So happy to have seen Larkin yesterday...albeit in passing. Since the tacqueria where he works is closed for the holidays (reopens the 6th), I couldn't see him there to drop off my latest report on The Cult (including Chris's cold-cock U-lock murder attempt).
But Larkin's HIGHLY telepathic, thus already knows what occurred. Plus,
he knows that I get rather sad if too much time passes that I haven't
gazed upon him.
I stayed home all day, writing, due to the cold rains. Decided around
7pm to step outside for 15 minutes or so, enjoy the chill, rain-swept
air in my lungs. NEVER expecting to see Larkin, as he rarely walks
along this particular block. But lo and behold, only scant moments
after stepping out and standing around the bus stop (about 30 feet from
my building's front gate), I suddenly hear his jubilant voice, turn in
that direction to see him emerging from a car right in front of the
He walks in my direction and beyond, never acknowledging my presence...nor do I his. 'Cause it's still RISKY to be seen together.
But I know he showed up in order for me to enjoy his presence, albeit
brief. So I just drank in the glorious view of that handsome mug, as he
strode across Noe Street to vanish in the dark, halfway up the next
block. (He's STILL donning that seedy old red-and-dark-blue puffy
jacket he's worn ever since I first laid happy eyes on him! Somebody
PLEASE get him a new jacket like the one below! He wears extra-large.
Oh well, at least I can spot him more easily from a distance.)
He looked FABULOUS: none of that alcoholic hung-over ruddy facial cast,
or muddy-yellow nicotine aura. He looks 10 years younger, RADIANT
w/wholesome energy, BURSTING with joyful glee. (And I know that the
show was all just for me!) Funny how earlier that day, several times I
caught myself fantasizing him standing across the street looking up at
my window, and my waving back.
And he KNEW I said "thanks" in my heart, and that his INCREDIBLE
friendship has made me the happiest hominid on the planet, if not the
entire universe (and all possible multiverses to boot)!
A genuine sweetheart.
THE SPITTING INCIDENT
I've been meaning to write this episode for some
weeks now. Obviously, the time has come. Approx 2-1/4 new moons ago, I
had described to a friend, my desire to spit in Larkin's face...only
because, while I respect his difficult lessons immensely, he is
nonetheless a most difficult task master whose challenges sometimes
make me want to direct my disgust towards him...with love, mind you. (I
sometimes feel the same way about Goddess, FYI...She puts us through
such difficult tasks!) Next day after making this bold declaration, I
walk by Larkin lallygagging on the Metro's sidewalk bench, enjoying his
usual ciggie. 20 or so feet up the street, I turn around to admire my
guardian angel, as I often do whenever the platinum opportunity arises.
He looks back at me, theatrically gestures the sign of the cross as if
I were a vampire. Cute. I continue to gaze upon him w/o any emotive
response. Moments later (as I stand immobile) Larkin rises from the
bench, stretches, then glares at me and spits a huge wad of phlegm
before his feet.
At that very same moment, I do likewise...as his
rumbling throat hocking up the requisite saliva gave fair warning.
Still immobile w/o expression, I show Larkin I am NOT frightened in the
least. Some 20 seconds or so later, he re-enters the Metro, and (since
I could no longer enjoy gazing upon his visage), I likewise depart.
Did I take offense, were my feelings hurt? No, not
in the least. For I understand that--being the telepathic genius he
is--he OVERHEARD my previous day's remark, so decided to provide me
with the opportunity to spit in his direction. Larkin combined
brilliant wit with compassion. For he graciously provided the cathartic
RELEASE I so badly needed, while at the same time testing my courage.
Not for HIM to see how I handle potential fears, but to show ME my own
bravado, of which I was not quite so conscious. Bless this wonderful man! He is truly Best Friend Of All Time!
Understanding his benevolent mischief, I returned to my humble abode
and kicked back, basking in the gracious warmth of his latest tender tough-love regard. I CHERISH a rough dude with a darling heart! Once again: the Damon Runyon allure!
P.S.: I will soon have a NEW name and NEW appearance, drastically
different from my present form (as suggested in my recent poem "Rumors of my Death are Queerly Exaggerated"). Shapeshifting or plastic surgery, who knows? Though of course I hope it's the former, as that would involve far less trauma.
My angels say my new first name is "Airen," though they have yet to
reveal the surname (and middle name, I presume; just wouldn't feel
complete without one). I kinda like "Kelsey" as that's Larkin's, but
somehow it doesn't quite fit. Maybe a more ANTIQUE version of that,
like "Kelsinny," or "Kellsee" (reminiscent of the Book of Kells)? Or how about just "Kells"..."Airen Kells". Naw, I'll leave the rest up to Larkin, he'd like that.
Some interesting search results for Airen:
- Male Hebrew name "Airen" meaning "exultant".
- Irish renewable energy service "AirEn".
- Drought resistant white grape used to make wine: "Airén".
- Modernized Chinese word "Ai Ren," meaning "spouse," "lover" or "mistress".
- Resistance fighter "Airen Cracken" in the Star Wars mythos.
- Manga character "Haou Airen," translated as "Supreme King of Lovers" (unfortunately hetero, which makes the title an oxymoron).
Visions relating to the theory that the British Isles were settled by Israel's lost tribe of Levi.
I was the beloved son (or lover) of a great leader, who gifted me with
the entire Emerald Isle, which was then named after me: "Airen's Land".
Here, I thought I was much more of a SCOT in spirit, than IRISH. A new
and unexpected twist in the plot of my history. Whether fantasy or real, I cannot yet discern.
Do you have ANY knowledge of ancient Ireland folk,
around say, 300-600 BC? This would fit into the same timeline as the Hebrew diaspora, and Celtic invasions into the British islands.
The printout of the blue and pink face
on the back of above-mentioned poem, is supposed to be my new
image...very similar to how I looked at 16 before it got cut up in a
mugging. (Severe face infections many years thereafter, a true
nightmare, and why I've shunned mirrors ever since.) Except he has
serious eyebrows (mine have always been scant), and my countenance was
If these visions are true, that is the original face of Airen, for whom was named "Ireland". It is also the face of Adonai,
the 16-year old angelic boy worshipped by Kabbalistic wizards as the
Creator Himself. Some years back (say, eight) I found a discarded
gay-themed calender on the back porch. Each month, another lovely young
man. But the image that turned me on the most, and which I've scanned
and stored on my hard drive, is the one just below (for in the ensuing
months, I received glorious visions and messages, stating that this
image was indeed the original manifestation of Adonai himself!):
Vanity, thy name is Zeke! May Goddess strike me down for having such thoughts...victim of my own visions!
MY interpretation: When one has achieved a great spiritual victory, your prize is the Golden Apple
(so to speak). Which CAN include being presented with the Mantle Of
Creation Itself, where you get to play God for a time. Sort of like a
super-sized version of "Queen for a Day". Paraphrasing Kabbalistic
"The loftiest achievement coming out of long
suffering and noble sacrifice results in the angels regarding such
heroes as Adonai Himself, with all the concomitant benefits. Ego plays
no part in this reward, thus no danger of forgetting your mortal self,
and believing you really ARE the Creator."