My Faith Moves Planets, Not Just Mountains

January 5, 2021

[Note: Carlyle Lambourne is the pseudonym I’ve chosen for my greatest ally in the struggle for LGBT equality. He resides in the greater Boston area and is, like me, a dedicated activist who’s made many sacrifices along the way. We must’ve exchanged thousands of emails since we discovered each other online, way back in 1997. Though we have yet to meet in person, I consider him a brother and my best male friend of all time (Tara Roosevelt being my female counterpart to that). Enjoy this latest communique, which I’ve decided to include in my doggie tales, because it IS God’s unconditional love delivered unto me through the species Canis familiaris. And which revelations are occurring at the same time I’m struggling for Taco & Wiley’s happiness, and getting them off the streets.]

From: Zeke Krahlin
Sent: Tuesday, December 29, 2020 5:24 AM
To: Carlyle Lambourne
Subject: Have you been paying attention to my latest writings?

I have a hunch you aren’t, because I’m damned sure you would’ve felt compelled to remark on them. Ten short chapters so far, and they are astounding. Another chapter coming up in a day or two:

  • Ezekiel

RE: My Year of the Wig (latest blog entry)
From: Carlyle Lambourne
To: Zeke’s Mailing List
Date: January 2, 2021 11:13 AM


There is no way to win with hair. People will mock you if you are going bald, but will mock you if you have a hairpiece; mock you if you are getting gray, but mock you if you use hair color.

The only way to win is to be eternally young, which no one can do.

I think that putting brown hair color on gray hair is little different than putting brown shoe polish on shoes when they are looking scruffy. gray hair is a morbid reminder not just of aging but of death and mortality. Who needs it?

Aging is God’s sin against humanity. It is horrifying what age does to people as a process of uglification. If I were a poet, I would compare aging people to wilting flowers, but since I am not a poet, the best that
I can do is to be more honest and compare them to rotting bananas on a Formica counter top, getting brown spots, turning black, eventually dripping down the side.

Any way to get even a small victory in fighting back is fine, whether wig or hair dye or merely escape into fantasy and denial.

  • Regards, Carlyle

Subject: Re: My Year of the Wig (latest blog entry)
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Carlyle Lambourne
Date: January 2, 2021 11:49 AM

On 2021-01-02 14:28, Carlyle Lambourne wrote:

The only way to win is to be eternally young, which no one can do.

That may soon change…IF and only if what is happening to me (which is astounding) is some sort of cosmic joke. But, even if just a joke, no less astounding. I relate all this through my Brindlekin Tales, if you know how to read between the lines. Besides that: the gift of my writing, how it’s suddenly taken a great leap in quality, literally drips of angelic honey…so much so that it’s hard to deny what a profound love from the universal mind has befallen this VERY lucky soul. These tales are now collated into chapters, as a growing work in progress that my fans can follow:

Readers may enjoy each chapter as the story unfolds in real life, and I write it down, dress it up with nifty images I find on the web (which I call “found cyber-objects”), then proudly upload and announce its birth with an immense rush of epiphany that lingers on for days. BEST HIGH I’VE EVER HAD, WHETHER NATURAL OR INDUCED! Along with living proof of God’s hand working through me. Though not in a Christian way, but more through pagan inspiration…such as what gave us fairy tales of yore. Or from a much earlier source that anointed this planet with a shower of Greek myths that still rain upon us to this day. For I pen all my tales under the Light of Prometheus.

gray hair is a morbid reminder not just of aging but of death and mortality. Who needs it?

For the majority of people that’s true, Carlyle. But in my Randolph‘s case, his hair was the most gorgeous silver shade I’ve ever seen. Like a god’s hair, not a mortal’s; or that of some superhero in D.C. Comics. Astounding! Randolph IS Zeus, who paid me a visit…and triggered an amazing, personal odyssey in so doing. Which led, ultimately, to my first published novel, “Free Me From This Bond,” with the brilliant assistance by yet another superhero in my life: Arwyn Miles.

Aging is God’s sin against humanity.

No, God is incapable of sin by any stretch of the imagination, IMNSHO (in my not-so-humble opinion) I think it’s more of what burdens we are expected to bear, that we may grow in wisdom. Long-suffering, Patience and Selfless Compassion are indeed the Three Muses of Wisdom. We do not ever really die. It’s more like breaking out of a cocoon. Death is not what most think it is. When it comes near your time, you are visited by other-worldly beings who welcome you into their dimension, while your previous, physical body remains on the earthy plane, to act out the death process. So that others may learn further lessons of compassion and caring for one another. The decaying person is not the human who once lived in that body…it is a type of angelic force that, like a superb Shakespearean actor, fakes whatever suffering others witness, unto his or her final breath. IOW: the actual person that body once represented is NOT suffering, but has already begun living a new life in a higher, exquisite reality.

Nor is nature the harsh, impersonal beast we think she is. For likewise are each of God’s little (and big) creatures transported to a benevolent realm before the dying process begins…even before the chase commences where another animal seeks it out as prey. I am not sure if insects and even tinier living things such as microbes are part of this web of immortality, but I think not. However, like certain sects of Buddhism and other Asian philosophies, it’s best not to take that karmic risk by intentionally crushing them underfoot, or killing them in other ways, such as with pesticide or antibiotic cleansers, or even a slap upon a mosquito now stabbing its proboscis through your cheek. Instead, their tenet is to do absolutely the LEAST harm possible to ALL sentient beings, including the most minuscule.

I have previously discussed my stunning theory a number times, but initially in an essay I call “Neopositivity: A Gay Religion:”

Unfortunately, no one seems to get the point, thus dismisses my supposition as a frivolous notion…like a sole, flashy gewgaw still dangling from a dead Exmass tree unceremoniously dumped on a road’s shoulder while no one was looking!

How I came to this remarkable insight is partly through my readings of, and meditations on, various cultural myths, religions and folklore over the years. My majoring in cultural anthropology at the University of Missouri certainly opened these doors…along with, of course, the Free Speech Movement. But it’s mostly just a gift, I conclude…but what an astounding gift it is! I know my destiny like the back of my pecker (ha-ha)! And here it is, in a nutshell:

I shall soon become a globally celebrated author and thinker, highly regarded as among the greatest such kind in all of history. Imagine what that will do for LGBT equality: we shall become LIBERATED! Imagine, on a more finite note, what that will do for your OWN recognition as a brilliant activist and author! For you can count on me–once I become a beloved icon–to direct the world’s attention to one Carlyle Lambourne, as surely as you can count on the sun rising over the east each and every triumphant day. Thus:

You need struggle no more to awaken the world regarding the profound issue of LGBT persecution (and how it ambushes the progress of anything ELSE worthy of pursuit, dissent, or invention, though it be perceived as having NOTHING to do with homosexual issues), my incredible cyber-friend, ally and confidante of more than two astounding and mostly difficult decades! Now, for a final thought regarding my seemingly ridiculous (and some would say “dangerous”) declaration of myself as the world’s next avatar:

According to Kabbalah wisdom, one who truly seeks the path towards YHWH seriously and tiresomely enough, just may (after MANY years) achieve that goal. And in so doing receive the greatest gift possible, that The Lord of All Kingdoms Earthly and Otherwise can bestow upon one of his human creations:


Which height of spiritual achievement is actually accessible to ANYONE. Though, of course, rarely achievable, due to the tremendous challenges laid at his or her feet, in the process. As well it should be, just like any other great reward one might seek through a lengthy and excruciating process of training and devotion, such as what’s required to win the gold medal at the International Olympics. But even THAT most celebrated sports competition pales in comparison to what is being discussed herein. But I must note now, that one can NEVER earn God’s most profound blessing of all, if THAT is solely your goal, or even just in part: to enjoy its fruits for one’s own happiness, power and popularity. For that is the ego’s imposition upon what is intended to be a tremendous act of self sacrifice and devotion to an ideal way beyond earthly foibles.

It is what that great and compassionate psychoanalyst, the Honorable Dr. Carl Jung, called “The Hero’s Journey.” Plus his theory of archetypes that goes along with it, explains quite well the various inner drives and dreams of our psyche, which motivate our waking hours. Thus, in perceiving oneself or another as the savior or hero archetype, one should recognize that person as just himself through it all, and NOT literally the archetype. One must remain grounded and centered as the person he actually is, and not become so confused as to wind up BELIEVING that he or she is the archetype itself. That would be, as Jung would say: “the dark side taking over.” You can read a bit more about the hero’s journey in this well written article:

If I were a poet

But you ARE a poet, and a most EXCELLENT one…so I don’t get where you’re coming from on this. Your so-called prose is often of such a cadence and riddled with bullet-shot insights, which are the mark of an accomplished poet.

Any way to get even a small victory in fighting back is fine, whether wig or hair dye or merely escape into fantasy and denial.

I have a hunch you are responding to the excerpt only, and have not actually read the story, which is HILARIOUS. Try again?

Wishing you, Manny, and all others you love, a most rewarding and profitable Nude Ear! Which I celebrate and share with the world though this satirically prophetic little bon mot of prosaic absurdity:

2021 is going to be a FANTASTIC year!

Most sincerely and with great jubilation for our friendship:

  • Ezekiel

Re: Have you been paying attention to my latest writings?
From : Zeke Krahlin
To: Carlyle Lambourne
Date: January 3, 2021 1:17 PM

On my Christmas/New Year PTO, I’ve been preoccupied with needing to set up a new Windows 10 PC, a new laptop, and dealing with a plumbing issue, so sorry that I’ve been short on time for other things (including more updates to my website).

Of course such interference would happen right when I’ve made the absolute breakthrough in my writing, that will GUARANTEE the liberation of all sexual minorities. In fact, they will do the same for ALL oppressed people, but not until LGBTs are first emancipated. This is one of the greatest achievements of mankind, and it’s coming through yours truly.

And yet your stupid job demands shove their ugly, monstrous imposition into preventing you from witnessing an EXTRAORDINARY phenomenon that is also the answer to YOUR wishes for ultimate justice.

You may very well wind up kicking yourself in the butt, for not being in on the action from the start. Well, whether or not you can find the time for something so earth-shakingly important, most important of all is that I move forward with this breakthrough, with or without your conscious presence, or with or without anyone else’s. I will GET THE JOB DONE, THE BREAD BAKED, NO MATTER WHAT!

Said the little red rainbow hen.

  • Ezekiel

RE: My Year of the Wig (latest blog entry)
From: Carlyle Lambourne
To: Zeke Krahlin
Date: January 4, 2021 12:45 PM


There is a book called “Cracking the Aging Code”, which is a good read. Yes, I think eventually, if the human race survives, they will find ways to extend life much longer, if not indefinitely.

As the book said, aging is not simply like a car that “wears out”. It is programmed, built into the very mechanics of the basic mechanism of cellular reproduction (the shortening of telomeres in each cycle, that at its final stages will produce progressive DNA damage.” But it doesn’t really have to be that way; many species have drastically varying life-spans, relative to ours.

I know that the herb astragulus would be needed in wheel-barrows to get a quantity that help to restore telomeres, but I starting take some regularly, anyway, can’t blame a person for hope and wishful thinking, if it isn’t harming anything. There was a guy at our Christmas Zoom party who remarked that everybody except Mort and myself were aging, but said he was amazed that we seemed unchanged.

I doubt that’s really true, but was nice to hear. Bless him.

Someday, scientists might really beat aging, but the question is whether that would be in time to do us any good. Here’s hoping (but trying still to have realistic expectations).

As I probably mentioned, one of our long-term friends died, right during the Christmas season. You can’t get any older than “dead”.

I’ve said before, “I don’t know how old people can stand it.” Maybe they can’t, and really do go crazy in despair. But I guess we will find out, since “old people”- can’t deny, that is us.

  • Regards, Carlyle

Re: My Year of the Wig (latest blog entry)
From : Zeke Krahlin
To: Carlyle Lambourne
Date: January 4, 2021 3:10 PM

There is a book called “Cracking the Aging Code”, which is a good read.

I read a similar book way back around 1972, called “Your Right to Immortality,” though I may not have the actual wording of the title correct (perhaps “Every Man’s Right” or something similar)…and I can’t recall the author’s name. But thanks for your reflections on the matter. From my perspective, the topic is useless, as we already ARE immortal…which revelation will soon be known to all. Outrageous claim, I know, but true IMNSHO (in my not so humble opinion).

  • Ezekiel

RE: My Year of the Wig (latest blog entry)
From: Carlyle Lambourne
To: Zeke Krahlin
Date: January 5, 2021 12:07 AM


I think that at least in a manner of speaking we are immortal, but not sure if the nature of the immortality is what we would most prefer. I don’t recall if I’ve mentioned this, but according to relativity, at least as best as I can understand, past moments are not really ‘gone’. I think that we live in a kind of “chauvinism of the current moment”, always thinking that the current moment is more true, more real, more important than
either past or future, but that is the same thing that we thought a second ago and will think a second from now. I suspect that there is really an equality among every instant of time. They all exist,permanently and all just as real.

Another sense in which I think we have immortality is in that the driving basis of reality is randomness iterated through infinity. Just as an infinite random number would within it continue to generate the infinite series of “pi” or any other value, that driving principle of reality will continue to recreate us with infinite small variations. I think that we exist simply because we are possible, a condition not only necessary but sufficient. Since we are always at least possible, we would be guaranteed to exist, even it is only in the tiniest corner of Infinity, yet still another infinity unto itself.

I am skeptical of the religious concept of immaterial, immortal souls. If our consciousness were really independent of the material gray matter in our brains, I believe that we would not be unconscious, ever, for example under anesthesia for surgery. It is quite a reversal of the order to things to suppose that instead of the gray matter animating our consciousness, it would be the other way around and actually suppressing our conscious awareness during surgery until we were somehow “liberated” from material by death. Brain scientists can do tricks such as erasing individual, specific memories, or even splitting the brain into two separate sites of independent consciousness. If our awareness were independent of material, I think that there would not be such detailed and specific means of manipulation.

That might be kind of a party pooper, but I am a stickler for science more than into mysticism, so that is my take on things until better evidence comes along. I do listen to other views, though, and open to any substantial new evidence.

  • Regards, Carlyle

RE: My Year of the Wig (latest blog entry)
From: Carlyle Lambourne
To: Zeke Krahlin
Date: January 5, 2021 12:24 PM

I think that at least in a manner of speaking we are immortal, but not sure if the nature of the immortality is what we would most prefer.

Thank you for your well-thought-out take on the matter of immortality, Carlyle. But I mean it literally, the claim I just made: that we continue on as ourselves, from our present lives as Carlyle Lambourne and Ezekiel Krahlin (for examples). Like you, I am also a stickler for science, and I believe that the Rational Guardians at the Gate shall eventually discover, or stumble upon, this remarkable conclusion. And when they do, our scientists will also conclude that this phenomenon, by its very NATURE, reveals itself first to the human race (on an individual and limited basis) via intuitive insight, or direct, personal experience. And then, finally, science catches up. In fact, I declare it will happen this year. Care to make a wager? :D

  • Ezekiel

RE: My Year of the Wig (latest blog entry)
From: Carlyle Lambourne
To: Zeke Krahlin
Date: January 5, 8:36


Part of my feeling about reality in general is that by all rights, by human reasoning (if we have looked at the problem enough) it makes no sense for this world to be here, at all. By all rights, everything around us, the chair we sit in, the floor under your feet, the sun in the sky…none of this should be here.

It’s difficult to explain why that is true- maybe I can expound on it at some point. While it is all the more perplexing considering the obvious that we ARE here, I still cannot help but to feel that it would be enlightening to people and improve their perspective to share the realization that we really shouldn’t be here.

Consciousness is even more puzzling and difficult to understand than the existence of material bodies. Its very existence seems somewhat paradoxical – that you have to be something more than yourself, outside of yourself, in order to be aware of yourself. The behavioral repertoire of the building blocks of nature–particles, atoms, photons–is insufficient to understand how they could produce consciousness any more than a configuration of wooden blocks could produce consciousness. I don’t buy the line that mere complexity of any system that carries forward influences of past could become genuinely self-aware. AI can mimic self-awareness, but we don’t really know at all where the magic of real self-awareness arises.

So I would never be dogmatic about what might be true or might be possible.

While I respect science and trust it the most, I highly doubt that science is even capable of properly understanding the question of “What is Deep Reality” much less answering it.

One of the basic assumptions of science is that there are immutable laws of physics that are the same throughout the universe and through time. I strongly suspect that this is not
an obvious truth, but is actually quite a whale of an assumption that as likely is not true. I suspect that there are no real laws of physics… it just seems that why In our tiny corner of Infinity. They are pseudo-laws, just like evolution is not really a recipe calculated for improvement, but only seems that way.

Concerning Deep Reality, you really have to do a deep think about time , cause and effect, simplicity vs complexity. When you do, you might realize that our world is “impossible,” that laws of physics are not real, that a driving force of reality lies in things and events that are totally uncaused–not simply causes that are complex, or difficult to compute or measure–but literally capricious, for no reason at all. Deep Reality is crazy.

These are things that I want to write about when retired and have the time, to try to flesh out the reasoning behind these ideas.

  • Regards, Carlyle

Re: My Year of the Wig (latest blog entry)
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Carlyle Lambourne
Date: January 5, 2021 5:56 PM

So I would never be dogmatic about what might be true or might be possible.

Nor myself, for that matter. I am simply stating what appears to me as blunt fact. Being dogmatic involves insisting upon others, what you BELIEVE to be true…without any evidence put forth. But I AM offering proof through my Brindlekin (and other) tales, by recording the astounding events now unfolding in my life. TRUE tales, I should note. And by reading these accounts of my own personal experiences, what else can one conclude other than the startling claim I’ve put forth? The best one could oppose my claim, is by questioning whether or not I really AM relating true events, or fiction (while lying to the public about it). I guess one can also offer up the challenge that my perception and/or interpretation of these remarkable scenarios is off kilter…or that it could even be total, sheer, one hundred percent hallucination. But what I ALSO claim is this:

That more and more people on this planet shall experience the SAME remarkable kind of events in their own lives. The phenomenon has just begun, but it will soon snowball into a global free-for-all. By which time all fingers will point to me as the original source…not as the actual “creator,” but as the very first human being to which this has happened. That is ALSO profound, but not the crux of the matter. Which is this:

That we ALL shall soon be elevated into the next level of consciousness, and it will be wonderful. Do not leave your skepticism at the door, Carlyle, not by any means. But keep it close to your heart and mind, that when this phenomenon begins to shine upon your own life, and those around you, you will have the tools to question, analyze and conclude. And I predict that you SHALL conclude that Zeke is correct, by employing the scientific methods of rationalism and logic. Not because I am such a great thinker, but because it has simply happened to me first. Well, I am a great thinker too, but this shit that’s now going on in my life goes WAY beyond even the highest level of perspicacity!

  • Zeke

5 Cold Days & Nights

January 3, 2021

Subject: 5 cold nights and days: no sign of Deek and doggies!
From: Zeke Krahlin
Date: January 2, 2021 5:51 PM

This IS unusual, not seeing them for so long, considering the nasty weather. Such constant exposure to this cold, even with their little sweaters, can kill them. They have tiny bodies and thus cannot maintain inner warmth too well. By the time they show signs of harm, it’s sometimes too late. I can haunt my mind with all sorts of horrid conjectures, but worrying is now a part of my past. So I trust they are all doing perfectly well and keeping warm for the nonce. Maybe they’re staying indoors somewhere, such as temporary shelter with someone he knows with a roof over their head. One can only send blessings their way.

Re: 5 cold nights and days: no sign of Deek and doggies!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 2, 2021 6:18 PM

Well, I’m worried, even if you ain’t! Damn!!

I have finally, and recently, learned a most valuable lesson: NEVER WORRY ABOUT ANYTHING! FAITH IS MORE POWERFUL!

What the Phantoms of Worriment attempt to haunt me with are, for examples:

  • Deek is now in the hospital or jail, and his dogs have been impounded. I will never see them again.
  • Deek actually DID give them away, probably in exchange for what to him is a considerable sum…say, $400. Which, nonetheless, he’ll blow away in a quick two days, then grieve enormously over the loss of Taco & Wiley for the rest of his life. Of course, he’ll never bother to see me again, for fear of condemnation. (But in fact, if that is what he’s done, and DOES show up, I’d tell him that God will find some way to bring the little darlin’s back to us, and that he should keep that faith close to his heart while doing what he CAN do, to aid their return.)
  • Deek died on the streets from a meth overdose (it was mixed with Oxycontin) or was killed in his sleep. The doggies are stranded, alone and in grief and terrified. And cold and hungry. Or they’ve been absconded by some local dealers who will train them to fight for money.
  • My sweet brindlekin had the shit kicked out of them by some homeless nut job or a crazy drunk…or were severely injured in some other way, such as being run over.
  • Some mean (or well-meaning but clueless) resident reported them for not having rabies licenses, and they were taken to the pound.

I could go on, Tara, but I’ll stop here. If I drown myself in worry, I have not learned a most valuable lesson that I’ve been SHOWN to be true, many times over, these past several weeks. So many GOOD things have been flowing my way since late October, and continue to do so. Obviously, my deep love for these canines (and theirs for me) has TRIGGERED stunning changes in my life for the better. Which have EVERYTHING to do with faith, and its power to overcome ALL odds, not just some, or even many. In other words:

It’s as if God or one of His Messengers has appeared before this trembling soul and He spoke:

“Yours is not the story of one whose lover is sent off to war and dies on the battlefield, but one whose lover returns intact, victorious and brimming with immense gratitude, joy and reverence for your fidelity over such a painful, heart-breaking, long period of time. Do not grieve about Deek, the dogs, or anything else for that matter. I have all situations under my absolute command, and promise you this: that nothing but good things will come to you from this moment forward. To worry now would be the act of a coward, not of the hero you most certainly are! Now, I have other people of broken spirit I must tend to and heal. But rest assuredly, knowing that one or more of my guardians shall always remain by your side, and see to it that Deek and the doggies whom you call brindlekin will be returned to you in but a brief time from now, and in great health and spirit. Especially Deek, who has dumped o’ermuch anxiety in your life for way too long, in spite of your saintly forbearance. I will correct him on that promptly, certainly before he shows up.”

Meanwhile, I continue to compose my spectacular tales that will change the world in the profoundest, most loving ways possible. It’s the least I can do.

  • Ezekiel J. Krahlin (gay prophet and honorary crew member of Futurama’s interstellar rocket ship delivery service)

Re: 5 cold nights and days: no sign of Deek and doggies!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 2, 2021 6:30 PM


No less than five minutes after posting that missive to you, about faith and divine intervention and reassurance, does Deek call to me from across the intersection. He looks in bad shape, but nothing out of the ordinary, as he does appear a wreck now and then. How much of what he told me is true, I just don’t know. However, I suspect it’s all an act…on the angelic level no less…as I’ve already surmised in previous missives, which are now incorporated into my most recent Brindlekin chapters. In short:

Deek said he and the dogs were badly beaten, he’s sick and bleeding and sleeping in his feces, and no one wants to help him, he’s gonna die in a week, and so on. I saw no sign of harm to him or the doggies, much to my relief. He persisted in blaming me for their biting people and acting all out of control. “They’ve never been like that before YOU started having them over. These are not the dogs I had when I got them!”

“I don’t know, Zeke,” he admonished, “if I should trust you any more with my dogs! They act all different after you have them over.”

So I went into my famous preacher mode and told him how the devil hates friendships, and he’s working overtime to break up ours. That the bad thoughts he has about me are Satan’s words, and he shouldn’t fall for that, he should know better, after all these years of my helping him, and so many months assisting with the care and safety of Wiley & Taco. The poor little angels were just standing around leashed to a small shopping cart, you know, the kind that’s made out of thick metal wires about four feet high with two wheels on ’em that little old ladies push around in shopping marts. Get this: there was NOTHING in it, because Deek was just robbed last night (or so he says).

Anyway, the pups were glad to see me, and appeared as stable, kind and happy as usual. I felt their fur to see if they were wet, but nope, they were not. A few people came up to them and said “what cute dogs,” and pet them. Neither Taco nor Wiley were aggressive or nervous in any way whatsoever. They were friendly and minded their manners like the brave little saints they are!

Well, Deek gave me a very hard time about allowing me to take the canines hovel. Several times I made it clear he needs to tend to his own injuries, and the dogs need safe, warm shelter. This is an emergency, and he needs to trust me, and trust God through me. During this argument some nice folks who know Deek came up and asked how he was, and offered their help. (I don’t mean they showed up as a group, but that four different decent souls showed up one by one within minutes of each other, and departed before the next one arrived.) I explained to each of them he needs to let me care for the doggies for a day or two, so he can get back up on his feet. That he hit bottom and is in a bad way, and sorely needs a leg up right now, even if it’s just a kind word. One person with a roof over his head invited Deek to his pad, for warmth, company and a nice, hot meal. But Deek just said thanks, maybe later.

“Why not, Deek?” I asked with lowered arms outstretched and both palms up. “I’ll take good care of the dogs, you know I always do. And you, too, need to get off the streets, even for a little while!”

But he persisted in making all sorts of false accusations against me, so I kept reasoning with him.

“Oh c’mon, Deek,” I retorted, “That’s not true, I am not to blame, I take absolute, loving care of them, they never attack or bite when they’re with me. Maybe you should stop getting angry at them, as that just makes them wanna be rebellious, and fear you.”

He continued to resist, so that fellow gave him his address and phone number, and went on his way. Few minutes later, a friendly, big black dude by name of Nathaniel Wilson, who knows Deek also gave him solace and commencent an excellent exchange of words with him. And that’s when Deek began to smile, thank god…and spoke back in mutual whatever-it-was-they-talked-about.

Eventually, he asked me to watch over the brindlekin, after I return with a tall cup of A&W Diet Root Beer and two “rags” (meaning bandanas). Because he needs them in order to enter places like walk-in clinics and other emergency or supportive services.

And what did I just tell, Tara? That God told me they’d be back very soon, and he’d make sure that Deek would stop his insults. Well, the second part was only somewhat true, but a tremendous improvement in light of his usual snarkiness. At first I wondered if the Good Gay Lord’s angels messed him up Mafia style, so he finally show some respect. But I don’t think that’s the case at all. Here’s my take on the whole matter:

It’s an act, all contrived and scripted for my benefit, that I play the brave defender of doggies and the homeless, and become the hero of the play. That, my sister in spirit, can mean only one thing:

Deek is an angel, too, acting out his role, and very much in character.

I left him chatting merrily with Mr. Wilson as I rushed the mutts homeward…and boy did they love visiting again, how in wild, gleeful abandon they chased each other up and down the hallway, then pounced upon and burrowed like crazy atop those two fluffy sleeping bags! They are now quieted down, curled up and snoozing right here beside me. And I just looked out the window to see that Deek was no longer across the street at that corner, chatting with Nathaniel or any other kind fellow who came along. I hope he is in someone’s comfortable abode (or at least a tent) right now…either recuperating from a terrible ordeal, or (as I believe is more likely) laughing their asses off and back on again many times over, about how Deek pulled off his latest “i’m gonna fuck with Zeke again” prank. All I can say to THAT is:

This so-called Age of Aquarius sure has started off with one really weird opening act!

Yours in Cthulhu (a.k.a. “Flying Spaghetti Monster”),

  • Zeke

Subject: Re: 5 cold nights and days: no sign of Deek and doggies!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 2, 2021 5:51 PM


They will die out there, they’re little sweet creatures exposed too much to all the chaos and nasty weather on the streets. Once Deek returns, I will have to confront him on this. If he makes a stink, I’ll threaten to have him arrested for animal abuse. But hopefully, he’ll accept that I’ll be taking GOOD care of them, while he gets his act together and finds a decent roof over his head. I can NOT, in good conscience, turn them back into the steets. Several times in the past two months, Wiley has come running back to me, making it all too clear she’s not happy out there. Taco, however, is more accepting of his situation, but sure as hell makes a rotten summer vacation place, he is JUST as susceptible to the sling and arrows of being a homeless little pup.

I have twice seen Deek shove Wiley off a ledge abruptly, in anger. Not TOO hard, but even that is inexcusable. He does NOT keep them warm except occasionally, and allows them to be thoroughly drenched in the rain. These are a couple of brave, uncomplaining brindlekin who do NOT deserve this at all. No dog does, regardless of their size. While I don’t believe any of this happened, that Deek claimed DID occur, that is: his being robbed and beaten, including Taco & Wiley. IT’S JUST A BIG DRAMA he’s cooked up. Nonetheless, it is way too clear they are not going to survive much longer, under the neglectful conditions that Deek allows. His crying while seated on the sidewalk, his dead mother, how awful his life has been…ALL OF IT, A LIE! At least, in the sense he’s playing out a needless drama.

And I MUST take him at his word, about the supposed physical attacks and his being ill. That alone demands I answer to my conscience, and protect the furry angels. It IS possible, he will accept that new arrangement, realizing that he can not POSSIBLY care for them properly.

However, this may all blow over if indeed he is one of my guardian angels, putting on a show, that I be the hero. In which case the ruse will dissolve, veil of illusion will drop. And he’ll be more than glad to keep the doggies with me.

Otherwise, we’ve got a battle on my hands. And if he decides to try to wreck my living situation be screaming at my building late at night, or throws rocks, or tries to get others to gang up on me: such commotion COULD lead to my eviction. But what did I say about worry:

It’s good for nothin’, I won’t even go there. But I look at Wiley and hold her, and she is MOST happy to be inside. I could NEVER betray her, or Taco of course. These are dear, sweet little creatures whom the Fates have brought to me for their protection. I’ll never forget that night a couple weeks back, when I returned the dogs to Deek, then departed hovel. But to my surprise, there was Wiley who ran between my feet and into the lobby the moment I opened the gates! I had no idea she had followed me all the way back here!

So, some minutes have passed since the last paragraph and guess what: Deek shows up again. He wants a blanket, some tea, and for me to charge his devices. Then parks himself in a recess BELOW MY BUILDING. Said he’ll be quiet, it’s raining. Well, no it’s not raining any more…and I told him he’ll attract his noisy friends. But he wouldn’t budge, said “Okay give me back the dogs then, and I’ll go!”

I told him they need to take a break fro;m the cold and the rain. Then he said further snarky things to me. Yet he says he’s injured, feels really weak. He really knows how to play a person. Well, the confrontation hasn’t happened yet, about me keeping the doggies. But it will happen some time soon. So I just stepped outside to see if he finally left, but he didn’t. And then he hollered across the street to someone he knows…who didn’t hear him an kept walking, but that’s beside the point.

This is insane. I’ve never had to deal with such a punk before…because I’ve never been in a situation to protect a couple of pooches, who are OWNED by a punk.

  • Zeke

Re: 5 cold nights and days: no sign of Deek and doggies!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 3, 2021 1:45 PM

I truly admire your courage.

Faith gives courage. But it takes COURAGE to have IMMENSE faith…as this situation clearly demands. I am surmised he IS an angel, and testing my strength to stand up and do the right thing. There are two levels to this reality:

1) Face value. That Deek truly was injured, he’s limping about and not very strong. And he WILL try to mess up my life when I refuse to deliver the brindlekin back to him.

2) It is a spiritual test by a bodhisattva named Deek in this world. If I fail, I lose everything. I will NOT fail!

This is the ONLY chance I have to save the lives of Taco & Wiley. Should I surrender them up to him, I will never see any of them again…for he will KNOW I’ll do everything I can to take them from him. And he and the doggies will most likely die on the streets. I can NOT allow that to happen; I have chosen the righteous path. Next I see him, I’ll keep the pups inside and tell Deek he is not capable at this time of caring for the dogs: he is injured and weak, and full of disturbing notions. NOW is the time he needs to get his act together, first by marching off to a clinic. He said he is bleeding and defecating (or at least WAS). There is possibly serious, internal injury going on. He needs to FIGHT to save his own life, and can’t do it while tending to the canines.

I’ll tell him if he starts stirring up a commotion towards me, and/or around my apartment building I WILL call the police and press animal abuse charges against him! This IS abuse, Tara, even if you just look at it as two little doggies being exposed 24/7 to this bitter, cold and damp weather. He forces them to sit, lie down and sleep on the concrete most of the time! He gets angered at them with ever greater frequency! I will tell him:

“Deek, I’m not TAKING the Taco & Wiley from you, I’m SHELTERING them for you! They are small doggies and will get very sick or even DIE if they continue to live on the streets. I could never forgive myself it that happens; you will blame ME for not being more forceful about keeping them inside. You will become the most miserable person on earth, should that happen. So I MUST do what’s right for them AND you. You should know by now I will give up my life for these angels, if it comes to that! Besides which: if not for me, you would’ve lost them a long time ago.”

Based on the incredible adventures–both benevolent and horrid–I’ve been having these past few months, it is of great importance not to obsess over wicked threats against my person, no matter who, how or where they come from. WORRY ONLY WARPS THE SOUL! Which is PRECISELY the instructions imparted by Buddhist teaching in the Tibetan Book of the Dead. For in order to ascent to a higher level, one must NOT cave in to fear or doubt when the demons approach and attempt to derail you. And if you past their test, they will then drop their masks of evil to reveal their true nature: angels! Who will then proudly escort to a better realm. I have concluded that the Tibetan Book of the Dead is, most importantly, a guide to life on THIS level. For those who come to realize that it most certainly is, we than have the key to Godhead, if we so choose. For, when that divine tome discusses how to successfully ascend the next level, isn’t it obvious that this present existence is but ONE of many, possible infinite, levels?

Thus, as my final challenge in life (that is, one of a diabolical nature), Deek as bodhisattva (or angel) plays the dragon to my knight. If I understand the nature of the bodhisattva, they will continue to threaten and torment you until you take the DECISIVE stand towards right action throughout the entire conflict, even if it means culminating in his death, or some other horrid, albeit nonfatal, outcome. ONCE you have placed yourself SOLIDLY on that foundation of indisputable resolve, the bodhisattva WILL back off and show his ultimate nature: an angel. But they are not TOTALLY malicious when playing the demon, as they WILL give you clues now and then, as to they’re being ACTORS on life’s stage, rather than authentic villains for real. (One of the secrets in Buddhist thought, FYI, is there actually ARE no villains, any where and any time.) Usually, you won’t catch any clue except with a touch of hindsight, maybe later that same day, or the next day, or a few days further down the line. In SOME unique situations, you may not catch onto their clues until YEARS later. Which is certainly the case when it comes to my Nam Vet comrade in loving arms, Randolph Taylor. And finally, when I did, I wrote the book…which, as part of its purpose, explains the bodhisattva nature in various ways, including between the lines.

So I don’t really think Deek will push things further, or even push any more, at all. For I have finally attained an absolutely FIRM resolution for the conflict at hand. Though he may decide to take his act all the way, whereby I WILL have him arrested on charges of animal abuse. Whether he goes to prison or not, should be neither my concern nor worry…but certainly NOT my wish, under any circumstance. But I WILL follow through should he force my hand.

Now what about these subtle “clues” I’ve mentioned above? Well, the afternoon he returned after five days’ disappearance, acting all distraught (about being violently attacked, bleeding and defecating as a result), he wound up engaging in friendly conversation with street denizen Nathanial Wilson…with a broad smile crossing his Cajun mug. In addition: in that same scenario, he requested I bring him a hot cup of blueberry tea and a two bandannas. Now, if he WERE so grievously assaulted just the previous night or that morning, do you think he’d have the presence of mind for smiles and a spot o’ tea? I think not, Tara. Another example is that he sometimes speaks words as if just memorized and rehearsed from a script handed to him. Like when I predict his reaction over an issue I addressed just previously (some of which predictions I’ve emailed you), he’ll respond the next time he appears, as if he can read my mind.

One final example: after addressing Nathaniel about Deek’s present and tragic demise, elaborating on God’s role in this and how Ge never abandons anyone in times of crisis (even if it may seem so, and my friend needs to keep the faith), Deek interrupted with a wave of the hand, said “I don’t wanna hear this BS,: and told me to get going, bring back the tea and bandannas, and he’ll hand over the mutts. In conclusion:

Deek is none other than one of God’s Own Angels putting me through my paces.

So, it’s now 1:30 PM the next day, and Deek has yet to show up. Which is good, and if he is indeed the angel I conjecture, he knows it’s time to back off and allow me my own peace to tend to the dogs, and my tales. After all, I’m doing this for HIM as well as the pooches: that I become famous and rich ASAP in order to provide them all with something they can call a REAL home. Now here’s a perk:

I may have a solid ally in my quasi-fascist neighbor, Moe, thanks to my uploading those Skelli videos into a featured blog entry…being the great dog lover he is, especially when it comes to the wee ones! Thus, should any conflict arise between myself and the building manager, Moe may come to the rescue.

Now, as I type this, my latest missive to you, I am also listening to Marshall’s latest podcast. When, just as I arrived at the end of the above paragraph, he broke out in reading my tale, “I’m Counting on His Hugs,” which is chapter 2 of Brindlekin Tales. Beautifully read, as usual. Looks like he’s gonna read each chapter of my tales in their order. Perfect! Each week I can splice them out and upload them to my Youtube channel. See, Tara? Everything IS going my way, in spite of this recent unwelcome (but necessary) debacle. This marks my THIRD most excellent blog entry in less than twenty-four hours!

  • Zeke

PS: Though you have to admit (beyond a shade of doubt) that this latest-but-most-difficult real life episode with Deek, makes for GREAT story material! Not that anyone in their right mind wants to live through such dread themselves, like monster movies, but they sure eat it up for its entertainment value! And THAT is what he is doing for me: creating the latest chapter! And he KNOWS it. Which certainly explains once again bringing up his warning that I’d better not be writing about himself and the doggos. I reassured him, once more: “Absolutely not. I’m writing very funny pieces, and very scary ones, and a couple of sci-fi adventures…but NOTHING with you or Wiley & Taco in them.” But this time around he appended to his usual gripe about my tales: “Because I’ll be angry if you’re lying. I’d prefer to know if you ARE writing about me, then I won’t be so upset.” He’s GOADING me, the mischievous bodhisattva par excellence! He KNOWS! But how could he, if not telepathic? Talk about tossing me another clue!

Re: 5 cold nights and days: no sign of Deek and doggies!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 3, 2021 5:24 PM

Deek just showed up less than 10 minutes ago. So I braced myself, thought of bringing the dogs but then, no, I realized: bad idea. I can NOT cave in to letting him have his way with them, that is colored by a confused ego. I took a deep breath upon approaching him, and asked, “How are you doing today?”

I noticed he’s still limping, but otherwise looks just fine. He said he doesn’t want the dogs back today, but a $40 advancement on his weekly allowance…which is fine with me: he’s been doing that almost every week, for months. But I made up a story, an IMPORTANT story that justifies the lie:

“Deek, we had to take Taco & Wiley to the vet this morning, because they refused to eat ever since they got here yesterday.”

“Who’s WE? What’s wrong with them?”

“Oh, they’re okay now. The vet said they had mild hypothermia, that’s overexposure to the cold, and it can ruin their appetite for starters. And WE is me and a kind neighbor with his own dog, who offered to take them to his vet, and cover the charge.”

Deek was not the least bit upset, or reacted snarky upon hearing this, but did claim they always eat well, even in all this rain and cold. I explained that they’re small dogs that can’t retain body heat like the big ones, and that hypothermia can sneak up on you. Almost a whole week exposed to the cold and rain nonstop, is dangerous. He then said (and get this):

“I can arrange to pick them up for the day, then bring ’em back each night.”

“Excellent idea,” I replied. “But YOU need to move ahead now, take care of yourself, go to a clinic for starters, work your way up from there.”

“I know, get a home for myself, too!” he volunteered, and to my surprise. Though not really, as I’ve already figured out he’s an angel playing me.

“Exactly. You’re in NO condition to take the doggies back right now. Besides, they need at least a few days to recuperate. So now’s a good time to deal with your own needs, and I hope you do it ASAP.”

I ran hovel to snatch two Jacksons, then returned and handed them over. He started explaining what the advance is for, fresh clothes and such. But I interrupted and said he doesn’t need to tell me. He never has to, I trust him. When we were discussing the dogs, he also interjected, “I already had two dogs die on me,” as if it were no big deal. I retorted that we DON’T want that to happen to the brindlekin. Overall, it was an impressively decent meet, as I predicted it would be…that my very own, personal bodhisattva doll would cease its antagonism! But I DID note he played it right on the edge a bit, with a few provocative statements, such as saying he’s already had two canines perish under his watch. What an ass-wipe!

He said he’ll return some time tomorrow (I would think so, as he also gave me his smartphone, a pocket radio and a small, portable power supply to recharge; he might even come back for them tonight.) But I’m very pleased with the outcome, as it is clear I can oppose returning the dogs for a time, without resistance on his part, based on any reasonable justification, such as chill weather and rain. I also advised him to get a handle on his short temper, the dogs don’t deserve it. In sum:

I passed the test with flying crullers! Now that is something to celebrate…like tears of joy falling from the sky! (Most people call it rain.)

  • Zeke

Re: [MCN-Announce]- 5 Cold Days & Nights (my latest blog entry)
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Arnie Worster
Date: January 3, 10:15 PM

I am really hoping for some good news about your little friends. I have begun to get pretty fond of them myself and I know you are more than fond.

Aww, thank you so much. Well, you’ll be the first to know that I have decided to keep the dogs and charge Deek with animal abuse. He has no idea, but the shit will hit the fan next time he shows up and asks for them back. I’ll tell him they need a day or two more recuperation from the cold. I’ll be very polite, but no doubt he’ll start screaming, so I’ll say “Okay, okay, I’ll get them right now.” Then I’ll hurry back hovel and dial 911 and have him thrown in jail. He seems to be more angry these days…not just at me, but also his dogs. I’m afraid they’ll die if I surrender them back to him. Seeing as you’ve read my latest tale, you understand that I have to answer to my conscience at this point…bodhisattva be damned!

Wish I could give you a better report, but something happened tonight about an hour ago that made me realize I should NEVER give the doggies back. He came by early this evening, and seemed fine for a time. I brought him some tea, and we talked for a few minutes. Then went our separate ways, as is the usual pattern. He said he was gonna crash out around the corner, in that cozy nook by Cafe Flore…where he was just this past Exmass Eve eve. Well, about an hour later the pups need their nightly walk, so I decided it would be nice for them to visit Deek-in-his-nook for a little while…showing good faith, I thought, in trusting him, and interjecting a positive boost whenever I can. I had already decided things would be better now, after our most recent conversation.

So we surprise him, where he’s hidden behind a makeshift cardboard wall about four feet high. At first, he was glad to see the brindlekin, but when Wiley started licking him on the face, he pushed her away in anger:

“I HATE it when they lick me! I train ALL my dogs to not lick, and you’re fucking that up! I wish you hadn’t brought ’em over!”

I’ve already explained to him MANY times that you can’t stop a canine from licking you; it’s a sign of affection towards another dog or human, this cleaning your face. And he can always distract them by letting them lick your hand instead, for example…but their instinct to lick can NOT be altered very much, unless you put fear in their heart. And that’s a terrible thing to do. Besides, you can always wipe your face with hand sanitizer, once that little act of endearment is done. So in order to change the subject, I pointed out how sweet Wiley is; and how Taco is such a good brother to her; that they’ve got each other’s brindleback. Sometimes, late at night, Wiley will raise her head to check on her sibling, see if he’s still there, and alright. But he ignored all that, while repeatedly shoving BOTH slurpy-tongue dogs away from his face, with a frown that could make a rhino drop dead in its tracks:

“You better not get her spayed behind my back!” he threatened. “I wanna pick ’em up tomorrow morning.”

“I think it’s better we let them recuperate a day or two longer, Deek.”

“Don’t play me, Zeke, I’ll take ’em back right now if you keep that up!” he scathed.

“No one’s playing you, Deek.” I said, so very tired of his constant “don’t play me” accusations. Childish. “These are little dogs, they shouldn’t be outdoors so long in this chilly weather.”

Well, he continued griping/mumbling in accusatory bursts, while I decided to continue our doggie walk, and called back:

“This is too much…I just wanted to do something nice for you by bringing them around. See you tomorrow, Crocadorrow!”

He just kept grumbling semi-loud as me and the brindlekin disappeared into the darkness among the trees and vehicles of Noe Street. And finally returned home…this time without bothering to visit with Deek again by returning via the opposite side of the street. Once hovel, I pondered over what need be done at this point, and all signs point to claiming Taco & Wiley as my own. I’m gonna have one angry, crazy dude on my hands, by tomorrow. Hopefully, they will NOT let him out of jail soon. This situation could wind up making ME homeless, as well.

But those are just worries, right? No point on dwelling on them o’ermuch, as I’d only make myself sick. Just do what you know is the right thing to do, then do it… and all will be copasetic, and ye shall know peace. And so shall the two, sweet canes. that have blessed my world immensely. I’m tempted to end this email by saying “wish me luck.”

However, luck is not part of this game. You don’t get “lucky,” you get “faith.” Interesting thing about Taco you don’t yet know: his real name is, guess what…LUCKY! (And Wiley’s is Flaco.)

  • Zeke

Re: 5 cold nights and days: no sign of Deek and doggies!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 4, 2021 4:32 AM

I just looked into the laws about taking a homeless person’s pet because it’s being abused. Sadly, that is illegal, even in that circumstance. Besides, Deek would go berserk, start screaming up at my window or from across the street, and making a big, horrific stink, rounding up his homeless allies to cause further havoc. Which I cannot beat, because the law is against me; the police would NOT be on my side. Even though animal abuse is now a federal offense (one of the few things good that Trump has done, by signing this into law) you cannot STEAL. It would be regarded as taking justice into your own hands, in a legal system that still regards pets as property. So, what do I do now?

Keep the faith as to their safety, and do my best to deal with Deek’s bipolar behavior as best I can. My playing hero would only make things worse all the way ’round. Frankly, were I rich I’d just take the doggies and flee to parts unknown. Well, that’s what I SHOULD be aiming for, but it’s a battle with time…assuming my stories WILL take off, profit-wise. But how SOON would that be? Aye, there’s the rub!

  • Zeke

PS: It’s now Monday morning and, as I type this addendum, it’s raining cats and dogs (two must’ve leaked in, ’cause they’re here now), and Deek has yet to show up, thank God. The two brindlekin are presently tucked away in cozy slumber upon the cot. They had a good walk, and a good poop, earlier. Wiley was hungry, but Taco was not. All in a dog’s day. See the image attached? I found it after searching for “mandala of faith.”

Re: 5 cold nights and days: no sign of Deek and doggies!
From: Zeke Krahlin
Tara Roosevelt
Date: Date: January 4, 2021 11:43 AM

Wise, though heart-wrenching, decision.

Ha-ha, I just posted a new, and hopeful, solution to this Mephistophelean dilemma. How can I expect YOU to keep up, when I, myself, can not?


Subject: A New Doggie Door won’t believe it!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 4, 2021 1:59 PM

I’m stupefied how fast things are movin’, I really can’t keep up with it. Every time I turn around, Universal Mind gives me yet ANOTHER tale to compose! So I grab what I can, stuff it in my satchel, and leave the rest to fly off to God knows where…perhaps finally to be ensnared in Glaucus’s fishing net over there by the Aegean Sea’s rocky coast. So here’s what just came up at this moment:

I checked my bank account about an hour ago, to see if my first GoFundMe withdrawal had arrived. Well, it hadn’t but THIS did:

$600 stimulus check.

As I let that sink in, a thought bubble rose to the top of my cranium, And here is what it whispered in my ear, from the inside out:

“Remember that several times so far, Deek has suggested he’s willing to give up the doggies for anyone who can pay him four hundred dollars…and you freaked out? But now YOU have it…plus some! And he made it obliquely clear that that offer includes yourself, Zeke! And the doggies are with YOU right now, not him!”

This four hundred buckazoids would have to be in ADDITION to one-half of the second stimulus check I promised him, once it shows up. Because I’m sure he’s gotten wind of its arrival through the methamphetamine grapevine, and I sincerely doubt I could pull the wool over his eyes by just offering him four hundred. He’d immediately retort:

“That’s just a hunnar-dollar.”

So really, I’d have to present him with the sum total of seven Benjamins. But I refuse to make the exchange without a reliable witness, and the one who is OBVIOUS, and popped into my mind instantly, is Boulevard Joe.

Without a witness, most likely two or three weeks after the trade, Deek would start screaming at me, accusing me of dog theft. Which would fuck me over big time. But one thing he DOES respect is a trustworthy witness to a transaction between or among street denizens. I was thinking of printing out a contract, with Deek’s social security number underneath his printed name and signature. Then, signatures from one or more witnesses, one being a resident of my building, who’d include his address or smartphone number, along with his John Hancock.

So THIS is how my bodhisattva wants to play it! “Clever” is too milquetoasty a word for it! For he had already set the scenario some time ago…knowing I’d catch on further down the line, once that stimulus windfall came knocking on my doggie door.

Assuming the next time he shows up, and agrees with the deal, I won’t even have to bring my brindlemutts back outside to be with him again! So, if it DOES go through, I might need your help to cover that loss of an additional one-hundred dollars, which cuts into my REAL budget. But too soon to know for sure, at this moment. Just thought you’d get a kick out of this latest twist in the Brindlekin Tales, Tara!

  • Zeke

Re: A New Doggie Door won’t believe it!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 4, 2021 2:14 PM

Good plan! I’ll be standing by.

You’re always standing by, Tara. For that, I am stupendously grateful…especially since you always keep those ankles well covered!

Re: A New Doggie Door won’t believe it!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 4, 2021 6:48 PM

Definitely have witnesses (video, too, if possible), and get a receipt.

Yes, a video, it hadn’t occurred to me. I have a smartphone, and that will do nicely. I will also tell Boulevard Joe and Deek:

“Now spread the word that Zeke has bought Deek’s dogs, fair and square. ‘Cause I don’t need folks comin’ up to me, wondering if I stole ’em.”

I’ll address the two, but it’s mostly to show Deek he can’t get away with renegging on me…without even bringing up the issue. Should he refuse to oblige, that’ll tell me right then and there what his intentions TRULY are.

PS: Marco read chapter two of my Brindlekin Tales last Friday, BTW. I’m truly on the road to success now! As if I didn’t already know since the eve of the eve of Samhain…but hey, I love tooting my own horn. :D

  • Zeke

[Patient (and no doubt highly stressed at this point, as it’s a real cliffhanger!) Reader: it is very IMPORTANT at this moment, to realize that Deek IS my personal bodhisattva, who plays the trickster, tossing challenge after challenge at my feet, that I learn to successfully deal with each one as compassionately as possible. It is therefore NOT appropriate to project ANY animosity towards him, whatsoever. In fact, HE SHOULD BE PRAISED TO THE HEAVENS! And be treated kindly and with much respect, should you run into him somewhere in the Castro or other local environ. I also want to reassure all my benevolent followers, that this deviously dreadful doggie debacle will eventually resolve itself in the most angelic manner possible. Though even I, at this moment, have no idea exactly how. Well, come to think of it, I do have a GLIMPSE of an idea how the outcome will unfold. But no more than your own conjecture, which I’m sure is now being mulled over by your most impressive cerebral machinations. So enjoy the mulling before the culling!]

Re: A New Doggie Door won’t believe it!
From: Zeake Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 5 2021 6:55 PM

Since his vulgar accusations spewed at me three nights ago, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of bodhisattva Deek. Just as well, ’cause I don’t need his constant string of disruptive dramas in my world, while caring for the doggies along with my intense creative cycle, and PUSH for authorial success. But the plan is firm, regarding buying his doggies off for $400. Though I don’t really need anyone to sign anything, or get a receipt, as shooting that video will take care of it all, with Boulevard Joe as witness. But I have THIS ace in the hole:

I will inform Deek that, should he try to pull a fast one, by rousing up the homeless rabble against me (claiming that I’ve stolen Taco & Wiley), or try to screw me over in any other way, I DO have his social security number. And with that, can fuck up his life royally. I will INFORM Louisiana authorities that I know a certain deadbeat dad from New Orleans, who fled here to Frisco eleven or twelve years ago…and I know exactly where he is, if you care to drag him back your state and lock him up.

In fact, I will advise Deek to not even THINK about hurling any more insults and false accusations in my direction, nor to badmouth me among the street folks. In fact, he’d better get his little ass wigglin’ and start telling everyone he knows that I’m a really GOOD guy who has helped him out immensely, over many years.

Such is the card I will play, if need be, in this particular game of Battle of the Bodhisattvas. For the brindlekin’s protection comes before all else. FYI: should he REFUSE to accept trade in money, I WILL play that card, to force his hand.

  • Zeke

Re: A New Doggy Door won’t believe it!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 6, 2021 4:40 PM

Whew. Good. Stand firm.

I absolutely intend to continue to help him out…but he’s put me between a boulder and a hard place, where I will likely be forced to make such a frightening deal. I will do my best to explain to him that I have NO desire to cause him fear or anger, or misery in any way, shape or form…that it pleases me more than anything else, to continue relations on a friendly level.

He still hasn’t shown up; what is this, day four of his latest disappearance I wonder: is he in the hospital? in jail? did he run away? is he dead?

I prefer to think “none of the above,” as my not-worry attitude also presages most positive outcomes possible in everything I do, these days. Which suggests that an ugly confrontation will NOT be in the cards, and next time he shows up things will be majorly improved, and be in my favor 100 percent. As for the doggies:

Their appetite has turned lackluster these last two days…not wanting to eat anything at all, or finishing barely a quarter of their bowl. But they DID still enjoy their chicken-chew treats until this morning, when Taco refused to eat any, and Wiley stopped at three, even though I offered four.

They do not act depressed or forlorn in any way, but continue to be joyful and affectionate. They ARE resting a lot, which means little exercise, which MAY be the cause of a depressed desire to feed their little bellies. So yesterday evening, I ordered online a whole rotisserie chicken from “Bonita Taqueria Y Rotisserie” just behind my apartment building, on 16th Street. Marking the first time I’ve ever ordered something digitally, from a restaurant. And boy did they love it! Cost me twenty smackaroonies, but SO glad they noshed it all up.

I fed it to them in four separate portions, removing the skin and bones each time, while standing at my food prep counter (which is actually the topmost large storage container of two, right between the windows). As I stepped away from the second round of preparation, they suddenly started to snarl and yap viciously at each other, standing on hind legs and battling it out with paw and fang! This was a serious matter. who gets the chicken! I ordered them to immediately stop, and they calmed down. After that, no more fighting ensued, thank Anubis! They seemed greatly improved after such a fine and savory repast. They have never fought over food before this, not on MY watch.

I will start using my GoFundMe cash to cover this expense, whenever necessary. My initial withdrawal is due to arrive tomorrow, and I saved the digital receipt as proof of my first expense accrued for my homeless doggy project. For which I’ve already set up a URL on my GFM story, for anyone to examine, located somewhere on my Gay Bible site. It will be broken down into monthly statements, with a link to each description of this or that expenditure, which you can click on to view the receipt. For this one, the reason will be described like so:

“1 whole rotisserie chicken in hopes of resolving a suppressed appetite in both dogs.”

Of course, cynics and haters will question whether that delicious fowl actually went to Taco & Wiley, rather than to their present guardian. So be it. If you have any tips on improving a dog’s appetite, I’m all ears, Tara. I’ve been researching this issue online, and it has been suggested to pour the juice from a can of tuna onto their kibble or canned meal. But another site that answers the question “can dogs eat tuna” warns of potential mercury poisoning! Better options would be salmon, whitefish, herring, flounder, or Arctic char…so I’ll see what I can do about that. First I’ll check into the corner store where Les, a very kind fellow, works. (I’ve told you about him already, some time ago, which emails are destined to appear in “Brindlekin Tales: the Prequel.”) I always prefer to make my purchases through him, if I can. Perhaps I should switch to cooking their food…me, a vegetarian who aspires to become a full-blown vegan! Who now, because of these pooches, has an increasing presence of meat products in his hovel.

Honestly, I think it’s lack of exercise, but I don’t know of any safe place where they can run their cute little butts off, without a possibly nasty run-in with another dog, or even human. I need access to a fenced backyard! But how do I possibly arrange that? No doubt Kismet will find a way; she’s a very good friend of mine. I’m tempted to call her “Tara,” but I think I’ll hold off on that for awhile longer, at least until these revelations now blossoming in my world reveal more secrets.

Is it possible they miss Deek? That would be a difficult challenge to overcome. They don’t show any outward signs at all…except when we exit my hovel and proceed towards Noe, they’ll tug on the leash towards the opposite corner where Deek stations himself to see me. I just opened a can of Purina gravy-style, and only Wiley took notice, and hopped off the cot to reach the freshly-filled bowl. But she took just a few bites before jumping back up to the cot, and sought some loving hugs on my lap. Taco just continued to rest. I approached him to give hugs, too. He was limp as a noodle when I partly picked him up and kissed him. But he’s always limp when I go to raise him off the bedding, because it’s an act of utter and complete trust towards me. So, not a bad sign as far as I can tell. They do not seem sad at all, but very pleased to have this sanctuary, and my company.

Wouldn’t it be nice, though, if I could use that $400 (or even the full 600) from my stimulus, to cover unpredictable expenses like roast chicken? We’ll see, though I think that Deek’s possible death or other tragedy is way too high a price to pay! Perhaps, being my personal bodhisattva playing a trickster (whose role is to antagonize me as much as possible, that I grow in spirit by learning how to resolve all challenges with compassion), he may conclude that it’s now time to end the game. Wouldn’t that be nice!


So, it’s been around a half hour since I composed the previous paragraph, because I had to stop, upon hearing Deek call to me from across Market Street. That’s when I noticed a heavy drizzle (when did it start?). I thought he yelled, with a strong wave of one hand, and the other gripping a shopping cart:

“C’mon out! Bring the dogs!”

My anxious heart leapt with trepidation, knowing that the showdown was about to take place. So I donned jacket and watch cap, while the brindlekin stood close by the door, corkscrew tails a-waggin’…for they know their master’s voice. But I had no intention of REALLY bringing them outside to see him, so called them over to the bed. But right when I opened the door a crack, a little birdie (goddam that little birdie, I don’t even know its name…Tweety, perhaps? Henery Hawk? Heckle or Jeckle? Roadrunner? Daffy Duck? Woodstock? Donald or Huey, Dewey or Louie or even Daisy? Foghorn Leghorn? Toucan Sam? Woody Woodpecker? Sesame Street’s Big Bird? Beaky Buzzard? Egghead Junior? Chilly Willy? Playboy Penguin? Gyro Gearloose? Mallard Fillmore? Gladstone Gander? Baby Huey? Kowalski?) chirped away:

“Bring the pups, Zeke! You must show compassion and trust towards Deek. That way, when you propose purchasing them, he will likely not resist the idea. Keep the faith, my friend…isn’t that what it’s all about, anyways?”

So I took a deep sigh, leashed up the doggies. Then, at the last moment, grabbed three Benjamins out of the seven I had conveniently secured beneath an orange, plastic, open-top desk bin I got from a Chinese variety shop in the Inner Sunset six years ago. Which contained four dollar-store sunglasses; a small box of dog-poop bags in six tight rolls of 20 each; some nine-or-so folded letters in ragged-open-ended envelopes from Medi-Cal that are months old and should be tossed away (plus one from Kaiser-Permanente offering to screw me over with their “premium” supplemental medical care riddled with copay, deductible and egregious high and unpredictable hidden fees); a SONY pocket-size AM-FM battery powered transistor radio with high nostalgic value; a soft-rubber, semi-transparent dark-gray, protective, snap-on backing for whatever model smartphone it would fit (I don’t know which one, but found it over a year ago, thinking someday it would find a match in one of Deek’s constantly streaming cell phone street scores that are with him one day and gone the next, though I’ve never bothered to try it out on any one of them, so I really should trash it); a thickly woven, black cloth friendship bracelet given to me by Deek about four years ago (with the Celtic cross hammered into a small brass circle like a coin, bound in the middle); one curled up three-foot USB cord with right-angled insert at one end; a small, plastic spray bottle of Walgreens “Professional Lens Cleaner” that I used to use to clean the screens on my laptop, second standalone display and smartphone (but there are only a few drops left, so I’m gonna throw it away right now, wait a moment, there I’m back); and a hardcover copy of your latest literary masterpiece, “Twilight in Somalia.”

As me and doggies exited the front gate, there was Deek standing at the far end of the covered bus stop. The heavy drizzle had just stopped, and the sun shone brightly through, between scudding gray and elongated puffballs.

“I told you not to bring the dogs!” he hollered.

“Oh, wow, I’m sorry,” I said as I approached. “I thought you said BRING the dogs.”

Said mutts were now busy with eager greets, jumping upon his legs for attention, which Deek warmly returned.

He brought up the stimulus money before I even got the pleasure to bring it up myself. I told him yes I have it, can you accept hundred dollar bills?

“Wow, you read my mind,” he declared with a smile as I handed it to him. “I’m gonna get this incredible three-hundred dollar speaker with that money!”

Somewhat disappointed, I asked: “Wouldn’t it be better to spend some of that on the doggies, and get a less expensive but still good speaker?”

Then he went on to say he was also gonna get new sneakers, a sweater and some other apparel. So I just smiled and told him good for you. Upon his pausing a moment, I interjected:

“I can afford to buy the dogs from you now, if you’re still up to it! The four hundred dollars are waiting upstairs for you right now.”

Well, he bust out into tears right then and there, saying how he’d NEVER sell them, he wouldn’t ever see them again, it would break his heart, how he so much loves them both, but especially Taco since he’s been with him through thick and thin, for over a year now.

“C’mon, Deek!” I remarked. “Wiley’s a wonderful pooch, too…they’re BOTH amazing. Surely you love them both with all your heart!”

“Yes, of course I do, Zeke,” he replied while wiping some tears away. “You’re the only one I trust with them, you’re a life saver!”

With that, I breathed a great sigh as a dark weight flew from my shoulders: “Well God bless you, Deek, I’m glad you finally realize I’m not trying to steal them from you, but protect them FOR you, so they’ll live long, happy lives, instead of getting sick and dying in the streets. This cold and rain and crazy people are too MUCH for the little angels!”

He went on weeping at the very thought of losing his precious doggos: “Please don’t give them away, Zeke! Please don’t. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you did!”

I boldy reassured him: “NOT gonna happen, not EVER, Deek! It’s just that you seemed very serious about selling them for four hundred dollars, which really worried me. I was in grief; I prayed like the world might come to an end. So when the stimulus showed up, I figured it would be MUCH better that “I” purchase them, so they’d stay with us! ‘Cause I don’t know what I’d do, either, without these darlin’s in my life!”

He continued to sob copiously, hugging and petting the furry-pelted objects of our conversation. So I elaborated: “They can NOT remain outside any more, it’s too dangerous for such little creatures! I’m saving their lives, Deek, for YOU!”

He wiped even more tears away, though they continued to flow…thus a pointless gesture. And he bawled:

“You’re right, I don’t want them to be out here any more, either. That would be cruel. Thank you SO so much, Zeke!”

“Well, more good news, Deek,” I joyfully exclaimed. “Everyone in my building loves the doggies, and the manager has not presented ANY problem about them staying here.”

Then he said he’s really sorry, but he’s busy and gotta get going. As he turned to leave I called to him about how he has a mood-swing problem, and I have it too, well, at least I USED to have it…but he was already halfway across the street. I knew he heard me though, and that will have a favorable impact on his healing from decades of unbelievable struggles and meth addiction. Before he was out of earshot I hollered “God bless you Deek!” three glorious times. Yes, Tara, the best is yet to come!

So as I began to return hovel, I realized, hey, good time to take the dogs for a walk…and so I did. A good poop and copious peeing on that hydrant, this wall, that tree and this wadded up clump of rain-soaked paper bags was had by all! As I looked greatly forward to returning to my SRO and composing this latest missive to you, with appended good news.

So here the Angels of Destiny favored me once more, as they’ve been doing in sort of a “working overtime” mission since late October, to assure Zeke’s success over all things possible…and, I guess, IMpossible. Now I can transfer the remaining half of my stimulus to my GoFundMe account, and use some of that money for roasted chicken and other unexpected needs for which Canis familiarus so well deserves, for all the love they give to humanity!

So, yes, this PROVES that Deek is indeed my trickster bodhisattva, who HAS decided now’s the time to END this years-long game of most painful challenges. JUST as I surmised at the earlier part of this email! Along with my wish to use a chunk of that stimulus for the doggies’ sake. I want to further point out, that:

Deek has been weaving these amazing stories around me for years now, just like Arwyn does…or used to do. And it’s all fuckin’ SCRIPTED, I swear it is! What a couple of lovable phonies! GREAT thespians, though. But I’m sure Arwyn’ll resume his pranks in a short time from today, after a 38-month hiatus. He’s been on my mind a lot, lately. Definitely sending me telepathic communique that he’ll be seeing me real soon. I’ve had little vignettes in my mind the past two days, of Larkin returning to me, this time with angel wings fully exposed and emanating golden rays of tomfoolery.

Well, Wiley just arose from her nap and extended a sweet paw upon my knee, her darling face with Yoda ears gazing up into my eyes. Then Taco got up, too, and we all joined heads in a group hug of canine allegiance! So now I must bid you adieu for the nonce, dear Tara…as it’s time for me to step out and pick up yet a SECOND rotisserie chicken for these two brindlekin so beloved by BOTH Deek and myself, and all the good angels who watch down on us! <3 <3 <3

  • Zeke

PS: One more thing. Wiley was on my keyboard yesterday. She has recently developed the habit of stretching up on the hexagonal table where my keyboard rests along the edge. In order to see if any more treats remain on the riser, upon where my laptop is located, and where I set down a handful of these treats before feeding them to the pups, one by one. And inevitably the keyboard responds to the pressure of those dainty hind paws, causing strange but harmless reactions onscreen. (Harmless so far; she might one day hack into the nuclear weapons system of Iraq or some other far-flung nation, and cause all sorts of canine havoc). Upon returning with the scorched Gallus gallus domesticus from “Bonita,” I found this on my screen:

[voir la photo ci-jointe]

Notice how the character string “XEAWO” in the location bar matches (possibly) two little paws, the left one pressing on the first four letters, which are close together on the keyboard’s left side. And the final character, on the right, where her right paw landed. Either that, or she was trying to look up some X-rated material on the sly. Maybe puppy porn? Nah, she’s too much of a sweet girl for that!

New Form Entry: Contact Form

January 3, 2021

The following email exchange is the result of my posting to various local media outlets and organizations, about my Brindlekin Tales, like so:

I invite the good folks of San Francisco to enjoy my free to read, and growing work-in-progress true stories I call “Brindlekin Tales.” They are all about my amazing adventures with my homeless friend of over nine years, and his two adopted doggies. And it all happens here, right in the Castro. There will be at least one new tale per week. I have just completed chapter 10. Here is the abbreviated link:

Sincerely, Ezekiel J. Krahlin, LGBT Activist & Resident of SF since 1983]

The next day, this letter shows up in my mailbox, and some confusion on my part ensues because I have no idea who this person is. Nor does the email address itself, or heading within the message, give a clue! I could have spared myself all this trouble had I only scrolled below the post, which then reveals its true source. But I did not. I assumed (wrongly, as you shall see) that it arrived from a subscriber to the Mendocino Community Network’s announcement mailing list, in which I participate. And from which I occasionally receive an unexpected email from some lady or another whom I don’t even know…and her presentation comes off a bit dingbatty. My other conjecture was that it came from a business person trying to drum up more clients, which types also populate that list.

Re: New Form Entry: Contact Form
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Kayla Sussington
Date: December 29 2020 3:34 PM

Thank you Ezekiel. Really appreciate you reaching out and definitely enjoyed reading a few of the chapters. How would you like us to share the word? Are you looking to post on social media or some other platform?

Of course. I’m doing that already. I don’t need any offers of help to set up social media accounts, especially if expecting remuneration in return…if that’s your intent; and I think it is. I only accept gratis assistance because it comes from their heart, not their bank account. This is a tremendous labor of love. All will get full credit and recognition for participating in such a compassionate mission.

Re: New Form Entry: Contact Form
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Kayla Sussington
Date: December 29 2020 4:33 PM

I was only suggesting putting on social media to help get the word out. Truthfully, the only social media I do is facebook and I don’t even do that very well, but I thought I could post there for you. I’m sure other neighbors would enjoy reading your adventures in the ‘hood. I’m just a volunteer with a local neighborhood association so anything I do is out of love for my neighborhood and community.

Sorry if I misinterpreted you. You are certainly welcome to post any of my writings or sites to your FB wall. No one ever need ask my permission…everything I write and put out there is public domain. I don’t believe in holding back on important messages or ways to heal people and make their lives so much better, for the sake of profit. I leave all money matters to my angels…who take very good care of me. Anyone is also welcome to share my creations via email.

Merry Winter Crossing, Kayla! And a Happy Nude Ear!

Re: New Form Entry: Contact Form
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Kayla Sussington
Date: December 29 2020 5:18 PM

I was only suggesting putting on social media to help get the word out.

FYI my signature below that’s in every post already shows I’m on social media outlets (Youtube and Worpress for starters, but also Reddit). In fact, I’ve been a very active citizen of cyberspace since 1985, and have also founded a white-hat hacker’s group in Berkeley, in 2000. So no need to make that suggestion in the first place. I have just begun to set up my Brindlekin FB page and Twitter accounts.

I also have a website, which was started in 1997:

I’ve been writing stories and books on my website and WordPress blog for years. This Brindlekin Tales project is just the latest. I think the best thing you can do to spread the word is to read a tale of mine now and then, and see if any of them inspires you to tell others. You can subscribe to my WordPress blog if you like, or my FB account.

Re: New Form Entry: Contact Form
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Kayla Sussington
Date: December 29 2020 7:18 PM

Thank you Ezekiel. Really appreciate you reaching out and definitely enjoyed reading a few of the chapters. How would you like us to share the word? Are you looking to post on social media or some other platform?

Aha, I just realized your email is via the Duboce Triangle Neighborhood Association. I shoulda scrolled down below your reply, to see that’s so. As I said in my previous email, just read and enjoy. Maybe post a small announcement in your next newsletter. I am, BTW, a resident of this area since 1983, and I live right on the edge of the two neighborhoods: Duboce Triangle and the Castro. Besides reaching out to social media, which is rather impersonal and nebulous, I think it may even be MORE productive to reach out to the folks around me. After all, “community” IS the original social media! And I also think it would be much more fun to make a local splash first, then watch things expand like a bud into gradual blossom…don’t you?

I have also announced my tales to local newspapers, radio and television, including LGBT media. That was all on one single day, yesterday. So any kickback will probably come rolling in a little later down the line. Seeing as my tales are inspired by those around me, and my history here in the Castro and SF is extensive (though not part of the usual cliques), I can’t think of a more relevant way to share my stories back to the same community that has nurtured in me, the inspiration to come up with such extraordinary writings, if I say so myself.

Otherwise, just continue reading if you like. Or not. If my tales don’t inspire you to share with other community members, then I have failed in my mission this time around, and will try harder. Nonetheless, you said you enjoyed what you’ve read, and I consider that an achievement in and of itself, and suffices my goal. Thank you SO much for reading some of these tales…can’t tell you how much I appreciate that! More on the way…much more!

PS: “Sussington” is a cool surname. It hints of British intrigue of the WWI type, a romance perhaps between a shellshocked soldier who returns to Liverpool with a missing leg, to find his one true love he’s been writing to every day while on the front, has married another while he was gone. But she gradually comes to realize her mistake, and finds a way to dump her betrothed, by starting to act goofy and mad as a hatter until he storms out on her one day, declaring he should’ve never married such a silly crumpet, and the divorce papers will be in the mail tomorrow. And once the papers are signed and finalized, she elopes with her soulmate and they live happily ever after as Mr. & Mrs. Sussington. (You should also know that her former spouse and she become the best of friends, once he realizes how much she loves another…to the point where he gets in on the plot with others in her circle, to assist with bringing her and the soldier she truly loves, back together again. What a jolly old romp, eh, Watson?) Of course, one could readily turn the tale into one between two gay lovers, or lesbian, or transgender, or asexual, or aromantic or pansexual…or god only knows how many other possible variations on the relationship there could be. All I know is: whomever composes the script should have a large bottle of aspirin at hand, for the headaches that are bound to ensue for quite a bloody while. Cheers, mate!

Re: New Form Entry: Contact Form
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Kayla Sussington
Date: December 30 2020 11:18 AM

Hello again, Ms. Sussington!

With some reflection on our conversation yesterday, I must apologize, because I didn’t know where your email was coming from, at first, because neither your address nor text body indicated the source from whence it arose. As well as my failure to scroll below your message, to discover it for myself. At first, I thought it came from an individual from a mailing list up in the Mendocino hinterlands, to which I am subscribed because I have friends there. But this list is unmoderated, as well as free for anyone to join…hence liable to opportunists of all sorts, from anywhere on the planet! So I sometimes get offers to buy stuff, or pay for services that I neither need, nor am the least bit interested in, nor care to become a victim of hacking exploits, including identity theft.

So for a short while I suspected this was one such post, Either that, or just another ditzy person giving me advice on things Internet…in such a way as to indicate a lack of knowledge on that person’s behalf, while I, myself, am expert in that medium. You know: the kind of generally irritating advice that some couch potatoes love to give to another who happens to be an expert in the particular field said potato is addressing, while said potato him or herself is not.

I hardly know anyone on that mailing list and, as a result, I regularly receive a lame comment or suggestion by private missive. By someone whose name I usually do not recognize, and often by a person who has never even commented to the list, ever! And I really don’t know what the bejesus-flying-hell-bat to do with it, as it is often exasperatingly impossible to answer back with any semblance of sanity!

Thus, my initial impression of your unexpected arrival to my mailbox, was of one or the other: an opportunist or a ditz! This, then, explains my first, second and third replies to you. By the second reply, it seemed to me your were NOT someone trying to snag another client for her business as a social media consultant. Instead, I concluded at that point, you were just a member of the list who thought she was giving me good advice, albeit useless and naive. But I was also frustrated, and started to compose a somewhat rude response…one much worse than the one I sent, bragging about my cyber-expertise. But a little birdie intercepted my ear and chirped:

“Hold on there! Before you send that horrid message out, do another check as to the reason you received her email in the first place!”

And that is when I finally scrolled down beneath your post, to discover it came from the DTNA! So I promptly cancelled that reply, and composed the last one you received, before the letter I am now writing, and which I will deliver a few moments from now. Thank god for that little birdie, eh? I hope you enjoyed my fanciful escapade into British WWI romantic comedy! Which is my way of apologizing, but also arises from a profound sense of responsibility to spread compassion and humor as best I can, in a time when the expression of a good heart is so sorely needed in these tragic times!

In my project to promote my tales on the local level, I looked up what was out there for San Francisco, and the Bay Area at large. During this perusal, an image of the DTNA newsletter popped into mind. Which usually includes a feature article about this or that community member, who contributes something of value to the neighborhood. So of course I figured: “That’s a good option!” in light of the fact my Brindlekin Tales are uniquely Castro oriented, as well as a fine example of charitable contribution close to home. It is not my fault that I am so unknown, seeing as I have already contributed much to the betterment of the LGBT community, and to San Francisco at large. Which evidence can easily be discovered by slogging through that section of my Gay Bible website called “True Tales from the Castro (Eat your heart out, Armistead!) at:

As well as documentation of my incredible support for a gay activist and Vietnam veteran, Randolph Louis Taylor…who lived in the Castro at the time he fasted forty days on behalf of Nam vets, that they have representation at the 1984 National Democratic convention. Who wound up attempting to commit suicide at the Vietnam Memorial in Washington D.C. in 1985, but failed, and lived on until 1992. After he shot himself, and I learned about it in the news, I arranged to fly out to D.C. and stand by his side for a time (turned out to be three agonizing but astoundingly inspiring three weeks). See:

Furthermore, I self-published a book dedicated to his memory (as well as to another hero of mine who is quite alive), called “Free Me From This Bond.” Published in November of 2013, with less than ten purchases to date. Oh, well, I’m hoping it will eventually take off, as an increasing number of readers become captivated by my second book, “Brindlekin Tales.”

Nonetheless, I realize my particular avocation and lack of conventional integration with the community may be a valid reason for not featuring me in your newsletter, in spite of the timely import of my current project. After all, who wants to read about an old queer living in a crumbling single room and on Social Security disability for decades, composing one failed story after another, daydreaming at the senile age of seventy that he’s still “gonna make it after all” (to quote from the Mary Tyler Moore Show’s theme song)…and his vagrant friend’s two silly dogs?

You should know that this is no disappointment to me, as I am fully cognizant of my upcoming success, no matter HOW it takes off. And I just want to thank you for handling my request so professionally and with kindness. For in a way, I put you on the spot, which was NOT my intent. So in closing, I present to you a little Yuletide gift in the form of you being the FIRST to read a truly hilarious short kinda-sci-fi tale that I just wrote this morning, called “2021 is going to be a FANTASTIC year!”

Most sincerely (and a delight meeting you, albeit just online),

Ezekiel Joseph Krahlin

Re: My apologies for putting you on the spot!
Date: 2021-01-05 04:13
From: Zeke Krahlin
To:Kayla Sussington

I apologize that I am only able to message you back now. Thank you for the clarification but it wasn’t necessary. I understood that there was a misunderstanding after our exchange and didn’t think twice about it. I started the following draft in response but didn’t get a chance to finish the email as things have been crazy in my house for the last couple of weeks.

No problem but I AM glad you finally got back to me. I really didn’t expect things to go any further, so this is a rather delightful and welcome surpries.

Yes, my last name is fun. My sister’s name is Roxanne Sussington and we’ve always thought that with that name she should be writing romance novels. But no one has ever created a story for the name yet, that I know of. There are a few towns and a rose variety named Sussington.

Excellent. It’s never too late for a Sussington author of bawdy romantic novels that will rip the bodice off the bosom of literary pretense! If not this generation, then the next…keep a stiff upper lift and all that rot! (Ha-ha, I really meant to type “lip” instead of “lift,” but I like the result better.)

Would you be interested in submitting one of your stories for our newsletter? The newsletter is an all volunteer operation and goes out to 3000+ homes and businesses in the triangle. Many other neighborhoods have transitioned to online newsletters but we’re still sticking with the old fashioned paper kind and find that many people in the neighborhood tell us how much they appreciate reading it. It’s the best at social media that DTNA is doing right now.

OH MY GOD, YES! How about my rather short but hilarious New Year’s piece:

There’s a nifty image at the bottom, which you are free to include or not. The story carries its own weight just the same. You might introduce me like so:

Ezekiel Krahlin is a veteran LGBT activist and author living in Eureka Valley since 1983. His “Gay Bible” (or “Final Testament”) website has been up since 1997, and covers an extraordinarily diverse number of issues around sexual minorities:

It’s a bit dated, but still chock full of inspiring works that are timeless. Mr. Krahlin is presently embroiled in a work in progress, about his homeless friend and his two doggies right here in the Castro, which you may read for free online at:

But for this issue, he is delighted to share an outrageous tale that is his unique and exuberant way of welcoming in the New Year. And wants to thank the community at large for so much inspiration and kindness for more than thirty years, while residing mostly along the border of the Castro and the Duboce Triangle neighborhood.

Just an idea as this is a labor of love for you.

And that’s as far as I got.

I’m glad we both thought of you contributing something to the newsletter. The deadline for articles is this Friday so please let me know if you’d be interested.

I feel the love, I’m awash in it! Thank you SO much, Kayla. That’s quite a unique name, BTW…lovely, too. Is it Celtic?

Anyway, I can easily convert the whole piece into text and send it off to you, if you’d like. I prefer to capitalize words for emphasis, instead of use italics…and I’d like them published just that way. Actually, I already have the text link for that story, because it’s going to be narrated soon on a radio station up in Mendocino County. So I prepare each tale by converting it to text, and providing a link to it, for the radio host. So here it is now, for you, too:

2021 is Going to be a FANTASTIC Year!

Happy New Year!

Indeed. 2021 is going to be a FANTASTIC Year! <3 <3 <3

  • Zeke

Re: Fwd: Re: My apologies for putting you on the spot!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 5, 2021 5:55 PM


We’re off to the races, Tara! My fame is gonna start locally, then spiral outward like a blossoming flower. Exactly the way I imagined it. In TWO spots, though: down here in SF, and up there in Mendoland, thanks to the most excellent Marshall McGee! And Deek will soon become VERY well known and loved, too. Hopefully. At least, there will be many people soon, watching over the two brindlekin, should he decide to hold onto them for awhile longer. This is how I’ll gather protective forces around myself and the doggies! Wowee is right! I am become a living example of the miraculous.

  • Zeke

Re: My apologies for putting you on the spot!
From: Kayla Sussington
To: Zeke Krahlin
Date: January 7, 2021 4:09 PM

Hey Zeke,

I forwarded your message to Cheri and Carlton, our newsletter editors, and they will contact you directly about a submission for the newsletter. I will bow out of any further newsletter discussions because I almost never get my articles in on time and therefore leave all the newsletter work in their capable hands.

I look forward to reading a story of yours in the next edition!!



PS: I forgot to mention that normally when I respond to messages sent to DTNA via our website I include in my signature my full name and that I am the President of DTNA. For some reason, I totally forgot to do that with you thus leading to some confusion. Anyhow, just wanted to let you know that I added to the confusion albeit absentmindedly.

Re: My apologies for putting you on the spot!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Kayla Sussington
Date: January 7, 2021 6:55 PM

I forwarded your message to Cheri and Carlton

How wonderful, thank you! I hope contacting me directly means via email because my DSL land line suddenly went dead yesterday. Also ironic, ’cause I had to run home to call 911 because some meth freak in the Castro had just assaulted someone, then started to attack me when I stepped in to stop it. So I had to resort to asking a neighbor to use his smartphone. The miscreant HAS been arrested, thank God. No one was seriously harmed, either…just a few bruises and scratches.

BTW, you are now the star of one of my Brindlekin chapters…and of course I changed your name to something else, as well as your sister’s:

Checkmate, Mr. Kuzlowski

January 1, 2021

Subject: Checkmate, Mr. Kozlowski (a.k.a. Carl Morano, Fred McMillon and “Get A life”)!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Discussion MCN
Date: December 27, 2020 6:40 PM

On Tue, 29 Dec 2020 15:19:37 -0800 Fred BOOGALOO McMillon squoinked:

I’m sorry Ewwwgene,

Eugene is actually an eloquent and beautiful name…but I REALLY like the Russian version most of all: “Yevgeny.” See:


And I learned a few years back (while studying the origin of this name, which I do from time to time) that “Eugene” has become a popular choice in Japan for naming their daughters. I can’t locate that article now, and I don’t have a lot of time to try to track it down further…though I would’ve liked very much to show it to you. I anticipate you’ll mock me over this, because “female.” Since THAT is your role as a bodhisattva yourself: to seek out every possibility to mock and insult me, that I may stand up to the challenge, and grow stronger in spirit as the result. Ergo my rebuttal before the anticipated attack (’cause that’s a high-point-score power-move on the game board I just couldn’t resist…did you see it coming?):

To perceive women as inferior is wrongful thinking.

I’m just not in the mood to bark back at a dog today.

Canis familiaris is a kind and gentle species, for reason it is called “man’s best friend.” And for which reason I consider it a grievous injustice to use the word “dog” or its image as an insult. The Islamic world certainly needs to clean up its act in that respect (and in many other ways, but that is for another discussion). So now is a choice time to explain what I mean by “I have you figured out.” Bear with me, as it’s actually rather extraordinary, and complimentary as well.

“Bodhisattva” is a Buddhist word for an enlightened being who is SO highly evolved, as to be one hundred percent deserving of the right to live in Nirvana (or “heaven”) for all eternity. But they choose, instead, to return to this earthly plane of woe, out of a compassionate yearning to aid others not so evolved towards a higher level of consciousness. And I say “consciousness” because this is truly a state of mind, rather than a place (either materially anywhere in the universe, or as some aspect of one’s imagination). In other words, one can actually ascend to this level while STILL present here on earth…and enjoy all the fruits of your labor NOW!

The bodhisattva takes on his task by sometimes playing the devil instead of an angel, if deemed the best option for his chosen pupil to learn the latest lesson…and in so doing, his charge becomes a better person. Unlike in western thought–where angels and devils play separate roles of good and evil without mixing the two–in Asian cosmology, bodhisattvas switch from one role to the other, as appropriate to the situation. Likewise for ALL their deities. Nonetheless, the bodhisattva’s motive always arises from pure compassion.

[Please note at this time that while I use the male pronoun to describe the bodhisattva, I do so only for a smooth flow of prose. Female bodhisattvas are just as prevalent and glorious as the males. Also note I will now use “BS” as a short form of “bodhisattva” in order to spare myself from typing the long version over and over again…and also, I guess, to add an element of humor.]

So why do I call YOU a BS (artist…ha, ha I couldn’t resist)? Because you fit all the prerequisites. You’ve set up the game quite awhile ago: the board is laid out, the pieces are all in place. Your chosen role is to mainly offend and threaten me, that I may take up this excellent opportunity to confront your many offenses, in as compassionate a manner as possible. This does not mean, however, that I shouldn’t ever dish it back with equally robust force for a time. But if I am true to my morals I have the obligation to drop my replies of outrage, eventually, and bring compassion to the fore, which I am now doing.

It also does not mean that one should shirk from doing what is right, even if it means reporting the offending BS to authorities, that he may be stopped from causing harm to others. Unless the BS surrenders his antagonistic role for good, you must assume he’ll keep it up forever…and can only be stifled by outright retaliation. As always, the utmost compassion possible must still be applied; one should not use his ceaseless offenses as justification for acting out of anger or hatred. As that would just be caving in to your lower demons…thus you lose the game, and the BS folds up the board and returns all pieces to their pouch. In such an egregious scenario, “most compassionate” may be to report the BS to law enforcement, or call 911 if it requires a speedy resolution. (Or, instead of getting the law involved, use other effective means such as strong, brave allies or defending yourself at the point of a gun or other weapon…such as pepper spray, which often makes for an effective, and safer, deterrent.)

But the most unwelcome (and grievous) of all challenges, is when you just may have to kill the BS yourself, to stop him from violently assaulting YOU or someone else. (Did I say this game was a pleasant one? Well it can be, but only for the most highly evolved among us, who are entirely cognizant of the BS nature, and of their own role and position on the board.)

You, yourself, Mr. Kozlowski, may or may not concede to losing the game at a certain point. However, you may choose not to, but instead go all the way into nonstop feral mode. In which case you WILL be arrested and tossed into the clinker. But even if you go to prison for a year or more, I’m not worried about any suffering you may seem to endure, in the eyes of the world. For you ARE a BS, thus have access to a higher realm of consciousness at any time you choose, to exist in a blissful state no matter where you are located, physically. But here’s my prediction:

You WILL concede at some point, perhaps very soon.

For you have long provided every witness here, almost countless opportunities to stand up to your challenges and fight back…thus becoming heroes in their own right. Sad to say, though, almost everyone has not. Much to their shame and loss. You have even pointed out now and then, that they have failed to defend me. Or have only weakly, or partially, spoken out in opposition. Jared Fisher is a perfect example of a weak challenger, in that he has only resisted you two or three times in the vast span of a year…and in a rather milquetoast fashion, and without including a defense of my OWN person, but just in direct opposition to you. As for a textbook example of partial resistance, we have the recent rebuttal by one Annabelle Koski, who only chastised you for racist remarks, but entirely ignored the homophobic ones. Also, she’s otherwise ignored your myriad epithets for many months before she bothered to stand up to you.

I would therefore think that, after having laid out the game plan many months in advance, providing all active subscribers a more-than-generous number of opportunities to become a hero (with barely no skin off their teeth in doing so), you are ready to call it quits and move on. For you’ve done your job…and done it very well, I might add. And I think you are actually a VERY NICE PERSON for sacrificing potential friendships and respect and admiration from others, in order to serve a higher purpose. Which, in this scenario, is to serve my evolution into becoming a better man than I was before YOU showed up. But THAT (as you well know, my friend) is the true nature and mark of a bodhisattva.

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading my explication as much as I have savored its writing, Mr. Kozlowski. But it is quite possible you’ll choose to continue to play your role as a raving Nazi lunatic for awhile longer…sabotaging the communal purpose and enjoyment of this mailing list as you have been for nigh unto a year now . And maybe just because playing the villain onstage is so much MORE fun than playing the hero!

But I think I understand you now. Game well played, Gerard!

With warmest regards, and wishing you and your loved ones a most joyful and prosperous Happy Nude Ear,

  • Ewwwgene Frank Damien Catalano, Mafia Prince of the Schizophrenic Realms Par Excellence

Subject: Checkmate, Mr. Kozlowski (part 2)
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Discussion MCN
Date: December 28, 2020 10:45 PM

On Tuesday, December 29, 2020 9:00:29 PM Fred BODHISATTVA McMillon sagely posted:

Do you wack to my pics Zeke ?

Good grief, no. Stop it, I just spewed coffee all over my crotch; now I have to sponge it all off with a lightly moistened washcloth, and relubricate the zipper so it doesn’t rust!

Is that what your obsession is with me ?

The obsession is all yours, Gerard. But it’s an act, part of the game…for you have chosen as your game piece, the Dark Knight, who is designated to play the arch enemy, whose role is to attempt to obfuscate and anger as many opposing pieces as possible. Whereas I have chosen the most vulnerable piece on the board: the Rabbit Prince. (FYI there is only ONE Dark Night and ONE Rabbit Prince among all pieces.) Whose goal is to try to break through the opposing camp and checkmate the Dark Knight’s Invisible Fortress, without getting massacred before then. The position of the Invisible Fortress is known only to yourself and your minions, and is designated at the beginning of the game by drawing any one of 32 cards…which determines WHICH of your pieces is also the Invisible Fortress. (BTW there are 32 pieces for each side, on a board with 144 squares.) Depending on how much POWER a piece has (which can never change), acquiring the additional role of Invisible Fortress makes for a most COMPLEX and interesting game!

I know that 6’3″ blue eyed guys turn you f*ggots on

So many other prerequisites left out of your claim, it doesn’t bear any truth whatsoever. For example, in my case, my Lover Numero Uno has the most remarkable, fiery, smokey orange eyes…like a dragon! He IS 6’7″, but all my remaining soulmates average 5’8…and one is a real shorty at 3’4″, but is MOST attractive and packs a REAL wallop where it counts, so to speak (mind you, I’m highly cerebral, thus what may mean “wallop” to you may mean something else entirely, from my OWN perspective). He earns his keep in midget tossing contests, and usually wins because while quite buff, he’s also a lightweight. At least, that’s how he garnered a wage before the pandemic struck. Nowadays, he’s testing driverless cars for Uber, and playing a clown for children’s birthday parties via a remote conferencing app called “Zoom.”

like that f*ggot who tried to rape me when I was 14.

Most men who rape their own gender are actually heterosexual. It’s more a force of power over others, than a sexual thing. And the urge for such control is far more common in the heterosexual male, than in the homosexual, or even the bisexual.

But I really think that people in MY community know what I look like.

Much to their abhorrence, no doubt. And I say this as a tactical maneuver. Check!

So, I will ask yet again.

You just lost two brindlepawns for attempting a move that failed the first time around. Woo-hoo!

WHY did you and Alvin, two mentally ill homosexuals who do not live in Mendocino county decide to take over our LOCAL Mendocino county list serve ?

I’ll just ignore the “mentally ill” pejorative to give you my answer: we both have friends who live up there, whom we value highly. Alvin USED to live there for some time, while I have visited only twice. But the sole reason I’m on this list, is because I was INVITED to join by a very DEAR friend who resides there, and has for over three decades.

What is your political agenda ?

To cross all the way over to the other side of the board and lock you up in the Invisible Fortress.

Just now got off work so sorry for the delay in response but I don’t start until 10AM tomorrow.

I’m glad you hold down a steady job in these terribly unstable times…for many millions upon millions of decent, loving people have been shoved into a dark hole of poverty and its consequential state of misery and existential anxiety of the worst sort. A growing number of whom are now homeless, or WILL become so in a very short time from now. I pray you may keep your job, Mr. Kozlowski, and your loved ones as well. Who I’m sure are many. How do I know this? Well, I just discovered yesterday you are a friend on MY good friend’s Facebook account. And this person ONLY is surrounded by most excellent human beings. But I had already come to realize your TRUE nature (which is kind) several days before this providential discovery. I’m also glad that your present vocation allows you to spend some recreational time on the Internet, including inviting us all to play one of the most brilliant psychological board games ever devised: “Battle of the Bodhisattvas.” The only thing I can compare it to is a cross between “Go” and “chess,” with a bit of “Chutes & Ladders” tossed in.

You truly are a fascinating case study of mental illness.

Thank you. However, it is only an illness according to a vulgar and ignorant society that yet has much to learn on how to care for its own people who are left out in the cold in any number of hateful ways. Simply because they are “different,” and can’t fulfill the stern expectations of a status quo that reflects a level of psychopathy on a par with Vlad the Impaler. On those grounds alone, one is perfectly justified in rebelling (he may even feel morally OBLIGATED to rebel) against it by choosing to live off a government stipend as a form of dissent. Indeed, one may even go so far as to justify robbing banks, rich people’s homes, and/or hacking into databases of large, greedy corporations, mega-churches and certain gov’t agencies including the military, to funnel these disgustingly gained profits into their own account, as well as redistributing it into the accounts of the low income and the poor. In fact:

Such is the plan I’m setting up right now, via my now-globally-expansive hacker army of loyal soldiers and compatriots…but that is a discussion better suited to secret plotting through protected channels of communique, rather than on a publicly naked listserv. Please don’t report me to the authorities, I beg of you! Actually, I don’t care one whit if you do, because at this point in my extraordinary mission to propel this planet into a higher state of being, I have countless allies who’ve infiltrated all levels of gov’t up to the highest. And they monitor EVERYthing I do in cyberspace, including whatever I post, and whatever is posted TO me. They also have a vast network of pro-Zeke agents to closely observe the online interactions of ALL netizens associated with me in one way or another (even if tangentially, via word of mouth). This, of course, includes YOU and anyone else on this list, and on the announcement list as well.

Or, if said folks do not HAVE a bank account (and many don’t), converting this digital cash into REAL hard currency and distributing it to those most in need. And/or purchasing FOR them, the basic things they require to live a decent life. Such as food, clothing, medical care, computers, smartphones and Internet service, vehicles including large vans and travel trailers, professionally forged passports and other ID, higher education and/or trade school…and even housing, including tiny homes and an acre or two of land on which to put several of them per plot, as multilevel structures. Also (since man does not live by bread alone): frequent exposure to (or even participation in) artistic/social adventures from a wide variety of venues such as theater, art and science museums, open air orchestra, chess and Go and other cerebrally competitive sports, storytelling and spoken-word open mic events, charitable causes, community gatherings for any number of good and friendly reasons, nonviolent and cooperative sport and exercise clubs, and so on.

But let us now set aside any rebellious justification for living on the dole, and now address OTHER, less controversial, reasons to do so. For there are also those who are not psychologically equipped to fulfill the status quo, and never will be…due to their unique physiological or cognitive makeup. In a truly SANE world, none of this would ever BE a problem, for they’d be lovingly incorporated into their community with opportunity aplenty for meaningful labor and social interaction. In the case of those who are declared “mentally disabled” (as am I), there is a greater prejudice against them than those who are physically compromised, due to the often invisible nature of their malady. Thus, they are summarily accused as being freeloaders by ignorant minds…which prejudice unfortunately spills over into gov’t policy and, as a result, leads to egregious neglect, poverty and persecution of these long-suffering souls. In short: they are treated as third-class citizens and pariahs. This is actually due to a phenomenon called “scapegoating” that wells up from the collective unconsciousness, and manifests in any number of ways, including aforesaid social stigma and gov’t policy. And is one of the dark manifestations of humanity throughout the ages, that must PROMPTLY be tackled and overcome if we are to have ANY hope of surviving into the future for more than a few brief years from now.

I am one of the lucky ones, Mr. Kozlowski (and thank you for bearing with me so long, as it is quite a challenge for me to unravel in as concisely yet thoroughly a fashion as possible, my rebuttal to your accusation that I am ripping off society by not holding down a job, any job, which you incorrectly insist I can EASILY do; but that really is NOT the case at all…believe me, I’ve tried). As I said, I’m one of the lucky few…and that is because I’m BORDERLINE schizophrenic/bipolar, rather than full-blown or somewhere in between. I have been able to fully recover on my own, without any use of dangerous medications, or getting sucked into the web of psychiatric abuse, experimentation and manipulation. Studying Carl Jung’s theory of archetypes, mostly through his greatest disciple’s explaining this theory in layman’s terms in both a colorful and entertaining fashion. That disciple is Joseph Campbell, who passed away in 1987, leaving behind an incredible legacy of healing insight.

Highly creative people are more prone to schizophrenia than those who aren’t. There is something of the GENIUS in these types, and I think that what is labeled schizophrenia may very well be a kind of sixth sense. Which is actually a GIFT, not a curse or illness. It is only an insane society that would fear and scorn my kind, who were condemned as witches, sorcerers and servants of the devil in times past. Gay people are also more intelligent and creative than their hetero counterparts, thus likewise fall victim to social stigmatization of the most horrid sort. And it is just these kind of people (MY kind of people) who harbor a certain percentage of their ilk who cannot POSSIBLY function in the day-to-day world of the job market. They simply do not possess the thick skin, the robotic, submissive behavior required to maintain a functioning existence in the “normal” realm of employment. And that is where gov’t assistance comes in…or SHOULD come in. Sadly, far too often it is impossible to obtain for many of them, only because their so-called “disability” is invisible, and they lack any real advocate such as an attorney or social worker who is expert in standing up for the rights of those so disenfranchised through no fault of their own.

Once this stipend fell into my lap YEARS ago (1975), I recognized my good fortune and sought ways to find meaning in this life, and give back to society in a manner befitting yours truly. So over the years I have focused on writing and social causes, including volunteer work both through organizations and on my own, as a freelance street activist. The Great Barrister in the Sky has passed final judgment on my behalf, and the payoff is tremendous…both towards myself, and towards the benefit of humanity at large. My tales are beautiful, extraordinary, inspiring and enlightening…and will be a tremendous boon to MANY people of all walks of life (not just to gays and the homeless, though surely they shall profit, as well). THIS is how I give back to the world, for the years it’s granted me a reasonably stable life, even though I was incapable of holding down a job to “earn my own way,” as you like to say. And I claim that, were our society more compassionate, it would NOT make seeking a leg up to keep a roof over your head, food in your belly, and friends in your life, so goddamn difficult or nigh impossible! How many brilliant minds, inventions and achievements have been tossed to the wayside, thanks to a hostile world?

I really have NO idea how I’ve made it through to the other side. But one thing I’ve learned about recovering from such an excruciating, seemingly unending curse is that once you recover (IF you do recover; there is no guarantee) your strength and spirit of heart, mind and soul is BOUNDLESS. Just as Carl Jung concluded, and Joseph Campbell so well expounded upon in his televised series about what he calls “the hero’s quest.” In fact, his biggest bestseller book is entitled: “The Hero with a Thousand Faces.” About which you may learn a bit more, here:

The gist being, and which Jung first proposed, is that overcoming great odds over a long stretch of your life (and schizophrenia indeed is a “great-odds” maker) is the path of a hero. The many struggles and challenges you go through to get there, are metaphorically equivalent to slaying dragons. In conclusion, Mr. Kozlowski, I assure you:

I shall be MOST effective in making this a saner, better world by a long shot…through the squid that flows from my pen, and the mayflies that take wing off my tongue. All because I was NOT compelled to join the world of worker drones, but free to discover my own way through this very messy, turd soaked reality. But hey, they were dragon turds, and surely that counts for something! How many millions could I get on eBay?

Most sincerely,

Eugenio Franceso Damiano Catalano
(Prince of the Mafia in the greater northeast region of America, and several states further south)

Re: [MCN-Announce]- Checkmate, Mr. Kozlowski (part 2)
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Karen Jeeters
Date: December 31, 2020 11:12 AM

Bravo! Well played…

Why thank you so much, Karen! I spent the entire day composing this piece, and I could never call it a waste of time. In fact, it’s going up on my WordPress blog tonight or tomorrow…with all names changed so I won’t wind up drawing the “You’ve just been sued!” card from the deck. The Battle of Bodhisattvas rages on! Today, January 1, 2021, marks the very first day of a sweet golden age for humanity. Happy Nude Ear to you and everyone you hold dear! To paraphrase the Mary Tyler Moore Show’s theme song: “We’re gonna make it after all!”


Re: [MCN-Discussion]- Checkmate, Mr. Kozlowski (part 2)
From Zeke Krahlin
To: Discussion MCN
Date: December 31, 2020 2:44 AM

On Thu, 31 Dec 2020 18:02:33 -0800 Fred BODHISATTVA McMillon posted:

Do you think I or ANYONE is going to read that?

Yes, yes I do, Mr. Kozlowski. YOU’VE read it, and that means more to me in the world, even if no one else has perused my remarkable discourse with a very Buddhist spin to it. But more than likely, MANY on this list (along with the announcement clique, ’cause I’ve also posted it there) have read it, and are so inspired by the contents therein, are at this very moment sharing it across cyberspace, to as many online venues they can think of. Why, I’ve even made it EASY for them, since it is now my latest blog entry, where they can just email or post it as a link! Here it is again:

In addition, anyone can click on one or more of the “share” buttons below that mini-opus, and send it off to social media sites such as Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, and so forth. You get the idea.

You’re INSANE !!!!

If this is insanity, I wish it upon the entire planet. Thus I command, thus it be so.

Go take a walk. See if you can find a nice young n*gger boy to take back to your tax paid dwelling.

Sorry, oh respected opponent, but you have played that card too many times to make a move for the next six rounds. Again, I declare “Checkmate!” Don’t you see you’ve already lost, eighteen moves ago? News flash: you CAN’T trump your opponent, by ACTING like Trump!

“The Battle of the Bodhisattvas” may be an open-ended board game, but no matter which strategy you attempt from here on forward, you can NOT win…not ever. Oh well, this is boring me now, but since I regard you as a most worthy opponent, and a game well played, I’ll keep on making my moves until it finally dawns on you that the only possible outcome at this point, is you lose and I win.

WHAT is your obsession with me?

Aha! You just forfeited another brindlepawn…you only have four left.

WHY did you and your fellow insane f*ggot f*ck buddy Alvin take over our LOCAL list serve?

Oops, TWO more brindlepawns sacrificed: one because I already answered that question more than sufficiently, and another because needless or inappropriate vulgarity comes at a cost.

This is NOT YOUR COMMUNITY. You DO NOT live here. NO ONE cares about your gay world.

There go your remaining brindlepawns, Gerard. And you know as well as I do, that it is virtually IMPOSSIBLE to be the victor with zero brindlepawns! Nevertheless:

Your decision to toss the “Sore loser!” card onto the board face up, is a perfectly legal one to make, albeit optional and NEVER played by True Masters. It is, however, one frequently executed by neophyte bodhisattvas as the ultimate form of respect to the victorious Rabbit Prince…in that behaving so childishly is the highest sign of honor shown towards their better…the deepest act of humility possible in that context.

I must excuse my presence from your world for the nonce, as the more basic matter of breaking my fast so late past noon calls me to do just that.

  • Eugenio Francesco Damiano Catalano
    (The Chief Mafia Don’s Only Son, and Most Beloved is He, by the Godfather Supreme!)

Re: [MCN-Discussion]- Checkmate, Mr. Kozlowski (part 2)
From Zeke Krahlin
To: Discussion MCN
Date: January 1, 2021 9:18 AM

On Thu, 31 Dec 2020 21:33:40 -0800 Fred BODHISATTVA McMillon posted:

I don’t read your rants. I see, I delete.

Perfectly fine with me. It’s a legitimate move, but one which only serves to increase the perils against your frontline defense, and further empowers THREE of my Loyal Rottweilerkins. Plus you forfeit any move for the next eight rounds. You have already humbled yourself MORE than enough for my taste. AND my patience! This actually borders on obsequiousness on your part. I may be a GREAT bodhisattva, but certainly not THAT great. Unless, of course, you see more in me than I see in myself. Ergo:

Compliment accepted. I see no point in rejecting it, or any gain in so doing. I already own the entire board and then some, so: no harm, no foul. Arf, arf!

Your friend,

  • Zeke

Re: [MCN-Discussion]- Why us Aaron Cooper ?
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Discussion MCN
Date: January 1, 2021 5:55 PM

On Thu, 31 Dec 2020 18:31:16 -0800 Fred BODHISDATTVA McMillon posted:

Neither of them live in Mendocino, but have taken over our local list serve and have chosen you and I as a catharsis for their frustration and mental illness.

Your attempt to manipulate Mr. Cooper into working with you may or may not pay off, Gerard. Each player is permitted to play just ONE “Dirty Card” per game, though should never be used except as a last resort. Even then, it’s a treacherous ploy that has at least a 70 percent chance of backfiring…and casts a dark shadow over anyone who participates in it if requested to do so, and agrees. Furthermore:

Neither of us has “taken over our local list serve,” nor are you and Cooper a catharsis for us, for ANY reason. No one’s falling for it, as both you and Aaron are the REAL trolls who’ve either been:

1) pumping the regressive right wing agenda into this mailing list, as is Mr. Cooper’s style of gameplay, or

2) spewing rabidly hateful, Nazi type propaganda peppered with expletives that are highly bigoted, especially against LGBTs and people of color. But also women, Jews and the poor.

So of course you’d draw the attention and wrath of SOME who have the guts to speak out against BOTH of you. This is not a carthartic move, but one which calls us to war against the dragons who have broken through the gates of our realm. Indeed, it is YOU who’ve taken over this list, thanks to your incessant rants of vitriol day after day and month after month. SOMEthing will stop the both of you dead in your tracks…and I have a strong sense that it will come down very soon. I just have no idea HOW it will occur. But oh, what a great victory that shall be!

Have a theory ? I would love to hear it.

There is no theory to speculate upon, only the taking up of arms in cyberspace, to staunch the bleeding of many souls you and Cooper have impacted. Your days are numbered, as are your game pieces. But I DO have to thank you for one thing, Mr. Kozlowski:

That each and every time you post back to me, you also repost the entire body of the very writings that irk you no end. And for that, I thank you from the bottom of my widdle heart. Surely if you hated them so much, you’d take that special little effort to delete them from your replies. Don’t tell me you don’t know how to do that, because if you ever ask me to help you with this, I’ll tell you you’re barking up the wrong tree!

Peace be with you my brother, and to your hesistant ally, Aaron Cooper a.k.a. “Helicopter Man.”

Re: [MCN-Discussion]- Here is my political agenda, Mr. McMillon…
From: Gerard McMillon
To: Discussion MCN
Date: January 1, 2021 6:38 PM

On Thu, Dec 31, 2020 at 10:18 PM Zeke Krahlin wrote:

…since you keep squawking that question like a parrot, under your Fred McMillon sock puppet pseudonym:


WHAT THE F*CK is your OBSESSION with me ?

WHY are you CYBERSTALKING me !!!!

I do NOT READ what you write.

I have MUCH better things to do than have exchange ideas or care about what some mentally ill, homosexual PERVERT thinks.

You DISGUST me. You are no different than that f*ggot who tried to rape me when I was 14 with your young negro boys.


Find another object for your obsessive/compulsive STALKING behaviour.

Brindlekin Tales

December 29, 2020

Chapter 1: More Than a Hole in the Ground

Chapter 2: I’m Counting on His Hug

Chapter 3: 3-Night Dogs

Chapter 4: Surprise! Jackets Have Arrived!

Chapter 5: Doggie Wish List & GoFundMe

Chapter 6: Reflections on a Black Puddle

Chapter 7: Doggies at Play (5 videos)

Chapter 8: A Lotus Blossoms by the Bay

Chapter 9: Someone Should Kick Him in the Ass!

Chapter 10: A REAL Christmas Story Happening Right Now!

Chapter 11: Skellington III

Chapter 12: Down to the Home Stretch

Chapter 13: The Sweaters Have Arrived!

I’m Counting on His Hug

November 11, 2020

He’s never proposed hugging me before that magnanimous day when everyone was on the streets, celebrating Biden’s win. So I’m hoping that’s a breakthrough which will inspire him NOT to give up the doggies to a questionable fate. One that will NOT require my constant begging him to do the right thing (including switching from leash harness), though I will attempt to do that every chance I get. The problem is: he rarely gives me that chance. So I’m counting on that hug: that it is a sign he will answer to his conscience on this matter.

We had a nice discussion about various topics that day, and it went on for 20 minutes. Which is rare, much to my chagrin. Obviously, he fears being criticised, so either departs quickly after dropping the dogs off, or abruptly shuts down my questions or appeals. Which wouldn’t be so bad if two sweet dogs weren’t part of this potentially tragic scenario.

We talked about politics, he asked why people here are waving gay flags, if it’s about a presidential election. I said I don’t know, you’re right, it should be more about everyone. I told him it’s very complicated, and he said he hasn’t watched TV in years…and I said he could listen to the radio to get the news. Then he complimented me: “I do listen to well informed people like you, to learn.” Though actually he rarely DOES listen to me, or even care to discuss politics, but I take his kind remark as a win. Maybe the demon of Michael Savage will eventually be exorcised from his psyche.

We also talked about his dogs, what a soulful, sincere, kind, fluffy little quadruped Wiley is, and how she and Taco watch over each other. It was a sunny, slightly breezy day with some warmth in the air. An incredible day, actually, what with Trump’s downfall, Medi-Cal’s letter that share of cost is no longer a thing, and our excellent conversation, plus a sincere hug from Deek! All on the same, magical afternoon!


Around 15 minutes ago, Deek and canines showed up. They looked happy and healthy as usual, and REALLY went nuts greeting me this time around (as if they don’t already go nuts, but this was extra-nutty). I presume because they knew they’d return to my cozy sanctuary and out of the cold for another good while. But most important of all: we’re BFFs. Taco even spotted me way across the street as I waited for the light to turn green. Halfway across, they both started barking, standing on their hind legs and waving their chubbly little paws with glee!

Deek said he needs another break…if he doesn’t return around midnight, he’ll show up tomorrow. Who knows if that means in the morning, or later in the day, he doesn’t like to be tied down to a schedule. So I reassured him, as usual, that it’s all good, they’ll be perfectly safe, with me. I also told him “It’s an honor!” During this exchange, he dropped a large white plastic bag overstuffed with recyclable bottles and cans, and a small, plastic water bottle had spilled out…which Taco quickly grabbed between his teeth and started shaking his head back and forth, with the ferocity of a victorious hunter. Flung it about on the sidewalk several times, and snatched it back up to shake it again. The little growling sounds were priceless! But as we set off to cross the street, he dropped it. Maybe I should’ve taken it with us, for a chew toy to bring home; but I didn’t. Next time that happens, I will.

Deek appeared calm and happy, and as me and doggies started to cross Market, he called to them: “I love you! Behave yourselves, I’ll be back soon!” Wiley & Taco gazed eagerly in his direction, they are so devoted! Then I said, “C’mon!” and they were off to the races…tugging at the leashes in frenzied anticipation of another fun visit with Uncle Zeke. A young Asian lady seated outside with a friend at the burger joint smiled brightly at the doggies pulling at the leash in their urgency to get inside. No one can resist their cuteness!

So much fun once the gate closes and I release the hounds! Up the stairs they zip, Wiley way ahead as Taco hunts her down. Partway up the flight, Taco didn’t leap quite high enough and tumbled back down three steps. But quickly recouped, fleeing to the landing and beyond where I could no longer see him in hot pursuit of Wiley. But I COULD hear them quite well, their paws pattering up and down the hallways.

When I finally got to the second floor myself, there they were, zipping back and forth, tumbling over each other, yipping now and then (but not very loud; they really are quiet doggies for the most part…no barking, even when I leave them in my room to use the loo). Wiley likes to veer off into the small side hall by my room, where Taco soon catches up and pounces. Then Wiley zips away again, up the hallway this time instead of down (where it turns left for about 20 feet). Sometimes they’ll pause at my feet, in which case I urge them on: “Go! Go get ’em!” and the chase continues for another minute or so. Until Wiley decides it’s time to enter my hovel and enjoy the luxury of the cozy bedding, the warmth, and the fine vittles. She’s now in the habit of eagerly scratching at my door, when she wants in.

They patiently wait and look up at me with those loving, Dachsund eyes, as I fumble with the keys, and (voila!) we’re all inside! They either jump immediately upon the cot, or stand by the sink for me to pour a bowl of water and set it down. Anyway, I tried the jackets on…a little difficult because they refused to stand up from where they had just laid down. “Oh, c’mon, we just got indoors…we don’t REALLY wanna go back outside again, so soon!” But I managed to slide the straps underneath them, and attach the Velcro ends. Excellent fit!

Then I let them be, they were so pleased for the break from the cold outdoors. And a half hour later I decided to prepare them dinner, this time with a small handful of ground up, raw pumpkin seeds, and some canned food that just arrived today from Amazon (because the packet version was out of stock). Just to be sure they’re hungry, I opened the can and held it to their noses. Yep, they started to drool and wag their curly tails! So I placed a half-a-can in each bowl, added the pumpkin seed powder equally to each, plus two handsful of the kibble. They loved it…both licked their plates clean!

I had brought the two doggie jackets with me, in my backpack, when I stepped out to meet Deek, but decided to wait till he returns to pick them up. Hoping he’ll be pleased, of course. The two harnesses are due to arrive this Sunday. Don’t know if I can fit them under or over the jackets, if at all. Regardless, I hope Deek doesn’t give me a hard time about it, when I show up with the harnesses on them, some day soon. Actually, I have four orange harnesses with a bell at the chest part, that I put in storage from a bag of them he got at some SPCA gathering, after everyone dispersed and left it behind. This was almost a year ago, before Wiley was even a thought. He tried the harness on Taco, but he said he keeps slipping out of it. Perhaps, with the jacket on, the harness will stay put. We’ll see.

The MCN Anti-Zeke Cabal

February 19, 2019

Some will guffaw, some will swoon, and some will foam at the mouth!

The MCN Anti-Zeke Cabal as Explained by Marco McClean, esquire:

Marco “I’m-not-your-butt-monkey” McClean’s analysis of the anti-Zeke phenomenon coming out of two MCN lists, in response to Bruce Anderson’s email query. A nine minute slice of sheer profundity from last Friday’s “Memo of the Air” on KNYO and KMEC. Click on the image below to get rollin’.


You explained to him very well, my particular situation there. I really didn’t expect the hostility I wound up receiving, when I first joined. However, hostility is often the result in the long run, on any list or other online venue I’ve posted to, almost always because of my gay activist contributions. But now, in this horrid era of Donald Trump, more nasty people feel extremely emboldened to attack anyone who speaks a progressive mindset. So I’m a frequent target. There are more right-wingers than ever online, and they’ve overrun many formerly liberal hangouts.

Though hostility has been a constant companion since the day I was born. I think that is the result of growing up in the lower middle class…there is a lot more dysfunctionality in the lower classes. Especially for the intellectual, geeky type such as myself. It is no great boon to see such a twisted ideology spread across this sorry nation to become more and more of the norm…our LGBT community no exception, though of course not quite as harsh. America bet on the wrong horse!

Now, I’d like to make a couple of corrections on your description about yours truly, followed by an explanation of my no longer calling in:

1) My health isn’t poor, it’s excellent…in spite of my bad teeth and lack of health care access. Though I did suffer a nasty attack of sciatica three months ago…for two days it was so bad, I almost had to crawl around my room instead of walk. But I’ve well in fact, it’s like it never happened. It might have arisen from a possible B12 deficiency…and since I’ve started taking B12 supplements, it has entirely disappeared. Coincidence or cure, I don’t really know. But as a vegetarian, I am susceptible to such a deficiency, because I eat very little in the way of any animal product, which in my case is cheese. So I’m gonna keep the B12 in my diet from now on, just to play it safe.

2) I’m not from New Jersey, but close enough. I’m from Long Island.

3) Finally, the reason I don’t call in any more, is that I’m totally weirded out by the situation of phoning a distant locale, while I sit in my SRO w/o any social circle here. IOW: doing so accentuates my loner situation in the middle of the night, in what has become a very spooky neighborhood in a bad way. I also don’t eat out for the same reason: it accentuates my being a loner, when surrounded by happily chatting couples and families. Be that as it may, I’ve never felt comfortable calling in to radio shows. I rarely do, but when I started our over-the-air badinage, I thought it would be great for me. Instead, it brought out a more heightened awareness of my solitude…too much for my taste. I also think I have a bit of a phobia, similar to stage fright.

The moment we disconnect here I am, once again, alone in my room, late at night among the ghouls and other freaks that wander the Castro…the only thing separating me from them is my residency, though my two windows look over the bleak landscape 24/7, so it’s almost like living among the zombies. A lot of crazy stuff goes on below my window, and along the sidewalks and across the street…the horror of our dysfunctional society presses in on me with scant relief.

Oh, and they’re not all “libs” who attack me, as Mr. Anderson would like to believe. It started with right wingers such as John Retching. These pro-Trump types are the ones behind all this nonsense. They stir up the gossipy types, some of whom consider themselves “progressive,” thus they join the bullying, not realizing how they’re being manipulated by devious types. I find Bruce’s coloring the picture as a “liberal” problem both disingenuous and outright disgusting. Simply because right wingers always find ways to scapegoat lefties, and they work overtime doing this. And is why I will not renew my subscription to the Anderson Valley Advertiser…I do not care to donate my money in that direction. These creeps are empowered enough as it is. I am presently dealing with a brother who is a raving Trump advocate, and sees me as pathetic. I have made it clear to him that I want nothing more to do with him, now that all his inheritance duties as executor for our parents is complete. I have no idea whether or not he’ll respect that…these kind can be dangerous. So far so good, though, he hasn’t responded to my final “good riddance” email, nor phoned me. If he does, I’ll ignore.

So for me, this is personal. My discovery of my brother’s RW bent is rather recent…I had hoped for some real communication after decades of none going on. Instead, it’s only gotten worse, thanks to Trump’s absurd victory. Mr. Anderson can go eff himself. That’s it for now, and thanks again for setting Mr. Anderson straight on the “Zeke Matter.” For the most part.

The /real/ Zeke (Marco-is-not-my-butt-monkey) Krahlin

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