You’re a Shmuck, Ellen Tosser

September 11, 2017

Date: Mon, 11 Sep 2017 03:00:55
Fwd: You’re a Shmuck, Ellen Tosser (was: [MCN-Discussion]- Slavery in US prisons)
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Reptilian E-friends

I just posted the following email to the MCN (Mendocino Community Network) discussion list, addressing the homophobes who participate. Note that I have slightly altered their real names, as a well deserved mockery:

———- Forwarded message ———-
From: Zeke Krahlin
Date: Mon, Sep 11, 2017 at 2:49 AM
You’re a Shmuck, Ellen Tosser (was: [MCN-Discussion]- Slavery in US prisons)

On Sat, 9 Sep 2017 22:19:34 -0700 ELLEN TOSSER squoinked:

{{ If you want to find an example of modern day slavery, look no further than US prisons. }}

I don’t give a flying fig how much good you think you do, or even how much good you actually do, on certain issues. Because /you/, as an ultraconservative Catholic, preach about, and participate in, vilifying gay people and women who choose birth control and/or abortion, and young people who have sex outside of marriage (yet are denied knowledge of safe sex and anti-pregnancy methods). Your vile ideology perpetrates immense and widespread suffering across this nation, and the entire world as well. You are a smug, heartless witch who’s found her niche in a powerful cult that, since it’s existed for many centuries and has infiltrated all levels of numerous societies, is regarded as a legitimate lifestyle…a religion that, while broadcasting how benevolent it is to all living beings, manifests egregiously ugly dogma against certain minorities, and free-minded women and youth.

You are rotten to the core…you are arrogant and self-glorifying to the point of retchingly obnoxious behavior. You gain support and recognition by the fanatic creeps that surround you, and reward you with copious adulation and, no doubt, material benefits and access to civic influence. Meanwhile, you and your Catholic/Christian-Fascist ilk work overtime to destroy anything good and righteous in this world, and spread misery to every corner. You leave no stone unturned in this diabolical mission…worshiping what you call “God” (whom you claim is “love”) yet who resembles with great accuracy the very Devil you claim to preach against.

Let this denunciation I herein present, apply also to anyone aligned with your blasphemous ideas, including certain scumbags on this list, such as: John Retching, Rabid Ravin, Bigthug, Mr. Laughing Tits, GFT, Daney the Dog’s Son, gdork, Marinating Marinela, Nicholas Willscum, John Lousy and Banshee Dean. No doubt I’ve left some people out, people who have either slunk back into their dark corner, and others who lurk in the shadows without ever posting.

You are all vile, loathsome creatures, whom Donald Trump represents as your hell-spawn leader, along with the Republican Party at large…along with these Christian zealots who lust for blood, terror and annihilation of those who stand against them. Using LGBTs as your key scapegoat, your target which you rabidly yearn to destroy. And through the ashes of that destruction, intend to advance towards other minorities, and women of choice. Remember, once upon a recent time, you used the same despicable tactics to resist the end of slavery, claiming “God” (who is “love”) to be on your side. Later, you did the same towards Jews. (And then there are the native peoples of this land, whom you’ve decimated on the grounds of a horrendous notion termed “manifest destiny.”)

I am sick of hearing your brand of hateful preaching broadcast over San Francisco’s airwaves and television, as well as in many churches and street corners where Jehovah’s Witnesses and other Jebus loonies gather to denounce homosexuals, declaring us the devil’s spawn…and in cyberspace. And produce countless flyers, videos and sermons denouncing us queers as an imminent danger to America, who must therefore be wiped out. With an increasing number of preachers, priests, ministers et al (and their connected politicians) spreading this evil bigotry with ever increasing force and popularity.

You have crippled myriad hearts and minds, many of whom have been driven insane to the point of losing their jobs, housing, friends and families, and now wander the streets, a danger to themselves and others. There are also more stable folks now homeless, who’ve suffered your antagonism as well, yet somehow maintain a viable level of decency and sanity…yet deprived of the good things in life because you have likewise ruined them (though not completely). Some are my dearest friends, whom I reach out to as best I can, yet their minds are hopelessly blocked by the brainwashing of Christo-Fascist dogma. IOW, I can only take them so far, but not far enough where they can finally be the captain of their own fate. Sometimes they turn against me, because they do not understand, thanks to your most effective psychological terrorism based on Biblical superstition.

But I do realize that, in some pathetic cases, some of your cohorts are members of the Democratic Party…the branch that has infiltrated and poisoned the ideals that party once stood for. But by now has grown so spineless and reprehensible as to have withered on the tree of Democracy, and no longer deserves to use that word in their party’s title.

You are accursed traitors to Liberty. You are hideous. You are the bane of all humanity. I do not care one whit if I get kicked off this list for speaking the truth, for AFAIC, it’s a small price to pay to keep freedom alive and kicking. Even if it dwindles down to a single ember, even if that single ember is yours truly.

See you on the battlefield. I am your worst dream come true. Whatever nasty screed you broadcast on this list, no matter how often: be assured that I will always be here to denounce you.

Sinqueerly yours,

Ezekiel J. Krahlin
Jehovah’s Queer Witness More Than You Will Ever Know


Listen to Ms. Tosser’s horrid declaration posted some time last April, to the MCN discussion list, as read by KNYO radio host Marco McClean: click here or forever hold your pizza.

Unknown Things

April 5, 2013

[ Free Me From This Bond (the sequel): Chapter 6 ]

Date: 23 Mar 2013, 03:04:18 PM
Just saying thank you!
From: Zeke
To: Dennis R. of Online Policy Group

Still pretty poor, and w/recent Social Security cutbacks, a bit poorer still! But I thought I’d take a moment to thank you and everyone else at Online Policy Group, for years of dedicated service towards gay activists and nonprofits.

In these homophobic times, choosing most any other web service often results in shutting you down the moment some anti-gay creep registers a false complaint. Such a situation is most expensive, when one needs to jump from this service to that.

I am soon to publish my first novel, via Twosome Press. Should it become a bestseller, I guarantee that OPG shall receive a hefty donation. After all, you (Dennis et al), have been most patient with my many flaky posts on Gaynet…in between my worthy contributions.


Ezekiel J. Krahlin

PS: My novel remains online for one or two months more, and for that remaining time is free to read. Here’s the URL:

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 19:25:59
“Unknown thing?”
From: Zeke
To: Keith

You said in a recent email: “I was attacked violently in my sleep last night by an unknown thing carrying around a colored ribbon and a pastel blanket.”

Can you be more specific as to this unknown thing’s appearance (face, body, hands etc.)? Also:

What color was the ribbon and the blanket? If you remember, that is. Facial features and colors are most significant in interpreting dreams and visions.

– Zeke

PS: If you’d ever love to have your meatsicle sucked by someone other than your lover Gus (or a dumb trick you regret having over) just give me a call! Or come over after 8 PM and before 11 PM. Except tonight, as I’m busy on my next book. I’m being serious Keith, no joke. And no expectation of mutual reciprocation. If you’d love a really hot back/shoulder/neck rub, all the more fun!

Date: Sun, 31 Mar 2013 22:36:54
So I just broke down and cried…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…the last time I saw Larkin, marks about 8 days since he shoved me. (Before I continue, El, I must make it very clear that this is a vision I just had, which has yet to occur in reality, if at all.)

As I walk down 17th Street towards Market (one of the routes I choose for my power walks, mainly because of the energizing hills), I see Larkin step out from his apartment building, two or three doors up from K&D Liquors. So I stop, a bit further than a half block away. Yet, being the highly psychic angel he is, he halts, turns around and looks up directly into my eyes. Once more, I almost swoon: those flaming tangerine eyes!

I stand still, hoping he’ll turn around and move on. Instead, he marches directly towards me. I shiver and start to weep. He steps within two feet of me, places a warm hand on my shoulder and queries: “How are you doing, my very good friend of all time?”

“What do you think?” I demand (tears flowing beneath my dollar-store shades, and rolling down my cheeks and unto the sidewalk): “You shoved me recently, without any provocation whatsoever! My heart, my spirit, has been broken ever since. Almost every moment, I pray to God that somehow, some way, He will bring us back together in a most joyful outcome.” So he quips:

“Well, you were being a pest, and I had other demands at the time.”

“A pest?” I challenge, “When have I ever been a pest in your life? Please, please please please: stop this bullshit!”

So Larkin pulls his outstretched hand away, lowers his head and humbly responds: “You’re right, Zeke. I’m just giving you a hard time.”

How can I tell you, El, that I felt suddenly alone in the entire universe, when he pulled his beloved hand away? If there ever was a hell, this is it! So I speak further, to a man I believe is the most wondrous of all, and stands mountains above any other man or woman on this planet:

“You have always been most gentle to me, and showered me with so much love…except for those times when you avoided me entirely. This has gone on for over seven years now!” I remove my sunglasses to wipe the copious tears from my eyes (a raven caws a half block away). And continue:

“Yet quite recently you shoved me, only because I did the right thing, and stood between you and the Devil!” I almost collapse with the memory, and Larkin grabs my left arm to hold me up.

“I am grieved to have done that, Zeke!”

“Yet you did it anyway,” I weep against his chest, for he now enfolds me in his daddy-spider arms. I’m now actually in bliss, though do not realize that in the least.

“Oh, Zeke,” Larkin declares as tears spill from his eyes and anoint my wolf cap. “I had to put you through that test, because God asked me so. My heart is broken too, buddy!”

“So how does it go down now?” I sob in his jacket. “How do I forgive you without becoming a slave to violence?”

Larkin suddenly emits copious sobs, and almost falls into my shaking arms. I am the one, now, to hold him up. And he cries out to me, his darling words whispered close to my neck:

“Please Zeke, please forgive me!” Larkin’s sorrow overwhelms my own.

“Larkin my buddy, you did wrong,” I plead with muffled cries in his folded arms. “Yet I know you are a good man. And you will find some very honest way to make things up to me.”

“Oh Zeke, I’m such an awful fool.” Larkin buries his agonizing sobs in my chest. “I made fun of you for years, only because someone else I loved dearly, played me like a jackass.”

“Well, my love,” I pull myself back and gaze into his fiery eyes, “Can I see you at least once a week for 20 minutes? That would be a good start. For otherwise I’m all alone in my life, and have been for over 30 years.”

“Yes Zeke,” he pleads, “Let’s start there. But I owe you so much more, and please trust me when I say I will make up everything to you. You are the sweetest friend I have ever known, and am so sorry for taking this long to realize it.” I tell him:

“Larkin, when we part from now, you need to call me within one or two days, as you would any good friend. Not wait a week or two or three, before I hear anything.” I further assert: “In fact, if you are sincere about our friendship, you’d call me frequenty (two or three times per day), and struggle to hang out with me as often as you can. Is that so difficult to understand?”

“No, I’m just an asshole. I am so sorry, Zeke.” So Larkin buries his face in my arms, and I suddenly feel like the most blessed man in the universe. “Larkin, Larkin,” I say, “You are such a righteous and beautiful man, I can’t begin to say how utterly fortunate I am!”

And I rock his ruddy-brown-haired head in my arms for what seems to be a glorious eternity!

“I love you so much Larkin,” I weep w/o any control whatsoever, “You never have to worry about losing my love, or leaving you for another. You are my very heart and soul. I will always love you before anyone else in my life. It gives me tremendous happiness to do so!”

“Oh fukkin-A Zeke, you are such liberation to my pathetic soul!” He then pulls back a bit to gaze into my watery, hazel eyes, and continues: “I will make you so happy, you won’t believe.”

“I kinda know that already, Larkin,” I respond. “I’m not worried the least bit, about the ultimate success of our friendship. I’m just naturally a nervous wreck.”

Larkin then grabs me with such a fierce hug, I could burst with joy. And he doesn’t let go while I praise:

“OMG, you are everything to me! You make every pain I’ve been through, every trial and tribulation, every tragedy and grief…all worth it. For it finally brought me to you!”

So we agree to get together in two days, over a piping hot cup of cocoa. And I know that, this time, Larkin will not disappoint. Returning home to my dump of an SRO, I thank Goddess for the life She has given me.

– Zeke

Tue, 2 Apr 2013 11:57:56
Out of the Castro
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

I think that Larkin wants me out of the Castro. But why? It can only mean one thing:

Just like the old days in SOMA, it became too dangerous for us to be seen together. His shoving me was the only thing he knew to do, to get me away from him. But why didn’t he just tell me the truth? I suppose this:

If I knew what’s really going on, I’d probably be scared out of my wits. This cult I call Disciples of the Zodiac Killer are into slow mutilation of their victims, and even eat their flesh before their very eyes.

Oh, that’s a good twist in the plot, eh, El! I’M WRITING A GAY DETECTIVE NOVEL, AND IT’S ALL TRUE!

Should I be happy or freaked out? Happy that I now understand Larkin’s deflection: it is to protect me. So I send him three Dear John letters c/o Twin Peaks. Which inadvertently results in those around him believing our friendship is over for good. Last letter (postcard really) makes certain that prying eyes will read my rejection. Thus convincing the curs of our absolute separation.

I was already intent on avoiding my own “˜hood anywayz. Will soon head on down to Hole in the Wall, and the Eagle. I have other strange doings to report, that have transpired in the last few days. Will post the skinny this eve. I think I need to develop a 40″²s style noir prose a la Lawrence Block. Who, I lately discovered, is not an obscure author after all, but one widely celebrated and heavily published.

Thus begins Chapter 6 of the sequel. I’ve already printed out chapters 1-5, to present to my Darling Detective whenever. Hope your day is interesting, but not in the same way as mine.

Love ya El!

– Zeke

Date: Mon, 01 Apr 2013 15:19:56
From: Keith
To: Zeke

I would not take it if they gave it to me right now.

The rank and file of capital holders grows weaker as they prevent noncapitals from developing by keeping them constantly on the move, changing the rules as soon as the smartest learn them, pushing them out of their homes, uprooting families, forcing diaspora, ghetto busting, energy hoarding. The capital holders kill competition, power laws bloat their bellies, the energy passes from original creator to copy until he’s one alien distanced from how it was made but has to keep it, secure suck, sac belly, egg, parasite, ship metal suckers sucking fence, fee ants put me in a fience.

Included with this poem is this video:

Date: Mon, 1 Apr 2013 16:16:06
From: Zeke
To: Keith

Excellent poem. Raw but eloquent (like yourself, I guess)! Just watched the video you sent…boy what a fat, stupid bitch.

What these Christians want is to do exactly that: round us up and kill us. Gaylent Green.

They speak with forked tongue.

Very soon, perhaps some time this year, the anti-gay holocaust will go into full gear here in these Disunited States. Then it will expand into a global menace. Well, it’s already a global menace; it’s just gonna go totally out of control.

But gay folks will gain protection by the Great Spirit. Provide us with safe haven and a wonderful existence. That is my prophecy, and I’m stickin’ to it.

– Zeke

Date: Mon, 1 Apr 2013 16:18:47
H, BM: Because of music
From: Keith
To: Zeke

they already knew the unstable ones
they show the unstable ones secrets when they want something seen
they know how to hide what they do already hide

Date: Mon, 1 Apr 2013 17:47:56
Re: H, BM: Because of music
From: Zeke
To: Keith

You’re very intelligent, you’re very creative. Well done, my Little Buttercup, Keith!

Your anxiety attacks and demonic nightmares/visions were triggered mainly by violent traumas in the fairly recent past. (Along with a rather heartbreaking childhood.) However: you are so psychically gifted, it’s even more of a challenge…and much more tribulation in addition to the attacks caused by violence.

Looks to me like you are now transitioning into a totally stable, peaceful psychic ambience. For this suffering only goes so far until all lessons have been learned, and your spirit has become finely tuned into virtual perfection. I look forward to witnessing the blossoming of your soul.

LOVE to tend your garden now and then, if you get my drift! 0_o

<3 always,


Date: Mon, 1 Apr 2013 21:46:30
Thank you for all your kind compliments…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…but I just don’t see why I should pay such a terrible price. I DO hope wrongs shall be righted, with regards to Larkin’s turning against me. Otherwise, my life shall always be a sword in my heart, that will curse me until the day I die.

And I guess, beyond. It sucks to be a romantic.

– Zeke

Date: Tue, 2 Apr 2013 12:14:09
Why the SFPD…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…sought an outside detective, because some of our own are members of this cult.


But I’m not worried: Larkin always gets his man. Or men, as the case may be.

Date: Tue, 02 Apr 2013 14:32:20
Re: Why the SFPD…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ The plot not only thickens, it alchemizes!! }}

Well stated! FYI: I am a devoted disciple of Kabalism. Which worships our creator as an eternally sweet-16 boy named Adonai. Which I guess is the Habiru version of ancient Greece’s “Adonis.”

But I just call him Donny.

Date: Tue, 2 Apr 2013 23:15:40
Re: Why the SFPD…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ I call him Donuts. }}

Yes indeed, he was a most tasty treat (though I never really got to use my tongue, dern it). A man who called himself Donny several nights ago, allowed me to feel up his yummy torso, give him a shoulder and back rub….and even grope his ample fat schlong beneath his denim jeans. What a perfect, juicy crown between my fingers, and a thick shaft that went on for more than six inches, though it was not even the least bit hard! Egads, do I drool!

It only occurred to me when I mentioned Adonai in a recent lettter, that calling him Donny made me realize that I also felt up a lovely young man by the same name.

He was so bodaciously and sexually male, yet has never returned to look me up even though I made it easy for him to do so.

Larkin seems to be vanishing from my life, and it crushes my spirit. I cannot fathom this terrible twist in fate. To leave me promoting my book while using a fictitious name on his behalf, would destroy my soul.

Every day that passes, I anticipate his phone call, that he will profusely apologize. Though this phone call has yet to come. And as each day fades into the next, I pray to goddess that my dreams for him (and for us) will not be shattered. Though it seems they will.

– Zeke

Date: Wed, 3 Apr 2013 08:50:06
Fwd: Out of the Castro
From: Zeke
To: Carlyle

Doing better now, Carlyle. The pain of thinking I lost Larkin’s friendship for good is what I’m been gloomy about. That is what Chapter 5 was about. Now I understand: it was what we went through some years back, in a different neighborhood (South of Market). We had to pretend we broke up and hated each other, in order to get some very dangerous people off my back. Hopefully, this won’t go on for long.

Date: Thu, 21 Mar 2013 12:15:00
Tattoo Heart Alteration
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan

“Angus Mac Og’s Bounty” is now Chapter 14, is now online:

For the tattoo heart illustration, I originally requested the wraparound banner (if you decide to include it) to read “Zeke, Randolph, Larkin.” What was I thinking? Obviously (if one reads the tale) it should read: “Johnnie”.

So, yes, PLEASE include the banner with “Johnnie”. He’s been out of my life for almost 5 years now. I think when my novel is published and he sees this, he’ll come back.

– Zeke

Date: Wed, 3 Apr 2013 02:28:24
All good things come to me…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…and I am at peace, finally. Come to realize that Larkin loves me more than anyone else. His shoving me but served an important purpose to protect me. Nonetheless, most assuredly will he make it all up to me in the noblest fashion possible.

Meanwhile (if you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with), I took home a handsome black fellow about 59 (but looks a robust 42). Well whaddya know:

He wanted me to service him, and I wanted quite the opposite. Turns out he’s an excellent koksukker, but only if I return the favor. But not only was he black, he was uncut!

I have little experience with either. :(

To be honest, El, I am so spoiled by all the super-gorgeous men I have laid: all (but one, and he was a damned seductive black dude) circumsized and white.

What can I say, El, but that I am a gay man with very little experience in the boudoir. All I ever wanted, was to find the right guy, settle down with him behind a white picket fence…and fuk our brains out!

Never dreaming that my destiny is actually to become a cheap slut, and put out at the drop of a hat! Regardless:

I am most horny over the thought of sukking lovely cut boners, especially when appended to a stupendously gorgeous white dude. Call me old fashioned, if that pleases you.

But I do make exception to the occasional black dude who has his pectorals in all the right places. I’m just not one of those phony white liberals who boinks gay studs of color, just to prove to the world I’m not racist.

So we found a happy compromise: where he put back on his boxer shorts, and I got to feel up his sturdy torso and broad shoulders to my little heart’s content. His salad days of being an amateur boxer and wrestler sure paid off!

I guess I made a new friend.

– Zeke

Date: Wed, 3 Apr 2013 15:04:06
Happy April Third
From: Keith
To: Zeke

Dear Ezekiel,

I have wanted to badly go have breakfast with you, and every time you have invited me and I have not been able to accept it’s been like a goose shit golden eggs all over me and I don’t like eggs :(

But I want to eat breakfast with you so much, I hope that you will invite me again, and if that ever happens I will NOT flake out even if I get a panic attack.

I love you, even if I never hear from you again. So much. And it is NOT April Fool’s Day anymore.

Date: Tue, 2 Apr 2013 22:59:13
Re: Happy April Third
From: Zeke
To: Keith

Keith wrote:

{{ I love you, even if I never hear from you again. So much. And it is NOT April Fool’s Day anymore. }}

Keith, if you only knew the sadness I’m going through right now, you would not hesitate to reach out to me.

I care not to deliberate at this time, my present difficulties. Suffice it to say that, if you have read my latest blog entry, you’d understand. But Larkin–the best friend and greatest love I have ever known–has turned on me, and caused such incredible grief in my life, I feel that I have nowhere to turn.

Seeing you over breakfast, or even over a hot cup of coffee, or cocoa or tea, would be such a great balm to my soul. Yet, due to the cold realiity I have known for so many years, I don’t reallly expect you to take me up on this.

If you care–if you really care–you would reach out to me, and call me very soon on your own terms.

I do not want to elaborate any further. Just to say that my life really sucks big-time right now, and I don’t have a single shoulder to lean on. But that’s the story of my life. My heart is badly broken. Maybe you can show me some love again, as you have shown me in the past.



Date: Wed, 3 Apr 2013 15:26:28
Re: Tattoo Heart Alteration
From: Zeke
To: S. Rohan

“S.” wrote:

{{ Okay I didn’t include the banner, but I can easily incorporate it if you prefer. So do you want ONLY Johnnie, or all four names included? }}

Yes, I realize now how vital it is to include the banner. I want ONLY “Johnnie” on it. Thanks immensely, “S.”!

Johnnie’s out there somewhere…haven’t seen him for more than four years. Well, that’s not quite true. Twice our paths crossed, albeit indirectly. Ten months ago I saw him across the street from the N Judah stop alongside Duboce Park.

Pawing through a trash bin for recyclables. So I wondered if he lost the job he had, since walking out on me. Again, I saw him around four months ago, at Out of the Closet thrift shop on Church & Duboce.

Well, I didn’t actually see him at first: I heard his wonderful, quacky voice chatting with the cashier. He’s such a doll, “S.”, handsome and comical at the same time. Jet black, wavy hair, and the most transcendent glaucous eyes you could ever imagine! With quite a ginormous honker that somehow looks good on him, yet hilarious in a most inspiring way.

He’s 6-foot-1, deliciously skinny, and has the sweetest regard for me. Or had, I should say. Johnnie’s last name is Fortesque, which I understand is French. He’s half that, and the other half, Italian.

I’m telling you, “S.”, my life is One Long Trail of Heartbreak! I want him to know I still love him dearly. So I think the Johnnie banner girdling a pierced heart will be a good thing for him to see. I do find the ability to self publish my novel (thanks to my deceased parents’ small inheritance) to be such a blessing!

For it graces me with the wondrous opportunity to reach out to many good folks who I love, yet have disappeared from my life for this or that reason. The Great Dragon of Destiny has bestowed upon me such a beatific gift!

I have a very strong feeling that we shall become collaborators in many more books to come. And we both have your housemate and BFF, Gloria, to thank.

Mazel tov my new friend, mazel tov!

<3, Zeke

Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 07:35:05
Re: I was just featured on a blog from Nottingham, England!
From: Zeke
To: Carlyle

Carlyle wrote:

{{ Hopefully the issue of using the real name in the book isn’t the main issue- there might be lots of harmless reasons. }}

Of course. I came to that resolution some days back; I’m okay with it. Larkin has a way of putting challenges before me. It’s actually sharpening my skills as an author, to change the appearance of the main character, yet preserve his essential nature.

Should he decide he’d like to reap the material rewards (as well as official honors by this or that gay society), he can always announce to the media that he is the Arwyn Miles in my book. But w/o his signed permission, I cannot be the one to make such a statement.

In fact, I don’t even think I can admit he is…even forced to deny his claim. For w/o his legal (signed) permission, he could then turn around and sue me. I would have to state that Arwyn Miles is a composite of different men that turn me on.

{{ For the general existential hell that life can be, I can give many examples: a close friend with Parkinson’s and slipping away, badly; another friend with multiple sclerosis and cancer. Two cousins around my age whose spouses died in the last year. Sometimes the things that happen before death are as gruesome as anything that a soldier would experience on a battlefield. }}

When you put it that way, guess I’m doing pretty good through it all.

{{ Plus the “mind control” thing: a lot of it based essentially on “torture,” you know. Unprovable, without a mark, no one to listen. }}

Thus one is more likely to reach out to his inner world, and find the strength to rise above. Kids aren’t the only ones with so-called imaginary friends.

{{ I have confidence that your resilience will pull you through your trials! }}

I appreciate your saying this, it really helps. Another person I love, and who has been so good to me seems on the verge of a nervous breakdown…possible suicide attempt. Not that he said so, directly, but in his latest letter implied such (quote):

“I love you, even if I never hear from you again. So much. And it is NOT April Fool’s Day anymore.”

This is Keith, the gorgeous young man who sent me those two sexy videos, where he appears naked. Haven’t seen him face-to face in over two months. He just wants to email back and forth. Yet he’s residing barely a block away! And get this:

Larkin now lives almost directly across the street from Keith. Again, another lovely man that I care so much about, never calls or phones. And now, I have to bide my time till this strange situation blows over.

Two nights ago I bumped into Keith’s lover and housemate, Gus. Who is very depressed because something’s wrong in their relationship of almost 8 years. Same amount of time has passed for me, since I first met Larkin. Guess that’s what they mean by the “seven year itch.” After 7-8 years of a wonderful relationship, new challenges suddenly crop up. And you either figure out some way to renew your love, or it’s all over.

Though he said some months back that their relationship is open, I told him I’d never dream of having sex with Keith because “you two are very tight.” While Gus didn’t seem angry at me, he didn’t stop to talk more than a minute. I told him to hang in there, it will be okay.

Gus never calls me either, and I don’t have his phone. He was surprised to learn that Keith and I have been exchanging emails for the past two weeks (after a 20-day gap). But his surprise may be more one of relief than of dismay. Seeing as I think Keith is dipping into a sort of paranoia where he may even now see myself and even Gus as some kind of monstrous entity.

I do have several men who can comfort me…but they’re all meth or heroin or morphine users. They respect me, don’t steal. They sometimes ask for money…but when I say no, which is 95% of the time, they don’t give me any problem and remain friendly. I am just nervous about not having one single friend any more, who is clean of drugs and (of course) excessive alcohol.

What is going on around me (and inside) is incredible, and mostly rewarding, insightful and benevolent. Then there is this rough bump…like suddenly I got hit with shrapnel on the battlefield. But I can tell you this:

By the time I’m through this dark passage, I’ll be one hell of a lot stronger. But I am in the middle of some kind of telepathic war. Yet I must take the high road à la Buddha’s tenet: “We have no enemies, only teachers.”

Tough task masters indeed!

– Ezekiel

Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 08:19:09
Stupid me…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…because I should’ve realized our recent confrontation (when he shoved me and I almost hit the sidewalk), that some rather nasty folks witnessed the entire scenario. They were cholo types, seated in a pimped out sedan with oversized front tires and a motor noisier than a rumbling b-52. But it was off, and they were seated quietly: no music loud or otherwise, no speaking even in a whisper. They were patiently observing this confrontation between myself and Larkin…from barely half a block away.

Not to make excuses for him, and thus become a victim of partner abuse. But Larkin has never come even close before this night, to any sort of violence or angry words, in the 7+ years we’ve been friends. He has never told me not to eat at the taqueria where he once worked (and I left him with each chapter of The Larkin Chronicles as the book slowly progressed over the months into a total of 29 episodes)…et cetera.

Well, the anxiety attacks are back, though not as painful as the last round. Nor as long lasting. Memories well up of lovers and friends from the past. My first love: Robert Matthew Childers. Of course, Randolph Taylor. Yet many others suddenly haunt my cranial chamber: all beautiful men w/unspeakable burdens. Such handsome souls, all yanked away from me by fate’s cruel hand. And I wept several times throughout the drizzly night.

Yes! It’s raining, and the air is cleansed. I must step out to enjoy the sunrise…though I wish my neighborhood were a more pleasant environment. Still, better than dwelling in the Tenderloin or Hunter’s Point! And I can hop on the N Judah to the Inner Sunset: a lovely district right by GG Park without the edginess and noise pollution of the Castro. But, no friends unless I empty my wallet to dine at Howard’s Cafe.

Will Larkin simply become the latest lost darling in my life? That hurts. I pray for reunification. Hmm, maybe there’s a telepathic connection between our soured relationship, and the two Koreas. 0_o

Oh well, another day, another holler.

– Zeke

Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 10:17:38
Re: Happy April Third
From: Zeke
To: Keith

Keith wrote:

{{ every time you have invited me and I have not been able to accept it’s been like a goose shit golden eggs all over me }}

It’s an excruciating passage for a time, when everything seems to fall completely apart before they come back together in a much more balanced manner. You have powerful shamanic gifts, IOW you are a psychic warrior.

I would never want to spend time with you under any situation where you feel uncomfortable in my presence. That’s just part of your PTSD. But please take to heart what I’m about to say, Keith:

Be proud of your PTSD, it’s your Heavenly Badge of Honor! Once you emerge out of your Incubation Chamber of Tribulations, your life will be so wonderful, that all your sorrows, grief and pain will be but a dim remembrance.

The fact you are capable–and even ardent–about expressing your love to me, right in the middle of all this demonic turmoil, battles and loss:

shows me what a fukkin noble and bless-ed soul you truly are! So give yourself some credit, my sweet angel Keith! I already give you tons of credit, because I know your soul and see nothing but a light of pure benevolence.

{{ But I want to eat breakfast with you so much, I hope that you will invite me again, and if that ever happens I will NOT flake out even if I get a panic attack. }}

Yes, good to know. Panic attacks are so nasty, I wouldn’t even wish “˜em on my worst frenemy. And that is precisely how to overcome them and be healed: hang out with a trusted friend whenever you can. Someone who loves you so much, even his own life comes second. I know: such friends are scarcer than pterodactyl teeth, but you got lucky ’cause you got ME! And I got YOU…so “˜scuse me for saying this, but I think I’m even luckier than yourself. <3

Agoraphobia, distrust of loved ones, and other nasty neuroses are all the usual bag of tricks that PTSD presents. Of course, what allopathic medicine calls PTSD is actually a stage in one’s spiritual growth, for those so burdened/blessed with The Shaman’s Gift.

So you may not feel safe anywhere except your own home or bedroom. Thereby losing contact with friends, and cease taking walks or stepping out for any other reason. The fact you said you will go out with me, even in the middle of an anxiety attack is such great news!

For this indicates you have just begun the healing process, and are ready to take the bull by the testicles. Heh.

{{ I love you, even if I never hear from you again. }}

What on Gaia’s green/blue earth do you mean “even if I never hear from you again?” Now that’s a sad thought. A very sad thought. I assure you, Keith, I will always be a friend to you…and I sincerely hope BEST friend in the long run. That would make us BFF’s! (Oh, did you think I meant “butt fukking fellows?” You silly man. My, I never realized you had such a dirty mind. I like it!)

You can always contact me and arrange to go out the next day. Howard’s doesn’t have the best food, and since my body doesn’t want to ingest any more of that non-vegan glop they call scrambled eggs (but I call “yellow rubber”), I usually limit myself to a fruit cup (no apple), a side of plain yogurt (unless they run out of that, in which case they give me vanilla or strawberry) and a cup of fresh brewed java. Which I like to call “Howard’s Golden Brown Elixer.” But I love Howard’s, not so much for the food of course, but for all the excellent folks who eat there.

Or perhaps walk from your place, to some cozy little local spot…or a tad more distant such as the Inner Mission, Noe Valley or the Duboce Park Triangle. In fact, there’s a really neat little bistro two blocks up from (and on the north side of) DPT. Very very mellow with yummy French style vittles. Not expensive either, though what’s cheap any more that one can safely put in one’s mouth and swallow, without later regurgitating? Well, my kok for one, but I don’t think we’re talking about pure protein here, eh, you glorious, darling, hunk of a dude!

I’m leaving for Howard’s in an hour from now, so if you’d like to have a little fun, please join me! If you do not drop over by 11:05, you can just take a rain check.

I’m always here for good, delicious boys like you…haven’t you figured that out yet? Tee-hee. Once my book gets published, my prose and poems will ripple across the planet like dropping one of those golden goose eggs into a pond of quicksilver. The magic flowing from my fingertips will swirl in ever-widening eddies until everyone will be impacted in the most benevolent ways possible.

The fulfillment of my own destiny will trigger the fulfillment of everyone else“˜s.

Including you, Keith. So get ready for the blastoff. It’s gonna be one hell of a muthuh fukkuh for anyone who harbors even the minutest tad of homophobia. But for the rest:

The Global Manifestation of Avalon. (Just don’t make a hobbit of it!)

I miss your hugs and kisses like a flower misses the sun on a foggy day. Love ya always, you incredibly handsome and brave hunk of man/boy,

– Zeke a.k.a. Jehovah’s Queer Witness…VERY Queer Witness.

Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 10:35:27
From: Zeke
To: Keith

Sweetie, I go to the Hole in the Wall Saloon and then the Eagle Tavern every Tuesday afternoon. The Hole is where Larkin and I first met (though he was 86″²d from there by the owners a few years back). The Eagle is the second most frequented place for us two lovebirds. Larkin hasn’t returned there, yet, but I’m sure he will, and some day soon.

I always have great times there (even got to lick some handsome buck’s armpits for a single shot of Jagermeister…thank goddess for my parents’ trust fund).

The Eagle is also a great place to hang out in the day’s middle. Many of the scenes in my book take place at the old Hole (before they moved a few blocks up). I usually get to the Hole around 3 PM, then mosey on up a few blocks to the Eagle 5 PM or thereabouts.

So is it a date? Like to join me this Tuesday for a SOMA adventure? By all means, Gus is welcome too. Your call.

– Zeke

Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 11:01:29
Re: Tuesdays
From: Keith
To: Zeke

Yes, I’d like to go out there. Hole in the Wall has always been my favorite gay bar since I first went a few years ago after I moved here. I don’t know if I ever saw the old one, though. I’m going to mark the time and date so that I can keep track, and set an alarm so I remember. I got up a little late today but I would like to fix breakfast for you one day soon if you like. I know how to make pancakes, buttermilk biscuits, grits and gravy, fried chicken, bacon or sausages, fruit/yogurt smoothies, etc. So I could try to fix whatever you feel like.

Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 11:06:30
Re: I was just featured on a blog from Nottingham, England!
From: Zeke
To: Carlyle

Carlyle, are you under the impression that all this recent misery in my life, is simply over Larkin’s not giving me permission to use his real name? He shoved me, and shoved me hard…I almost fell to the ground, my face would’ve hit the sidewalk hard. He’s never done anything to me that would even hint of violence, not even one unkind syllable. Over 7 years’ friendship! If you had managed the time to read my latest blog entries, you’d know all about this.

I don’t want to write the incident all over again, when it’s already been described in the sequel to Free Me From This Bond. You can save some time and not read the entire chapter…just jump down to “It’s over, El” (subject title of an email), which begins with: “Just saw Phillip as he entered Twin Peaks Tavern.” Here’s the chapter:

Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 11:40:36
Re: Tuesdays
From: Zeke
To: Keith

Keith wrote:

{{ Yes, I’d like to go out there. Hole in the Wall has always been my favorite gay bar }}

Some very nice gays hang out there. A lot on a lower income like myself…including others with bad or missing teeth, due to our evil society’s denying dental care to our kind.

But there can also be some dangerous folks who inhabit the Hole. But I’m very well respected and loved these days, by those who count, and frequent or live in SOMA.

{{ I’m going to mark the time and date so that I can keep track, and set an alarm so I remember. }}

I like to walk back from there, for the exercise. But we could walk there instead, or just hop a train if you’d like. Oh, I must take the above-ground, because my renewed disability transit pass does not work right. So I have to pay coins to get on…and you can’t use coins underground.

Anywayz, we can leave around 2 PM. I will post you a reminder the day before. If you like, I can also give you a wakeup call.

{{ I got up a little late today but I would like to fix breakfast for you }}

Sounds sweet. I don’t eat meat or eggs. Or pancakes, because they’re mostly white flour. Unless you use whole grains. I used to cook blueberry pancakes w/whole wheat. I can pick up some real maple syrup, if you’re out. Yogurt smoothies also sound fantastic. I’m not a big eater, so it doesn’t take much to fill me up. I am a big waffle fan by the way…have a Belgian waffle iron here at home. And a great recipe I cooked up, using vinegar instead of eggs and again, whole grains. I enjoy a mixture of buckwheat and whole wheat. Lotsa berries on top (or banana), Smart Balance margarine instead of real butter…but the latter is yummy once in a blue moon.

Anywayz, sounds like a plan. A wonderful plan. Love to see Gus, too! Well, I’m off to Howard’s, you darling scoundrel! You’ve stolen my heart, so I guess that makes you a burglar. Of the most scurrilous sort!

<3 always,


Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 18:10:05
Just marched on by Twin Peaks…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…with my last gift to Larkin: a second set of Scooby-Doo dominoes wrapped in a fancy tie, with a CD attached to it containing one of my favorite songs. That would be “One Day I’ll Fly Away,” sung by the impeccable Randy Crawford. Specifically, the 2006 version she sang years later (when she had become rather corpulent; sad because of how lovely she once was), as opposed to her original rendering. I think it’s much jazzier and soul-filled than her first:

It’s a song about love ended, and how to move along with one’s life. See attached photo to check out my gift.

Through Twin Peaks’ plate glass window I saw Larkin smiling and sipping his drink at a front bar seat. He saw me approach, and watched me with a falcon eye. He didn’t miss a beat as I withdrew the gift from my backpack, and dumped it on the newsstand rack right out front. I did not look at him (had my shades on as usual), nor toss a smile in his direction. Then I walked down Castro Street, paused before the Castro Theater to light a cigarette…in hopes he’d run out and call to me. Alas, he did not.

So I moved on, looped about the block and returned back hovel. Guess I will never know whether Larkin stepped out to take my final gift, or if some homeless bum walked up and grabbed the dominoes set, dumping it in his shopping cart to sell later on for a few bucks.

I noticed when he looked at me through the window, no particular emotion except blase. This can mean anything, from “I don’t give a fuk any more” to “I’m so proud that Zeke stood up to me. He’s a real trooper. I’ve met my match, and I’m gonna surprise him really soon with a heartfelt apology, and marriage proposal.”

I so much love to gaze upon him, even from a distance. And sincerely doubt this is a simple matter of love addiction towards another who thinks I’m nothing more than a pest. Nonetheless, I have no choice but to reject him and move on…but with a most fervent prayer that this is surely not the end of the most wonderful friendship I have ever known. Until the recent night he shoved me.

The 5-chapter packet I sent him should arrive via Twin Peaks two or three days from now. Again, never knowing if he’ll actually accept it, or just toss it into the trash. He’s very good at concealing his true heart’s feeling. But his eyes tell me everything. He loves me like nobody’s business; I am such a lucky fellow!

Guess I’m the type of guy who enjoys a challenge. Being homosexual is far more complicated than being hetero…what with the male ego and all.

– Zeke

Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 17:11:17
So I snail-mailed 1st 5 chapters…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…of the sequel to Larkin c/o Twin Peaks Tavern. With a cover letter stating:

My Beloved (but fukked up) Larkin,

This is the sequel to “Free Me From This Bond.” So far I’ve completed five chapters. Whether or not this book has a happy ending is entirely up to you. I guess.

Unfortunately, looks like you won’t get any credit for your many good works, including your very kind friendship with me. Which seems to have come to a sudden end, thanks to your recent (and vulgar) behavior.

Never expected to pay such a high price to get my first book published. But that’s the way things go sometimes. Or as you love to say:

“That’s life.”

I’ll be living in Portland soon, with a changed name.

Many blessings for a beautiful rest-of-your-life. Regardless if we resume our friendship, or put an absolute end to it.

The clock is ticking.

– Zeke Krahlin

Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 19:11:55
So yesterday…
From: Zeke
To: My Kindred Readers

…Samuel drops over (Friday night as scheduled). He is a most handsome, robust and balding ginger-hair, 31 years old (and about 6-foot-1 in height). In our last several visits, we’ve progressed from talking and hanging out, to physical touch; starting with nice backrubs and kissing (on my part), to my blowing him the last night, and holding him in my arms. Though at the last moment before orgasm, he shoves my face away, and finishes by jacking himself off. With the proclamation:

“I can’t risk spreading disease.”

Which I take as an insult, seeing as I know full well he’s an innocent soul, and could never catch anything from swallowing his sperm. (Except perhaps, an insatiable yearning to do so many more times unto infinity.) As for myself: I am very clean, and have never contracted AIDS or any other sort of venereal disease, thanks to my own caution and prudishness, as well as Goddess’s own protection. Though I realize you can still contract syphillis, hepatitis B or herpes, simply by kissing or sharing towels, glasses, utensils or toothbrushes, etc. Thus far, the Great Spirit has seen fit to spare me such debilities.

His mom, Edith (from Iowa), finally contacted me some days back, and thanked me profusely for being a good friend to him. Apparently, serving in the military in Iraq fukked with his head, which also involved hitting his sister some time afterwards…along with a thwarted adventure in Thailand, where he got involved with cocaine dealers and became, himself, a user. He has since cleaned up, and as far as I know, only messes around with pot and occasional, light alcohol consumption. Which I was most happy to report to his mom.

Yet Samuel has been thus far, quite reticent to reciprocate with my backrubs etc. (if you know what I mean). He is nonetheless a very affectionate man, though rather spacey in his conversation, thus difficult to talk with. Which only elevates my frustration about him, and does not inspire me to have him over any more. Yet, there is something about this sweet man that makes me hang in there.

He has wide, innocent hazel eyes, and such a buff body that I could cum all over him (which has yet to occur, I might confess; though stuffing his bodacious wanger in my mouth many times over the last time, was exquisite beyond words). Considering this most difficult passage over Larkin, I am less than looking forward to Samuel’s airheaded and noncooperative company.

So upon his arrival, I explain to him that I need to be alone tonight…and perhaps for all the remaining nights that I still reside in my crummy dump of a room. While improved in his behavior–thanks to my addressing his shortcomings, including coming off as somewhat scary or freaky to his friends–he still maintains a rather inadequate ability to hold a real conversation. And since I am so burnt out over space cadets, and need an occasional break from my street activism with this sort (which respite occurs so rarely, I am now ready to explode), I tell him:

“Look, sweetheart. I am going through a most painful crossing with my lover Larkin.”

I take his warm, powerful hand (perfectly suited for amazing deep-tissue body work I might add), and continue:

“I must ask you to leave soon. I really need to be alone tonight and for at least several days more. For there is no one in my life, that can ease my agony through this present challenge.” Then add:

“And I’m not gonna wander the streets of the Castro in hopes of finding such a person.”

Samuel becomes quite distressed, says:

“Oh, I can hold you if that’s what you want.”

He then embraces me, and I weep tears on his neck, kiss him many times and speak:

“Thank you, Samuel, but my need to be alone has little to do with you. Please don’t take this personally. I simply need to keep to myself for awhile. Please don’t take offense, it’s me and not you. I really don’t think I can have anyone over until God deems fit to provide me with a real apartment, with more space, and a real kitchen and bathroom.” Then I confess:

“You are not the kind of person right now that can ease my pangs.” He seems a bit offended by this declaration. So I explain further:

“There is no one I can think of right now, who can give me what I need. Which is a handsome man to hold me in my arms all night, rub my back and suck my kok as much as I do him.”

This proclamation gives Samuel some hesitation, which of course does not surprise me at this point. Like so many before him, he’s a gross disappointment in this department. For I have shown so many gorgeous dudes at this point a really good time, though they’ve all been miserly in returning their love.

Yet there is one particular fellow who I think can bring great succor to my current sorrow: his name is Donny…around 5 foot-8 with a most trim, yet buffilicious body. From his ripped torso, broad shoulders and tight back, to his ridiculously-ample basket and luscious thighs.

Dropped over only once so far, and allowed me to peel off his T-shirt, and feel up his very buff back and chest, while fondling his perfect, fat cut johnson (6 inches soft!) underneath those khaki denim pants.

Though I instructed him on how to buzz me via the front gate’s intercom system, he has yet to return. But he is such a sweet and honest man (and terribly good looking), I’m more than happy to service his sexual provocations w/o any expectation of mutual delight. In fact, I drool frequently thinking of his fat kok and crown between my fondling grasp.

Samuel lacks such sensitivity and male affection, that I’m not willing at this time, to remain patient over the weeks, until he puts out in such a way as to return all the licks and feel-copping I’ve performed on him. I’ve already made him happier with my overtures, than he’s ever been over intimacy with anyone: male or female. So I proclaim further:

“Look, Samuel. My heart is terribly broken over Larkin right now.” Once more I weep, in spite of my efforts to keep a dry eye. And explain through these tears:

“You just don’t understand right now. But my sorrow goes way beyond Larkin, and includes how I feel about you.” Take his hand again, and explain further:

“You cannot give me what I really need at this time. Therefore, it is more important that I remain alone for some time, than try to get what I need from you or anyone else, in order to ease my suffering. In fact, it seems there is no one in this world right now, who can ease my grief.” Samuel replies with utmost concern:

“I understand, Zeke. Please smoke some pot I brought you, before I leave.”

So we light up, and get stoned out of our skulls. Yet, that was not enough to ease my sorrows. For if Samuel is truly one to bring me some joy through this trial, he would’ve hugged and kissed me with tremendous passion by now.

Which he never did.

– Zeke

Date: Thu, 4 Apr 2013 21:15:29
About an hour ago…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…I stepped out once more, to purchase my favorite frozen entree at Mollie Stones. Strolled by Twin Peaks Tavern to find Larkin gone, along with my Scooby-Doo dominoes gift that I left on the newsstand.

Sometimes (actually, most of the time) one cannot see one’s prayer being answered. Therefore, one must keep the faith and strive forward.

So I did just that, and purchased four more packets of “Michael Angelo’s Manicotti & Sauce.”

– Zeke

His Name Is Love

March 31, 2013

[ Free Me From This Bond (the sequel): Chapter 5 ]

Date: Thu, 28 Mar 2013 09:59:02
Another vision…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…though in the dream state, I was still asleep. The previous two visions were in a totally conscious waking state. Here goes:

I am with a group of folks numbering around 18, and we’re on an outing in another town. Don’t know what the outing’s about: maybe to visit a museum, watch a play, attend a convention…something like that. The town itself seems kinda small, like everything rolls up after 9 PM. But it’s a pretty town, lots of trees and little houses.

It is early evening; the sun’s still out but soon to descend below the horizon. We’re gathered in a sort of lobby or entranceway: spacious with but a few chairs and tables, and some snack bars and magazine/book stands that are now all closed (seeing as it’s after 5). The lights inside are dimmed; the ambience is mellow.

Our group mills about, chatting and in good spirits. Though it seems as if there are no particular plans for the evening, or the event (or whatever it is) was cancelled, or our guide screwed up and took us to the wrong town. I therefore feel a bit lost, though the folks are all friendly, and I’m even hitting up on a buff little dude 2-3 inches shorter than myself (I’m 5-foot-7).

I’m exceedingly hungry at this point, but all the food courts are shut down for the night. Across the street is a diner, though I hesitate to break from the group, as I fear they might vanish and leave me behind. Next thing I know, we’re all gathered on the lawn out front, still split up in small groups of two or three, merrily chit-chatting. The sky is now growing dark as the evening sets in.

Then I notice a very tall guy (Larkin’s height: 6-foot-4) smiling at me, and talking in a soft voice about something that I can’t discern from five yards away. He’s African-American, nicely dressed in a long trench coat. Comely, though more average looking than handsome. At least, that’s how he appears until I approach him, stand just a few feet distant, and look up at his face. No, he’s not average looking at all:

He’s absurdly gorgeous! Facial features all tightly arranged and spaced apart just right, with sharp, clean lines and beautifully toned skin (like really strong coffee with lots of Half-&-Half mixed in). Flawless! The more I gaze at him, the better looking he becomes. I kiss him. In my mind’s eye, that is.

We decide to check out the diner, in hopes of quieting our grumbling stomachs…so depart from our group and cross the street. Upon entering, we discover the diner closing up. The two workers there–cashier and cook–ignore us completely, so we just stand inside awhile, drooling at the yummy cakes and pies we will never taste. And then we exit.

From two blocks away we spy a corner liquor/grocery store raised upon wide steps of granite…like maybe it was a courthouse back in the days of horse and buggy. We enjoy pleasant conversation on the way there.

Alas, that shop, too, is shutting down for the day. The lone clerk is wiping away smudges from the glass counter around the cash register. She is a matronly lady of middle age, skinny, and dour. Yet friendly enough…though obviously unwilling to make a sale after-hours, no matter how desperate our hunger.

Just a few feet away and down all three aisles sits a vast array of delectable snacks and condiments: wrapped in cellophane, boxed, canned, or resting in open stainless steel trays and pots with large serving spoons and ladles poking out. These trays/pots hold the delectable remains of today’s homemade vittles: macaroni and cheese, chicken barley soup, grandma’s lasagna, egg salad for stuffing sandwiches in crunchy French rolls, wedges of iceberg lettuce slathered in four kinds of dressing, and so on. IOW:

Enough to serve a small scout troop just back from hiking the trails outside this Bradbury-an little burg.

With a heavy sigh, my new companion and I exit through the door like two defeated warriors. A bell tinkles behind us as we drag ourselves back down those lovely pink and white granite steps.

But while descending, I pause to ask his name.

“My name is Love,” he gently replies; and again, adores me with a smile.

“Love?” I swirl an index finger in my right ear, thinking I misheard him. “Did you say your name is Love?”

He grabs my arm in kindness, that I won’t stumble. And speaks once more:

“Yes. You heard me correctly. My name is Love.”

I chuckle: “Oh, I can’t call you that. No way!”

And that’s when I wake up.

What intrigues me (after a few hours’ hindsight) is that I know this man called Love is Larkin. Since I believe he is an angel, he can change his appearance whenever it suits him…and visit me in dreams and visions. In this case he appeared to me as an African-American. The evening just before this dream, I had sent my 2nd letter to Larkin, c/o Twin Peaks Tavern. But get this:

The postage stamp I used this time did not depict the American flag; instead it was a lovely image of Rosa Parks…a black woman!

– Zeke

Thu, 28 Mar 2013 10:12:02

Subject: Re: Fukkin text editor!

From: Zeke

To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ I think you’ll like this: }}

Like it? I deliriously, scintillatingly, madly LOVE it. It is a gem. It is a prayer. It is a treasure from the heart of Egypt, in backwater bumtown Sack O’ Tomatoes.

I feel I’ve just been washed by the sacred waters of Avalon.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. We’re gonna have so much FUN when we finally get together. Probably late this year or early next, when my book’s a raging bestseller and Larkin is my bodyguard. I wouldn’t dream of excluding your paramour, Mitch, in any of our revelries, unless he needs to deal with other matters more important.

I’ll have 11 other bodyguards, too. All hunky, all lovers, all day and all night. And also:

all armed.

Armed to the teeth: those gorgeous pearly whites that send radiant beams of brotherly love and torrid male orgasms that shower my soul with aqua vitae. Good thing I know how to swim…or at least, doggie paddle (being the sexy werewolf that I am).

– Zeke

Date: Thu, 28 Mar 2013 16:26:33

Subject: Just a reminder…

From: Zeke

To: S. Rohan

…that the absolute deadline for your illustrations is April 10. No ifs, ands or buts. I must have my finished manuscript delivered by April 12. That gives me two days to scan and adapt your images for my book.

It has been rather tortuous for moi that you’ve dragged out your work down to the very last minute. Yet I understand, as you’ve just been through two terrible crises (death of your father and favored aunt), for which I honorably share your burden. And for which I know has helped you through this most difficult passage, by putting some joy and dignity into your life.

But there comes a time when I absolutely must release my book (with or w/o your remarkable talent), for it has to do with saving many lives. And I can not delay any further!

Should you not complete the illustrations by said date, I will nonetheless accept your drawings whenever they are done. And, assuming my first novel becomes a bestseller (which I’m sure it will, as I know my destiny), I will later publish a “special edition” that includes your images, along with additional and smaller illustrations by Jesse Balmer (whose artwork is on display at Howard’s Cafe), scattered throughout the chapters.

I have no anger towards you, “S.”: nothing but great reverence for your work, and the difficult trials that have come upon you during this time.

Much love,


Thu, 28 Mar 2013 18:29:57

Subject: Yet another vision…

From: Zeke

To: Eleanor

…this time in the shower today, before I step out to dine at Howard’s Cafe.

Larkin has just moved into a room on my floor, that shares the same bathroom with me. I’m walking down the hallway about to take a shower, when he steps out, also ready to shower. I tell him: “Oh, you go first, I can wait.” Whence he replies:

“No, Zeke, you go first.”

“No, I insist: you go first.”

He demands: “No, Zeke, you go first.”

At which point we tussle to enter the bathroom door. Somehow, we squeeze through together, and we both disrobe to take a shower. Larkin declares:

“Maybe we should shower together. There’s a drought you know, and this will save water.”

I ignore him, draw the curtain aside, and prepare to lather up. Larkin joins me a short while after, and notices me gliding the 5-blade disposable razor across my head and chest.

“Wow! So you shave your body, eh?”

“Yes I do,” I explain. “Including my armpits once a week, and balls and butt crack each day.”

“Really?” he inquires. “Can I finish you off. That is: your balls and anus?”

“Well, okay,” I allow. “Just no funny stuff, alright?”

With that, he eagerly (but gently) shaves my balls, then tells me to lean against the wall and bend over, that he can groom my ass crack.

So I do just that, and in a moment I feel a hard, fleshy-fat knob attempting to penetrate my butt hole.

“Stop that!” I declare. “Just shave my rectum and be done with it!”

And so he does. For a few moments afterwards, we embrace and kiss, sliding boners in mutual delight as I massage his luxuriant hair with baby shampoo. Before stepping out, we cum in fountains beneath the hot pellets of water drops so kindly brought to us by the San Francisco Public Utilities Department.

After toweling off (each drying the other), and putting our bathrobes back on, he grabs my arm and compels me into his apartment just several yards down the hall, facing 16th Street. Whence he pulls me onto the bed, and embraces me in sweet affection. I weep upon his chest in cleansing tears of gratitude.

He kisses me all over, and I grow hard again. I cannot believe this is happening; my joy is beyond exquisite. And I kiss him on the lips, as his tears flow down and onto my tongue.

And that’s the end of my “shower vision.”

Barely one week ago, David (the person presently occupying that apt.) told me he found a lover, and is moving to Long Beach in less than three weeks.

In the past six years, every time Larkin has moved to another residence, he’s that much closer to my own building. Right now, he lives up 17th Street, barely a block away. So I guess the next step is to move into my building. And after that, we’ll find a nice apartment where we’ll live together. I surmise that will happen after my book is published, becomes a bestseller, and I can afford to provide for us both…with much more money to spare, that I can also manage quality health insurance for us two lovebirds.

Though I suspect that Larkin’s low income and couch hopping is merely a cover, that he can fulfill his duties as detective, and root out the scumbags that have caused much tragedy South of Market, including what they’ve done to me, which resulted in three years’ memory loss due to mild brain damage. I actually believe that Larkin is quite wealthy, due to his connections with certain affluent folks in our Gay Community. But also consider this: he is most likely one of God’s Great Angels, for whom money is not a concern. IOW: this is a grand play orchestrated by enlightened spirits, whose mission is to fulfill an incredible fantasy where I am the hero. And Larkin is the conductor.

Nonetheless, I’ve had many visions over the years, of Larkin moving into my building. This, I now realize, is not simply my own wishful thinking, but a prophetic vision that now appears to soon fulfill my incredible (and benevolent) destiny. Some years back–after his SOMA room above the old Hole in the Wall burned down (and I was kidnapped, dosed and left for dead), and he disappeared from my life under my fear that he became homeless (and for which I prayed and worried that he’d be okay)–he resurfaced right across 16th Street from my building, working as barback, to keep the place tidy and drive out anyone who presented difficulties.

How I discovered his return into my life, was because I’m in the habit of walking down the hallway to a window at the end, where I can check out the weather better than I can from my own windows.

That day when I looked out the hallway window, I saw Larkin standing on the deck of the Metro Bar (now long defunct), which was on the same level as my domicile: the second floor. To refresh your memory as to this discovery, I now refer you to this article, “A Larkin Reverie,” some years back:

But I also have this fear: that Larkin will move in and totally ignore me, like I’m just an awful pest in his life. He might shove me whenever our paths cross in the hallway, and invite all sorts of gorgeous dudes to his place, and make very loud sexual sounds that I can’t avoid but hear while using the bathroom (which is right next to the apartment that I believe he will soon occupy).

Which means further grief and tears shed on my part, at least several times per day. Egads! In such a case, hell for me will mean Larkin’s sadistic vengeance, because he rebels against my affectionate friendship. Probably because he’s been badly hurt in the past, by a lover who turned sour.

But if such be the case, I’ll slide letters under his door, declaring patience and friendship through it all. Until he softens his antagonism towards me, and realizes I’m his very best friend for all time. Though I must say:

If this is what comes down, I’m surely the most devoted friend any gay man could ever hope to have. Or I’m a big, fat fool.

With great respect and love,

– Zeke

PS: Do you think Twosome Press will censor my shower scene? Hopefully, my first published book will allow me to have free reigns over what I would like to publish next!

Date: Sun, 31 Mar 2013 11:05:46

Subject: Postcard to Larkin…

From: Zeke

To: Eleanor

…c/o Twin Peaks Tavern of course, since I have no other way to reach him (even person-to-person any more). Front and back attached to this missive. (Click on either image below, for a larger view.)

While blunt in my message to him, I did use a sense of humor up to a point. Just in case he was acting out a test (or initiation) per the GPMC’s strategy. (That’s what I call this mysterious group of enlightened gays South of Market: Gay Pagan Motorcycle Club…as revealed in Chapter 9 of my first book.) Which test is, in my surmisal:

To see if I have the guts to break up with one I most love, should he begin to display any sort of violence. I presume I passed w/frying crullers. 0_o Good grief, if so many great things hadn’t happened between us over the years, and if he had ever before acted abusive towards me in any way, shape or form; I would’ve dropped our friendship like a hot yam. If this be a test, they sure made it grievous to the max. Well, you helped me through by your kind patience and regard. Certainly, my angels have placed a gold star in The Book of Eleanor for that!

Glad that some good things have occurred for me, these last two days. For one: Matt approached me on 18th Street near Hartford, and apologized profusely for his foul behavior several months back. I believe I mentioned him in an earlier email: homeless dude who plays excellent keyboard and guitar. He’s now doing gigs on the street with a black dude named Derrick.

In fact, Matt was so sorry for walking around the Castro, hollering and calling me “pervert,” and trying to start a fight. I told him:

“Look, I’ll be honest. I do have sex with the homeless…but it’s rare, and only when the other person is mature and stable enough, and really wants to boink around.” I further explain:

“The queers w/roofs over their head reject me, ’cause I don’t have a car, nice apartment, or lots of cash to toss around. My only friends are those on the streets, so of course I fall in love with some of them, and we have sex.”

“I understand,” he said. “You’re actually a good guy, and again, I’m very sorry.”

This really cheered me up (in contrast to Larkin’s shoving me some days back, right around the corner). Gave him a hug, and said I’ll look for him again soon, and do a blog about his street music. Video, photos and all.

For two: I met this really neat Brit named Kevin, at Howard’s Cafe. Gave me his card; he’s a journalist for a radio station in Nottingham, England. Short in height, burly in a skinny sort of way, bald, around 38 years old and rather handsome. Of course, I talked about my upcoming novel and activist tales. Directed him to The Little Shamrock Irish pub just two blocks down from Howard’s. One of the waitrons here, Bobbie, also works at that pub…which I believe is the second oldest bar in San Francisco. Kevin mentioned visiting the gay bars here in the Castro.

“Oh,” I advised, “the gay bars South of Market are much more fun. Rough and tumble compared to the Castro, which bars are a lot more conservative and stuffed-shirt. In fact, the best gay bar on the planet is in SOMA: Hole in the Wall Saloon. All sorts of fun, you can lick a cute boy’s armpit for the price of a cheap drink.” Kevin chuckled at that. “That’s where I first met Larkn.” Then finished with:

“And the next best gay bar on the planet is also located in that same neighborhood: Eagle Tavern. It’s also the second main place where Larkin and I hanged out.”

Sadly (more for myself and SF than him), the day I met Kevin was his last day in San Francisco. He’s flying to Austin, Texas today. BTW, he also runs a blog at WordPress like myself, address:

You may read his writeup about yours truly there, in the “USA 2013″³ section (see link in rightside menu bar).

So it’s Easter Sunday. This time last year, I was totally convinced Larkin would surprise me with a marriage proposal, at Dolores Park. (See Chapter 8 of “Free Me From This Bond” to learn about that scenario.) The Sisters hold an Easter festival there each year. For these past few days I wondered “should I go to the park again?” I’ve decided NO, it would just wind up being another depressing outcome. And of course if he does soon propose, I’ll have to turn him down…in light of our recent confrontation.

Well, Howard’s is open today, so I’m gonna wrap up this letter, take a shower and truck on down there.

Of course, I’ll put my clothes on first. (This is Easter after all, not my birthday!)

I’ll Push You Back!

March 24, 2013

[ Free Me From This Bond (the sequel): Chapter 2 ]

[ Heartfelt Reader: please realize that the name “Phillip” in the previous chapter, was a psuedonym for “Larkin.” This is due to a temporary bump in our relationship, and nothing more. Yet for the sake of posterity, I’ve kept the name “Phillip” in Chapter 1. ]

Date: Sat, 23 Mar 2013 17:21:33
Keith, why haven’t you invited me over?
From: Zeke
To: Keith

Just wondering. Last time you welcomed me, was because I put a bit of pressure on you, by expressing the difficult situation I was in. I really don’t care to see someone based on a guilt trip. This is not intended to coerce you to invite me over again, BTW…I have too much pride.

When you said I’m more than welcome to drop over (even w/a homeless friend) whenever I see the light on in back:

Well, I don’t often pass by that part of the “˜hood, so whether or not the light is on is irrelevant. Though some weeks back I did walk by that area and saw that light on. So I came to your gate and pressed the buzzer. Someone came down to answer, but he said both you and Gus were out at moment. So I said “sorry” and moved on.

If you love me so much, I kind of expected you to contact me once a month or so, to get together…whether at your place on Collingwood, or elsewhere. I realize my room is a shambles, and I don’t expect you or anyone else to visit me here, for that reason.

I have no doubt as to your affections towards me. And has nothing to do with what I just stated above. If it is your preference to just stay in contact via email–in spite of being barely one block away–okay, I’ll live with that.

BTW, you should know that my hero Larkin, also lives barely a block away. Yet he, too, never invites me over, nor even has given me his apartment number, that I can send him a letter now and then. He doesn’t bother w/computers or Internet, so emailing him is out of the question. Therefore, the only chances I get to see this beautiful man, is on the streets whenever our paths cross. That happens about once every two weeks.

What is most curious, is that Larkin lives now on 17th Street, almost directly across from you and Gus! How ironic that both yourself and Larkin have put me in a rather distant space. Psychologically speaking, in spite of our close geographical proximity.

I appreciate your many kindnesses, and certainly do not regard them in vain. So thank you so much for that. But if you invite me over soon, due to this latest missive, I will turn you down. I don’t understand at all, why every person I’ve ever loved or befriended, makes it so utterly difficult to have any face-to-face visits, except rarely. While so many others I see have friends and lovers close to them w/o any such strange distance. This has been going on with me for years.

I always wind up very much alone, while others who say they really care about me, have tons of parties and friends to afford them good times. As for myself, I remain pretty much relegated to isolation, and the only thing that gives me succor, is to write my tales.

– Zeke

Date: Sat, 23 Mar 2013 18:52:13
I’ll push you back!
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Funny how I purchased that Scooby-Doo card for Larkin, earlier in the day before we met at Pilsner. I dropped it off in my room, never expecting to see him later in the evening. When I did, I needed to run over to Walgreens to withdraw $20 so I could buy my third drink (after buying him a drink, along with my first two).

That is when I saw that Scooby-Doo card at the other Walgreens. (There are two in the Castro: one on 18th & Castro, the other much closer to Pilsner Inn, on Market Street a block away.)

So when I skedaddle over to Walgreens close to Pilsner to get my $20, I check out the card section: lo and behold I see that very same Scooby-Doo card (made of felt w/a cardboard insert that served for an Easter greeting). So instead of paying $7 for that card, I wind up spending $14, in order to bring him that same card at Pilsner.

There is something so sweet about Larkin, I’m willing to pay twice the amount for any gift I give him. I am such a sucker for his friendship, there is no other way to explain it.

But as it turns out, next day after confronting him at Pilsner, I realize a photo of the envelope’s back (w/those Pegasus/dragon stickers) would look great as the cover illustration for my latest blog entry, “Ultimatum.” And that explains why I bought two Scooby-Doos: one to give Larkin, the other to take a pic of said card, and place it in that blog. Funny how Destiny takes matters in hand. But such synchronicity gives me great hope that we shall soon be together, minus the horse hockey.

Now, two days later and just a short moment ago, I pass by Twin Peaks Tavern on my way to Molly Stones to purchase my favorite frozen entree: “Michelangelo’s Manicotti and Sauce.” Larkin stands outside, smoking a cig. I walk right by him as if we never knew each other. Of course, I hope he’ll call to me, so we could stop and chat.

That never happens. But if it did, I’d not be able to look him directly in the eyes, for I am terribly ashamed of his crude behavior that other night. Yet I would pause to hear him out, though I was prepared to not offer him a word in return. I also resumed carrying a canister of pepper spray, just in case.

So I continue my stroll to Molly Stones, where I purchase four boxes of this yummy manicotti. On the way back, I mosey on by Twin Peaks once again, and pause a few doors down to light a Fortuna…not bothering to glance through the plate glass window, to see if Larkin is still there.

I’m standing just one door away from Orphan Andy’s (two doors down from Twin Peaks). My best friend Marvin used to work there until he died from AIDS back in 1992. So I tend to linger there every now and then, to honor his memory. IOW: my presence in that area is not exclusively all about Larkin.

Few minutes later, Larkin steps back out, sees me, and walks in my direction under the pretense of chatting with another who’s strolling in my direction and beyond. Which affords me the glorious opportunity to praise him, though it appears to anyone else passing by that I am either talking to myself or via bluetooth.

I call out: “That was a really nice message you left me on the answering machine. I truly appreciate that.”

He does not even spare a single nanosecond to acknowledge me, and walks right by as if I’m a ghost. Then loops around to resume his Twin Peaks boozing. But at the very moment he extends a gangly arm to open that door, I declare in a booming echo:

“That was fun what we did the other night; let’s do it again. Only this time I push you back.” (By “let’s do it again,” of course l’m referring to a couple nights ago when I confronted him, and he shoved me.)

Of course, he ignores me and returns to the bar. I finish my cancer stick and return home. The heartbreak I have for him is far less painful than two days ago, and more of a kind of pride. I look back just before entering 2306, in hopes he followed me. Alas, he did not.

So now that I’m snug once more in my humble SRO, decide to post you this letter. I am terribly sad and joyful at the same time. Sort of like those sweet-and-sour dishes served at Chinese restaurants.

– Zeke

Date: Sun, 24 Mar 2013 19:07:53
He’s punking me…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

…again. Before I tell you how I arrived at this conclusion let me say: thank you so much for being such a supportive ally over the years. This recent flurry of emails to you is only because I am going through such an intense bombardment of realizations. But I want you to know that, while I figure you’re quite busy w/promoting your latest novel for a movie contract, and that you’re diligently composing your next book:

Please don’t feel any need to write back for the duration of your own projects. I appreciate using you as my sounding board, whereby I convert our emails into another book that is obviously the sequel to “Free Me From This Bond.” Nonetheless, feel free to continue your replies, if you so wish. In a very real way, we too are coauthors, but in a different fashion from your collaboration with Daniel Altieri. Allow me now to explain how I finally realized that Larkin is punking me once more. Of course, his message on my answering machine was a tip-off. Let me tell you now, of our latest encounter:

Yesterday, late afternoon–after finishing my power walk up and down 17th Street–I decide to stand a few doors down from Twin Peaks Tavern, once more. In a few moments Larkin steps outside Twin Peaks for a smoke. He just totally ignores me (though not really) and steps back into Twin Peaks. I return to my SRO and, though feeling much better now, still weep profusely over the very idea of losing his friendship for good. But next morning (which is today), I’m walloped by an incredible vision while digesting my bowl of rolled oats w/raisins and flower seeds:

I step into Eagle Tavern, to discover the place decked out in party decorations: confetti, streamers, balloons and a roaring barbecue (including some vegetarian entrees, which suit my olfactory nerves perfectly). “Oh! What’s the celebration?” I inquire of Tobias, a former bartender now manager. (I should add here that Tobias is a terribly kind man; for he knew I lived on a meager disability stipend. And thus he only charged me half price, that I could afford now and then to buy some bodacious dude a drink. That was some years ago, before I was driven out for a time by unfortunate and frightening circumstance.) He responds:

“Someone’s getting married today. Please help yourself to party favors and snacks. So good to see you again, Zeke!”

Many patrons are present (more than half the legal capacity), including some I regarded as enemies from the past, of three and four years ago. Though I now realize they simply played the role as antagonists, that I may become the hero in this real-life fairtytale. No harm, no foul. Some moments later, a Sister (of Perpetual Indulgence) steps up to the elevated deck in the back patio. And announces over the mic:

“Welcome to the most astounding gay wedding about to take place, ever!” She clears her throat to continue: “Zeke, I would like you to come up here with me now, that the miracle may begin.”

Well, I almost spit out the grilled sweet-and-sour tofu served by the hunkiest and handsomest black leather dude I’ve ever seen: I am that stunned! So I approach the stage, and stand beside Sister Beelzebum. She hugs me with great endearment, and kisses me on the left temple. Then announces:

“This fine man, Ezekiel Krahlin, will soon publish a book that will drastically elevate respect and appreciation of LGBTQ folks everywhere on the planet, by the heterosexual majority.” She then lowers her head draped in curly locks of platinum, as if in prayer, and continues:

“We owe Ezekiel many apologies and gratitude for sacrifices that have kept him isolated and persecuted for so many years…more than three decades.” Tears begin to spill over her lower eyelids as s/he continues:

“There is a very beautiful man in the wings who’d now like to approach Ezekiel, and ask his hand in marriage.”

“WTF?” (I muse to myself) “I really hope it’s not anyone else but Larkin.”

I gaze to my right, to see Larkin emerge from the second urinal for patio patrons. His tousled mop of dark auburn hair now planed down to a buzz cut with double chevrons on each side: impeccable! Lanky frame so tall (a startling 6-foot-4), he’s like a kid exiting a toy fort with bent-down head.

He leaps upon stage to embrace me with the sweetest hug I’ve ever known. Larkin’s darling breath anoints my bandana-bound cranium. Then settles upon one knee, pulls a ring from his pocket, and gazes up at me with the most dragonly orange-flame eyes I have ever beheld. And begs:

“Ezekiel! I am eternally sorry for putting you through my spiritual paces.” A tear drop emerges from his left eye, and slides down the cheek. He stifles a sob, and continues:

“You are the finest man on the planet. And it would make me infinitely happy to be your lover and spouse.” By now, many tears fill the house…not a dry peeper anywhere. Including myself, whose tears of joy shower my face like a personal waterfall.

“Please, Zeke, will you marry me?” So I instantly respond:

“Of course, you handsome father fukkuh you! I’d be insane to say no!”

Larkin then takes my hand, and gently slides a golden ring w/sapphire gems upon my marriage finger.

And then the vision ends.

So I finishes me oatmeal (feeling my oats in more ways than one). On my way crossing Noe Street to walk north and catch the N Judah at Duboce Park, I see Larkin crossing in the opposite direction, totally caught up in his cell phone w/lowered head. My knees wobble, and I beg for grace. What can I say at this moment, to my most beloved friend?

Well–even though I know for sure it’s him (who couldn’t when so few others are so tall and handsome?)–another pedestrian crosses my sight, blanking out Larkin for a split second. My yearning eyes have been riveted on Larkin before he disappears behind that pedestrian. Yet when he emerges, a totally diiferent dude takes his place: he is but 5-foot-9 with a wholely different type of face and hair! Yet I know beyond a shade of a doubt: That was my Larkin, I’m not hallucinating.

For I have come to realize some years back that Larkin is indeed an angel. Not in any figurative sense, but in solid reality. Or IOW: the Gay Community here in San Francisco harbors the greatest treasure this planet will ever know, or any other planet in the universe for that matter: one of God’s very own archangels, if not Jehovah Himself!

And he dwelled in the old Hole in Wall before being driven out and drawn to my own neighborhood, the Castro, whereby he now resides just less than a block away from yours truly! And there you have it, Morticia: the Resurrection of My Own Dreams beyond any possible nihilistic entity. Hoping to run into Larkin once more (and soon) to call to him:

“Larkin, you are so much fun! I realize now you’re pranking me, and why.”

To which Larkin will turn in response, and shower me with his perpetual compassion. Thus, I continue (after absorbing those benevolent rays of sweetness):

“You want to make me believe I’ve lost you forever, but within a short time from now you will propose marriage to me.” I almost collapse in revery, before I catch my breath:

“The Eagle will hold a surprise party for me. Which is where you’ll propose to me, and the Sisters will perform our wedding ceremony!”

Upon those words, Larkin will come right up to me, and breathe into my ear:

“You are so wonderful Zeke, I don’t even think you realize yet how enamored I am of you…which is light years beyond how much you love me.”

“You are the greatest joy of my life,” I confess, “and shall always be so!” But I’m not yet done:

“Larkin Kelsey, you are the most brilliant jokester I have ever met.” So I deliberate further:

“The idea of ever losing you is such a devastating thought, I can barely clothe and feed myself each day.” Thus I beg:

“Please cease these games, and allow me to just be your very best friend for all eternity.”

So there you have it El: the first part of Chapter 2 in “Free Me From This Bond (the sequel).”


– Zeke

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 00:42:33
Re: My latest blog entry…
From: Keith
To: Zeke

The building where the Diesel store (formerly Bank of America) used to be is going to be turned into the greatest and most hygienic public socially mixed gay bath and it will have your name on front. I’ve been having recurring dreams about it. – Sign across roof where it used to read “Bank of America” will be a solar lit sign soon that will say “Castro Bathing Club.”

– At street level a plaque with a dedication to you and your work that looks like the Harvey Milk plaque across plaza.

– It will welcome all social classes since entry will be free of charge and open to everyone.

– It will always be spotlessly clean.

– It will be safe.

– It will be extremely clean and safe because super rich folks will give away tiny amounts of their fortunes to maintain guaranteed funding for at least the next 88 years to pay a living wage to neighborhood residents to maintain this facility, and because everyone will love it and take care of it like a gay temple of health.

– It will also be safe because it will be first bath house with all glass windows facing the street (like Twin Peaks), and glass walls inside and brightly lit by the sun during the day, and solar powered lights at night.

– By bath house I don’t mean sex club, I just mean a building for the purpose of bathing.

– It will be open 24 hours.

– On entering everyone leaves their clothes (and can have them washed for free while you bathe) and must first go through a shower before entering the main pool, which takes up most of the main floor. You can see the pool through windows facing out into the Castro so it’s a visible landmark. Since it’s in the Castro and clothes won’t be allowed inside, that will discourage homophobic folks from coming around, but anyone who is polite and behaves will be welcome.

– It will be a shining, glowing glass landmark for the Castro, a place for homophobia free socializing, for anyone to come clean up, open anytime, a source of employment and recreation for neighborhood residents, a place where all classes meet like old Roman baths, and like Roman baths, supported and allowed to be made beautiful by the richest folks in The City who care about making this city richer for everyone.

– Famous authors will come speak there and sign books.

– People can sit around and socialize or be quiet without worrying about being pestered to buy anything.

Mon, 25 Mar 2013 01:26:17
Re: My latest blog entry…
From: Zeke
To: Keith

WOW WHAT A VISION!!! You are not only super gorgeous, Keith, but quite astounding as well.

There’s a typo in your description of your incredible vision. And I can’t figure it out. It’s: “rdnatjabje landmark.”

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 09:37:40
Re: My latest blog entry…
From: Keith
To: Zeke

Keith wrote:

I’m not exactly sure what I intended by that, but it might be the result of being a little confused in general about activity on that corner. I also saw that “Pottery Barn” will be going out of business and that space will also be reclaimed by the neighborhood for public use. Maybe aquatic and bathing center is there, instead of a plaque at street level, the chair in the clock tower will be replaced by your bronzed bust looking out over the crossing. That might be an easier building to turn into baths since it’s larger and newer, and we can use the Diesel Store as a public meeting center. I was probably premature in telling you about all this because I was attacked violently in my sleep last night by an unknown thing carrying around a colored ribbon and a pastel blanket, but fortunately my paralysis broke and I was able to yell out and wake up the other part before pissing all over my bed.

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 10:40:43
Re: My latest blog entry…
From: Zeke
To: Keith

{{ I’m not exactly sure what I intended by that, but it might be the result of being a little confused in general about activity on that corner. }}

I just changed it to “visible” landmark. No big dealie.

{{ I also saw that “Pottery Barn” will be going out of business }}

Good riddance. Before them, it was SF Firemen’s Fund, and before that were two incredibly lovely and large, Edwardian houses. BTW, where that condo now stands beside Harvey Milk Plaza, was once an absolutely gorgeous and rambling mansion, exquisite in architectural design and colors. AND I DON’T EVEN HAVE ANY PICTURE OF IT!!! It was terrible to see that fairytale domicile surrender to wrecking balls. It was every bit as wondrous as the mansion on the corner of Caselli and Douglass.

{{ and that space will also be reclaimed by the neighborhood for public use. }}

How interesting. I think very rapid changes will soon occur in the Castro, as spiritual manifestations accumulate until they burst into reality. It’s all good, Keith, so not to worry. :)

{{ Maybe the aquatic and bathing center is there, instead of a plaque at street level, the chair in the clock tower will be replaced by your bronzed bust looking out overthe crossing. }}

OMFG, that would be hilarious. Though my physical self will soon morph into a really good-looker…I think many who admire me would enjoy images of my former, bag-o-nerves-and-insecurities self.

{{ That might be an easier building to turn into baths since it’s larger and newer, and we can use the Diesel Store as a public meeting center. }}

Possibly. But since the underground at this famous intersection is already hollowed out: maybe both buildings will be the bathhouse, connected by a subterraneous walkway. Or perhaps a pedestrian bridge.

{{ I was probably premature in telling you about all this }}

No, not at all. Most potent visions are always those that are first told, before any further visions or interpretations unfold. I call them “raw” visions.

{{ because I was attacked violently in my sleep last night }}

You seem to suffer from sleep paralysis. Almost everyone who does, finds it a quite horrid experience. But for most people, it’s a very rare phenomenon. In your case however, you are highly gifted w/paranormal abilities. And thus are haunted by many chaotic and unpleasant visions…until they become sorted out properly once you stabilize.

The spirits you see are all harmless, though appear frightening. Remember: we truly have no enemies, only teachers. So what are they teaching you?

I think most likely, they are toughening your soul by putting you through a sort of spiritual boot camp. Those destined to become the best soldiers, go through the most rigorous training.

Though I see nothing wrong with attempting to reduce or at least “soften” these spells by any method that works…meditation, marijuana, exercise, music, booze, or letting me suck on your bodacious popsicle. Ha, ha.

Love ya bunches, Keith. As I said to my old pal Jack T. Ripper in a past life:

“Please don’t be a strangler!”

Of course as history shows, he didn’t heed my advice. Just goes to prove:

You can lead a hearse to water, but you can’t dump the body there!



Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 11:21:46
This will trip you out…
From: Zeke
To: Keith

…in a good way, Keith. An unfinished piece in which a complete architectural transition overwhelms the Castro. I may someday complete it, but isn’t it nice for a famed author to also have a collection of unfinished works…to some day publish in its incompleteness?

(a parable for 21st century)
(c) 1992 by Gene Catalano

It was year 2042 when Cordell abandoned his heterosexist family and NuAmsterdam to carve out a life for himself in NuAthens, capitol of NuGreece: FIRST NATION IN HISTORY BORN OF THE GLOBAL&GLORIOUS SAMESEX REVOLUTION OF 1999. Like his biogenic grandsire, he settled in the PinkHeart District (formerly “the Castro”)–quite different from his ForeSkinFather’s time, yet in many ways still the same. The Castro Theater still stood, though sheathed in transparent TectoLucite to protect it against natural, chemical, or homophobic erosion. Several more ErsatzEarlyFormerCentury-Style buildings were restored and preserved in this manner…while all (98.9%) remaining edifices were simply guised in HoloFacades. In rare moments when PG&E (“Pegasus Electric”) PinkHeart power grid overloaded and shut down, the true appearance of GayCapitol’s heartland was revealed…sometimes for as long as several minutes, but usually only for the blink of a CameloidEye.

Gone–in those SporadicBrief instances–were rows upon rows of quaint gingerbread structures HoloGraced with RainbowSpectrum neon hues (and all consecrated shades between). scattered handful of authentic, restored NeoVictoriEdwardianDecos (such as Castro theater) stood like Parthenon Gods&Goddesses among groveling barbarian 2&3Story crackerbox dwellings, all painted a uniform, flat shade of pink across the entire valley of Eureka and beyond. To our GayGlorious credit, however–and I speak for all proud citizens of NuAthens–they were SturdyBiltSpotlessKleen, with bonafide hologramNOT interiors of Victorian, Hellenic, WilyWestern, DeepThroatSouth, FukkinPrevertician, GumbyPokeyitic, DecoDiscoQueenish, UltraPseudoLeatherButch, DanteBoschApocalpytoGothic, LalaLiberalLiberace&LawrenceWelkian, HomoRomoDomo-Erotic, and or kaleidoscopically-metamorphosing multifarious decor. (FYI: all NuAthens tour guides MUST have a MasterBaiter’s degree in PostAnthropological NuLinguistics.)

It was a great lark for both resident and tourist alike, to place bets on when the next “PinkHeart Brownout” would occur. Most tourists left disheartened, with no impressive HoloSlides to show their equally-disappointed family, friends, and relatives…for there were NO legally-available postcards of “real” PinkHeart; and anyone caught selling through the black market was peremptorily exiled to NuAntarctica (on NuMoon III of Planet Hades). The few LUCKY visitors, however, proudly boasted of their splendiferous snapshots (like a Neanderthalensis dragging his PrizeCatchMastodonRump back to the home cave) to anyone who would stop to listen, even to aliens of abducting UFO’s who had no idea what on NuEarth they were talking about. The tariff on each PhorbiddenPhoto was steep (200 QueerBucks), and odds were always in favor of the NuAthens resident…thus many SuperRichDykes&-Faggots populate our fairy city.

NOTE: Homophobic gossips have recently spread the rumor that NuAthenians control the timing of bets and brownouts, on the claim that worldwide fiber optic integration and SolarWindWaveThermalPower have eliminated any shortage of electricity anywhere with no possible chance of short circuits, brownouts, spikes, or surges. When interviewed by MainstreamMedia, Pegasus stamped his hoof and snorted in anger:

“That is a lie! My company stands by its reputation of quality service.” Then he looked right into the camera lens and into every home, bar, SexClub and PoodleFactory of NuAthens and said with a wink:

“Don’t we, guys?”

This is straight from the Horse’s Mouth.


-NUCHURCH: STAINED GLASS OF GENIE’S ART, SACRED TEXT, PANELS DEPICTING HIS GREAT MOMENTS (villification of gay activist impostera, slaying of dragon quilt, St. Genie knocking over booths and stalls at Castro Street Fair, Randy w/Genie saying: “This dudette’s a sick puppy!”, etc. Exposing death cult.) INSTEAD OF COMMUNION WAFERS: “EAT MY JOCKSTRAP” GUMMY JOCKSTRAP CANDIES IN SACRED VENDING FONT (plays music)





STATUE OF SLAYED HOMOPHOBE (silver-curly hair, sky-blue eyes and walking stick). Street Patrol defended themselves and stabbed him with his own knife)



From UFO, plant gift of thorny rose bush in park…“ thorn in heart of joy, that St. Genie must always be taken seriously at deepest level”…Genie meditates on NuChurch rooftop garden, where angel GayBrie reveals death of his dog from thorn…hiking along Collingwood street becomes NuViaDolorosa.


St. Genie places his magic pen back in its special desk drawer, sits back and, with a grateful sigh, folds his completed tale of Thureewhyzemenn.

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 01:22:5
Re: He’s punking me…
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanore wrote:

{{ It’s happening!!!! }}

I feel just like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. Or a teenage boy leaping into a deep pond replenished by a bubbling cataract. Or a brand new universe about to be born.

Thank you so much for your many years’ kindness, support, and sage advice. We’ve been on this ride together, for quite a few years now. And what a ride it is, eh? The Friendly Ghost Detective Agency never boinks on the job!

Unless, of course, the suspect is exceedingly handsome and well endowed.

– Zeke

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 16:38:42
Fukkin text editor!
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

So I’m composing Chapter 2 of “Free Me From This Bond- the sequel,” when I suddenly discover that the character string “the” has been deleted across the entire, now-quite-lengthy chapter! This just doesn’t mean every definite article “the” is eliminated, but also every word containing “the” within its body. Such as “furr” (should read “further”), “toger” (should be “together”), and so on.

Worse yet: words like “them” show up as “m” and a phrase such as “the theater” shows up as “ater”.

I have no idea why this happened: certainly it is not my own intent to remove all of the “the” character strings across the board! So now I am condemned to read over the entire article–word by word–in order to catch and correct these typos.

If ever there was a hell, this is it.

OMFG I need a secretary…and he’d better be super hot with a really fine ass. So whenever he sits upon my lap I’ll find heaven. I’ve had enough with dogmatic “isms,” unless there is a “j” appended to the front!

– Zeke

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 17:31:36
Re: Fukkin text editor!
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ Jeeziz! What a colossal pain! At least it wasn’t an entire manuscript……. Back when Dan and I had handed in our final manuscript to William Morrow & Co., there were two typos we found at the very last minute. One was “crap-filled” lake instead of “carp-filled” lake, and the other was a “darling” barbarian from the north, rather than a “daring” barbarian from the north. Oy. }}

Hell is a typo that changes everything from the author’s intent. :(

– Zeke

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 17:31:36
Re: Fukkin text editor!
From: Eleanor
To: Zeke

Our local paper ran a headline not long ago, in big black lettters: LONG-AWAITED PUBIC MEETING HELD. }}

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 19:45:23
Re: Fukkin text editor!
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Aha! The old “pubic relations” joke but in a different guise.

– Zeke

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 20:01:04
RE: My latest blog entry…
From: Carlyle
To: Zeke

Ezekiel, Like the picture of the winged horses: reminds me of what I was saying about “Horseshoe in the Sky.”

In the prose part, I mentioned that I had seen some strange things in sky that inspired the poem: a contrail shaped like a horseshoe, and another one in the process of being made, only strangely growing horizontally in both directions at once: stretching and growing to the East, at the same time to the West.

My life is a novel, just not sure of the genre, whether “James Bond” (spies), “Close Encounters” (aliens/high intelligence), or “The Exorcist” (religious/supernatural).

To have one or more of those areas explaining the mysteries of my life that this point would be no more improbable than “coincidences.”

If the answer is “James Bond”, then I think that most likely the meteor over Massachusetts was not so much for the purpose of honoring me personally as it was to punctuate my earlier message, trying to raise an eyebrow, that maybe the “fantastic” claim being made was not just a flight of imagination. I.e, that the Massachusetts “meteor” wasn’t really a meteor any more than the Chelyabinsk one. It was the demonstration of a plasma device.

The U.S. would not risk WWIII by “testing” a military device over Russia. Russia would not risk testing a device over an area with nuclear facilities, and would have no one whom they were trying to impress.

*We* who fight for the same cause would have such motive and such boldness. I want to catch Vladimir Putin’s personal attention and make him realize that there is something there to be taken seriously.

Regards, Carlyle

Mon, 25 Mar 2013 20:02:04
RE: My latest blog entry…
From: Zeke
To: Carlyle

Carlyle wrote:

{{ Like the picture of the winged horses: reminds me of what I was saying about “Horseshoe in the Sky.” }}

Well, I’m very much in tune with the cosmos these days. Let’s just say I’m a horse of a different color!

{{ My life is a novel, just not sure of the genre }}

Me, too. Larkin is a detective, for whom I became a sidekick. Yet he’s also a wondrous angel, who may or may not have, arrived in a UFO. (Which is actually not significant to me, for no matter how he came here, I am totally ecstatic that he came here for me, above and beyond anyone else! That’s quite a compliment, when you think about it.)

{{ To have one or more of those areas explaining the mysteries of my life that this point would be no more improbable than “coincidences.” }}

OMFG, you’re so intellectual about such things, my brains are fried!

{{ If the answer is “James Bond” }}

Perhaps the real answer is: “all of the above.”

{{ “We” who fight for the same cause would have such motive and such boldness. I want to catch Vladimir Putin’s personal attention and make him realize that there is something there to be taken seriously. }}

There is indeed. And because of your extensive writing (over many years) on Usenet and perhaps other places in cyberspace: you may have indeed garnered the attention of various world leaders.

Such is the way of the Hidden World.

– Ezekiel

Date: Mon, 25 Mar 2013 23:00:48
Re: Fukkin text editor!
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanore wrote:

{{ What was so hysterical about this was that it was a genuine typo. }}

They’re the worst, as opposed to DISingenuous typos!

Wishing I saw Larkin today, to tell him I’m onto his prank, and that I figured out why. But, no luck. Then I meet this darling man on the streets, w/o friends or family. But with a lovely demeanor, hot body and kok to die for (that loves to be played with). Says he prefers the ladies, but thinks I’m pretty damn nice anywayz.

He might show up again later tonight. Told him if after 11:30 PM I’m snoozin’ w/the telephone ringer and answering machine volume turned off. It’s now 10:54 PM, so he’s got a little time left. Maybe I’ll stay up till midnight, just because he’s such a yummy dude, and he’s very sweet to hold in my arms. Even tilted his head so I could lick his neck and bite down on it.

We vampires are grossly misunderstood. But since I’m also part werewolf, I can deal with nighttime romps, but only during a full moon.

Did I ever tell you the time at a gala last year, I almost morphed into a wolf before everyone’s startled eyes? Wasn’t a full moon, though. What triggered my transition was a blacklight image of a full moon across one corner of the ceiling. I quickly left the party and dog-trotted over to 7/11 for a box of Kibbles “˜n Bits and a pint of Mad Dog.

How many more bachelor parties can I have, before Larkin proposes? I’m countin’ the men (and boys…and pups)!

– Zeke

$760 Down the Tubes?

February 4, 2013

Date: Sun, 3 Feb 2013 02:07
Subject: You Rock, Frankie!
From: Zeke K.
To: Frankie S.

Today, Irene reminded me that you are leaving The City awhile, due to family crisis, probably a death. THIS REALLY SUCKS, FRANKIE, AND I AM /SO/ SORRY YOU MUST GO THROUGH THIS!

I do hope that you decide to draw some of my illustrations during this time…it will most likely be highly cathartic and healing under such duress. KEEP IN MIND that you are drawing for me, a gay activist of many years, who has suffered many losses (including death) of those he’s loved and struggled to fight to survive. At this point in my life, I am WAY BEYOND whatever lessons Death can teach us all. I therefore assure you, my new friend:

Take a deep breath, keep the faith, and please please please trust me when I say: MANY REWARDS await the stalwart pilgrim! But you must learn this for yourself, Little Grasshopper…no one can truly protect you from this most difficult passage. And if they could, you would thereby remain a chrysalis, never to know the breaking of your husk,
and spreading the wings of a butterfly.

All you’ll need beside your basic drawing tools, is access to a copy center, where you can make high quality photocopies, then send them off to me. Keep the originals! I would say, wait until you have 3 images done, before sending ’em off. Do it in batches of three, which will keep the postage expenses down. Save receipts, and I will gladly
reimburse you for any mailing expenses. You do not have to send them “overnight”…just “priority mail”.

If you can complete all 13 images by March 1, I will likely offer to pay you for seven more illustrations.

YOU ROCK, FRANKIE! Your illustrations that you’ve shown me thus far (albeit incomplete), have all been EXQUISITE, with much SPIRIT and ARTFUL DELIGHT shining through!

I wish you GREAT JOY and MINIMUM GRIEF, in spite of this difficult ordeal you are called to. And I consider it a TREMENDOUS HONOR if illustrating my ideas plays some significant role in easing your present difficulty.

Love ya Frankie,


Date: Fri, 4 Feb 2013 02:16
Subject: I Got Your Back, Frankie!
From: Zeke K.
To: Frankie S.

Been doin’ some meditation on the many incredible challenges Athena has recently tossed at my stumbling feet. (FYI: I may be the sole remaining person on this planet, who holds Great Reverence for the gods and goddesses of Ancient Greece, and actively worships them.) Which great challenge also includes the conjunction of our two souls…or perhaps I should say “three” souls, when one considers your Greatest Advocate and Best Friend, Irene.

Your family crisis that you so nobly come home to, and face with great courage, may likely be a Tremendous Heartbreak, the likes of which you’ve never known. It is a crushing and deadly force which you cannot, nor should not avoid. Now, it is my great hope that your illustrating for me will be a positive interjection into a most painful passage. But that may not be enough (as my angelic companions have just suggested during this latest meditation).

Well, Dear Frankie, I surely know by now that Irene is your BFF…and that she is always there to lean on, and that you can call her whenever. But JUST IN CASE: please realize that I am ALSO here for ya, and you can lean on me too. So, if you need an extra fan cheering you on, know that I GOT YOUR BACK, TOO…and you can call me any time, day or night, if you need a kind shoulder to lean on. (This might be advantageous, in that maybe Irene needs a break, and I can be your main backup.)

I would even go so far as to say: your life, your soul, is worth infinitely more than even my illustrations. Therefore, I am MORE THAN WILLING to sacrifice these drawings if that’s what it takes to pull you through…unharmed and alive and sane, and all in one piece! If such an outcome occurs, please know with all my sincerity, that I wouldn’t even /dream/ of expecting any sort of reimbursement. What money I gave you is all yours, no strings attached.

For you see, Frankie, I act on the highest level possible, for every soul I have the great honor to meet. Sometimes I am asked by Fate to make some sort of sacrifice for that person…and sometimes, that is a financial sacrifice. So be it! It’s only money. And what’s that compared to any soul? Absolutely nada!

Though I know deep down, that your illustrations would be /perfect/ for my novel…which will go down in history as one of the greatest love stories ever told…and it’s very, very, very GAY!

But if Fate deems that the first edition of my book must be released w/o any illustrations, I presume that’s because the angels want me first to stand alone in This Great Victory. Still, it makes no sense to me, that my novel should ultimately /not/ feature your exquisite drawings that I’m /sure/ would grace My Incredible Tale with an Impassable Glory above and beyond the writing alone.

In case you didn’t bring my phone number with you while on your Family Odyssey, here it is again. I do have an answering machine, but no caller ID. It’s landline…so if I’m not home and you leave a msg., don’t forget to tell me the number you’re calling from, so I can call you back ASAP.

With great respect and appreciation,


Date: Fri, 15 Feb 2013 08:28
Subject: You Rock, Frankie!
From: Frankie S.
To: Zeke K.

After a stormy delay, I have finally made it back to SF–albeit with some sort of stomach bug apparently. damn dirty airplanes.

Thank you for the kind and encouraging words; uncanny that you mention the chrysallis, as that is the very theme of a recent sculpture which i brought back with me.

I did take your illustrations along for the journey, and they were salve and salvation. got into some good grooves (particularly the angels, go figure.) for me, getting into art mode serves up the time-dissolving rest of distraction while keeping me utterly engaged. Not for the first time do I marvel at such a magical, near-contradictory phenomenon…and my dad really dug the illustrations too, which really made it for me. He’s the one who passed down all those art genes and creative inspiration after all.

How divine that our paths connected–I certainly feel blessed. It was a pleasure to finally meet you, and your ideas tickle me! it’s been a blast so far (yes, I even laugh out loud as i’m sketching sometimes) and i love the challenge of your diverse themes/subjects/and tones.

Anyways, yup, back on the west coast. and news from my other life, Sparky’s is no longer a 24-hr joint. LAME. so i’ve got a new schedule to adjust to–lucky for me, a mysterious benefactor left a new alarm clock on my doorstep!! I suppose YOU might know something about that?? That was so sweet! Such a thoughtful gift, and at the perfect time, i was quite moved. THANK YOU!!!

So, no time like the present to put that puppy to use–I’m BEAT! who’d athunk Sparky’s would be so damn busy on V-day?? DOUBLE LAME.

Date: Sat, 16 Feb 2013 14:28
Subject: You Rock, Frankie!
From: Zeke K.
To: Frankie S.

Fantastic letter, Frankie…thankyou. Haven’t been able to Internet-connect from home for two days now. So until this glitch clears up, and if you need to contact me ASAP, just use the phone. Otherwise, you must wait for me to access public wifi before you’ll get a response.

Oh, forgot to mention: Thalidomide Daddy does not reguire you to draw any seats. It’s almost perfect already, except for his position at the bar…and I might be wrong about this anywayz. Maybe send me the image to refresh my memory.

Homophobia in the Hacker Ranks

January 14, 2013

On Mon, Jan 14, 2013 at 2:39 AM, Zeke Krahlin wrote:

I have seen over and over, among the hacker-type forums, anti-gay expletives (usually “f*ggot”) in the forums of Torrent Freak, Slashdot and the like. Usually implying that “f*ggot” is the worst possible label to place on those anti-pirate and anti-freedom spokespeople. Yet, I sincerely doubt you allow a term like “n*gger” to filter through.

It is a disgusting realization that homophobia is allowed to run rampant among such freedom-loving groups. As if many gay people have nothing to do with Internet privacy rights and freedom (including P2P advocates). It is a most hateful and bigoted word to use, and perpetrates hatred against sexual minorities.

Goddess forbid that you and other overseers of Internet freedom, shouldn’t allow anti-gay attitudes to proliferate. It is quite possible that Aaron Swartz was gay. But what the fuk do you care?

I certainly don’t expect influential folks like you, to establish a policy where anti-gay epithets are forbidden. Because you’re just too hetero-fukked-up yourself!

– Zeke Krahlin

On 1/14/13, Ernesto wrote:

{{ I’m as much against using terms like these as you. However, censoring is not always the right option. }}

It certainly is the right option when it comes to discussions about killing Jews and blacks. I don’t see that going on. Or using expletives like “n*gger”.

{{ Certainly not for a word that has multiple meanings: }}

Bullshit. A copout if I ever heard one. Eveyone’s /always/ making some sort of “perfect” excuse to keep vilifying gays, though they don’t allow it to happen against other minorities.

{{ If I censored the term in my email client I would have never gotten your message. }}

Oh, please, enough of your BS. The word could have been replaced with “********”. Or I could have posted you “f*ggot” in the subject header.

{{ Let me know which comments are offending and I’m happy to do something about it. }}

I already made that clear: any time someone uses anti-gay expletives, like “f*ggot” and “c*cksucker”. They can be processed by your discussion board into asterisks.

Whatever. I’ll remove Slashdot from my daily reading. Buh-bye.

{{ Cheers, Ernesto }}

Cheers, my arse!

– Zeke Krahlin


On Wed, Jan 16, 2013 at 11:24 AM, Carl wrote:

{{ }}

Thanks for this article, Carl. Remember in that homophobia-among-hackers essay, I suggested that Aaron Swartz might’ve been gay. Well guess what:

My newest street friend, Max, stayed over my place two nights ago, along with his cute little jet-black doggie. Great company all around. Well, Max brings up Mr. Swartz, was shocked when he saw his pic in the newspapers.

Because he had sex with him almost 10 years ago. No joke. And I never once brought up the topic of Aaron Swartz, before he mentioned this!

<3 always,



Dear Reader: just as I suspected: Aaron was gay…or to be more precise: bisexual. (Something I just discovered via a web search for “aaron swartz gay“.) Unfortunately, his essay “Why I am Not Gay” only serves to diminish the Queer Struggle by playing the “I hate labels” game. Often, gays claim to be bisexual because such a declaration is a lot “safer” than it is to declare yourself homosexual, in a society rife with virulent prejudice against those brave enough to fully come out.

Ironically, his “I’m not gay” rant only serves to prove my suspicion about his sexual preference and, sadly, his own insecurities over total honesty. It is therefore important to consider that Aaron’s suicide may very well have been triggered (at least in part) by society’s ongoing terrorism towards sexual minorities.

BTW, Towleroad did a piece on his sexuality, with many excellent comments. Entitled: “In His Short Life, Aaron Swartz Refused To Be Categorized.”

So you idiotic hetero-supremacist hackers have gay blood on your own hands, though care not to admit. Many of your own heroes are gay…such as Adrian Lamo (the Homeless Hacker) and John Draper (Cap’n Crunch). Both of whom I’ve had the immense pleasure of befriending not too many years ago. In fact, to watch a video of Draper interviewing Lamo, please click here.

Ironically, you “freedom fighters” of cyberspace continue to post anti-gay expletives like “f*ggot” and “fudge packer” against the enemies of freedom. And in so doing, you are as implicit as these enemies, for perpetrating terror and death against an innocent minority. Yet by the same token, you enjoy the riches of our gay hacker contributions, for your own breeder-thug selfish intent.

My Letter to Ray Taliaferro

March 25, 2010

FYI: Before you begin reading this piece, some of you need to know who Ray Taliaferro is: one of the most popular, longterm progressive talk show hosts in all of America. I’ve been listening to him for years, here at his home base station, Radio KGO. But he’s considerably more than “just” a radio celebrity. Click on his image below, to access his KGO page, and learn of his many good works.

Ray Taliaferro

Hello again Ray (I called in twice in the past four years: gay activist Zeke). I totally enjoyed your righteous rant last night, against the evil Norton security and anti-virus services. You are quite correct as a savvy consumer: they are treating you like you’re stupid, a fool, whose wallet is for the plucking. Your proposal to sue the heck out of them is a worthy cause…and about time PC consumers rise up in outrage. Meanwhile, I have a most effective and powerful solution to clean up your computer and have it purring like a kitten in no time…all for free. No jive, no strings attached.

Not only am I a gay activist, I am also a hacker advocate…but only in the best sense of that word, as in: “white hat hacker” (those who use their programming skills to legally assist people with computers, often dedicated to alternative non-Microsoft methods and systems.) Those of us in the know have religiously avoided any retail programs for years. For there are many excellent security and anti-malware applications available in the free software community. What it comes down to is this:

Install a small combination of free security and anti-malware applications. Not only do they cost *nothing* to use, they are also rated higher than any retail equivalent. For the sake of Windows users such as yourself, I have provided these free solutions in my blog entry from February:

Best PC security…at $0.00

Just follow the simple instructions, and your system will be as good as new…even better. I even give you a way to thoroughly clean up an already ravaged system…so I just don’t deal with preventive measures, but curative as well.

I think you will be very pleased at the results; feel free to share with as many other Windows customers as possible, in order to fight this war against consumer ripoff. But as you know, there is another method to own a secure system: switch your operating system. You mentioned buying Macintosh. But hold on a moment:

That changeover requires an additional major expense. Why surrender a perfectly good system that you just bought, to the recycle bin…when you can simply replace the present operating system with one that is far more secure, virus free and user friendly…and costs nothing at all? That would be Linux, or more specifically, a Linux distribution called Ubuntu.

That is what I have finally done last October, and I haven’t looked back. Ubuntu has all the capabilities of Windows programs, minus all the ugly hassles. To learn more about Ubuntu:

But if for some reason you are committed to certain Windows software, there are various and excellent *free* (or quite cheap) emulators that in most cases will run these applications in Linux. (And do you know *why* the Mac is so virus free? Because it is a Unix-derived system. As is Linux.)

There are also free “install fests” around the bay, via any number of Linux and Unix organizations. So you’re not even stuck with installing Linux on your own. In fact, I am the founder of one such group: the Berkeley Unix User Group (first meeting: 13 Jan 2000). Our home page:

I am also a member of another user group just born this year: the Berkeley Linux User Group. Whose founder is a brillaint young man in possession of countless sparkling brain cells, Jack Deslippe. His page:

BUUG meets on the 1st and 3rd Thursday of the month (7-9 pm at Cafe Au Coquelot on University Ave. near Shattuck), while BerkeleyLUG meets on the 2nd and 4th Sundays of each month (noon-2 pm at Bobby G’s Pizzeria same block).

You are most welcome to join us at either meeting, and ask all the questions you want. Bring your Toshiba if you’d like us to install Ubuntu…either alongside Windows in a dual-boot setup, or solo. (Note: you need to defrag your Windows system before installing Ubuntu, if you want to dual boot. Best done before you show up. Also, let us know a couple days ahead if you want to install Ubuntu, so we can prepare. And make damned sure all your valuable data is backed up to an external source, before proceeding! Better yet: two external sources, such as a DVD disc and remote online storage.)

When are the next meetings?

BerkeleyLUG: September 27 (Sunday), noon

BUUG: October 1 (Thursday), 7pm

Keep up the good fight, Ray…your *many* good fights. I’ll be listening to you as always, on late night KGO radio, 810 on the AM dial. And maybe, some fine day, I’ll have the immense pleasure to meet you in person.

Most sincerely,

Zeke Krahlin

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