Radio Debut

March 7, 2017

Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 09:49
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
My brother’s a Republican!

Just found that out during our phone conversation moments ago. (Both our parents were Democrats, BTW.) But he’s not a crazy, fanatic Republican, says both parties are a bunch of BS. It basically came down to this:

If more Republicans were like him, this would be a better world. And if more Democrats were like me, likewise.

It was a very good conversation, glad I called him.

– Zeke

Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 11:32
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Re: My brother’s a Republican!

On Sat, Mar 4, 2017 at 9:57 AM, Eleanor Cooney wrote:

{{ Whew. Did he vote for the pussygrabber? }}

I believe he did, I didn’t ask him directly. “Give him a chance, if he doesn’t live up to his promises, then throw the bum out.” He also seems to be caught up with RW conspiracy theories, much like Tom Cahill. He believes that Social Security is in danger, which it is not.

He is hopeful that Trump will bring the jobs home, I said “I don’t think so.” That’s when he said “give him a chance.” So I pretty much kept my mouth shut. I have a feeling that most of the extended family is Republican.

And he never calls me or sends a letter, or emails. I’m always the one who contacts him. For that reason, we haven’t spoken to each other since I last called, eight months ago. So, there’s still that downside. Blech.

But, he has no problem with gays, hippies, etc. He seems to be pretty much open-minded. And, he’s been very nice to me over the phone, as well as handling my share of our parents’ inheritance.

Oh, yeah, he definitely wanted Bernie Sanders for president. So his heart’s in the right place.

– Zeke

Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 13:22
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Was that your Mitch on the air last night?

Listening to the podcast right now…quite a grim evaluation of these Trump times, gut-wrenchingly honest. Way too true to be denied. He mentioned his Facebook page, so I visited, found the piece he recited on KNYO:

Somebody hit me in the back of the head with what felt like a dumbbell or some other heavy, unyielding iron thing, as I slept last night. The blow pushed my face into the mattress, and I said, “I’m losing consciousness.” In a millisecond, I changed that to: “I’m dead. Somebody has killed me. I can’t defend myself. I can’t protect Ellie.” I thought about famous bad people who have been here to Mendocino–Charlie Manson & family, Jim Jones & his doomed family, Lake & Ng, the California Sierra-Nevada torturers and murderers who were sexually aroused by the suffering of people when their bodies were carved up and violated, when they were forced to watch their wives, husbands, babies and toddlers under slow torture. They are the people I lock my door against as the world descends into hell, why I own things for self-defense and keep them close. It was no use. I was murdered. But, another millisecond went by: “You’re brain is still working. You’re not dead.”

I woke up, tried to sort things out, and found no injury nor any clue to what had happened. The sense of being brained included no preceding dream. It came from nowhere.

Today the chainsaw I just got back from the repair shop didn’t work. Ditto the lawnmower I just retrieved from the same repair shop. I took the chainsaw in and, for the first time in the 15 years I’ve been buying my Husqvarna tools and gardening supplies there, I made a scene. I’ve spent my life thinking if you are loyal and steadfast with a merchant, they will value your business and take care of your needs. I was furious and said all that and made a scene, which, more than an hour later, still has me vibrating. So I confront the news with an angry mind. I learn that the new President and his new Secretary of Education, Betsy DeVos, visited a Catholic “charter” school in Florida. Charter schools are a lousy idea shoved down our gullets as a great idea, when, in fact, they are the perfect scheme for making education in the United States of America a private, profitable business to favor the wealthy and short-change kids who aren’t rich.

Betsy DeVos is the sister of Erik Prince, who used his family’s enormous wealth to create a civilian army to privatize the military. In Iraq, Blackwater did mass murder, rape, torture and all the things that make war awful, without the accounting–a very loose, readily overridden accounting- that our armies are supposed to honor under international conventions–because they were “Private Enterprise,” the gold standard for American capitalists. So horrendous were Blackwater’s offenses in Iraq and in the flooded, devastated streets of New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, Erik changed his company’s name to “Xe Services” and then the lofty “Academi.” He has been denounced for his crimes in the small media and given trivial notice in the major media. The Princes and DeVos belong to a harebrained Christian cult beloved by right wing, profit-mad one-percenters, and this is the “base” that Trump and DeVos were championing in their Florida tour. Prince and DeVos, in a reasonable world, would be strung up, but in this insane period, are celebrated, rewarded and given tremendous power.

That I have to point out that these are not good Americans (or even good humans) is past tiresome to me. That I have to keep telling people I love to open their eyes is past exhausting to me. It is a kind of existential hell, speaking obvious truth to people who shouldn’t need to have the obvious pointed out to them. DeVos and Prince and Trump are the sort of malformed creatures that hold sway in the land of the free. They should be in cages at the city gates. They torment my sleep and make me a strident, frustrated old man in my waking. I can’t bear it.

It didn’t occur to me he might be /your/ Mitch, until Marco told him at the end of their talk: “Say hello to Ellie for me.”

In case you didn’t stay up last night, to hear Mitch, you can get the podcast:

Discussion begins at 1:02:40.

– Zeke

Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 13:53
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Re: Was that your Mitch on the air last night?

On Sat, Mar 4, 2017 at 1:26 PM, Eleanor Cooney wrote:

{{ Yep. That was Mitch. If he’d consulted me first, I’d have advised him against sounding quite so drunk and despairing… }}

Ha! I’m glad you didn’t, as many others go through such difficult waters, and his sharing this from deep in his heart, will actually have a cathartic impact. Or not.

Now what /you/ need to do, is prepare for an onslaught of concerned neighbors and more distant members of the Mendo Community bringing food and laughter, to cheer him up…starting with Marcos’s visit come Monday. Maybe they’ll hold a mock funeral in his honor.

I guess you’ll now have to put up with town folk asking how Mitch is, whenever you shop for groceries and run other errands around and about The Mysterious Masonic Temple..for the next few weeks or longer.

Maybe you should were a garlic necklace until the embarrassing scandal blows over.

– Zeke

Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 15:08
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Re: Was that your Mitch on the air last night?

On Sat, Mar 4, 2017 at 2:28 PM, Eleanor Cooney wrote:

{{ You probably noticed how gracious and kind Marco was. That’s Marco for you. He can also be ferocious, slicing and dicing right-wingers and other fools on the local list serve, toying with them, making fools of them with his impish wit…. }}

He’s an Ascended Master of the Order of Mendocino Mages.

{{ This isn’t the first time Mitch has called Marco’s show and gauntly unloaded. It’s okay–I’m used to it, and so is Marco and listeners. It’ll be fun to see him on Monday. }}

You should see what I posted to Mitch on his FB page.

{{ In case you’re wondering what Marco looks like, he could easily make a living as a Jesus impersonator–tall, lanky, long dark hair and beard (with nary a trace of gray though he’s 58), dark, dark eyes set in deep shady caves. }}

I pictured him with a silver-gray crewcut, tall and lanky (got that part right), looking more like a harbor seal than a messiah. This coming Friday should be a hoot!

Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 18:53
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
OMG, he read Chapter 1 of my novel last night!

Start at 3 hours:47 minutes….he described me as a “young man,” I have to correct him about that. Maybe he read just a part of my chapter, not the whole thing. I just started listening.

Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 19:03
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
No, he’s reading a part of the chapter.

…you’ll see: the part where I touch the bullet lodged in Randolph’s back. Followed by one of my poems not in the chapter per se, but a link. He’s reading the online version, different from the paper one. I just paused the audio after he read the first verse. Gonna step out, breathe the fresh, rainy air before stepping back in and, with enormous gratitude, listen to the remainder.

Date: Sat, 04 Mar 2017 19:14
From: Eleanor Cooney
To: Zeke Krahlin
Re: OMG, he read Chapter 1 of my novel last night!


“Young man.” That’s great. Little does he know you’re eight years older than he.

Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 20:12
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
I know this is a setup, El…

…and you can’t convince me otherwise.

When I stepped out for a few minutes, I walked up Market to Castro Street with my umbrella shielding me from the Goddess’s own joyful tears. I was, and still am of course, in a celebratory mood. Proceeding back to my hovel, I glanced through Beaux’s large window (that’s a gay bar) to see if Larkin were there…and maybe would step out to give me a chance to tell him about my radio adventure. After all, he’s part of it.

Alas, no Larkin. But then as I resumed my walk, there I saw him, just 10 feet ahead: commiserating in his usual, boisterous manner with another gay patron (no doubt possessing an ample bulge in his crotch; his wallet, I mean.) So I stopped about 20 feet away beneath an awning, to enjoy the view. I’m sure he was aware of my presence, but gave no overt sign. As I lingered, I soon realized that my neighbor, Mark Epstein from down the hall, was standing just several feet from me, chatting with a woman friend in a recessed doorway. He looked up, I waved. Maybe he thought I was spying on him.

Though Mark has remained a distant quasi-friend over the 18+ years he’s lived here, he has read my novel, and our lives are mystically joined by his little papillion doggie, who passed away seven years back. Skelly would visit me every evening, such sweet happiness! Trusting me with his dog like that, was Marc’s way of apologizing for a grievous wrong he committed…but no point going into that, now. Just one month ago, he finally adopted another papillion, a rescue dog 10 years old! Don’t know what took him so long, but glad to see his new companion.

Larkin eventually entered the bar with his current squeeze (wallet, I mean) for the night, and Mark-and-friend also departed a moment later. I soon followed, once the two had entered 2306, that I may not come off as a busybody. They were standing by the elevator as I swung the gate wide. We both exchanged a brief “hello” and I climbed the stairway. So now I conjecture:

You, Mitch, Marco, my brother, Larkin, Mark, Tom (Cahill), are all in cahoots: the timing, the synchronicity in this string of events in LESS THAN 24 HOURS, are beyond mundane coincidence. (Mitch calling in with an emotive masterpiece, overwhelming in its grief, the same night Marco reads my own heart wrenching tale…what are the odds!)

Now, back to hearing the rest of Marco’s narration from My Literary Labor of Love, My Own Holy Grail! What an extraordinary two days. And thank you /so/ much for being such a kind presence in my world, for so many years now.

– Zeke

Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 21:46
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Reptilian Devotees
Listen to a reading from my novel on the radio!

Marco McClean, the host of a late-Friday-night radio show in Ft. bragg, CA, surprised me by reading from chapter one of my novel, just last night! I didn’t expect this to happen so soon. Fortunately, he saves each show as a podcast, which you may listen to by clicking on the following link:

You can either left-click on the download link, to immediately start playing, or right-click on the download link, to save it to your hard drive…then play it later, at your convenience.

The reading starts at 3 hours, 47 minutes, and ends at 4 hours, 10 minutes. (There is a musical interlude in the middle; just click through it.)

If you care to leave a comment about the reading, just go to his blog entry, here:

In fact, I urge you to do so, since any favorable post about me will help boost the potential for getting my word out.

Your post won’t show up immediately, as he reviews it first. I know, because I just left a comment there, myself. Here it is:

Marco: What an honor to hear you read from my novel Friday night! Certainly a surprise, as I didn’t expect that to occur so soon. I’m listening to the podcast right now, as I sit in my room and the gracious rain falls from the dark heavens. I chuckled when you introduced me as a “young man,” for I am actually 66. Clarification to my poem, “September’s Passage”: I was still Gene Catalano back then, but changed my name to Zeke Krahlin in 1996. This is mentioned in my book a little further down the line. Googling my name, Ezekiel J Krahlin, works just fine, with the second result pointing to my web site: The first result is a link to the ebook version of my novel.

I am amazed at the synchronicity of Eleanor’s partner, Mitch, pouring his heart out in a grievous recitation, on your show that same night as my own poetic lament. What were the odds? I then went to Mitch’s Facebook wall, and discovered he also posted that essay there, so commented:

You guys have all the fun, up there in Mendocino. Tremendous piece of writing, Mitch…who says your impact on the world is diminishing when you can still write like that? But now, someone needs to start kicking you in the butt until you start laughing again. Ellie’s got her work cut out for her!”

Now, back to hearing the rest of your podcast, a most enjoyable and revelatory pastime, especially since we have nothing like that any more, on San Francisco’s airwaves. Thank you so much for including me in your Mendocino County community of oddballs, dear hearts, pioneers and mystical wanderers.

– Zeke

Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2017 23:44
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Marco McClean
Re: In case my comment didn’t take…

On 3/4/17, Marco McClean wrote:

{{ I don’t know how to set it so it just posts things when people send them. I don’t spend a lot of time managing the weblog; it’s just a notice-board about my show. }}

Sometimes the comment shows up after posting (w/”awaiting moderation”), sometimes it doesn’t. So that’s a WordPress glitch, which only adds to the confusion. IOW, it /should/ show up right after posting, even though awaiting your moderation.

{{ Next week is a Fort Bragg week for me –I’ll be doing the show from KNYO. The number there is 707 961 3022. }}

The contact page shows 962 for the prefix, as in:

Studio: 707-962-3022

Do they need to update the number?

{{ Call any time after about 9:15 Friday (March 10) night and let it ring awhile in case I’ve put a record on so I can use the toilet, or if I’m out back getting something out of the car, or something. There’s only one phone line; if it’s busy, wait a little bit and try again. }}

No problem. I look forward to our first on-air dialogue.

{{ What makes you sound best is to have some of your work ready to read into the phone, to turn to that at the end of whatever we talk about. }}

Easy peasy. I’ll have a number of short pieces loaded and ready to go. One very funny, one political, and other stuff. I don’t know how much time you’ll allot me, but even reading just one of my pieces would be a pleasure.

I don’t have my own Internet service, so I’ll have to forego listening in real time. I tried, using the free wifi from a coffeehouse across the street (and my extended USB wifi dongle) but it wasn’t robust enough to stay connected…I had to keep clicking reload every two minutes or so. I couldn’t just sit back, close my eyes and get into the show. *sigh*

Just so you know: my diction is a bit slurred due to lack of teeth. Medi-Cal discontinued dental care for adults over a decade ago…thus began the deterioration. But when they resumed it two years back, thanks to Obamacare’s expanded Medicaid, I discovered that I still couldn’t get my teeth repaired because they want to charge me $518 per month share of cost! That’s almost half my total income. Don’t know how they get away with it, and my letter of grievance about this to numerous politicians and progressive, online news services has not gotten anyone’s attention, yet. As if I’m the only person in the country, this is happening to. It also means I can’t afford other vital services. This is being swept under the rug by the Dems, while they pat each other on the back, over the “miraculous” success of Medicaid.

But that’s an issue for another time. I’ve composed several blog entries on this matter so far. Here’s the original, called “Obamacare Defecates on the poor,” which includes my letter to Nancy Pelosi:

The embarrassment of my wretched teeth has caused me to cease doing open mic readings or gay standup…making things more difficult to promote my talents. I do /not/ want to be the Moms Mabley of queer comedy. Anyways, I think I’ll enunciate with enough clarity that every word be understood, even through the telephone lines. Since another tooth broke in half several months back, I’ve acquired a pronounced lisp. But I’ve adapted where I place my tongue, in order to soften the lisp.

I don’t consider myself a stereotype gay, yet here I am with a pronounced lisp, and thanks to my carpal tunnel syndrome, my wrists have grown limp. What next: a fungal infection on my chest that looks like a pink triangle? Take my domestic partner, please.

Friday I’m yours,


The Adventure Begins!

December 4, 2013

The adventure of promoting my book, that is: now that it is out on, Barnes & Noble, Apple iBooks, Kobo, Google Play, and so on. The best thing about self-publishing, is you retain all author copyrights, thus can release the same book through a wide variety of distributors.

But the hardest work is still ahead of me: self promotion. The learning curve has begun, so let me share what I’ve garnered in this matter in just one short week, that it may help other struggling authors:

  • Best for an unknown author to start off with ebooks only, via’s Kindle outlet…for they are the largest distributor of ebooks by far. Avoid the hassle and expense of paper production for the time being. Wish I had known that before I invested in the whole enchilada! (Though the reason my book is now on sale at the numerous venues listed above, is because I paid a self-publishing service, Friesen Press, to handle all that, and more. But you can do that yourself; read on.) If your book is any good, you will make quicker and bigger royalties on ebooks, despite their much lower cost.
  • Do it all yourself, for free. Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP) has all the tools and tutorials you need, to pump out a perfectly formatted ebook. Just sign up with, and you’re good to go!

  • On beyond Kindle: register with Smashwords, one of the largest promoters and distributors of ebook publications focused on new and upcoming authors…and is likewise free. They will distribute your ebooks to all other major sellers except Kindle: Apple iBookstore, Barnes & Noble, Sony Reader Store, Kobo, Flipkart, Oyster, the Diesel eBook Store, Baker & Taylor’s Blio, Axis360, and more. Smashwords also offers three excellent (and free) ebooks to help the novice: The Secrets to Ebook Publishing Success, Smashwords Book Marketing Guide, and Smashwords Style Guide. Very useful information applicable to any ebook author, even if he or she doesn’t subscribe to Smashwords itself. They will at the very least give you an excellent idea of what’s involved with ebook self-publishing. Better yet: Smashwords handles all the adjustments required for the various ebook formats out there, via their innovative, online “meatgrinder.” All you need do is compose your ebook in MS Word document mode. (On the downside, read “The Fight Against Smashwords’ Meatgrinder.”)

  • A top notch book cover is an utter requirement if you want sales to take off. No way around this. Smashwords provides a list of artists that will handle this for a nominal fee. In fact, if you are a struggling artist, this is a great way to start off! Get yourself on that list, and provide a web page featuring samples of your work. (Note: there are free ebook cover designs out there, using templates and public domain images. I have yet to really look into this, but a web search for such items is a good start. Just be sure you get quality results.)
  • Avoid DRM like the e-plague! Or so some say, such as Smashwords’ founder Mark Coker and celebrated cyberpunk author Cory Doctorow. Their claims are that DRM inconveniences your customers by limiting the number of devices set up to read the ebook, and that underground proliferation of non-DRM (or pirated) ebooks actually can boost sales drastically. Especially if the book is a well-written and hot-button topic. But there are dissenters of the anti-DRM crowd, as well. (Also read “ Question on Digital Rights Management or DRM.” Oh, and this intriguing article: “Why e-books will soon be obsolete (and no, it’s not just because of DRM).”) As for me, I requested my publisher to /not/ use DRM, but they went ahead anywayz, and secure-coded my ebook. I’ve decided not to fight them, seeing as I’m giving away a DRM-free version of “Free Me From This Bond” to hundreds of contacts I’m emailing as a promotional tool. I may even intentionally upload this free edition to torrent and pirate sites, just to get the ball rolling.
  • Social media sucks! But I guess ya gotta deal with it anywayz. Maximize those opportunities and all that rot. I’ve read various authors’ attempts at self promotion through Facebook, Twitter, blogging, LinkedIn and the like. And most conclude that it’s a big friggin’ waste o’ time. Those who do claim great success via social media seem to be affluent, and toss their capital into the ring of professional agents, promoters, advertisers and distributors. They purchase Google ads, pay through the arse for tailored videos, hire consultants, give away free books and gifts, rub shoulders (and more intimate parts I suspect) with media celebrities, ad nauseum. Nonetheless, I held my nose and dived right in. Gussied up my long-nascent Facebook page, and interfaced it with my Twitter site and WordPress. Both FB and WP display my book’s cover right at the top, w/description and purchase link. So bang! the moment anyone lands on either site, that’s the first thing their LCD-jaded orbs will behold. Now, all I need do is diligently post a blog once per week, and participate in a few tweets and likes in kind. (Any more than that, and I’d keel over in cyber-narcosis…aargh!)
  • When you’re ready for paperback and/or hardcover: Amazon’s “Createspace” is definitely the way to go, especially when you’re broke…as you can DIAY (do it all yourself). Natch, there’s a major learning curve re. formatting, but I find virtual poverty a great motivator.Especially if you believe what you have to tell the world is of utmost import. There is absolutely no cost in publishing your hardcover or paperback via Createspace, but one: purchasing a galley proof before you actually release your literary demon. The cost is trivial, well under $10 in most cases.


For a disillusioned penniless gadfly like myself, I have to think outta the box. Because thinking costs nada…except perhaps to purchase a bottle of ibuprofen to quell concomitant headaches.Thus, my brainstorm:

Contact via email, gay friendly campuses across America (and then, other nations). Lo and behold, in a short time searching such places, I discovered ““: a site solely dedicated to annually rating US campuses based on LGBT inclusion and hospitality. Highest rating: 5 stars. So I decided to post announcement of my novel to those rated 5, 4.5 and 4…totalling 208 campuses in all! Of course, I personalized each email by inserting each salutation with the name of the LGBT (or “Gay/Lesbian,” “Sexual Diversity,” “Equality for All,” “Safe Zone” or whatever they chose for a title) department listed for each campus. Here is one email I posted (for example);

Date: Tue, 3 Dec 2013 14:56:49
Subject: New LGBT Novel Gives Voice to Our Own Homeless & Disenfranchised
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Diversity UCLA

Greetings Diversity UCLA LGBTQ friends and allies!

I am a gay street activist of many many years, here in San Francisco. And have just come out with my first novel, “Free Me From This Bond.” Described thusly:

Based on true events embellished with many Walter-Mitty type flights of fancy, it is mystical, hilarious and frightening all at once. What sets this book apart from most other GLBT tales, is that it is neither a heated love story to titillate one’s sexual yearnings, nor a tiresome imbroglio of middle class queers embroiled in soap-operish drama. Better yet: no AIDS tears!

This novel is a linked series of true tales anchored by two heroes in the author’s own life, thus biographical in nature. It is a love story about the downtrodden and homeless, the neglected and abused within the homophile community.

Though due to a scattering of erotic (albeit satirical) passages throughout the novel, this book is definitely for adults. Graced with exquisite illustrations (one for each of 16 chapters) by struggling artist S. Rohan.

I am hoping your organization will find my novel worthy of inclusion in your campus library, and perhaps even as part of a class syllabus re. Queer Theory, LGBT history/literature, or related genre.

I give you access to an ebook version in pdf format, for your eyes only. Here ’tis:

This is the complete novel (minus book cover) that I provide for promotional purposes only.

Otherwise, anyone can log onto my book page at:

to view the book cover and read the entire first chapter, as well as click on the purchase link, where they can buy my book in hardcover, paperback, or ebook…as well as read the description located on the back cover.

I have decided in addition to promoting my book via online social media, to reach out to campuses across the globe with a large LGBT presence. I hope you will take the time to check out my book, as I feel it is a seminal piece of writing that will do much to further our rights here in these disUnited States, as well as across our sorry little globe. Most sincerely,

Zeke Krahlin

Now, a mere two days ago, I’ve accomplished my mission to spread The Good-Gay News across the myriad queer friendly campuses here in “The Land of the Free (Hetero).” (Later, I will do same on a global level.)

So, I thought, what will be my next plan of attack?

Later that day I read an article from an RSS feed about how Pope Francis chastized the churches for their rampant spewing of anti-gay dogma. (He also condemned capitalism, ha! Makes me wanna revert to the Catholic faith whose cross I bore throughout childhood). So then it hit me like a cast iron crown of thorns (whack!):

Of course! I should now contact all the gay-friendly churches about my evangelical opus!

Wherewithal I duckduckgo’d “gay friendly churches”

and in a short time came upon a site that provides a list of all LGBT-inclusive churches, both statewide and international:

Hallelujah Gay Jebus, I am saved, I am saved (from a lot of time wasted searching pulpit-by-pulpit)! But as I scanned the list from hyper-populated states such as California, New York, Illinois and Texas, I realized I had my work cut out for me:

More than 800 gay friendly churches in California alone!

So I altered my strategy to just post to such churches in the largest city of each uber-crowded state. Even so, I’ll probably wind up posting to anywhere from 300 to 500 queer-sacred grounds. How exhausting.

But away I go, plodding through one state after another, each post a strike for homophile victory. I did alter my message a bit from what I sent to campuses. Specifically, the first, fifth and last paragraph:

I am a gay street activist of many years, here in San Francisco. And have just come out with my first novel, “Free Me From This Bond.” It is highly spiritual by design: a blend of Christian and Pagan morality in the fashion of C.S. Lewis (if I may be so brazen as to compare myself to this illustrious author). Described thusly:

I am hoping your church will find my novel worthy of inclusion in your library, and perhaps a passage therefrom as part of a sermon.

I have decided in addition to promoting my book via online social media, to reach out to gay-friendly churches across the globe. I hope you will take the time to check out my book, as I feel it is a seminal piece of writing that will do much to further LGBT rights here in these United States, as well as across our little blue ball.

So there you have it, mes petits tamias: busy as a bumblebee messing around w/social media, posting to hundreds of campuses, churches and who knows what other recipients I can make the unhappy victim of my megalogaymania. Of course, I will also broadcast my promotional emails to various gay magazines, newspapers and organizations around the world. As well as attempt to advertise my esoteric wares locally (bookstores, readings and whatnot). However, since I’ve suffered years of sabotage and wickedness by the SF queer community, I am not enthused about this particular approach. (Those who read my novel will understand perfectly.)

[ Perambulatory Reader: there is a young lady I featured many moons ago, for her website called “Laura’s NYC Tales.” Composed of entertaining and true tales of her escapades, paramours and insight on life in the Big Apple (and sometimes in Woodstock), I just kept returning to her site night after night, I was that captivated. That blog entry BTW is located here:

Since then (last month in fact) she has self-published her first ebook called: “I Beg to Differ: A Memoir of Bosses, Boyfriends & Mom’s Evil Lesbian Lover.” So I jotted off the following email to her, after more than a year’s passage since my last post.]

Date: Tue, 12 Nov 2013
Subject: Hey from Zeke – I am now published, too!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Laura Maxwell

From one struggling author to another: thought you’d enjoy hearing that I have just completed my first self-published novel. I see /your/ book has finally come out, found it on Amazon. CONGRATS! Hope sales take off like a rocket; you certainly deserve it, you are a superb author.

Anywayz, my own novel “Free Me From This Bond” has just come out too…what parallel timing, eh? You can read the first chapter here, as well as link to the description and purchase page:

I am also listed at, just search for “zeke krahlin” or “free me from this bond.”

By any chance, was it Chris Rock that finally helped you get published, or did you have to strike out on your own? Either way, I am /so/ happy for you…as reading your tales on the web did /so/ much to lift my spirits through difficult days.

Most sincerely,



September 30, 2013

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

Coupla weeks ago I finally got fed up with the slummy condition of my “hobbit hole,” and gave it a makeover. Compare these pics with those in Chapter 1 (click on any image below for a larger view):

Here you see my door w/the usual shaman jacket. Only this time hangs a mirror, to accommodate any guest’s need to shave (unlike myself, which I execute in the shower sans reflection). To the right is a lovely cabinet with drawers that I found on the back porch just two days ago. Freebies rock!

As you can plainly see, table #1 is now super-tidy, with a metal rack where I store condiments, teas, fruit and the like. Another
back porch plunder!

Another view of table 1, abutting table 2. Notice the classy blender which I found recently in a free box on 18th Street & Hartford. Sure is an improvement over the cheap Walgreens version that broke down after five months of light use. Behind the osterizer is a lovely kid’s lamp with an outer space theme on the shade, and an ocean theme decorating the base. Purchased about six years ago for just $6 at a thrift store one block up Market Street from my dwelling. AIDS fund raiser, I believe. They were open and closed for a brief five-month period. See the closeup below:

The lampshade has a Saturn-type planet on the other side, along with a starfish and a crab. The front base has a seahorse and an octopus. BTW, that’s a Krups coffee mill to the left, also discovered in a free box (Collingwood near 19th). Don’t ever use it for java, though: I grind up nuts and seeds to add to soups, steamed veggies or oatmeal. This is one way I manage to eat healthy in spite of my diminished teeth due to almost ten years lack of affordable dental care.

Awright, this is desk #2 which now serves for my computer station. Much less cluttered than my previous arrangement, eh? Those are two electric candles on the top shelf, FYI. They flicker and glow just like the real McCoys, and lend a graceful atmosphere through the often-chill Frisco night. Another free boon from the back porch, joy!

Bedding now serves for a bed, since I finally tossed out those two, thin futons that had grown overly grimy and stained after four years’ slumber and orgasm (not always w/myself, but usually). Two dark-blue plastic tarps purchased from the local dollar store provide a clean separation from the floor’s grime. Believe me: just two comforters on which to rest, but they are indeed cushy nonetheless. I should purchase a third before the heavy rains and colder nights soon begin. For the nonce: a warm jacket and thick robe serve me well. *Yawn*

Here is where I store the comforters and drop cloths during the day…thus granting my humble abode with a more spacious ambience. Two folded, clean terrycloths rolled up into one, stand in for a pillow. (Those two plastic bins BTW are also back porch freebies, hurray!)

Here is my kitchen, you’ve seen it before in Chapter 1. Only minus the excellent Black & Decker Infrawave oven. Alas, it finally broke down after five good years of service. (The on/off button stopped functioning, damn those computer chips!) Replaced, now, with a tacky double-slot toaster purchased at Walgreens. Doesn’t even have a crumb-release door, and it’s already popping up my multigrain raisin bread and English muffins sooner than the “quasi-dark” setting (so I have to toast them twice)! I doubt it will last another month; what a waste of moolah. Thank the Great Dragon for free boxes, which I’m sure will bring me a decent toaster at just the right time…or a righteous toaster oven, even!

There’s my combo loft/closet, only this time with less decoration covering that pale blue wall (which once was a door from goddess-only-knows which domicile).

The floor as you see, needs work. Guess I’ll eventually cover it with four or five cheap tableclothes out of Chinatown; I really can’t afford another option. Toss rubber mats across the space, to hold the covers down. And provide ample spots to walk upon, that the tablecloths remain viable for at least a half-year. Yes indeedy! I live a 3rd-world existence right here in Bedbug Baghdad by the Bay.

Where desk #3 once stood, now abides a painted, hexagonal cabinet of unknown origin. There’s quite a story behind that objet d’art, which you can read about here (along with three excellent photos and one video):

This darling cabinet previously had no floorspace on which to glow, so I kept it stored on my loft for more than nine years. Now, at last, it is free to bewitch my room with high spirits! (It is protected from scratches by a dollar-store drape of clear plastic, in case you were curious.)

Lastly, the sink area. And full circle back to my shaman jacket. Of course, the place still begs improvement, but wouldn’t you say I’m off to a good start? Hope you enjoyed the tour, y’all come back now!

Da Poifek Storm

May 20, 2013

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

Date: Tue, 14 May 2013 11:48:32
Tools of My Trade
From: Zeke
To: My Jubilant Readers

I think it’s time well past due that we all take a break from this absurd rollercoaster ride that is My Life With Arwyn. So permit me the indulgence of sharing with you, the tools of my trade. That is: how I process my visions and concepts into text, and then transform them into web log (“blog”) format. And the habits I’ve acquired in order to maximize the efficiency of my steps from raw concept to near-perfect manifestation. (Only the Glorious HypnoToad is perfect, FYI.)

First, you must know that I am quintessentially Internet-&-computer savvy. I’ve been mucking around with PCs since 1985. (IOW: I am definitely /not/ an Apple or Mac fan.) Also, I founded the Berkeley Unix User Group ( way back in 2000. So I am not your average computer appendage. In fact, I deride those who take pride in never having /touched/ a computer, as “anal ogs”. Get it?

Analog = anal og. Yuk yuk.

BTW, I originally coined that phrase in my queer cyberpunk tale, “Security Matters & Anti-Matters” (or “The Mighty Mouse Virus”)…which anyone can read online, here:

Where do I begin? First I receive a vision or–at the very least–an astounding idea. Which revelation I believe often arises from Arwyn’s own telepathy directed to my sponge-slurpy mind. Be that as it may, any story I create starts first in that annoying gray matter which passes for the brain’s outer wrapping. I have long since learned to write down (or voice-record via digital implement) whatever interesting ideas come to mind.

But I also continue to use at times, conventional pen and loose-leaf. Honestly, I don’t think I could ever manage my artistic meandering without /both/ mediums (the Old World and the New). Each serves its own purpose, and exercises a different part of the mind. (Thank you Eleanor, for this insight.) A win/win solution beyond compare…if you are the cerebral type that is, which I am.

Then it all flows through my fingertips and onto the keyboard. Something which I regard as a tremendous blessing, for I actually claim very little credit for such wondrous plots. In fact, I regard my own self as nothing more than a vessel for angelic destiny. The creative font that is my nurture, comes from a greater source that I barely comprehend. If I’m just here for the ride, I must admit: WHAT AN ADVENTURE!

To facilitate my literary badinage, I carry a digital camera and voice recorder slung upon my belt. Also in my possession are a loose-leaf book and a pen, that I may switch to handwriting whenever it seems advantageous. As for my computer, Internet and creative needs, here are the following programs and resources that I find most beneficial to my avocation:


– Netbook and laptop: the former I use for portability when I’m about town, the latter stays at home (usually).

– Laptop cooling pad: keeps my two systems from overheating in hot weather.

– Android Tablet: provides extreme portability. Unfortunately, tablets are too limited in their capability to facilitate all my online activities…to the point of soul-numbing frustration. Though since I hate cell phones (never owned one and never will), I still wanted to diddle around with the Android operating system. Been there done that. I love LInux (of which Android is a stepchild) but am forced to stick with Windoze if I really want to get my work done with relative expediency.

– Digital camera: for taking pictures and movies on the spot during my city meanderings. Also handy for interviews, as the camera does sound with video. It is tiny and compact, like my wanger when it’s not hard. (Though bounteously ample when it is, ha ha.) Though I assure you: once the Andromeda starships arrive, I will be the first to apply for a penile makeover. (If they can’t even do /that/, they should just return home.)

– Digital voice recorder: quick and painless way to take notes when I’m hiking about.

– Scanner: for copying greeting cards, handwritten notes and letters, envelopes, hardcopy art, found art (if it’s flat), news and magazine clippings and the like. I convert them into images for my tales and news reports.

– Printer: useful for presenting Arwyn with my latest chapters about him (since he doesn’t do Internet or computers), and printing snail-mail letters and forms. I also relish viewing my latest pieces on paper. But I rarely do that anymore, as ink is expensive.

– External monitor: larger than my laptop’s 12-inch screen, plus provides an extended display that facilitates my work by providing two different screens. For example: I can view the web on one screen, while typing away in my text editor on the other. This second monitor is also a TV, so I can watch the news or a show while working on my laptop.

– External USB hard drive (500 GB): allows me to download TV shows and movies without hogging up my refurbished laptop’s 150 GB drive. This second hard drive also provides a handy backup for all my data.

– External USB keyboard: spares wear and tear of the laptop keyboard (which I prefer to keep covered with a folded bandana to prevent accumulation of dust and debris, as well as liquid spillage). My peripheral keyboards come equipped with either a touchpad or mouse. Keyboard also provides two extra USB ports…nice!

– Wireless illuminated keyboard: a great companion for my netbook when I’m in a dark space, such as the Eagle Tavern.

– Wireless mouse: allows me to keep my netbook’s keyboard covered, including the touchpad.

– External USB DVD/CD drive: necessary for the netbook which comes w/o such a drive built in. Handy for installing retail software.

– 32 GB HCSD memory card: quite useful for transferring new data between my laptop and netbook.

– PC hardware toolkit: for mucking around under the hood. Comes in a black faux-leather case with zipper closure. Contains a variety of screwdrivers, socket wrenches, pliers, soldering iron, chip extractors and inserters, along with a multi-calibrated wire stripper. Whee!


– Loose-leaf binder and pen: sometimes I prefer writing down my ideas, especially when I’m seated somewhere cozy. Nice to still have a bit of the Luddite in me!

– Meeting/chatting with interesting folks.

– Thinking, meditating, daydreaming. Coffee helps big-time…along with marijuana, alcohol, tobacco and jerking off.

– Uber-hot homeless dudes: a working girl needs a break now and then, eh?

SOFTWARE (all free BTW)

– NoteTab Light text editor: the best text editor on the planet. I like to hand code my blog entries and web pages, in lieu of running an HTML editor (which quickly fills up your documents with garbage code instead of deleting it whenever you make a change).

– Qedit: a really ancient DOS text editor that I still find indispensable for quickly reformatting paragraph wrap. The evolution of Windoze has thoughtlessly eliminated such a feature in all its WYSIWYG (“what you see is what you get”) word processors and even text editors. Without the blessing of Qedit, I’d be forced to manually link every line to the line just above, by maneuvering my cursor with [ BackSpace ] in a most tedious process.

– Abiword: excellent word processor that has built-in spellcheck and can save your files as *.rtf and *.doc: both formats are compatible with MS Word. Either format is required by most publishers, who are brainwashed to believe that Microsoft’s word processor is the only option. Definitely not true! Join the rebellion against Bill Gates and his minions. There are other free MS-friendly word processors out there such as Libre Office and SSuite Office.

– Irfanview image editor and viewer: actually, this nifty little application has a plethora of features that may spare you from ever having to pay an exorbitant price for (and run an aburdly topheavy program like) PhotoShop. Irfanview even lets you convert images to 300 DPI from lesser resolutions! Publishers require 300 DPI, in case you didn’t know.

– TreePad Lite: a nested text-based notepad. /Very/ handy for keeping seperate files for specific topics and projects, with subnotes in their own folders.

– Salamander file manager: the older versions remain available online, and cost nothing. I find Salamander to be a much more facile hard drive browser than Windoze Explorer, and many others that pride themselves in mimicking MicroSlut’s own manager. Goddess only knows why! I’ve been using Salamander since Windoze 95, with immense pleasure.

– Sticky Notes: for quick reminders of errands and projects. ‘Nuff said.

– Mozilla Firefox: my browser of choice for cruising the web. Only because it has so many excellent extensions (or plug-ins or add-ons, or whatever the heck they really are.) Here is my list of extensions I simply can /not/ live without (or I’ll destroy the Innernet): All-in-One Sidebar, Video Download Helper, Empty Cache Button, FireFTP, Ghostery, NoScript, Session Manager, Speed Dial, Stumble Upon, and Track Me Not. (News flash: Ghostery is not what you think; my Friendly Ghost Detective Agency does /not/ have a Firefox extension…yet. Boo!)


– Online Policy Group: free web hosting, email and discussion lists for nonprofit LGBT organizations and independent (but poor) activists like myself.

– Remote backup: most offer 5 GB storage or sometimes more, entirely free of cost! Since I only require my personal data to be backed up (rather than space-hogging downloaded movies and TV shows) my total data comes to less than 8.5 GB. In order to keep my remote backup entirely free, I divvied up my files into three distinct folders…each containing well under 4 GB. So this enables me to back up /everything/ for free, broken up among three online storage facilities. “What,” you may ask, “will I do once my data increases beyond the gratis limit?” Here is my answer, Fulminant Reader: “Why, I’ll just sign up with a fourth service, and maybe much later, a fifth or even sixth.” I presently use SugarSync, MiMedia and Idrive.

– Gmail: obviously for my email communique. Not that I’m a fan of Google’s services, but I’m tired of hopping from one free email provider to another, seeing as most such services have a very short life. Sometimes because once they lure you in, one or two years later they eliminate their no-cost version and demand that you start payment. Go fuk ’em!

– Youtube: this video service is where I store all my videos that are part of my blog or web site. I hold no great love for this company, but where else can I go?

– Wide variety of online news services: totally vital for activist bloggers like myself. Especially the LGBT outlets.

– and fantastic resource for authors, for the obvious reason.

– a quick way to learn about people, places, history and any other topic.

– Google or Bing image search: a real boon to finding the right illustrations to embellish my online tales. (Note: I’d prefer some image databases /other/ than those two, but they’ve all been gobbled up by the same two!)

–, and other URL-abbreviated providers: /most/ useful when referencing web links in paperback and hardcover books, where readers can’t simply click on the address, but must type it into their computer. Unless of course they’re brain-munching zombies.

– FTP client: for uploading tales and images to my site. I prefer to use FireFTP, a Firefox plug-in. But sometimes (and most unfortunately) FireFTP is not compatible with the latest version of that innovative browser.

– WordPress: excellent blog service, which I use to facilitate the writing of my chapters. I place web images and digital snapshots throughout each entry, in order to break up a sea of type and increase the pleasure of my tales. I roughly gauge the number of images per chapter by placing them every three [Page Down]’s…though sometimes a couple of images are closer together out of necessity (such as showing the front and back of a gift packet for Arwyn). Occasional articles are based on numerous videos and/or pics. Such pieces can not be converted into traditional, paper-based format. For which reason I either refer the reader to a URL, or simply eliminate that chapter from my novel.

I’m sure I’ve left something out. Maybe the cat. Oh wait, I don’t /have/ a cat! So what /was/ it that just scurried past my feet beneath Desk #3 and out the door? I shudder to imagine. But then again, I /always/ shudder to imagine…brrrr!

Date: Tue, 14 May 2013 14:27:11
Another Letter to My Brother
From: Zeke
To: Edgar (via snail mail)

6 May 2013

Dear Edgar,

Enclosed is the chapter dedicated to Mom, entitled “Please Don’t Eat the Daises”…which is the final chapter of Book 2 (“Free Me From This Bond – the sequel”). Also enclosed is a chapter I accidentally printed twice, so you benefit. It’s entitled “Emergency Triage,” which is chapter 2 of Book 3 (“Free Me From This Bond – sequel to the sequel”)

Wait, there’s more! A chapter also from Book 3 of which I’m especially proud, called “Spanglish Poesia,” so I thought I’d send you a copy of that, too. I will soon complete chapter 5 of Book 3. As well as 16 printouts of Sarah Rohan’s illustrations, one for each chapter. They are arranged according to chapter chronology.

Oh, and enclosed right on top of all the other printouts is my latest letter to Arwyn, which will be enclosed with the first four printouts of Book 3. Most likely I’ll hand them to him at Pilsner Inn (a really nice gay bar with pool table and a patio). As you will discover, things are heating up between us. Quite a rollicking romance, wouldn’t you say?

In the event of my untimely death: as for locating the appropriate organization to take over my requests, I’d say that “The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence” is your best bet. They are very dedicated and honest, and will see to it the monies go to all the right organizations.

Best wishes as always to you and loved ones,

Zeke Krahlin

Date: Wed, 15 May 2013 12:18:39
Pilsner Pinheads
From: Zeke
To: My E-frenz

Just emailed the following letter to the Bay Area Reporter and the SF Bay Times (the 2 most widely circulated gay newspapers in San Francisco). As well as to Myron Stopher, mgr. of Pilsner Inn; and of course a copy will go to Arwyn:

Dear Editor,

I am writing this letter the day after a nasty drama-queen attack occurred on this innocent person (me). The incident occurred around 6:50 PM Tuesday, May 14. I had just finished enjoying a smoke on the patio, and returned to my spot at the bar’s far end, to resume my blogging via Pilsner’s excellent wifi.

The moment I opened my netbook and activated my bluetooth keyboard and mouse, a rather handsome and young fellow came up to me and exclaimed:

“Where’s the five dollars I just put on the counter? You took it, didn’t you?”

So I told him to fuk off or I’ll have him kicked out. Well, he just screamed that much louder, which got the attention of the bartenders. I tried to tell the employees that this man was threatening me, and causing much upset. Instead, one barkeep named Angelo kicked us both out. In spite of my utter innocence, and being verbally assaulted by an obvious screwball.

Another bartender (whose name I think is Pedro) sided with Angelo, and told me to get out. Just before that confrontation, Angelo had already grabbed my half-finished drink and told me to leave. I accused him of scapegoating me, and not protecting the decent patrons. I even begged Pedro to reason with Angelo, as this is a most vulgar treatment towards myself, who has always been a peaceful and respecting patron of Pilsner Inn, since I started hanging out there around two months ago.

Of course I had no choice but to leave, and when I exited I was confronted by that belligerent looney once more. He was even accompanied by a sidekick who joined the goofball in false accusations against me. Said goofball even grabbed my jacket as I attempted to cross Market Street in peace. I just turned back, planning to dash into a nearby restaurant or bookstore, as an act of self protection.

The fact that Pilsner barkeeps 86’d me through no fault of my own, put me in harm’s way. Had my attacker commited violence upon my person, rest assured I’d sue the hell out of PIlsner Inn.

Fortunately, the lunatic did not follow. But I must speak out against Pilsner Inn bartenders ganging up on me…for no apparent reason but that they’d rather not deal with an ugly situation in the proper manner. As a result, I was kicked out simply because I was a victim of assault at their bar.

These bartenders who scapegoated me certainly know me well enough, to realize I am a responsible patron who’d never scam anyone. I therefore demand a profuse apology from bartenders Angelo and Pedro, as well as the manager and owner of Pilsner Inn. This is not the first time I’ve been victimized by crude gossip in a gay bar in the Castro (as well as South of Market).

I feel so disgusted by Pilsner employees’ vulgar mistreatment towards me, a really decent customer, that I will do everything possible to rectify these wrongs, even if it means getting some people who work there, fired. People who I once thought (until today) were good folks and an asset to our local LGBT Family.

Most sincerely,

Zeke Krahlin

Date: Wed, 15 May 2013 12:45:29
Re: Pilsner Pinheads
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ Oh, Zeke, that’s awful. I’m really sorry. Infuriating!!!! }}

This eventually happens at /every/ bar where Arwyn and I get together. It is JEALOUSY. There /is/ a downside to possessing outstanding good looks, or to anyone who’s a lover of one who is. Or even just a best friend, for that matter.

Should be interesting to see how Myron Stopher handles this; perhaps he’ll just ignore. Hopefully a security camera caught the incident, but I’m not holding my breath. For I’m suspicious that a camera /did/ record Arwyn’s cigarette flick, and that Myron lied.

FYI: neither paper printed my last letter to the editor.

Date: Wed, 15 May 2013 13:59:55
Re: Pilsner Pinheads
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Should fill you in a bit more on the story. Arwyn of course was /not/ there (otherwise this incident would never have occurred). I really should /never/ visit a gay bar alone, for w/o a witness or friend who’d defend me, I eventually become a victim of gossip that gets me evicted.

First Pedro came running to the back where I was being harassed, and demanded these two fukups leave immediately. He did /not/ at that time direct any anger towards yours truly. But then Angelo joined the fracas and demanded that /I/ leave, too! I answered back:

“But I didn’t /do/ anything! These guys are scamming me. Why should I leave? You’re scapegoating me!” His retort:

“We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.” So I called his card:

“You are ABUSING your position as bartender!” But he had already turned away and returned to his station up front. So I then turned to the other barkeep:

“Talk to him, Pedro, This is /not/ right!” But he just shrugged and said:

“You gotta get out. NOW.”

“Oh, I’ll leave alright,” I declared while packing up my netbook and accessories. “Do you think I would /ever/ want to return to a bar called ‘Pilsner Inn,’ but should really be ‘Backstabber Central’?”

I would’ve spat on his shoes, but alas he was behind the counter. So I had to settle for spitting on the floor.

“That does it, now you /really/ can’t come back.” He snorted.

“Go fuk yourself, Pedro,” I said, then stormed off. But first I paused at Angelo’s station and hollered:

“FUK YOU, Angelo! This is gonna be on my blog tonight! Have fun with that.” To which he cattily replied:

“No one reads your blog.”

I finally departed after giving them /both/ a piece of my cerebellum. The moment I stepped out, I was then harassed further by goofballs 1 and 2, when number 1 screamed and grabbed my jacket sleeve:

“So now we’re /both/ kicked out and you still haven’t given back my 5 dollars!”

I yanked my arm away from his grasp, turned and proceeded towards Aardvaark bookstore in order to protect myself. They did not follow, but walked on.

I /do/ regret not mentioning to Angelo that I’ll also write a letter to the editor in this matter, as well as record the incident in Book 3. Alas, I /also/ neglected to inform him that his boss Myron Stopher, will hear of the abuse against me (by both patrons /and/ employees)

Well, they’ve effectively wiped out the /only/ spot in Frisco where Arwyn and I can socialize, and present him with my latest chapters, letters and gifts. But as Detective Miles’s Brave and Brazen Assistant, I’m sure I’ve unintentionally exposed two suspects. Whose reason for evicting me may have much more to do w/something more hideous than simple jealousy.

They sense I’m his eyes and ears while he’s not present…and they certainly don’t want /that/.

Guess I’ll have to seek out Arwyn at Twin Peaks Tavern, where I’m /not/ allowed to enter, not even when My Wiley Wyvern is absent. I just taped an envelope to his latest packet (already sealed), containing my letter to the editor.

Dare /not/ use his updated mailing address, as I have yet to receive proof of its viability. Yet when I last met him (at Pilsner) last Saturday afternoon, we had a very warm but brief encounter. Came up to him, as I held his permission form in a raised hand:

“This is awfully nice of you, sweetheart.” He actually blushed and turned away, embarrassed.

“Wait, one more question!” I demanded, and he turned heel to face me once more. “What’s up with this new number on your address? Is it a high security mailbox service that assigns a number in place of a real name? And will it get to you, even though I put your /real/ name there too?” He gently responded:

“Yes, it will get to me.”

Not that I really trust his word any more, but we’ll just have to wait and see. Then before departing his awesome self, to order a drink and set up my netbook, I wished him an excellent evening.

“You too, Zeke. Have a great night.”

Which response kinda hurt, as he /knows/ very well I couldn’t have a great night without his company. Or a great day, or a great anything else for that matter.

Some moments later while tapping away at my brand new, illuminated bluetooth keyboard, a terribly handsome man stepped up to Pedro’s station where I sat close by, and waited to order a second draft. Soon as the barkeep turned to him, I said: “I’ll pay for that man’s beer, please!”

As it turned out, he’s a really gorgeous dude (including size-and-sculpture-wise). His name is Smoky McBride. He spent the last three nights with me, and on day two I treated him to drinks and food. Took him to Hole in the Wall as well as the Eagle.

Smoky is a /very/ sweet man, /very/ sexy, 51 years old but doesn’t look a day over 28. I will soon post more about him, that you may vicariously enjoy. I /do/ suspect that Arwyn brought him to me, so that I really /would/ have a wonderful evening. And I did.

Smoky left early this morn on his way to Guerneville, and plans to return to SF (and my slobbering self) some time soon, say in 2-3 weeks. We really like each other! SO nice to sleep with, we’re a perfect fit. He is skinny and handsomely built…lotsa fun to lick his darling belly, nipples and armpits. He ain’t the least bit ticklish, praise the Horde!

Enjoy the attached moving picture of him, till then. He’s exceedingly thorough when he extinguishes a cigarette butt, as you’ll see. /Fabulous/ pair o’ gams, eh?

Click on image to play video.

I have 7 film clips of the eccentric and comely Smoky M. That was clip #2. Here are the rest:







– Zeke

Date: Wed, 15 May 2013 14:13:09
Re: Pilsner Pinheads
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ I have an idea: go to and write up a report on the Pilsner. Seriously! That’ll get their attention! }}

Fantastic, will do that later today, from the Eagle. I’m typing now from the local liberry, as my wifi access from the gym across the street has been really flaky these past five days.

{{ Great little movie!!! He definitely has the “look.” }}

Oh, he’s a charmer all right. He feels to me very much like having Arwyn. That is why I suspect it was a setup. A compassionate setup, that Arwyn gave me as yet one more apology.

– Zeke

PS: Smoky is an architect out of NYC, so is not truly homeless, just slumming around to take a break from all the workaday stress and responsibilities.

Date: Thu, 16 May 2013 17:14:28
I’m sucking your kok right now…
From: Zeke
To: Keith

…though you don’t know it. Gotta love that astral sex! Especially when ya get to shoot a big ol’ wad of protoplasmic sperm up in Keith’s…

Oops, ’nuff said. I gotta get home pronto and take an ice cold shower. Typing this to you from our Rinky-Dink-Local-Harvey-Milquetoast Library.

– Zeke

Date: Fri, 17 May 2013 10:52:33
The Perfect Storm
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

The most amazing incident just happened to me only moments ago, El! Thursday, May 16 appox’ly 6:55 PM. We need to take it back to Pilsner’s evicting This Desperate Heart only two days hence. Remember I discussed various theories as to why this occurred? And that /one/ of them fits the scenario of a staged script, where some devoted zekeophiles play the enemy…that I may be a superhero in this play? Or IOW: they /all/ adore me, each and every one of those mischieovous cherubs! Or IOW still (quoting the Buddha):

“We have no enemies, only teachers.”

That eventful afternoon at Pilsner Inn (the day they booted me outta there), I already had on my possession yet one more gift for Arwyn. Chapter 6 of Book 3 (“Signature Day”) along with a “shweet” collection of Scooby-Doo wall stickers I ordered from They’re really big, at least a foot square! (See “scooby-doo-1.jpg” attachment.)

Click on image for a larger view.

Also included were two strips of tiny Scooby-Doo stickers to place on letters, envelopes, packages and the like. (See “scooby-doo-2.jpg” attachment.)

Click on image for a larger view.

Or as that chilhood favorite among Great Danes (and most likely any /other/ breed) would declare:

“Rearry Rrrific!”

Two last-minute letters were inserted into seperate envelopes and sealed with Scotch tape onto the packet, one on each side. The first letter (added two eves ago) was my vitriolic condemnation against Pilsner Inn, for allowing me to be assaulted and kicking /me/ out, along with the perpetrators.

Second letter I added just moments before stepping out an hour or so ago, to deliver my packet. Which drop point turned out to be Pilsner Inncubus, much to my chagrin. It was yet one /more/ piece snail mailed to his bogus address (prior to the additional number he added, that I guess stands in place of a real name)…which had been returned to me as “insufficient address” and showed up today in my mailbox. Have no idea what that envelope contains, though I’m /positive/ it is the very last in my series of thwarted mail.

Since the event of my ignoble excommunication from The Most High Mosque of Pilsner Inn, I’ve been searching for Arwyn in order to deliver my latest chapter. The various times I checked Twin Peaks and Pilsner, My Scaly Paramour was nowhere to be found. I assumed, of course, that he’d show up on public transit (like he did some days back) to /receive/ My Latest Holy Grail. Alas, that is /not/ how things came down. But it /did/ take less than three full days to finally present My Sacred Scroll #Whatever (par for the course compared to two and more years past.) Unfortunately, I had to invade Pilsner Gulag to achieve this goal.

First I mosey on over to Twin Peaks before swinging up Market Street to Church, and to Pilsner Sinn.

“OMFG,” I muse on my way there, “you’re /not/ gonna do this to me Arwyn: force me to step into that horrid dive!” Yet somehow, in some transcendent way, I know for /sure/ he is there. Call it intuition if you like. /I/ call it “lover’s telepathy.” For not only are two hearts one (at least in /This/ Extraordinary Case of Beatific Alliance), but likewise two minds.

Next thing I know I’m standing in Pilsner’s open doorway, and espy Arwyn at the far end playing pinball. His vocal bursts clearly affirm to me that it’s Arwyn (in spite of the dark corner in which he leans against the pinball table’s outer frame of brushed aluminum, shaking his darling physique to influence the tiny steel orb):

“Aargh! Yeah baby! Thar she blows! Rack up the points father fukker! Aargh! Another big score for Zilla!”

Then I peer to my right to witness Gutstabber Angelo at the bar’s helm.

“Okay,” I conclude, “guess I should cover my face from the barkeep’s view, in hopes I can reach Arwyn.”

So I take a deep breath and march into the war zone, wielding my packet like a Thracian’s shield. A few broad steps into the bar, Angelo spots me and hollers:

“You! Get outta here, right now!” A nasty expression on his comely Sicilian mug could have withered all the tulips in Holland. (Fortunately, the Dutch gov’t will shortly ban this toxic schmuck from their fair kingdom, once they read my complaint against Pilsner that shall appear on my WordPress blog in a day or two.)

My peripheral vision glimpses him moving towards the bar’s center where he can exit by lifting a panel, and drive me otta there. I voice back and wave a dismissive right hand:

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving!”

A second later I stand within ten feet of My Scowling Dragon, who joins the bray against me:

“I don’t /want/ your package!” He waves me away in repulsion: “Don’t /ever/ come here again! Stay away from Pilsner!”

So I fling the packet across the billiard green (lengthwise) where it drops upon the pinball’s glass top in a perfect landing, and command:

“It’s important! Don’t let it out of your sight!”

Having accomplished my mission I swiftly turn round, exit and run for two blocks before pausing to look behind. No one has followed me.

“Whew!” I figure, “Arwyn got the chapter and letters. Time to go hovel!”

Returning to my SRO at 2306 Market, I ponder the dramatic event:

What a perfect setup, El! I saw the entire scenario in my mind minutes before it ever took place. Both Arwyn and the barkeep portrayed my enemy, that I may soon be celebrated as a /hero/ in this play: chasing surrealistic windmills of my mind, which eventually fall to the sweep of my Excalibur.

Arwyn had to feign disgust in order to deflect suspicion. Angelo played the antagonist, that the prophetic plot may be fulfilled. Neither actor missed a beat. I can see it now. In order to protect his guise as a dumb brunette, Arwyn will firmly clutch my packet when Angelo offers to take it from his hand, and claim:

“No! This is the evidence I need to get the punk arrested. I’ll turn it into the Mission SFPD soon as I look it over.” Mr. Miles then tucks it deep into his Ben Davis jacket where no one dare reach. I can hear it now. Angelo frowns in query:

“But I seen you two guys talking on the patio. Friendly like.”

“Oh that,” Arwyn flicks a peremptory wrist. “I need to know what he’s up to, so play the friend. Zeke is a scary dude, and smart as heck. You don’t just ignore the man when he’s got his hooks in you. Stay close to your friends, closer to your enemies, eh?”

They played it to perfection, that I may step into The Dragon’s Lair and display my brazen courage by not permitting demons to get the upper claw. And in so doing, I demonstrated my boundless courage as The World’s Greatest Soldier on Behalf of Gay Liberation.

[ Stolid Reader: please realize that I use the word “gay” as an umbrella label equal to the term “LGBTQ-QQQQQQQQQQQQQQQ-et-cetera Rights.” ]

I can also see this, when I next encounter My Bounteous Basilisk:

“Hey Arwyn!” I call to him from several yards behind as he meanders down 17th Street. “Are all you Pilsner Peabrains on Ritalin or what? Get a grip!”

He ignores me and keeps stepping forward, though a little faster paced. No problemo. I’m a professional pedestrian and can outwalk and outspeed even the tallest in their prime. I continue heckling:

“Thanks for the adventure, that was oodles of fun, I just can’t get enough!” Then I freeze, leaving Arwyn to move on to wherever he’s destined. Most likely Pilsner Inn. But I call to him once more, in spite of the growing distance (I have a booming voice, and can be heard from almost a block away):

“Do you know anything about the time I was drugged and mugged in 2007, at Hole in the Wall?” He halts lopsidedly for a moment, as if he suffered a trick knee. Then moves on, to hear me add:

“Just asking, love!”

Thus I reign victorious once more in this, my latest adventure authored by one who exceeds my every expectation and concept of male beauty, courage, wisdom and humor: The Indubitably Magnanimous Arwyn Miles (whose date of birth I have /yet/ to discover)! What an astounding detective adventure, eh, El? How terribly 40’s noir, with a gay twist!

But where the frig are my crumpled trenchcoat and Fedora? (And my slummy PI office in the Tenderloin, for that matter?)

I love you /so/ much, Arwyn, for your brilliant staging specifically orchestrated to benefit yours truly, beyond any other hero that has ever existed, or /will/ exist.

I love you too, Angelo. Same reason.

So now I hover once more before my HP EliteBook, typing you this missive. Eager to post it to you, My Mendocino Muse, ASAP. But alas I cannot, due to persistant wifi flakiness from Fitness SF right across the street. In spite of my $37 wifi booster. But I now ask you, El:

How is /your/ detective novel coming along? Any parallels in our streams of inspiration? (Or does that violate an unspoken rule between authors?)

May as well toss in this hilarious encounter just prior to my departure from Twin Peaks to Pilsner:

Click on image for a larger view.

Before my bustle east to Church Street I stop to light a Fortuna in the stairwell of a tattoo parlor right next door to TP Tavern. About to flick my Djeep, I notice a young dyke standing behind me and to my right: I’m blocking the entrance. So I step aside to wave her in:

“Go ahead. Sorry.”

But that’s not enough for the byatch. She declares (while pointing below my knees and a tad to my left):

“See the no smoking sign?”

Aha! She’s right! There /is/ a no smoking sign barely inches from my left shin! So I commend her as she passes and strolls down the gloomy hallway:

“Wow! I am /so/ impressed. You are an honor and a beacon to LGBTQ Rights! I can’t imagine how many tattoos you’ve acquired in dedication to homosexual freedom! Not to mention those glorious ear plugs, like a Zulu warrior princess!”

She pauses for a moment, about to turn around and confront. But thinks better of it and vanishes into the dark bowels of the Castro. One thing I know for certain:

The inked-up lesbo won’t be coming out of /that/ Stygian mire any time soon!

So there you have it, El: My Latest Misadventure of Queerest Proportion. Well, maybe one of my spectacular boyfriends will drop over tonight. It’s 10:10 PM now, and I’m ready to shut down the system and shag the nightlights outta one or two nubile dude-butts. For which hopeful opportunity I must bid you adieu for the nonce. Will email this tomorrow morn.

– Zeke

Friendly Ghost Detective Agency always gets its manpork!

PS: Just occurred to me that Arwyn’s reluctance to give me his cell # is for my own protection. Should his phone get stolen or lost, no enemy would find a trace between us. I do not have caller ID, so I couldn’t get his number when he left his first and only message.

PPS: Now here’s my one and only tattoo joke:

I don’t have a single tattoo or piercing anywhere on my body. In fact, I haven’t even stepped into a tattoo parlor in my entire life. Only because I’m afraid I’ll run away with the first prick!

Date: Fri, 17 May 2013 12:29:27
Greetings from your new Account Manager
From: Hermoine Q. (Twosome Press)
To: Zeke

Dear Zeke,

My name is Hermoine Q. and I am your new Author Account Manager. I will be partnering with you to manage every detail of your book while it goes through our publishing process. I will be contacting you whenever we need additional information or book materials, answering any questions you may have in regards to the publishing process, and ensuring that the production of your book stays on track.

Hermoine Q.
Author Account Manager

Date: Fri, 17 May 2013 13:14:07
Re: Greetings from your new Account Manager
From: Zeke
To: Hermoine Q. (Twosome Press)

Well Hermoine, I just got assigned a new account manager two weeks ago, by name of Gertrude. So what’s going on here? Thanks.

– Zeke

Date: Fri, 17 May 2013 13:58:16
Poifect or Perfect?
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Which title do you like better for my next chapter:

The Perfect Storm


Da Poifect Storm


– Zeke

Date: Fri, 17 May 2013 13:58:16
Re: Poifect or Perfect?
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

Eleanor wrote:

{{ Da second one is poifect, Doc. }}

Sometimes an author can get a little /too/ clever with her wordplay. Which of course was the bane of Shakespeare throughout his entire career…a textbook example par excellence, wouldn’t you agree? Talk about being “hoist with his own petard!”

Though one of his voluminous quotations stands out in my mind before any other, when I think about My Arwyn Chronicles:

“The course of true love never did run smooth.”

I kinda /prefer/ “The Perfect Storm,” for the same reason I do “Please Don’t Eat the Daisies”: there’s something /neat/ about revisiting famous book titles and using them for chapter headings. Yet, with a totally different spin.

Wordplay on the title itself /may/ be a bit overdone, like a hen’s egg left in the boiling pot o’erlong.

But still, I love the noir-Brooklyn 40’s lingo…talk about hard boiled! Sohz I gotta tink abouddit.

Perhaps Damon Runyon will visit me in my uber-noir dreams this pearly eve, and slap me silly with the skinny. In such potboiling cases, I always ax meself:

What would Jessica Rabbit do?

– Zeke

Date: Fri, 17 May 2013 14:32:36
Farewell and good luck!
From: Gertrude Y. (Twosome Press)
To: Zeke

Dear lovely Author,

I’m sad to inform you that today is my last day at Twosome Press as I will be leaving to pursue a new opportunity in a different field. I’m sad that I am unable to finish your book with you, though I have informed and CC’d your new Author Account Manager, Hermoine, of all the details of your account. She will be in touch with you by the middle of next week.

I wish you all the best with the publication and promotion of your book! I look forward to seeing it on the TwosomePress bookstore website in the future.

Best regards,

Gertrude Y.
Author Account Manager

Date: Fri, 17 May 2013 15:07:50
Re: Farewell and good luck!
From: Zeke
To: Gertrude Y. (Twosome Press)

Gertrude wrote:

{{ Dear lovely Author, }}

Beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder.
I turn more rugged as the face grows older.

{{ I’m sad to inform you that today is my last day at Twosome Press as I will be leaving to pursue a new opportunity in a different field. }}

You replaced Beatrice bare two weeks ago!
A mayfly would serve me just as well,
Considering you ne’er began the show.

How Hermoine works out only time will tell.
I can mere but swim with the fluminous flow,
And await till chimes my publishing bell.

– Zeke

Date: Sat, 18 May 2013 12:02:10
Not with enmity, but with gratitude…
From: Zeke
To: Myron H. (mgr. Pilsner Inn)

…I post you this latest email. What follows is a portion of chapter 7 of Book 3, that explains my immense gratitude for Arwyn and my Pilsner Inn adventure. This chapter will appear on my WordPress blog in a week or so. But before you read the passage, here is my suggestion as to how your excellent bar can make amends:

Bartenders must give me my first well drink for free. I will /not/ take advantage of this, for my visits there will not exceed more than two days per week. (Should I visit more often at times, I will /not/ accept a free drink beyond the 2-day agreement.) Also, instruct all employees to watch over me, that I may be protected from assault just as you do for all other decent patrons. One more request:

Place a sincere apology to me in either the Bay Area Reporter or the SF Bay Times. Here are their email addies, respectively:

In a nutshell, the following piece entitled “The Perfect Storm” describes my conclusion that Arwyn–in cahoots with a certain Pilsner barkeep or two–is playing out a fantasy of mine, that I become the hero of our LGBT community, by demonstrating my feisty bent, and standing up for all righteous gay causes. As well as acting out another fantasy of mine:

That Arwyn is a private eye and myself, his devoted LIttle Pony Sidekick. IOW: a real-life gay detective tale that will first be told to the world via my blog, then my published books, and finally, as blockbuster Indie films.

Arwyn, barkeeps Angelo and Pedro (and the Great Dragon only knows who else) currently play my adversaries, so I can establish my authority and win over our community with prophetic passion. One more thing:

Last Saturday (May 11) I visited with Arwyn at Pilsner Inn, but also sat by myself for a time, on the patio. I was quite upset to discover a stinky, ill behaved hobo with a drink in his hand, pacing back and forth on the bar floor. I know him to be a real nuisance and threat here in the Castro. He stalks me frequently, yells at me because I refuse to give him the time of day. He is a large dude, African American, raggedly clothed, and quite scary in manner.

Few minutes later (as I sit on a patio bench) the crazy vagrant enters the patio and seats himself right next to me! Then begins to wave his arms, wag his head and roll his eyes…and in other ways, acts quite out of place. No one wants to be near him, not just myself. A minute of this BS was all I could take, so I moved to an opposite bench.

I have /never/ before seen Pilsner welcome such a depraved soul into their premises! In the past, Arwyn would /never/ let anyone like that get near me. In fact, he’d have them kicked out. But that’s beside the point, for why on Goddess’s green and blue orb would /any/ barkeep serve drinks to this unwholesome dufus? IT’S BAD FOR BUSINESS!!! Please, ask Arwyn about this, as he was there, and (I’m sure) noticed.

So yes, Myron, there are some things very /wrong/ with Pilsner Inn, of which I assume you are unaware. But I do take the high road, and assume this is part of my heroic saga, which certain gay denizens are manifesting on my behalf. I suspect that /you/, Myron may be a participant as well. Now, on with the show (feel free to print out and share my latest missive with Angelo and Pedro, if you so wish. Likewise, Arwyn and whoever else pleases you):

[ Rapacious Reader: my letter to Myron ends with a copy of the email you’ve already viewed above, called “The Perfect Storm.” ]

Date: Sat, 18 May 2013 12:04:38
Mixing it up
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

So I see Arwyn earlier this eve (Friday, May 17), at a bar in the Castro called “The Mix.” I prefer to call it “The Pricks,” for reasons that will soon become apparent. I step into the Mix around 7 PM, never expecting to see Arwyn there. But there he is, standing at the bartender station closest to the front door.

I stand right behind My Delinquent Dragon to order my drink. Hear him tell Brody, a dyke barkeep, that he needs four quarters for a dollar, to play pool. Not one to deprive him of his simple pleasures, I draw six quarters from my coat pocket, and extend a coin-flushed hand from behind. He turns to me and acts startled:

“No, I don’t need your quarters. Thanks just the same.” He glares at me with hatred, thus coloring the barkeep’s opinion of me in a most negative fashion. Thanks for nothing, Arwyn, I think.

And he steps back to the billiard table to play his next round. So I speak out to Brody:

“Arwyn’s my boyfriend. Didn’t expect to see him here tonight, but it’s always good to see him.” Brody seems kinda upset, so I cut to the chase:

“I’d enjoy a vodka and tonic with lime, please.”

So she pours me up a glass and I pay the requisite fee ($4.50 I think). But then she opinionates:

“Listen. I’ve known Arwyn for many years. And he doesn’t want you here.”

“What are you talking about?” I respond. “He just turned down my quarters, which he does whenever he’s got enough moolah for the night.”

“No. Leave him alone.” She demands. “He’s a nice guy, but sometimes kinda hair trigger. So don’t bother him any more.”

“You gotta be kidding,” I retort, “Arwyn and I are very good friends. We’ve been lovers since 2006. My presence here will influence him to be a lot more mellow than without me.”

Brody glares at me through feverish, puffy eyelids as she shovels some ice into a tumbler. Thus, I continue:

“I’m not bothering him in the least…he’s over there playing pool,” still facing Brody, I point with my right arm extended backwards, where Arwyn crouches over the table 15 feet distant from my scapegoated little self. He’s racking ’em up for the next round.

“And I’m sitting at the bar speaking to /you/…I’m not even /looking/ at him!” I pause a brief moment before tossing her this tasty hor d’oeuvre:

“Quick to judge, slow to think, ain’tcha?”

[ Oh this is stupid-funny, Zippy Reader: I just loaded Bing Translator to see how it defines “hor d’oeuvre”. Their clever result: “hor of work” *snicker*. ]

“Okay, that’s it. You gotta go.” She grabs the drink from my hand (what is it w/barkeeps grabbing hootch from my hand these days?), reimburses my fee, including the dollar tip. (Brody actually /gave/ me $10 and didn’t ask for change back. One Desperate Dyke indeed!)

“Are you serious?” I command. “Thank you /so/ much for making me a hero. Nonetheless, I think I’ll write you up in a letter to the SF Bay Times about the asshole you truly are!”

Then I step out to discover Arwyn chatting on his cell phone. I light up a cig and address him:

“That was hilarious three days ago at Pilsner Inn, how you and Angelo ganged up on me!”

“Shut up Zeke,” he argues, “I’m talking on the phone here. Get away from me.”

“This is funny, Arwyn,” I exclaim, “but the moment I told Brody we’re friends, she grabbed my drink and told me to leave!”

I pull out my digital camera and ask: “How about letting me take a pic of you now, the lighting is excellent.”

“Go away, Zeke. I don’t want any more of your gifts or letters. I don’t want to see you again.” He rubs a palm in the air, as if to smear my face.

I stuff my Samsung ST76 back into a coat pocket and admonish: “It doesn’t work that way, Arwyn. You can’t just dump a friend at a whim, after being so nice to me for so long.”

He tries to ignore me as he continues his cell phone conversation. But I talk over him, figuring:

What’s his point? He hardly ever gives me a chance to speak, why should I respect his desire to talk on the phone in peace?

Therefore I continue to accuse: “Look, Arwyn, I think it’s fantastic that you and Angelo play the role as my enemies, and got me 86’d from Pilsner. I think you’re both great guys. Thanks for the hilarious scenario!”

Arwyn continues to frown while attempting to hold a conversation with the person on his cell: “Look, Zeke, don’t make me angry.”

“Angry?” I complain, though amused. “I’ve /never/ done anything to make you angry. I’m your best friend. If you’re angry at me, that’s /you’re/ problem, and you obviously have anger management issues.”

“Go away, Zeke, leave NOW!” he declares, and waves a distressed hand in my face. “Don’t /ever/ send me any more packages.”

“Oh, not to worry,” I respond. “For now on I’ll send the remaining chapters to the bartenders where you hang out. In fact, I just sent a thank-you letter to Angelo and Pedro, as well as to Myron Stopher, at Pilsner inn. For being such good sports.” Then affirm:

“This is /my/ turf, and you have /no/ authority over me. I will stand in the Castro wherever I damn well please. Your extreme PMS does not impress me. They have good OTC medication for that. Take a Midol.”

Arwyn then pockets his phone and reenters the Mix, as I call:

“C’mon, at least let me take your photo. You /did/ just give me permission!”

But I am now alone once more, and decide to linger on the neighboring stairway until he steps out once more. Which takes no more than 7 minutes. Arwyn appears with a drunk middle-age dyke, whom he is obviously escorting to her car. I raise my camera and start snapping. Arwyn covers his face with an arm, that I may not get a decent pic. The gray-haired dyke snarls at me:

“Don’t take his fukkin picture!”

As they wander down the sidewalk, old dyke leaning on Arwyn’s arm, I holler:

“That’s right Arwyn, help the ol’ bitch to her car!”

I follow them from 10 or so yards behind, whereby Arwyn glares back to demand: “Get outta here. Leave us alone!”

“I’m not here, Arwyn. I’m invisible. Just pretend I’m somewhere else. I just happen to be walkin’ in the same direction for a block or so.”

They cross the street up Hartford, to the right (which is south), and I watch the two odd ducklings stroll towards an automobile about a half-block up. I decide to stand behind a telephone pole, which also provides me with a leafy tree’s shelter, that I will not be readily seen by Arwyn should he look back.

But before they’ve halfway crossed, I exclaim in a booming voice loud enough to wake the deceased:

“What do you know about the time I was drugged and mugged at the Hole, back in 2007? You’re a suspect, dear. We need to talk!”

Some minutes pass before he returns with that same woman. I then step out behind the pole to snap photos. Once more, Arwyn has a sleeve over his face. So I declare:

“No problem good buddy. This is /more/ than enough evidence to hand over to the police. Besides, we have plenty of time before Book 2 comes out, so I’m sure I’ll have some good pics of you by then.”

They rush back into the Mix, while I decide to stand outside in hopes of snatching a pic of Arwyn whenever he steps out once more. But that doesn’t happen, and when I’m about to return hovel, Brody exits the bar; her shift is over. I call to her:

“I’m sorry you hold such anger against me. I’d like to be on a good footing with you.” She looks back to reply:

“Oh I’m not mad at you. Go ahead and stalk me if you want.”

“Why would I do that?” I call back. She answers:

“Arwyn told me you’re his stalker.” So I explain before she’s out of earshot:

“He’s a big role player. He likes to challenge me with difficult scenarios, and see how I deal with it.”

But she disappears around the corner, leaving me to reenter the bar to purchase a drink and enjoy Arwyn’s pool table antics. Of course, I order my usual V&T. The barkeep on duty is a handsome Latino. So I kick back at the bar’s end closest to the door, and watch Arwyn some yards away. Of course I hope he spots me, but he does not.

So I decide to meander past him as I walk to the patio for a smoke. He still doesn’t see me as I walk by as he exclaims “Aargh!” while racking up the balls. So as I wander by, I call back: “Aargh!” And that’s when he notices me, though speaks not a word.

Now I’m standing on the lower deck of the crowded patio, and ask another customer if I can smoke here, or must I step up to the next level. He says it’s okay, I can smoke right where I am. But to be sure, I turn to the patio barkeep (a delicious looking and young fellow), to verify:

“Can I smoke here, or do I have to step up to the back?” To my surprise he declares:

“Weren’t you here some moments ago, and called one of our people an asshole?”

“Certainly not,” I defend. “I just got here barely a minute ago, and ordered this drink.”

He scowls and passes through the bar partition to physically confront me:

“Get out now, we don’t want you back here!”

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” I snort while sucking down the rest of my hootch before marching back out.

This really stinks, El. Arwyn keeps setting me up for hatred. Can you say “defamation of character?”

So I finally reach “home” to ponder the evening’s disaster. My conclusion:

“I guess I /will/ send more letters to Arwyn c/o Twin Peaks Tavern, Pilsner Inn and finally, the Mix. His crude behavior is way over the top, so at this point it’s all-out war.”

Therefore, tonight I will conjure up nine more letters, three to each bar, each batch sent one day apart. Arwyn has done a fine job of getting me cast out of three Castro bars that are the best ones in the ‘hood. Through no fault of my own. In fact, I’ve been nothing but gracious, patient and loving towards My Rebellious Reptile. These letters BTW will contain nothing more than one simple sentence:

“Ha ha. Nothing to see here!” Maybe I’ll insert some Scooby-Doo stickers.

Time to break out the big guns.

– Zeke

PS: Oh, I almost forgot to mention that I already posted my snail mail to Pedro and Angelo. And added to both, in handwritten words at the top of each letter:

“You can sell this letter on eBay for big bucks, once my first book becomes a bestseller. – Zeke”

The letters themselves both contained the same printout which you’ve already viewed, titled “The Perfect Storm.”

But at the end of Angelo’s letter I added something not included with Pedro’s:


Here’s how you could make amends with me (though you might have other solutions):

Take me out for dinner once or twice. Burgermeister on Chuch near Duboce works for me!

And maybe become good friends, which I suggested some weeks back, and you gave me a /very/ warm handshake.

I /know/ you’re a righteous fellow (in spite of your recent ejection of my scapegoated self). You are also very HOT. Though sex need never enter the picture, I’d still /love/ to be a best friend. FYI: Arwyn and I are /not/ monogamous.”

Then signed it by hand with my “zekeheart” logo. Dropped off both letters in the nearest mailbox on my way to the Mix. I will email a similar letter to Myron Stopher next morn.

Their veggieburger is outstanding!

Date: Sat, 18 May 2013 12:06:29
Re Mix
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

I meander by the Mix around 10:30 PM to see Arwyn still there at the pool table. I stand on the sidewalk, waiting for his exit. Sure enough he steps out and I call:

“Having a nice evening without me, Arwyn?”

He then steps up real close, just like the night he shoved me.

“Leave me alone!” he hollers to my face, “I don’t wanna see you any more. So I saved your life once, it’s over. Move on!”

I look up at his angry eyes to iterate: “Arwyn, something’s /wrong/ with you. You used to be so nice to me, now you’re sweet one day, mean the next. Please see a doctor.”

“Are you going now?” he demands. But I say “No!” so he shoves me a bit, though extremely light. Told him I’d call the police if I have to.

“I’m standing between you and the devil, Arwyn!” I declare. “You saved my life once, now I guess it’s time for me to save /yours/!”

“Well maybe I /want/ to stand with the devil,” snorts My Misguided Mesosaurus.

“That’s way obvious,” I respond. “I /pray/ that you will soon find a better direction.”

“Go ahead, call 911!” he yells as he walks away towards Pilsner Inn (I presume).

So I holler back: “This is only the beginning of our battle, Arwyn. The war is ON. I will send letters to all the gay bars you frequent, until you’re outta there!” (After all, he’s been driving /me/ outta those places, and “all’s fair in love and war.”)

He continues to holler back at me, though I really don’t know what he’s saying. I just turn my back to him and walk in the opposite direction, flipping the bird with both hands. But before I turn the corner, I swerve around to see him looking at me from almost a block away.

And smile, while giving him a double-fisted finger once more. Then I head hovel.

I cry.

Just so you know, El: I may be facing my own death or serious injury, due to Arwyn’s increasing belligerance. But you should also know:

I am not afraid. Just posted him my latest letter to his dubious address, containing my missive to the editor regarding the assault on my person at Pilsner Inn three days ago. On the envelope’s back, I handprinted:

“I will soon send letters to other addresses you frequent, unless you acknowledge.”

The bar letters are ready to go, in the event he does not.

– Zeke

Date: Sat, 18 May 2013 12:15:32
Letter to Brody c/o the Mix
From: Zeke
To: Brody (via snail mail)

My Dear Brody,

I beg your patience in my telling you the extraordinary relationship between myself and Arwyn. Enclosed is my business card that provides a link to my first book soon to be published, entitled “Free Me From This Bond.”

At bottom of this page is a link to Book 2. And at the bottom of Book 2’s page is a link to Book 3 (presently a work in progress). That’s right, it’s a trilogy. Book 1 should be out in bookstores in less than a month from now. But the online versions of all three novels will always be free to read, as my way of showing immense gratitude to the LGBT community, for putting me through my paces and not going easy on me.

And the trilogy is all about my fantastic friendship with Arwyn. Yet, disturbingly, he has suddenly turned on me like I’m his worst enemy. Before this (almost 8 years in fact) Arwyn has been the very /best/ friend in my entire life. I try to talk with him, that he see a doctor and get an MRI scan.

For I fear that his sudden personality change may be due to a brain tumor or something equally serious. Arwyn has always been a great friend to me, until a little over four months ago. But I am in a most difficult space, as he now tells everyone who’ll listen, that I’m his stalker! Which is a terribly grievous state, that I cannot bear on my own. Therefore I appeal to various members of Our Community for support, no matter how minor. You may read about such appeals in Book 3.

Arwyn is /wrong/ about my being his stalker. I am his very /best/ friend, who really does not want him to /ever/ vanish from my life. You know his reputation for occasional, erratic behavior. Yet you are more than willing to believe whatever lie he tells you (especially about me). He is slandering me via gossip, causing others to hate and exclude me…and may possibly lead to violence. I have /many/ witnesses, should the matter come to court (which I really want to avoid). Those who participate in spreading defamation of my character are also complicit.

The only reason I sometimes visit bars that he frequents, is to be in his company even if he doesn’t want to talk with me. Though many times he does, and we have a lovely time. He’s actually invited me to hang out at these places, until this recent and ugly turn in our fate. One day, he’s really kind to me, the next he’s arrogant and hateful. I only get to see him once or twice a week these days, because of his increasingly foul behavior. I am /not/ his stalker, but do my very best to stand by his side until this crisis passes. Since we don’t live together yet (though we do now live barely a block apart, since he moved to the Castro from SOMA), the only option I have is to hang out now and then, at one of his favorite bars. That would be: Pilsner Inn, Twin Peaks Tavern, and the Mix.

Arwyn has never shoved me, tossed a lit cigarette at me, or yelled at me in all our 7-plus years. Until, as I said, these past several months. That is how I know beyond a doubt, that something is terribly /wrong/ with this otherwise very fine man. Prior to this, he has always been very gentle, protective and lots of good fun. Though I did confront him recently, to tell him he needs to /profusely/ apologize to all those he’s either offended or hurt, including certain bartenders. He’s been /my/ hero for almost eight years…I guess now it’s time to be /his/ hero.

So please, Brody, keep this letter for a possible (and I think “probable”) time when the good man falls, and needs me more than anyone else. I can see the tragedy coming down the pike like a locomotive. I’ve been standing between him and the devil for over four months now, trying to deflect the inevitable. It is therefore my desperate hope that somehow, some way, it’s not too late to thwart such a horrid outcome. But it looks like he’s soon gonna fall…and fall hard.’

It is my hope that something occurs in your bar with Arwyn, to make you realize that I am the one speaking truth, not him. So please, keep my card, as it contains my phone number as well as email. He has recently turned extremely hostile towards me, when all I want is to see him now and then, for it gives me peace and great joy. As has always been the case until recent months. For no reason that has anything to do with me, as I have always been patient and kind with him.

With only the utmost sincerity,

Ezekiel J. Krahlin

PS: As proof of our relationship, I’ve enclosed a copy of a form where he gives me signed permission to use his real name and photo in Book 2. But you can just read my books online, to understand the truth. Please, I beg of you, do not appease Arwyn’s every whim. He is definitelty on the wrong track, and I can only pray. Especially when patrons and barkeeps alike hate me and believe I’m just some goofy loon, thanks to Arwyn’s gossip. My heart has never been so broken. So if you could help in any way–even if it’s just a little way–I’ll be your friend for life.

$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.

Bench Bullies

August 9, 2012

Last night, August 9th, I suffered some nasty encounters with homophobic denizens hanging out at the benches by Harvey Milk Plaza. Earlier that day I came home to hear a veiled threat on my answering machine, which went like this:

“The Castro Kids have their eyes on you!”

The voice was gravelly, like an old man who smokes too many cigarettes. Only a week earlier, that same voice left the following message:

“We have you exactly where we want. Ha ha!”

The background noise of traffic in both instances, indicated that this culprit came to the front gate, pressed the buzzer for my unit, and recited his hostile messages.

My attempt to get at the bottom of this, only resulted in ugly and slanderous accusations towards yours truly. By three street folks I considered my friends, and to whom I’ve always been friendly. Instead, I was ganged up upon. As follows:

In the early evening, I tried to inform Eric that I was being harassed by hateful voice mail. (Eric is a handsome, straight dude always with a guitar at hand.) He suddenly blurted: Zeke, I’m really bummed out right now. I have my own problems; I don’t want to hear yours!” To which I responded:

“I don’t have any problems, Eric. I just want to find out where this hatred is coming from. You certainly don’t need to jump on me about this.” Then he retorted, as he stood up halfway:

“I’ll just move to another bench, if you insist on sitting here.” So I said:

“Don’t bother, I’ll go now.”

Later that night (around 10:30pm) I returned to the benches, in hopes of resolving this issue. Asked Eric if I can speak to him now, or is he still on the rag. So he listened to my description of the phone messages, and my questions about the person who beat up on Rom.

Felicia, who often brings food for the homeless who hang out at the benches, and was seated beside Eric, told me I just knocked over someone’s cup of beer (with my foot which, honestly, I did not feel, and which could have easily been kicked over by Eric or even Felicia: so long as the cops couldn’t identify the origin of the booze-law offender), and that I should shut up and buy him a new drink. And that I should go fuk myself. She then flipped me the bird, which I returned in kind, and stated:

“I’ve always been nice to you, Felicia. Why are you being so hostile to me now?” And the byatch responded:

“Get the fuk outta here, we’re trying to kick back and play some music.” To which I replied:

“No way, lady. I’ve lived in this neighborhood years before you and your shitty kind showed up.”

Matt, who plays keyboard (and whom I featured in my blog on the street musicians at Harvey Milk Plaza) accused me of being a pervert, picking up on homeless guys who hang here.

I told him I’ve always been friendly to him, but that’s evil gossip, and asked who’s been spreading such foul lies against me. He only replied:

“That’s what I’ve heard. I’m only telling you what people are saying about you.” So I retorted:

“I don’t have sex with anyone I’ve invited over. You have no right to slander me in my own turf. You owe me a profuse apology. Then he pointed at the police officer who was talking to some other street folks about 8 yards away from us. And threatened:

“Want me to call her over, and tell her you’re harassing me?” To which I remarked:

“Oh, that would be hilarious. She’s on my side. You just go ahead and do that!” Matt backed off. I then let him have it with double barrels:

“You’re spreading gossip against me, without one shred of evidence. Who’s behind this? Is it Peace?” It had occurred to me that Peace, who suddenly stopped talking to me the day after I gave him $20 in support of his supposed protection of the gay homeless youth trying to get some sleep on the sidewalk by Holy Redeemer Church, may have turned against me, and started broadcasting animosity against me.

(Peace is someone I’ve had over numerous times without any hint of sexual invite. We discussed the street scene here in the Castro, smoked cigarettes and sometimes pot, and I let him take a shower down the hallway. A totally respectful association.)

Then some drunken sot with a can of malt liquer in his hand shoved me and told me to “get the fuk outta here”. I shoved him back and told him to mind his own business; he has no idea what’s going on. By that time, the peace officer had disappeared. Too bad, because I was about to call her over. At that point, other creeps (all homeless) ganged up on me, calling me “pervert” and worse.

During this altercation, Daniel (a twin of his brother, Jacob…both of whom showed up in the Castro several months ago), told me to “get the fuk outta here”. This, after inviting him over a week ago, to give him a fresh T-shirt and chat with him about his brother, with whom he was very concerned due to his return to hard drugs. I gave him hope for his brother, told him to hang in there and have faith in God’s good works. I never once propositioned him for sex, or made any move towards him, of that kind.

I finally walked away, strolled around the ‘hood, and finally showed up at the benches once more. Walked by Felicia, Eric and Matt who were seated on the same bench…and pointed at each of them as I strolled by:

“Each of you owes me a profuse apology. What you’ve done is wicked and a total lie!” To which Felicia proclaimed:

“Get the hell outta here, Zeke.”

I then walked up the brick pathway to come around along the sidewalk above the benches, where I looked down upon the idiots and declared:

“Felicia, you’ve got a foul mouth. Eric, you have a foul mouth. Matt, you have a foul mouth.” And added before I disappeared: “These benches will come down pronto, thanks to your homophobic slander!”

Not completely satisfied yet with addressing this slander against yours truly, I came around once more, to the benches, where I sat at the furthermost bench beside the intersection. Daniel was at the next bench, kicking the garbage dumped alongside the concrete wall that served as back support. God forbid he should acutally clean up this mess, I thought. Then cried out to him:

“Daniel, you’re a no-good piece of shit. I invited you over, gave you a fresh T-shirt, and hope for your brother. I didn’t once lay a hand on you. Now, you gang up on me with the other goons, and say nothing in my defense!” To which he hollered:

“Go fuk yourself. You’re a crazy muthah fukkah. I’m not listening to you any more!” And I retorted:

“You’re a liar and no good. You get the hell outta here. The benches will soon be shut down thanks to skanky goofballs like yourself!”

So then I departed, pissed off and truly hurt by this wicked outcome of my efforts to reach out to the homeless at HM Plaza. On my way home (barely a block-and-a-half away), I bump into my new friend, Zach, who is wheeling his usual shopping cart and diving into the garbage bins for recyclable bottles and cans. So I tell him what just happened, and he replies:

“You’ve heard the song Backstabbers, haven’t you? They smile in your face…

I stop him in mid-song: “Yes, Zach, you are so right. It’s good to have some friends like you in this world.”

But Zach isn’t my only friend in this debacle. In my last round at the benches, another Matt called to me and said:

“Hey, Zeke, why don’t you stop and say hello to your friend?”

I paused to apologize, and tell him I’m wrapped up in a confrontation by some folks who I thought were friends. And that I think Peace is behind spreading this gossip.

“Oh, Peace. He’s a little twit of a muthah fukkah.”

“Yes, I’m afraid you are right, Matt. I thought he was protecting the homeless youth sleeping by the Holy Redeemer.”

“No, he isn’t,” he replied with a scowl on his handsome mug. “He’s a big fat liar. Peace does nothing that isn’t for his own selfish goals.”

“Well, I was certainly wrong about Peace,” I remark. “Again, my apologies for almost walking by you without any acknowledgment. I was caught up in defending my reputation.”

So there you have it, Kind Reader: my conclusion that these benches at Harvey Milk Plaza should be shut down for at least several months, in order to drive out these anti-gay schmucks who think they’re the cat’s meow for taking over this particular portion of gay turf. But if these benches remain, I have another possible solution:

Flood the benches with gays and their allies, that these homophobes don’t have a single spot in which to seat themselves. Drive them away because they are outnumbered.

Tomorrow’s another day, and I will surely continue to confront the bastards, in spite of their wishes to be left alone to perpetrate their hetero-supremacist righteousness.

So good night to you, all Good Souls, who truly care about my houseless gay brothers and sisters, who dwell in utter terror from the homophobic majority that dwell upon these mean streets of so-called “Gay Mecca”. I wish I could do more.

I really do. <3

Then again, they may be just pressing my buttons, because it is so much fun to see how I deal with it. Well, tomorrow is another day.

“We have no enemies, only teachers.” -Buddha

Kenny Will Kerouac

July 13, 2012


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

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