the next day, unpacking and repacking the Deskjet. Which I came to learn a little while later I’m gonna have to anyway, because a dumb typo had eluded this jaded old pilgrim, until after the letters were printed out. Alas, “contributed” was misspelled as “contibuted.” Arrgh!

But then a bright idea put a spark in my halo: “Why don’t you just use one of those online print-and-mail services that are so prolific and easy to use these days, Zeke? You can afford it!”

So I eagerly logged onto the USPS “click2mail” site, registered, and VOILA I was in! You can even mail letters CERTIFIED from there…for just $4.50! But let me tell you, Tara, it’s a tangle of spaghetti, jumping through pointless and exacerbating hoops just setting things up for ONE lousy letter, then figuring out how to preview and send it off. From setting up an address to formatting it properly, to reviewing it before clicking on the “mail it now” button…all a monstrous, convoluted affair doomed to failure right out of the gate. I just could NOT figure out how to get it done! And I know it’s not ME, because I’m pretty much an expert in things computer/Internet-ish. I finally gave up and conceded to doing it the old fashioned way.

But what ALSO pisses me off, is that they now have some valuable data on me, that I can’t erase at this point. So here’s yet ONE MORE database vulnerable to hacking and identity theft, that sooner or later will catch up to me…as it will to us all. I predict that the entire human race will wake up some day soon, to discover everyone’s money and personal information in one humongous server that is also in the name of one, humongous company, black market or otherwise. Maybe even just one person! (I pray to God that person be me.) And we’ll all have to use the same username and password to do ANYthing at all.

So I still need to purchase some legal size envelopes, then print them out. Hopefully getting the format right, so that the return and sendee addresses are properly positioned, will NOT be too much of a pinch in the keister. THEN I have to go somewhere in PERSON, to get that one letter addressed to Ablahblah Realty, certified. And I’ll have to bring the doggies which I DON’T want to do, as I will be forging deeper into dangerous territory, where I’m more likely to run into Deek or a minion of his. Jeez Louise, when is all this mounting doo-doo gonna end? Oh yeah, in three days, January 16th, which is Saturday. I HOPE.

I don’t know, Tara, but between the DSL crap and the Maskless Black Teenagers fiascoes, so much of my time has become wrapped up with resolving them, thus sabotaging my writing schedule. Eating up at least three stupid hours a day. And I STILL need to find an attorney on top of all that!

Just griping, I hope you have an INCREDIBLE day, Ms. Tara of the Whispering Vents of Circe’s’ Cavern (or is it “tavern”)!

(That was Wiley saying hi; she just jumped onto my lap, which also means onto the keyboard.)

  • Zeke

Subject: Les Friendly
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 13, 2021 6:03 PM

I’ve been in the habit recently of securing the doggie leashes to the bungee cord holding Les’s corner shop door open. A fine arrangement as it turns out, because both Wiley & Taco are quiet and patient, and I can pretty much see them, no matter which aisle I’m standing in. And of course, they’re always in direct view of Les, because he’s stationed at the front counter. While my pups are perfectly well behaved when I take them inside the shop, nonetheless the aisles are narrow, and I risk stepping on them.

So, this afternoon I proceed as usual, to tie them up before entering the Noe Valley Market, when suddenly Les returns from his vehicle with a load of keys and chains attached to his belt, loudly clanking away as he returns to the shop. Which startled the brindlekin into yapping and snarling up a storm! Les swung his legs away and skirted ’round them as if he were about to be mauled to death, like that tragic Diane Whipple case.

Upon my stepping inside, he admonished me with: you need to tie your dogs up elsewhere, I don’t want them biting customers. I told him they never bite, at worst they’ll nip at your heels, and it’s the clanking metallic sounds that upset them (people don’t know that, he interjected, and I replied that people should know better than to approach a stranger’s dog while making disruptive noises, right, and besides, I have them tight on a leash)…but I’ll take them inside now, if you’d like…he said never mind, just get your stuff, it’s fine.

As I plucked a few items off the shelves I noticed two other folks had entered the shop, and one had already left by the time I was ready to make my purchase. That is when I said: see, they’re peaceful, people stepping in and out, no problem, it’s just the clashing metal, like those dammed skateboards…besides, you caught me off-guard, otherwise I would’ve pulled ’em over to the curb while you passed. I do that whenever I see some tweaker coming my way at night, dangling metallic junk like a derelict robot.

But, Tara, I think there is an underlying peeve he newly harbors, ever since I shared with him my conflict with the building manager and the neighbor down the hallway, regarding her messed up son and his so-called “friends!” People are like that in this miserable burg: while they know everybody’s business, largely in part due to their OWN wilfull gossip and listening to that of others, they like to pretend they don’t, even if refusal to acknowledge certain horrid situations does further damage…including collateral, if you will. As my old friend, Chuck (who used to live in this building for over two decades and a half and actually got me in here) used to say about this city that he nicknames San Franshitsco: “It’s like living in a fishbowl.”

So, in order to test my theory (about Les’s hidden peeve), I pointed out the narrow box of legal size, secure envelopes which price he just punched into the cash register, and declared:

“I got my letter to the landlord printed out last night, but I don’t have the right envelopes, so I’ll have to delay mailing them until tomorrow, because I need this certified…you know, for my own records.”

He simply grunted uh-huh in such a tone as to indicate he’s heard enough about my debacle the last time around. I, however, was determined to NOT leave it alone, seeing as I’ve ALWAYS been suppressed, even told outright to shut the fuck up whenever I bring up something that strikes me as important for others to know…and I’m utterly fed up with this thoughtlessly flippant disregard that seems to be the hallmark of Shitsco by the Bay, and manifests an urban-wide atmosphere of social isolation for the unlucky non-elite, and an “i got mine, you get yours” hellscape. Thus, I pressed on.

I firmly, calmly emoted that this mask-less invasion foisted upon myself and all residents to be a horrific violation, such that I really have no choice but to answer to my conscience…and this letter will make the manager and the countless other homonculi in this backwater excuse of a hamlet who’ve fucked with me, think TWICE: if Zeke has the balls to do this, what else will he do? I don’t think it’s in my best interest to find out!

Les then asked a rather DUMB question: is there a sign in the hallway about wearing a mask, and I replied no, not in the hallway, in the lobby, but that doesn’t make a difference because it’s a city-wide mandate with or without a sign. But he persisted, stating that property owners are ordered to put up such signs…which speaking thusly was clearly a backhanded slap in my face, seeing as he seems to care LESS about a community member’s own well-being than he does about keeping his shelves properly stocked and the produce looking all fresh and spiffy. So much about supporting a loyal customer in a time of crisis, with simply a kind ear…like “I” was the one about to commit a great crime for standing up to bullies!

So often I feel like the little red hen for whom no one cares to help bake this bread she kneads very much, and often! Bread is the staff of life, what on earth do they think is gonna happen to them if they don’t get their hands in the dough now and then, even if it’s just a pinky? Don’t they grasp the metaphor?

I know what is soon going to happen…YOU know what is soon going to happen, Tara…and some lucky OTHERS know what’s going to happen. But do you, dear reader, know, as well? I’m hitting you over the head with my tales, so you SHOULD know by now, and what role I play in it. But if you DON’T know yet, there is still a bit more time to catch up and awaken. And just when IS that Momentous Day To End All Days Only To Resurrect Itself of which I hint? Only Queen Boudica Who Art in Avalon knows THAT, but I DO know it is due VERY soon, perhaps in just a few days from now. For I sense the idea of January 16th welling up in my mind and heart, as that likely event. Though I HAVE been wrong before, and I don’t gamble with celestial dice. And YOU shouldn’t either, if you know what’s good for you.

  • Zeke

Subject: A little pterodactyl just told me…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 13, 2021 11:25 PM

…in her words, and her words only (in the dark of night, perched upon the near end of a streetcar cable ten feet from my window, and four feet higher up…the luminescence of the street lamp cast a golden-ruddy-brown sheen upon her outspread wings and beak):

“Hello, Zeke. I bring you greetings from the Nebula Mesozoa where you are celebrated as The One Most High! We heard your thoughts of worry over the impact your Letter to the Landlord will have. I have been assigned the honored mission to inform you that all will align in your favor, in every way possible! You need not worry, unless the emotion pleases you.”

“Good to know, thank you, Pterry!” I responded in thoughtful waves of appreciation.

“But wait, there’s more!” she bobbed her elongated noggin most enthusiastically, and continued: “Here is how things will go down. Myrtle Haversak will neither allow her adopted son, Adisa, to see your letter, nor let him know she ever GOT that letter in the first place.”

“Really! And why is that?”

“Oh you’re gonna love this, Zeke,” a glint of hilarity flashed in her eye. “After some deliberation, she will realize that you were absolutely correct when you wrote: ‘It’s as if their adult guardians are training them to fail as grownups.’ In fact, it will strike her like a bolt of plasma, and she’ll suddenly feel SO ashamed that she’s nowhere near as good a broody as she thought she was! So she’ll vow right then and there, to stop Adisa from going down a bad path, which you succinctly pointed out with your ‘niggah this’ remark.”

“That is really good to hear,” I interjected.

“But wait, Zeke, there’s still more!” she trilled softly with her long beak lowered closer to my ear. “She will forbid her wayward son from EVER speaking in gangsta again, including using the word ‘niggah’ in any form whatsoever…and cut him off from his present groupies as they are not true friends, but a bad influence.”

“Zowie! Good for Myrtle!” I joyfully proclaimed.

“You won’t believe this, Zeke, but there’s more still!” And she proceeded to elaborate: “She will ship him off to a Catholic school of elevated caliber, to finish out his last two years of secondary education. And the black students there are all held to higher standards than those he now knows.”

“Isn’t that remarkable,” I pondered.

“Oh I’m not finished, Zeke, there’s yet still more, much much more!” Pterry then cleared her raspy throat with a funny hoot, before commencing: “Adisa will be instructed by she who laid the egg that gave hatch to him, to knock on your door and profusely apologize.”

“Hmm, I don’t know if I’d even care to open my door, but okay.”

“Then they’ll both move out in the shake of an archaeopteryx’s feathered tail, and you’ll never see them again!”

I beamed with joy: “This is certainly something to celebrate, but what about the building manager, and Ablahblah Realty?”

“Well let’s see, Zeke,” she said with beak raised to ponder how to put her words together aptly, then revealed the most wonderful outcome to this bird of a different skin:

“Ablablah Realty will be stunned and greatly dismayed to discover what you have revealed in that timely missive. It will not hurt that, at the last moment, you thought to include a link to your Brindlekin Tales below your signature, as “,” since they will quickly learn that you write about everything important that happens to you, including what goes on in 9666 Market Street! After they read Letter to the Landlord, they’ll conclude you are TOO intelligent and well informed about your rights, for them EVER to consider opposing you even in the LEAST of ways. Your documentation of ALL offenses you have suffered while living there will impress them in no small measure, for they will have assigned a small cadre of attorneys to pore over EVERYTHING you’ve written on both your Gay Bible website AND your WordPress blog!”

“Now I’M impressed,” I chortled in delight. “So then what?”

“Well, let’s see now…oh, right, after they make their decision as to the proper action to take, the first thing they will do is contact Mr. Bond, your manager, and demand he depart the edifice you occupy immediately, whence he should come to their office, where they’ll present him with a fat cashier’s check so long as neither they, nor anyone who occupies 9666, ever see him again. For the attorneys will come to realize that you have a POWERFUL case against them, and they won’t be out of the woods for a long time to come, if ever.”

“That’s right!” I brightly replied. “I have months of evidence to my being needlessly, possibly exposed to the virus by STRANGERS loitering in my hallway!”

“Correctomundo, My Effervescent Phoenix of Effusiveness!” gleefully replied pterodactyl Pterry, who went on to describe in rather extraordinary detail, the stupendously benevolent outcome of my standing up to Ablablah et al! And now, good reader, I share it all with you:

The attorneys for Ablablah will summarily offer me a most handsome sum in hopes of averting an actual lawsuit as well as a SCANDAL, which they KNOW I’ll win. They’ll suggest half a million while I stand firm at TWO million, reminding them that the offense committed can gain me at LEAST five million…but that I may decide to take this to the barrister anyway, in light of the apparent necessity of ensuring the preservation of ALL lives at 9666 Market Street. IOW: the real issue is not money at all, but life itself. So they commiserate amongst themselves for several minutes, then turn to me and say “Okay.”

“Just a moment there, lackeys,” I respond. “I’ve suddenly changed my mind and upped the ante to TEN million dollars, PLUS ownership of the ENTIRE premises, including the shops below.”

They act truly startled at this point (such being the role of top notch thespians: to appear totally convincing), but wind up concluding that is what they’ll have to do, considering my threat to turn this into a citywide–nay, statewide and nationwide–scandal. Within three more days, all papers are drawn up, signed and delivered unto Ezekiel J. Krahlin, raconteur extraordinaire. But I decide to go ahead anyway, and turn it into a scandal by posting a hot news tip to the LGBT newspapers (the Bay Area Reporter and the SF Bay Times) as well as to the San Franshitsco Examiner, the San Franshitsco Chronicle, and KGO radio news. Thus, the scandal takes wing across not just the entire city, or the entire state, or the entire nation…or even across the entire planet! For word of this stunningly egregious scandal spreads even further, to the distant stars of the Milky Way Galaxy and beyond. At this point the attorneys realize that they, along with ALL persons associated with Ablahblah Realty, are massively boned. Accusing me of breaking the contract because I blew the whistle against the signed agreement that I will definitely NOT do that, will accomplish nothing (they have wisely concluded) thanks to so many eyes upon them, including the slimy, all-knowing, pitch-dark God-of-the-Dead-Now-Reanimated BUGG-SASH with eyes more numerous than the grains of sand on Baker Beach!

So many incredible achievements will spin off from this Boon of Great Proportion, that I must save describing them for another time. Except to note that ONE result will be an unprecedented outpouring of gifts and monies for my homeless doggy project, so much so that I will easily be able to set up my “Bay Area Homeless Pet Foundation,” which will include HOUSING homeless people with pets immediately. Rapidly followed by a separate foundation for housing ALL those lacking a roof over their long-suffering heads.

Gasping with astonishment after hearing this mega-profound outcome of my good works, I managed to choke out these words without collapsing into a swoon:

“Enough! Enough! Thank you, but I do not possess your cold blood, that would allow me to absorb such exciting news on an intergalactic level…”

“InterDIMENSIONAL as well,” interjected Pterry.

“All right,” I retorted, as my right hand suddenly slipped from the window sill, causing me to almost drop to the concrete below. “Such exciting news on an intergalactic AND interdimensional level, that I beg of you, PLEASE let’s get back down to earth, the air is awfully thin up there!”

“Very well, my fine unfeathered friend,” cackled the glimmering pterosaur in a whistling sort of way. “Let’s get back to the nest and wrap things up. I have one final tidbit of good news to convey…and it is QUITE down to earth! In fact, it’s so down to earth you may need to wear galoshes, as it’s also begun to rain!”

It was only when she uttered that last sentence that I realized I was already soaked from head to upper torso; no wonder my hand slipped!

Pterry paused a moment as I stabilized my position against the window frame: “Okay, Mr. Krahlin: this is definitely a near-future development…one which will please you considerably!”

“Yes, yes, what is that, exactly? PLEASE continue!” I egged her on (an easy thing to do, in light of her ovoid origin).

“Ahem,” she preceded for emphasis. “Ablahblah Realty will replace the present building manager with one who will surrender to most every wish of yours, Zeke!”

“Oh, really? THIS is fascinating!”

“And he will be QUITE attractive as well,” beamed Pterry, “very much to your liking, indeed!”

I was thinking maybe that would be Larkin, but she suddenly fluttered away in a kind of medieval light such as you see in those paintings from the early Dark Ages…so I didn’t have a chance to ask.

There is another matter which I think will come out of all this, Tara…as I have fantasized about it countless times and over many years: that some day I will wind up owning the building. Now, I can more easily see how that could happen. BTW:

Towards the end of composing this latest tale, I took a break and gazed out the window. What did I see? A vehicle pulling over and out hopped Adisa looking all cocky and gangsterish in his gray Adidas hoodie and black sweat pants with a white stripe from hip to ankle, strutting in his flashy-new Nike sneakers like King Rooster while mumbling whatever into his fancy iPhone, as he walked to the gate, and entered.

  • Zeke

Subject: I can’t be professional no matter how hard I try!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 14, 2021 12:16 AM

Trying to print on an envelope failed miserably! Even though I followed instructions to a T, the printer refused to process the envelopes correctly, but instead kept whining about being out of paper. Strangely, it unexpectedly spit out ONE successful result, however there was a nasty ink smudge on the left of center. Plus, the lines came out slightly slanted because the wheels must’ve pulled it through at a skewed angle. So I just wasted a precious 3+ hours that would’ve been MUCH better spent writing another story. And now, I have no choice but to HAND PRINT each of three envelopes…and my handwriting sucks donkey warts. This also diminishes the import of my letter. Now how fucked is that?

  • Zeke

Subject: No such thing as professional if it’s “almost”…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 14, 2021 9:11 AM

…but this will have to do:

Click here for a larger view.

Letters are still in my hovel, but not much longer! Next time I take the doggies for a walk, the job will be done. Let the feathers fly!

Friendly Ghost Detective Agency at your service, ma’am. I have all sorts of ghosts assisting me, including a pterodactyl phantom from a nebula far, far away! We charge a little extra for those kind.

  • Zeke

PS: Here is the final version of my letter that I sent to Ablahblah Realty, with a copy to Kevin and Myrtle. It’s in rtf format:

Click here to read.

Re: No such thing as professional if it’s “almost”…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 14, 2021 4:01 PM

I think it looks good. I like the URGENT message; bound to get somebody’s attention.

It BETTER! I didn’t certify it, but the last time I mailed them an urgent letter (about eight years ago), it was also uncertified; nonetheless they responded promptly and expulsed the insane resident I had to share a restroom with for six weeks. My letters are now in the corner mailbox, restless to take wing and seek out their prey, like vampire bats…or maybe just vampires.

If you look at the very last section of “Letter to the Landlord,” you’ll see I provided a link to a pic of the REAL envelope, and the actual letter. This means that anyone who wants, can discover the bona-fide property owner of my building, as well as my own residential address and the REAL addresses and names of the perpetrators in their unholy mission. This might get interesting.

Though I’m hoping this will gather allies around me, to staunch any possible assaults on my person, the dogs, or the building itself. Who knows WHO the fuck is reading my tales any more? Surely not all of them play the enemy!

I think from now on, I’m gonna enter and leave my domicile with my smartphone camera running, in case of any unexpected confrontation.

Scroll a bit up now from the bottom of the landlord page, and you’ll discover a cute cartoon image of Pterry the Pterodactyl! I’m very proud of that delightful little vignette I sent you, entitled “A little pterodactyl just told me…”.

  • Zeke

PS: Nothing but dead silence from the past two days. Are they conferring with their attorneys? At any rate, their service leaves much to be desired for their lower-tiered customers.

Subject: I just contacted an attorney…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 14, 2021 5:48 PM

…via their online submission form. This is Jared Kingsley, with whom I already discussed the elevator repairmen issue some months previously. Here is what I posted to him:

Mr. Kingsley: We’ve talked before, over an issue of elevator repairmen in my building during this pandemic…hopefully you remember. Anyway, I have unwillingly become embroiled in a much more serious issue of a resident on my floor allowing strangers to hang out in my hallway for 2-4 hours at least once a week, and they do NOT wear masks, and they make noise and act intimidating, and hang out almost right outside my door. The manager knows about this, but prefers to look the other way. This letter I just snail mailed to our landlord will give you a good idea of the horrid and threatening situation I am in, and have been in for more than four months (it’s in rtf format):

Please note my DSL land line is presently dead, for more than a week now, and, my provider, is dragging their feet on resolving this problem. So if you call, my voicemail still works, but I can’t call back. But I CAN do email, so long as my Internet connection remains working…which it may not, due to this issue which they are failing to resolve at this time. I have no other phone.

Meanwhile, I now have werewolves taking over my hovel:

Subject: The 16th was uneventful…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 16, 2021 11:24 PM

…which may be a good thing, as it’s been four days since I mailed my letter to the landlord, the manager, and the offending resident, yet not a peep! But maybe the letter won’t arrive till Monday. As for today, I DID mark a milestone of my first expense using my GoFundMe debit card. However, it was not a simple process, though it should have been. I first needed to activate the card by either phoning a number and punching the right buttons, or just go to a store and use my PIN. I first tried the phone number, but all I got was an automated response from a health insurance company! Maybe I misdialed by one digit? I don’t know, I didn’t wanna bother, as it would be much easier to just punch in my PIN…or so I thought.

So this afternoon I told the doggies I’d be right back, and traversed around the corner to Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Foods shop, and selected a generous portion of leather treats of various fauna, then went to the register. Alas, their system rejected my card, because they didn’t have any process where you have to first use the PIN. I told the cashier this makes no sense; she suggested I need to use a credit card, not a debit card…but I told her here’s the card I’ve been using all along…and withdrew my regular debit card from my wallet. So, no, your store accepts debit cards; I just don’t think you’re familiar with the PIN requirement when one gets a new card, can you call your supervisor or manager?

This was after we tried all possible combinations so graciously offered by their electronic cash system. So the manager listened to her explanation, which was completely off-base. I explained once more that a new debit card requires you to tap in your PIN in order for it to activate…and that’s why your system is rejecting it. Nowhere along the line does it step up to the plate and ask for my PIN. The manager then asked to look at my card, and, after she spent about twenty seconds examining it, pointed to the removable label with a phone number I could call, in lieu of using my PIN at a store.

“See this?” she sagely opined.”You can activate your card by calling this number.”

“No I can’t,” I replied, “I already tried that, and I get a health insurance company instead of Chase. I have never had a problem using my PIN at any store before, with a new card.”

It was obvious to me they hadn’t a clue as to what I was talking about…I guess because waving a smartphone over an electronic eye is all they ever learned! So I sighed and said hold onto my package, I’m gonna go down the street and purchase something with this card, which will require me to type in the PIN. Of course, that meant I needed to spend an additional ten dollars to get the ball rolling, as the corner store where Les works, has that as a minimum amount to pay with your credit or debit card. And (better yet) the purchase had to be something canine related. What does that place sell for dogs except dog food? Something which I am presently up to my ears in, thanks to the generosity of donors to my Amazon Doggy Wish List. So, dog food it had to be, anyway, and I wound up buying eight cans of it.

But my card didn’t work the first time around, their system claiming it was not the correct PIN! Fortunately, the second time was the charm. Then I marched on back to Jeffrey’s to finally buy more of those leather treats Taco & Wiley love so much, and which saved the day by putting an end to their hunger strike. Upon reentering I told the cashier, now it’ll work, just wait and see! (I was still peeved that she made an uneducated guess that I need to use a REAL credit card…a stupid thing to say, though conveniently expedient from HER side of the counter. The payment went through like a greased eel up Donald Trump’s anus. Before departing I told the not-too-bright woman that this is a pivotal moment in my life, because it is the first transaction I’ve made with my new GoFundMe debit card. Then I explained a bit about my homeless doggies project, and that all she has to do to read my tales about it, is search Google for “brindlekin.” Then she made aNOTHER lame comment:

“You DO know don’t you, that brindle is just the color of the fur, and not a breed?”

I was ready to smash her head bloody into the keys of the register, but thought better of it, and replied: “Oh I had no idea; that sure is an eye opener!” and vamoosed outta there to get some smart air into my lungs.

Yet two more Amazon packages had arrived by the time I returned hovel: two doggie raincoats with little ducks imprinted all over them, and two doggie sweaters. Unfortunately, the raincoats were way too large, but I wish I had bothered to take a snapshot of Lucky dressed in one of them! He looked so damned forlorn, with the hood reaching far over his head so you wouldn’t even know it was there.

And the sweaters were super-tiny, even though I had provided the large size via the link you click on, in that wish-list page. So now the items are back in their fat, bubble-lined pouches, waiting to be returned by UPS just six or seven doors west of my domicile. Once Amazon receives them, they will credit me with $75 in the form of a gift card. I hate wasting some kind person’s good money! I’ll get the RIGHT sizes with it.

Oh, yeah, I almost forgot: earlier this evening, that scraggly homeless lady with hardly any teeth left (called “Pippin,” and whom I’ve seen quite regularly hanging out with Deek) passed me by while exclaiming I’m gonna get the shit beat outta me for stealing his dogs! I tried to get her to stop a moment and take a gander at the video of our verbal contract, but what would be the point if she did? The woman’s way too schizophrenic to be of any use in squelching Deek’s badmouthing me across the street-people-scape. But I’m not worried about it, as I’m too schizophrenic myself to NOT act like a rabid hyena with a chip on its brisket should someone look at me the wrong way, when it comes to my brindlekin!

So that’s January 16th for me: an utter disappointment overall, but I have these sweet pooches that make everything wonderful, no matter what. And this surprise pile of packages from kindhearted donors certainly didn’t hurt! And I got my phone back now, and most of my Internet speed. And all’s quiet on the Western Front regarding Adisa’s maskless punks loitering in the hallways. But tomorrow’s Sunday, the day they have always shown up…so I’ll just have to wait and see. I just might give ’em a piece of my mind and let the fur fly! Or just call the police about strangers wandering around in my building, and not wearing masks.

Funny how the world has changed! One used to be quite tremulous over strangers wearing masks on one’s premises, but nowadays you’re even MORE fearful if they DON’T. It also makes me think: “Gee, we’re all Muslims now!” But one good thing that comes out of wearing a mask–at least for me, that is–is that no one gets to see my ugly, rotten teeth. I’m just like everybody else, now!

  • Zeke

Re: [MCN-Discussion]- Letter to the Landlord (my latest blog entry)
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Discussion MCN
Date: January 17, 2021 11:04 AM

On Fri, 15 Jan 2021 08:27:40 -0500 Fake an Ogre <> squoinked:

So what this letter tells me is that you are an intolerant racist. No more. No less. Fuck right off you racist fascist.

Aha, I see you’ve chosen the “Play the Ignoramus” card, Mr. Psychobitch! Surely you must have a terribly weak hand to opt for THAT despicable move. I don’t give a flying fuck WHAT color the skin (including white): if they are hanging out in the hallway of a residential building where they do NOT reside, causing noise disruptions as well as not wearing a mask, they are breaking some pretty damn serious laws. And if YOU’RE the most exposed to their arrogance, you really SHOULD move forward with a complaint to the property owner, and then press charges if you do not get prompt results. They are potentially exposing EVERYONE in the building to a deadly virus…so playing the racist card does NOT work in this case. But even if we weren’t in a pandemic, there is NO REASONABLE EXCUSE to hang out in the hallway of a residential building where they do not belong, and being a noise disturbance and public nuisance on top of that. The person most responsible for this offense is the mother of the boy who’s bringing them into the building, but keeping them out of HER apartment because, you know, coronavirus…yet allowing others in the building to be exposed to these maskless clowns. She did NOT ask me, or any other neighbor, if they would mind…she just foisted them upon us. My conclusion:

You know very well they are breaking the law in more ways than one, but since the main victim of their crime is yours truly, you decided to play the Ignoramus card. A poor move under any circumstance…then again, one who is TRULY an ignoramus, would find playing that card a flattery to the ego. Thus: your Invisible Fortress is now revealed. But I guess you don’t care, because you already lost this game (Battle of the Bodhisattvas) many moves ago.

Re: The 16th was uneventful…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 17, 12:22 PM

{{ I was ready to smash her head bloody into the keys of the register, but thought better of it, and replied: “Oh I had no idea; that sure is an eye opener!” and vamoosed outta there to get some smart air into my lungs. }}

Those paragraphs right there made me laugh out loud.

Thanks, that was my goal! However, I fear the workers at that shop may be offended. But what price humor? I’m discovering my writing style and choice of characters and urban locale seem to be a blend of O’Henry and Runyon. I’m very much attracted to that literary era of this nation: late 1890s through the 1930s. Do you see that, too…or something else, or more? Your insight is more objective than mine could ever be, regarding my own talents. But what an incredible spurt of creativity since late October…I can readily acknowledge that at this point in my life, I am truly an artist of a VERY high caliber. Nothing to sneeze at, but the dogs go ahead and do it anyway. And YOU deserve wads of kudos, for being such a stalwart and patient supporter of my writing, and even my personal struggles over MANY years. I know that a person with borderline schizophrenia and bipolarity is sometimes DIFFICULT to hang in there with. So:


I dunno. Sounds as if the day was rich with small but mighty triumphs for you.

Actually, it was. I’m just sick and tired of being surrounded by the “normals.” Everyday it’s like running an obstacle course, hardly a moment of friendly exchange. This city sucks wart hog abscesses. For two examples of recent vintage:

Last Friday when I reentered the building, I loosed the doggies from their leashes, as usual, that they could enjoy a minute or two romping through my hallway. They don’t even bark, and I think the staccato padding of their feet on the carpeted floor adds a sense of “joie de vivre” into this otherwise dreary habitation. And the hallways are almost always empty and silent, anyway. But the moment they reached the second floor, there was my crotchety nasty neighbor, Dodd, who just stood there with a sour grimace on his face, as the pups yapped furiously, fake-nipping at his heels. (He ALWAYS has a sour grimace on his face, BTW. ) Unfortunately for me, we share the restroom…and he is likely the person that smeared a bit of human feces on the throw rug the TWO times the building manager added them to the bathroom, to make things more homey; but gave up after the second offense. I finally was able to grab onto both their collars and coerce them into my room, while Dodd proceeded down the stairs. He COULD’ve just continued down the stairs before I rounded them up, but no. I can easily imagine him complaining to the building manager, over this. Even though most everyone else understands that–since the pandemic began–the hallways have become vacant for the most part, and a new doggie or two is therefore not accustomed to seeing other people inside…thus the occasional, passing resident is perceived as an intruder.

Then just earlier today, as my brindlekin were chasing each other up and down the corridor (which is actually Y-split into two hallways, so a lot more fun), and I opened the door to my SRO to allow them a quick dash therein, I suddenly heard them barking up a storm. Which, of course, meant someone was either in the hallway, or on the stairs nearby. It was straw-haired Myrtle, the mother of Adisa, standing on the second-to-top step with coffee in hand, waiting for me to round them up. So I did just that, pulling them away several feet, that she may pass without obstruction. Naturally, she said not a word to me, nor I to her. I can’t imagine what’s going on in that Unitarian Universalist little noggin of hers, but I’m sure it harbors untoward prejudice towards yours truly. Has she received my letter yet? I have no idea.

Today’s another day. Let us break bread, that we may extract the metal file hidden within.

  • Zeke

Subject: “Are they your dogs now?” queried the building manager…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 17, 2:32 PM

…as he approached the front gate obliquely from where I stood, paused to withdraw the keys from my pocket.

“Yes, they are now!” was my simple reply.

As we entered the lobby, he reached a hand out to the doggies in friendship, and they didn’t bark at all. Until a few minutes later, when they pulled back to assert their guardianship over me. But Kevin was not perturbed, for their barks were not as strident as the several other times they’ve met, and I was able to silence them with my deeply voiced reprimand, which I repeated thrice:

“No barking!”

So I told him a bit about my story around Deek and the doggies, and how I willingly fronted my entire stimulus payment to acquire them. Seeing as my houseless friend was not treating them right, and I couldn’t bear to see such sweet creatures without a true home or human friend. Kevin is also Buddhist as far as I know, as he mentioned it once, years ago when I asked him if he has any spiritual perspective on life.

We remained in the lobby a few more minutes, as I elaborated upon my bodhisattva theory that Deek is one, too, and his vagrancy and nastiness is but an act, where he plays the enemy so that “I” can play the hero. And that I believe he intended to give me the dogs all along. I also brought up Buddha’s famous quote, “we have no enemies, only teachers,” and thus extrapolated that we must always find a way to resolve a conflict as compassionately as possible. But that MAY mean, under certain extreme circumstances, to act with violence on some level, if all compassionate options have been considered and expressed.

And I’m glad I shared that with him, considering my letter he has probably received, but maybe not. And, if not, he will not be so inordinately reactive when he DOES read it. For I believe at this point, he will “capiche” that, should this Adisa debacle come to legal blows, I will see to it that all parties involved will actually BENEFIT from my approach. Not necessarily materially (although that will probably be a significant part of the resolution), but most definitely in the way of wisdom.

I DO ponder that his considerate regard toward me today, in the lobby, may indeed be the result of his reading my letter, and also having been questioned by a representative from Ablahblah Realty. In conclusion, he told me:

“Well, since the dogs are so peaceful, as well as housebroken, I’m glad they’ve found a good home with you.”

He didn’t use those same words, but that was the gist of it. Happy days are here again! What a battle, and SUCH sweet victory!

  • Zeke

Re: “Are they your dogs now?” queried the building manager…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 17, 2021 5:38 PM

Major, major hurdle behind you!!!!!

And so painlessly resolved. I am presently basking in the victory, knowing full well that Kevin Bond will become my latest, and perhaps greatest, disciple. Hardy har har. Now, here’s a little vignette for you, that I call:


And it just happened today…so, true story. I had forgotten to buy more whipped cream cheese for my breakfast of Alvarado Street’s toasted, whole grain sprouted wheat raisin bread. Upon which I love to slather not only cream cheese, but St. Dalfour’s blueberry preserves sweetened in grape juice. And it was almost three in the afternoon! That’s right, beloved reader, I don’t break fast these days until rather late. And that is because the doggies come first, so we rise up at 7:30 AM or so for their morning ablution, then return hovel to prepare for them, their yummy bowl of Pedigree gravy style beef or chicken stew, with a handful of kibble mixed in, along with a generous portion of those expensive leather treats I purchase at Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Foods store just around the corner ($3.25/ounce!), and which the pups are crazy for! I just crumble up the leathers and stir ’em right in: a one hundred percent guarantee they’ll eat all their food, down to the last morsel. Why, they even lick their bowls clean any more!

After tending to their needs and happiness, I enjoy stepping back out for a few minutes to pick up a steaming cup of Arabica from Rosenberg’s, also just around the corner (on Noe Street). At this time in the morning (between 9 and 10 AM) I prefer to languish over my coffee (that I sweeten with two packets of Sweet’N Low and a teaspoon dollop of Wild Mountain Raw Honey: the best in their class I’d say, and for a most reasonable price: $14.99 for two pounds). I should also note that when I pour my coffee at Rosenberg’s, I fill the cup to only eighty percent, so as to turn it into an almost-latte upon returning hovel, and after adding the sweeteners. Heavenly!

So then I’m “in the zone”…of languishing, that is, which lasts three or four hours while working on my latest tale, or two or three…or coming up with new ones. All this, while sipping on Rosenberg’s golden brown nectar. While listening to just one radio station all day long, for background ambience that appears to juice up my creativity glands:

SOMA FM SF 10-33: “Ambient music mixed with the sounds of San Francisco public safety radio traffic.”

By the time I’m ready to break fast, it’s 1 or, more likely, 2, PM. But before my main repast of toast and tea (Twining’s Black Currant Breeze, BTW), I make a smoothie out of the following ingredients: 1 large or medium banana, two packets of Sweet ‘N Low, a scant tablespoon of Hershey’s Cocoa Powder, 2 tablespoons of either Adams 100% Natural Creamy Peanut Butter, or Tarazi Tahini, and a tall glass of Berkeley Farms 2% Milk (not necessarily organic, depending on that week’s budget).

Once I’m done with the smoothie, Taco & Wiley are ready to go out again. So, about twenty minutes will have passed between smoothie and toast with tea. So today, as I brewed the tea and broke out the bread, I realized that I’m almost out of cream cheese! In such incidents (when I’ve forgotten something to purchase from earlier in the day) I leave the pooches at home, and hurry on down to Les’s corner liquor, sundry and grocery store two blocks up on Noe Street. But today I brought them with, as they seemed all perky and ready for some street action again, which I guess is thanks to the warmer weather.

On our walk back hovel, Wiley pulled on her leash to sniff around the temporary wooden stage built beyond the curb, for the Mediterranean restaurant’s outdoor seating. I could see why, what with all the yummy food scents! But the next thing I know, she had snatched a chicken bone between her jaws, and refused to part with it. I tried opening those tiny jaws to extract it, but her clench was fierce, and no way would I want to break those little jaws! I was beyond coaxing, as it wasn’t having any results. The best I could do was maintain a firm grip on one end of the bone, between thumb and two fingers. I tried rubbing her nose, and blocking her nostrils with my free hand…but nothing worked!

Then I realized that Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Foods store was just thirty feet away, and the moment one of the employees stepped out, I could summon her over to size up the situation, whereby she’d quickly return with a leather treat, for which Wiley would open those jaws, and I could recover the chicken bone. But a minute or so passed, and no one did, not even a customer! That is when I decided to nudge her over to the shop door, so I could holler for some help. Thus, with my right hand still gripping down on the bone, I used my left hand on the leash to gently pull her forward. Meanwhile, Taco was quietly standing by my side, with his own leash also in my left hand.

Well, Wiley resisted all the way, so it took over another minute to budge her just several feet. I did NOT want her to have that bone, as it could splinter between her teeth; she might swallow it and choke to death. Then, just like that, she let go!

The rest of the day has been much better.

  • Zeke

The Doggies Start to Eat Again!

January 10, 2021

Click here to visit Jeffrey’s online store.

Subject: Doggies started to eat again!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 7, 2021 11:22 PM

They began enjoying a few of their chicken-chew treats, then I brought out the remaining half of the roast hen that I placed in the fridge, pulled off a couple of small pieces to see how they’d like it or not. Sure enough, they gobbled it down! So I went ahead and stripped ALL the white meat off the bones, breaking it up into doggie bite-size pieces, and nuked it in the microwave…then divvied it up between two dog bowls. When I went to carry the bowls to the sink area where I have them drink and dine, they were already jumping around me. A fine little feast was had by all! I just hope we can get back to the kibble and gravy-style canned foods soon. I can’t afford a whole roasted bird every day for them! Once a week, yes.

Oh, and they’re both drinking plenty of water again. Huzzah!

  • Zeke

Re: Doggies started to eat again!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 8, 2021 12:58 PM

That’s a major relief. Any theories as to what was up with them? Something Deek fed them, maybe?

No, I’ve had them for so many straight days now, that can NOT be the problem. I’m thinking maybe it’s all this cold weather that’s been going on for a LONG stretch, with even daytime only a few degrees warmer. Or perhaps recovering from the trauma of a harsh street life, which didn’t kick in till awhile later. Perhaps lack of exercise. Those are my educated guesses. There is NO sign of parasitic infection. They remain bright and sweet natured as always.

This morning, Taco ate a whole can of the Pedigree gravy-style “Chicken & Brown Rice” entree…but Wiley only noshed a few bites. She sometimes eats the chicken-chew treats, but not every time. This is kind of a flip-flop, since yesterday Wiley ate more, while Taco ate little. It’s balancing out in a sketchy manner. I have no idea what I should try next, such as purchasing a couple of chicken breasts and cooking them myself. At least it will cost me a lot less than a rotisserie chicken! There is also a pricey pet-dog store just around the corner, that serves healthy treats and food in bins. I’ll drop in there later today with the doggies, and ask them to let me try out a small handful of some of their product…and glad to pay for the samples.

It’s amazing how well housed trained these brindlekin are! They always let me know when they have to relieve themselves…and with plenty of time to gather everything required for our next walk (jackets, leashes, poop bags, my shoes and smartphone). Either one will pace the floor with emphatic “esprit,” pausing by the door and gazing up at me with a most sincere, dachshundly expression, so as to make it very clear there’s no mistake that nature is calling once more. In fact, Wiley started her pacing at 4:30 this morning, so off we went to the empty streets in the quietest time of night. Though that’s not saying much, as a garbage truck was doing its thing nearby, first on my stretch of Market Street, then up Noe, where I always take the dogs for their poop-‘n’-piss.

Wiley will also start scratching on the door to let me know things are getting urgent. Last night they both chose to stretch out alongside my torso, one overlapping the other vertically, when I crawled into bed. Later into the wee hours, they both migrated around my feet and calves, thus keeping me toasty warm down there. They ALWAYS radiate boundless good cheer the moment I arise to start a new day. My heart sings for many reasons, these days…and it all started with Taco, then a bit later, Wiley!

I now ALWAYS keep the smartphone in a pocket whenever I step out, with or without the doggies. Because it contains that video of Deek’s contract. Just in case any street person questions if I’ve stolen his furry companions. And, of course, I also carry a small canister of pepper spray…but that is something I’ve always done ever since Pres. Clinton signed DOMA and DADT. On another note:

I JUST OPENED A NEW BANK ACCOUNT FOR MY GOFUNDME PROJECT! And the matching debit card will soon arrive in the mail. I feel like I’m creating a whole new reality not just for myself, but for the world…starting with a personal mission, then expanding into possibly the best dog charity service for the homeless…then spreading out even further into many other compassionate ventures, which I can only imagine but not predict, at this embryonic stage of a true miracle just starting to blossom. “Mighty oaks from little acorns grow!” On yet another note:

I conjecture that this January 16th will be an eventful day for me, seeing as that is the anniversary of Randolph’s suicide attempt when he shot himself, and survived. I’ve already written some articles about how, if I become THAT influential, I’ll create a NEW holiday season to replace our present one…which will stretch from December 30th (Randy’s birthday) to January 16th. And in light of these profound events now unfolding in my life, I imagine that the coming 16th will be some kind of astounding day…maybe not just for yours truly, but for the entire Castro District, or even the city at large. In comparing him to the Christos myth, I’d say his failure to kill himself is something to celebrate, a sort of resurrection; and that his crucifixion already occurred as a consequence of living through the worst ravages of wartime tragedy.

Did you sleep well last night? Your well-being is at the top of my list…for you are NOT just exceedingly important to me, but to many other good people. I’m sure the very BEST of your work is ahead of you, and not far off at all. I look forward to your next masterpiece with Great Expectations. (The Dickens, I say!)

  • Zeke

Subject: The Les I Know
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 9, 2021 12:34 AM

Over several months now, Les (of the corner shop two blocks up Noe) and I sometimes discuss my lovely brindlekin, which he knows are kept by my homeless friend, Deek, and that I help out. Well, a few days ago he remarked how I treat them like a million dollars and I retorted, well, that’s how they SHOULD be treated; and he said well, you’re treating them a lot better than your friend does, he leaves them to sleep on the sidewalk at night, keeps them completely exposed to the rain and gets angry at them a lot. I told him if you don’t think I have endless heart attacks over this, you’re mistaken! And that’s why I have the doggies over so often, to give them respite from the streets and Deek’s sad neglect and short fuse. Well I wasn’t gonna say anything but now it’s outta the bottle, they shouldn’t even be outside in the rain, they’re just little dogs, he said and I said yes you’re absolutely right. If you’re homeless and want a dog, get the large furry kind, like a Siberian husky, not the thin-furred and small ones, he added, and I said tell me something I don’t already know. (Though I still think it’s downright cruel to force ANY canine to live on the streets, no matter their size or hirsuteness…though I get his point.)

When I saw him today, with the loyal pups at my feet of course, I told him, well, the mutts are now mine! And explained the conflict that ensued, and how I wisely negotiated buying them off for $400. Thank God for that second stimulus check, it’s saved the doggies’ lives! Better have it in writing, he warned, but I said that wasn’t possible, he was abhorrent over the very idea, as he was with including a reliable witness, but he finally conceded to a video recording of our transaction, because I sort of forced his hand. I even called 911 because he was so out of line that day, and no way was I ever gonna surrender these darling pooches unto a horrid existence to a crazy speed freak, with whom they’ll likely fall ill and perish sooner than later. Well, I don’t know Zeke, he admonished, you know how people are about their dogs, this could cause you a lot of trouble. I assured him I have this under control, Deek lacks the wherewithal for any effective retaliation, and that when you know you’re doing the right thing, you stand your ground. Besides, those young men who work at the smoke shop next door to my building HATE Deek, so that’s a plus for me. (I used to resent their noisy, big-shot braggadocio swagger and commiseration right out there on the sidewalk till late at night, non-stop yadda-yadda for hours. But now I praise all the saints and angels in heaven for their presence.)

Upon leaving Les’s friendly little liquor and grocery and sundry establishment with my brindlekin dancing on their leashes, I felt a bit wobbly in the knees because he projected certain fears that gave me a slight anxiety attack…which, however, I overcame in a few short moments. I am NOT about to obsess over some bogeyman named Deek who’s gonna pop out of the blue when I least expect it, and slay me with slashing, flashing, gnashing knives of revenge! I then proceeded back hovel, but first stepped inside Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Foods shop just two doors down from Rosenberg’s, that sells gourmet dog food and treats. Expensive, but I gotta find SOME way to end their failed appetite.

So I asked a friendly, dyke employee what snacks and food does she suggest for my two doggies here, whose appetite went south just three days ago. Well, she worked the magic like a champ, handing them sample after sample of various treats by dropping them one by one on the floor, before their cute little schnozzolas. Both Wiley and Taco scarfed ’em up! They were “leather chews,” but really thinner and crisper than you’d expect. I got five slices each of duck, turkey, chicken and boar (yes, you heard me: “boar”)…cost me ten buckaroonies for scant ounces…at fifty-two dollars a pound! As for canned food, she highly recommended the pumpkin blends by “Farmina N&D.” $4.87 for a ten-ounce can! So I purchased the following three: Quail Pomegranate, Duck Cantaloupe and Boar Apple.

Upon returning hovel, I first offered them a couple of leather treats, each about three inches long and two wide. Broke them up into smaller pieces and before I knew it, they had vanished from my hand! Next I opened two of the cans and put the contents in separate bowls. THEY LOVED IT! Leaving, however, about eight percent behind…don’t know what’s up with that. Then, like a rolled up, compressed Japanese paper flower in water, they grew feisty and happy and full of playful energy, trouncing each other upon the bed, and burrowing beneath the comforters in silly jubilation! “Well, this is gonna cost me an arm and a leg taking care of them, I see that now,” I thought. “Better get that GoFundMe project flying ASAP.” But I also thought THIS intriguing observation:

“How convenient that, what with the perambulatory restrictions due to the pandemic, and further such restrictions due to my brindlekin, how unusual is it that everything I actually need is just one or two blocks away from me in any direction? And that I always seem to have at least just enough money for any crisis? Including the sudden, unanticipated stimulus money that allowed me to pay Deek’s ransom fee in the nick of time, before the doggos would be lost to me forever!”

Oh what a frabjous day this has surely turned out to be, Tara! I chortle and burble with glee! Wiley, Taco and myself are a trio of happy campers tonight, languishing in the radiant aura of canine devotion, love and joy. As for the Duboce Triangle Newsletter, in which my New Year’s parody is supposed to be featured on Friday (and it is now evening of that day):

Nothing, yet. For some reason they’re delayed in delivering them to all the local shops and bars. I dropped into Rosenberg’s just a half hour ago, and no success. Hmm, has my hilarious tale of the happiest possible death for everyone, some time this year, gummed up the works of their printing press app? Or did they just laugh themselves into oblivion before they got to tap on the “print” button? Only your hairdresser Yog-Sothoth knows for sure!

Subject: I forgot to add…
From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 9, 2021 1:12 AM

…this following vignette, which should be inserted just above the next-to-last paragraph with word “frabjous” in it:

Before I forget, I had this slip of an encounter with my semi-Fascist neighbor Moe, while approaching the corner of Market, Noe and 16th after leaving Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Foods shop. He was at the curb, preparing to cross and chatting with Kevin Bond, our building manager. I paused about fifteen feet away, when Moe turned his head to me and said, “Oh, you’re dog walking now?”

So I cleverly answered: “Well, it started out that way, but now they’re mine!”

Then the light turned green and I strolled across the intersection with Wiley tugging at the leash and Taco gripping my pants’ right-leg cuff, causing me to hobble like a war veteran with an old wound, as yours truly got us to the gate in one mongrel piece and entered. Yet Moe and Kevin remained in close commiseration all the way over there on that now-distant corner.

I’m sure Kevin will tell him all about it, since he now knows my doggie adventure and how it’s tied up with Deek, thanks to Dieter’s friendly gossip on the stairs two days ago. They seem to have become close friends over the years (Moe and Kevin that is). What, however, is MOST curious, is that the idea of sharing my brindlekin with Moe, in order to ease his grief over his likely-dying mother, started haunting my mind for the past two days. I kept having images of my emailing him, telling about these sweet little mutts, and how he’s welcome to have their company for a satisfying while each day, or whenever. (I’m thinking around an hour or two, perhaps longer.)

And now this afternoon, there is Moe, seeing me with the canines for the first time! How synchronistic and lovely is that?

Re: I forgot to add…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 9, 2021 8:58 AM

Sounds like har-fucking-monic convergence to me!

Hardy-har-har-fucking-monic convergence, that is. I’m certain the manager is on my side finally, with keeping the doggies in my room, since he is now aware I’ve taken them from Deek. Oh, this is a funny thought that just leaked across my brain pan:

How hilarious to think of manager Kevin’s impression of my simply stating outright before him and Dieter yesterday:

“Deek is abusing these dogs, so I just took them away and want to press animal abuse charges against him, I called 911 and the cops are on their way, and they’re very sweet doggies who deserve better, and I’ll be moving within two months or so anyway, because I now have an excellent publishing contract for my next book which is bound to become a HUGE bestseller. In fact it’s called ‘Brindlekin Tales’ and is all ABOUT Deek and his doggies.”

Besides which there’s a powerful air about me that I will not permit a single crack of doubt to leak through my world’s cranium that would ever make me even THINK of not keeping the mutts with me. So what point would the manager have by telling me I need to give them up? Or even posting a notice to my door, warning that I could be evicted, as a result? It’s OBVIOUS to all but the most troglodytic, that the moment I am challenged by lawful opposition of whatever sort, I will immediately gird my loins and fight back, and win. There is not one single molecule of doubt in my reality, so you’d better not mess with me or the pups, or you’ll have hell to pay for a VERY long time. And I can get away with it, as no one will ever be able to track down the source of this particular homicide.

So now, I’m sure, Kevin told Moe all about it! I’m sure by this time of night, Moe has already been musing over, and laughing at, my latest divine exploit. Whaddya wanna bet he’ll politely ask if I could spare my doggies for awhile each day, where they’ll have more space to run around, and he’ll cover some of the food and any vet costs that might crop up?

Even funnier is that today I emailed Kevin that ATT repairmen will soon drop by to figure out why my DSL land line died since two days ago…and in that email I kept my three-link Brindlekin sites in the sig, starting with my doggy wish list and GoFundMe project! Won’t THEY be surprised to discover they’re both IN my tales! In fact, maybe they’re worrying about that right now, though have yet to start reading my stories to find out. But I sure got two people highly motivated to do just that! I’ll gain my adulating audience one way or another, even if that means robbing a bank and kicking Larkin in the ass while he’s hauling bags of money from the vault, in a lavender wheelbarrow with a pink triangle on it.

Subject: Now they’re NOT eating again!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 9, 2021 10:13 PM

I gladly returned today to Jeffrey’s because their high quality canned dog food was a success. But this time, they only ate half a can between them, with Taco ingesting most of even THAT. I wound up feeding Wiley those even pricier leather treats…but of course Taco was sitting a foot away on the cot, watching me with those pleading, round dachshund eyes, so I just had to give him some of that, too. Judiciously granting him tinier portions, of course. So now, the gourmet duck and boar dinners sit in their respective bowls without a hungry guest to enjoy them. Boy do I hate the very idea of throwing all THAT away, but I must do what I must do.

And, to make matters worse, I’m having major problems with service. No phone connection whatsoever for three days, now. And the Internet connection just went out again for twenty minutes, but came back on just now. How much longer will I have even THAT. At which point I can’t even inform them that I’m totally cut off. And why is that (some dump fuck might ask)? Because I’D BE TOTALLY CUT OFF! I already posted you my irate reply to Chronic employee, Isolde, who emailed me directly, so you already have a good idea of my present cyber-dilemma. My Internet connection could be permanently shut down at any moment, as my DSL land line already is! I don’t think ANYone from either AT&T Or Chronic actually dropped by. I did have to step out twice to walk the doggies and purchase groceries, but that’s it. NO sign of either company tech showing up. And it’s now after eight PM, with nary another email from Chronic, goddam fuckers. I KNOW why this is happening: I subscribed to their cheapest service for broadband, DSL is now old-school, following in the footsteps of dialup. So, such low-end customers get treated like second class citizens. But I WILL have my revenge: I will EXCORIATE them in a blog entry soon to appear, called “Chronic DOT Net”…with that angry letter I sent off to Isolde, among other things.

The pandemic, of course, just adds to the merry mix of demonic revelry, because I can’t just hop on down to a local library or coffeehouse for public wifi. I have TONS of excellent material to post on my WordPress site, my creative juices are exquisite and gushing like a geyser. And now, THIS shit has to happen! So if I suddenly seem to disappear off the face of the planet, you’ll know I lost both Internet and land line services.

Oh, yeah, this afternoon I had a run-in with someone I’d rather not have had. Some wiry old dude around sixty or so on an electric scooter paused by me and said, while looking down on the doggies:

“Where’s your daddy these days?”

Took me a moment before I realized he meant Deek, so I told him:

“I’m Deek’s friend who’s been taking care of them through the cold weather and rains. But we both decided the streets are too harsh for these little pups, they’ll die out here. So we struck a deal where I became the new owner in exchange for a wad of cash.” I then stopped speaking to let it sink in, then added: “I have a video record of out verbal agreement, here on my smartphone.”

“Oh, ha, ha, I see,” was all he said, then scooted away.

Where is THIS gonna lead to? I’m thinking. Nothing I hope, but I’m certainly on the alert these days. On a better note:

Building Manager Kevin warmed up to the brindlekin today, as we three proceeded down the stairs and into the front lobby. There was Kevin fussing with the key to enter, and once he did, the dogs started to bark. But not such a storm as in the early days they were here, which shows progress. I told him they’re getting used to seeing others appearing in the hallway or stairs, and they’re less noisy and acting friendlier. He then lowered himself to extend a hand to both pooches; they had by then quieted down, commenced to sniff his hand, shoes, and pant legs…then backed off to bark once more!

“They’ll get used to you in a few more meetups,” I assured him. In fact, their barks ceased after a minute, and all was quiet on the Western Front again. But sure enough, here came someone ELSE down the stairs and carrying Dieter’s hospital assigned wheelchair (IOW manual and cheaply made), so I rushed the dogs outta there before they had a chance to react. Before departing, I also told him to expect an AT&T tech repairman to show up, due to my suddenly dead land line, but I can’t hole myself up all day for someone who may or may not arrive. Now, back to a NOT better note, again:

On top of all this, there’s my hovel’s leaking radiator. Which commenced shortly after the pandemic restrictions came down. Kevin arranged to have a worker check it out, so I hanged outdoors for three hours, that they may get the job done without my presence…and hopefully they’d keep their mask on throughout the entire process. Turns out they could never get the time right (whoever they were: I think our main building worker, Juan, who was supposed to track down someone who really knows radiators, but couldn’t find him at home where he said he would be), so I wound up wasting four hours staying outdoors.

“Wasn’t this supposed to be fixed last year, Kevin?” I queried. He didn’t really answer that, but that was indeed the case. Looks like the so-called repair was half-assed, and it had to be done all over again. He suggested we try again in a week or so, but I wouldn’t hear of it, told him I don’t want anyone in my room because COVID-19. He obliged me, even though at that time a lot of folks didn’t think it was that serious (and I guess that included him), so kinda were sloppy with social distancing and such. But I wasn’t, I knew better, plus I’m 70 years old. As a consequence, the radiator continues to leak copiously, and I must empty the rubber-plastic dish basin I stash beneath the leaking bleeder valve, three times through the night. ‘Cause if I don’t, the leak will accumulate and begin dripping through the floor and into the lobby entranceway, right between the front gate and double doors, to cause a most impressive puddle right smack dab where residents and visitors and delivery people step in and out. And, yes, sometimes I forget, and the entranceway floor is like a pond, which must be dealt with immediately…but the manager’s remained mum so far, and it’s been months since the problem began.

I think the only reason I didn’t discover that the original leaking hadn’t really been resolved was because we had quite a lengthy run of mild nights since the original “repair.” Now, we’ve been going through an unusually long cold snap that began in mid-October, and is still going strong with no end in sight. Just my rotten luck, to have this extra little pest add to my life’s burden, just when I’ve become busier in my life than I can ever recall. And that corner of the room where the radiator spits is difficult to crouch down in, and remove the the water-laden basin (and in so doing must rapidly replace it temporarily with a SECOND container to catch the angry gremlin’s piss). Cramped between two cabinets as I am, with one heavy cabinet I have to slide to the right (along with the two storage bins, one atop the other) three or four times a night. Which puts me at risk of a second degree burn if I’m not very careful. I never told you about the radiator before, Tara, but now you know.

Why all this crap is happening to me at once is pretty obvious to THIS flustered pilgrim. I am about to make THE major breakthrough in spiritual growth ever, and probably for ANY human being ever, as well. So of COURSE the bodhisattvas assigned to watch over me are having a field day messing with my world. Until said time that all barriers are removed, all veils are lifted, and all homophobes are castrated, tarred and feathered and, finally, drawn and quartered in the village square! And that time, I surmise, is but seven days away:

The sixteenth of January, the anniversary of the day in 1985 that Randolph Louis Taylor attempted suicide beside the Vietnam Wall Memorial in D.C., at the point of a midnight special held in a not-so-steady hand thank God.

  • Zeke

Re: Now they’re NOT eating again!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: Jaunary 9, 2021 11:20 PM

AS long as the dogs are peppy and drinking water, they’re okay. But MOST mysterious that they’re BOTH exhibiting appetite problems at the same time. It could possibly be that they sense a major change in their little lives, in the form of the absence of Deek, even though he didn’t always treat them well. Dogs are like that. I suspect they’ll get over it and eat normally again.

That is QUITE possible, along with some residual trauma from living on the streets for such a prolonged cold snap and rainy days and nights. When I was walking the doggies earlier tonight, I ran into Carra (spelled with two Rs she said), that cordial young woman at Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Food shop. She was just stepping out, about to lock up for the day, when I came up to her and said the high value dog food didn’t work at all this time around. So we had a nice little chat, and before departing, she ran back inside to return with a couple of those pricey leather treats for the mutts, because I had just told her they’re now the only stuff they WILL eat. “I call these dogs high maintenance dates!” I quipped. Anyway, the place is a godsend, and I’m SO glad they’re right around the corner.

Such a bummer about Chronic. I’d be lost, utterly lost, without the net. And yes, you especially need it now, in the midst of your whirlwind of creativity. You can still compose offline and post later, of course. I try to remember my life pre-internet. How did I manage?? Those gibbering techno-demons are real and have malicious intent. They KNOW exactly when to strike.

THEY HAVEN’T GOTTEN BACK TO ME! So NOW what do I do? I’m gonna blast ’em a good one on their forum…add it to the thread I already started re. my dead land line. It will include my angry letter to [name withheld], whom I will call Isolde in my upcoming blog entry. In that piece, I call the company (short for “chronic headache”).

Oh, God, the leaking radiator. I’ll tell you a little secret: our furnace has been busted for a few years now. Any heat we have comes from the wood stove, which, though it puts out good warmth, means hauling, splitting and drying wood, carrying it inside, starting fires, tending to them, keeping them going. I often wear my down parka indoors. They’d call Adult Protective Services on us if they knew….but just remind myself of all the money we haven’t spent on propane. Thousand$ by now.

Oh for God’s sake. Glad you got SOMEthing out of it.

16th of January, eh? I like the sound of it. Will be alert on that day!!!!!

Seven days and counting. Now, here’s an update on another matter:

When I went to the Noe Valley grocery store where Les works, I hoped to finally get a copy of the Duboce Triangle Newsletter which was supposed to come out on Friday (yesterday), to see if they really HAD gone ahead and published my New Years sci-fi parody. As I waited in line to pay for a couple of boring items, I finally spotted a small number of the newsletters set in a vertical, clear plastic holder on the counter’s left end. Upon grabbing a copy, I saw it was dated some time in December! So I asked Les if the latest issue came out yet. He said no, that it’s probably due to the pandemic, they can’t find people to deliver them. I told him why not, it’s not like they’d have to get physically close to anyone, there are people walking all over the neighborhood as it is! He just shrugged his shoulders, but I don’t think that’s the case at all, because it MAKES NO SENSE!

My conclusion: I think a lot of people are fucking with me, ’cause they’re bodhisattvas about to foist a surprise party to end all surprise parties on me.

  • Zeke

Subject: Doggies started to eat again!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: MCN announcement list, MCN discussion list
Date: January 10, 2021 11:08 AM

On 2021-01-10 12:57, Jane Karanina posted:

I am so happy for the love that these puppies have brought to you!
Zeke- it’s a life so much better.
Be well

Thank you Marilyn (or Jane). Just please keep in mind that a life so much better can NOT be achieved without first living a life so much worse. This is the story of Everyman and thus, of the entire human race. We are about to emerge (or blossom) into an incredible age of harmony and understanding, sympathy and trust abounding, no more falsehoods or derisions, golden living dreams of visions, mystic crystal revelation and the mind’s true liberation…Aquarius! 2021 is IT.

I have ALWAYS been a happy spirit underneath it all…and my remarks that some consider harsh are never anything more than putting certain wicked or foolish people on the spot. Well, either that or I was making a wittily sarcastic joke which some people fail to grasp. You can save some of the people some of the time, but you can’t save ALL of people all of the time…or can you? Lilith only knows I try! Or IOW:

Many are called, but few are chosen…so step right up for your lederhosen.

  • Zeke

PS: And that token Nazi troll on the discussion list has served me well, playing one of the bodhisattva’s major roles as Ultimate Enemy, and thus sharpening my skills to overcome what remaining negative influences still haunted my psyche. For in both standing up against his many challenges of hatred, threats and other abominable expressions (which I most certainly HAD to do) and in finding a path through it all that would eventually lead to the most compassionate resolution possible…I have gained a tremendous boon of an advantage. A boon that not only benefits yours truly, but can liberate countless others through my wonderful tales, essays, poems and letters. As for the several OTHER right-wing monkey scumbags who ganged up on me, often doing so by hiding behind the Nazi’s skirt: I also give these incorrigible punks my most grateful kudos. You know who you are (except perhaps Harry Dork, who strikes me as stupendously dimwitted, for which reason should stick to his gardening tips and nothing else).

Subject: My Pooches are Crack Addicts!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 11, 2021 8:11 PM

The dogs are pretty much back to eating regularly, thank Cthulhu. The best appetite enhancer I finally came up with, is to crumble some of those pricey leather treats into their dog food. Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Foods store has saved the day! In fact, Wiley is so nuts about those treats, she regularly jumps off the cot and scampers about my room, sniffing for more. And if I ignore her long enough, she’ll start barking insistently, as if to say: “C’mon Zeke, I know you’ve got ’em stashed SOMEwhere!” Right now, they’re BOTH scouting around, pushing up the newspaper sheets I have all over the floor, with their schnozzolas, hoping to find some bits of leather tasties. They’re like crack addicts!

  • Zeke

Re: OMG this just happened!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 11, 2021 8:18 PM

Read the blurb that goes with it (click on video, then click on “Youtube”):

Subject: Pups…eating.
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Corrine DeMaars
Date: January 12, 2021 11:45 AM

Hey Zeke!

Wanted to let you know I’ve had dogs my entire life. This I know about. Dogs need at least one daily walk…an hour would be great. Exercise is monumental in their attitude. Nutrition like you’re worried about is absolutely important.

If the dogs aren’t eating get a cheap bag of hot dogs. Rinse the hot dogs. Cut one into 6 strips lengthwise. Then cut into tiny tiny squares. Dogs don’t know portions so tiny is fine. (freeze the rest because you don’t want them to have much…very fatty.) These are rare treats. So put a tiny bit on their kibble. They will eat. Small dogs like your 2 will only eat generally 2 times a day 1/4 cup each time. Treats are limited.

You probably already know this. They’re sad right now so just walk em and cuddle em. Bring the hot dogs when you walk em. When they do something good…a treat. If they don’t want to do something…encourage them away from whatever with a treat.

Thinking of you and how great you’re doing! Good job.

Any dog questions and I’m your gal! This I know.

No, they’re not sad at all…even during the period they would hardly eat a thing. Joyful and loving through the whole ordeal. But I already indicated that in my recent tales. They get LOTS of cuddling and kind words all day long…including group hugs about ten times a day!

Thanks for your tips, though. Yes, they normally eat just twice a day, and they’re back to that. And they have a great appestat, in that once they’ve had enough, they STOP all on their own. They are definitely NOT gluttonous in the least.

I can NOT take them to a park or other grassy place for lots of exercise, at this time. It is just too risky, because no rabies tag on either, and I can’t afford to get them their shots all over again…at least, not at this time. Any possible conflict with another dog owner would ruin me, and them. I need some kind person’s use of a fenced in backyard, but I don’t know anyone who could offer me that.

Thinking of you and how great you’re doing! Good job.

Much appreciated.

Any dog questions and I’m your gal! This I know.

Roger that!

  • Zeke

Jus’ Walkin’ the Doggies

January 9, 2021

Five totally boring videos that only a dog lover would enjoy. Taco is wearing one of the two reversible plaid jackets kindly donated by one of my supporters. That blue, puffy jacket on Wiley is also from a fan…either of myself or of Canis familiaris (maybe both); I’m not really sure because it’s a mystery who delivered it. Notice it fits okay and looks great on her, but definitely the next size up would be better. There are four snaps that secure the garment, but I can only join the back two, because size issue. And it won’t fit Taco at all, due to his chunky brisket and shoulders: he’s a hunk-a dachshund/terrier bundle of doggie love! I wanted to show how cute they look when they poop, but I fear camera shyness on their part, because they didn’t go number one at all!

Oh, and if you’re concerned about retaliation from my houseless friend Deek or his pals, please know that I ALWAYS keep a small canister of pepper spray in a pocket, and ALWAYS bring my smartphone with me, because it has that video of our verbal contract that I now own the pups in exchange for $300. Which I’ll gladly show to anyone who approaches with the question: “Did you steal Deek’s dogs?” To see for yourself, you may view the scenario of that transaction by clicking here.

While you’re at it, check out the cute sweaters some gracious donor sent me in late December:

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