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SOLSTICE GOES
© 2016 by Ezekiel J. Krahlin
(a true tale from the castro; eat your heart out armistead)
Date: Thu, 24 Dec 2015 19:38:30
Subject: Re: My final (surprise) postcard to Larkin...
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
On Thu, Dec 24, 2015 at 7:22 PM, Eleanor Cooney
{{ Weirdly enough, Handel's Messiah makes me cry... }}
Oh holy fuk, give me a break! I wish you only the most wonderful 2016 ever, thanks to your incredibly benevolent support of my deepest wishes, over so may difficult years.
- Zeke
Date: Thu, 24 Dec 2015 22:01:41
On Thu, Dec 24, 2015 at 9:31 PM, Eleanor Cooney wrote:
{{ Many thanks. I'll try to live up to that blessing. }}
Oh just ignore my Plebeian tastes. I am presently awash in tears, because Zach has not shown up tonight...nor is it likely he will, at this late hour. I am a sucker for beautiful men.
{{ Re: the Messiah--it's a combination of the greatness of the music (Handel was a genius) and the human longing it delineates... }}
Oh go suck an egg. Nice to hear from you.
- Zeke
Date: Thu, 24 Dec 2015 22:07:41
No, I really mean it. Doesn't mean I don't blubber over all kinds of other music--I do. "Old Shep," for instance.
Date: Thu, 24 Dec 2015 22:20:50
On Thu, Dec 24, 2015 at 10:10 PM, Eleanor Cooney
{{ By the way, I might have to plagiarize this: }}
Not sure what you want to plagiarize, but if it has anything to do with my sorrowful meanderings I've recently conveyed to you, please by all means give it your all. For if anything is worth sharing to the world, it is my own heartfelt love of sweet men for whom I am an impossible sucker.
With much affection (and I wish Zach would show up tonight, but I'll be fine regardless), Merry Christmas, my wonderful muse.
- Zeke
Date: Fri, 25 Dec 2015 12:02:08
On Thu, Dec 24, 2015 at 10:54 PM, Eleanor Cooney
{{ Might have to plagiarize this line: "I'm a slobbering bag of nerves right now." }}
Be my guest!
Zach didn't show up last night, so now my soul is stretched across the Sahara, scoured in hot sand and the misery of youth's wish unfulfilled. Ready to break down and sob, right here at the Posh Bagel with my double cream cheese whole wheat everything and a small cup of delicious java.
But I'd better not, the nice folks who work here would freak out, their lives completely altered forevermore.
- Zeke
Date: Thu, 24 Dec 2015 20:40:58
...whom I will not reject, but welcome back into my arms, when that time comes.
And come it surely will. Thanks to Zach, who has become my anchor in this Storm of Brotherly Turmoil. Love is a wonderful thing.
- Zeke
Date: Thu, 24 Dec 2015 22:14:09
On Thu, Dec 24, 2015 at 10:03 PM, Eleanor Cooney
{{ Love is definitely a thing.... }}
To which I am a thing who presently dribbles snot from my nose in tearful agony. I'm such a fuk-up.
- Zeke
Date: Thu, 24 Dec 2015 22:34:54
On Thu, Dec 24, 2015 at 10:15 PM, Eleanor Cooney
{{ I've been there, believe me.... }}
Well, thank you. But I am grateful for knowing such love in spite of the slings and arrows that come with it. I am at present very heartbroken, only because of Zach's most difficult trials. I only want to hold him in my arms. Yet they remain empty, at least for tonight.
I am far from desperate; in fact I feel most blessed for having such sweet feelings. If I must sleep alone tonight once more, I will sleep with the grace of a beatified spirit.
BTW I had this incredible dream just last night, which showered me with many good folks who appreciated my own particular wisdom. In Daly City of all places.
- Zeke
Date: Fri, 25 Dec 2015 12:05:02
On Thu, Dec 24, 2015 at 11:06 PM, Eleanor Cooney
{{ Daly City!! Land of dreams! }}
Most boring dreams on the planet.
{{ Betcha Zach shows up tomorrow. }}
That would be very nice. If he doesn't mind baby sitting a quaking bag of dendrites.
- Zeke
Date: Fri, 25 Dec 2015 12:17:37
On Thu, Dec 24, 2015 at 11:06 PM, Eleanor Cooney
{{ Daly City!! Land of dreams! }}
Let's see what I remember of that extraordinary dream. I was very well known and very well loved, highly regarded for my wisdom and spoken words. So I was strolling about downtown Daly City, saying hi to this or that pedestrian, and vice versa. It was sunny, a comfortable 65 degrees or so.
I guess I actually lived there, too, as I had this household to visit whenever I desired, filled with very sweet people. I think this dream was a fantasy about a near-future time when peace had finally blanketed the entire planet in love's warmth. Nothing but contentment, both inside and outside my skull.
(Maybe the government dispersed some sort of tranquilizer across the nation via jet trails so talked about by conspiracy theorists...who am I to judge. For I am but one more humble citizen in this absurd hell we call Amerika.)
Don't recall exactly what kinds of conversations I had with these phantasmal friends, but it was all good. I was like a prophet and a gift-giver, whose very presence, touch and voice graced every person nearby with the light of God's love.
Seems that my book /did/, finally, change the world.
- Zeke
P.S.: So much for my fat ego.
Date: Fri, 25 Dec 2015 12:46:33
On Fri, Dec 25, 2015 at 12:08 PM, Eleanor Cooney
{{ Heh. I was being fuh-see-shus about Daly City... }}
I knew you were; I am far from slow-witted. :)
{{ ..unfortunately, I've been there... }}
Really, Xmas Day is not the right time to dredge up such sad memories.
Interesting that I /never/ visit Daly City...and it's been years since I used to go there to see a friend I met via an online, local discussion group. Late 80's. I had actually influenced the shape of today's cyberspace, with a handful of excellent concepts. Was even quoted in Microcornucopia Magazine, for a most innovative suggestion as to how to ward off computer viruses. I was still using my birth name, Eugene Frank Damien Catalano. Take a gander:
http://www.gay-bible.org/truetales/micro-cornucopia.htm
My proposed method became the foundation of all antivirus programs out there (including Macafee)...and still is, to this very day.
I got to meet and know the original hacker, John Draper a.k.a. "Captain Crunch"...who was personal friends with Steve Wozniak (and you know who /he/ is)! I was well known and appreciated for my admiration of the underground hacking community...as one who is half outsider and half family member. While I couldn't hack my way out of a virtual paper bag, I understood and loved the mind of the hacker. It was during that time I wrote my gay cyberpunk tale, "Security Matters & Anti Matters (or: The Mighty Mouse Virus):
http://www.gay-bible.org/write/3_security.htm
Well the entire Bay Area hacker community went bat-poop crazy over my delicious tale, thus honored me with a cold shoulder at any gathering I attended. Really, it was for my own protection.
I was a lover of Berkeley (still am), so a lot of my time was spent there, rather than at home in SF. My favorite cafe turned out to also be Alan Ginsberg's, where he sat and composed his groundbreaking poem, "Howl." But I didn't learn about that, till years later, when I stepped into Cafe Mediterraneum to discover a news article taped to the espresso machine, showing Alan seated on the mezzanine. And ya know what, El?
He was sitting at my own favorite table...against the wall on the southern side!
http://www.gay-bible.org/truetales/cafe-med.htm
Jeez, what reminiscing! I should give you (and myself) a break!
- Zeke
Date: 27 Dec 2015 01:07:03
Why didn't Zach show up Christmas Day (nor tonight, the day after)? I told him it's okay, I will pull through. Yet the truth is, Ellie, I am grieved that he did not. For I cannot take such inconsideration for all the kindness I have shown to him, and to others whom I have given so much affection. I can't just say "Oh well," after putting so much heart into their lives.
Sometimes I think I hear his sweet Cajun voice calling up to my window, but whenever I look out, he is not there. I've been through this before, over Randolph, over Johnnie, over Larkin, and over so many others. This is torture most exquisite.
Yet who knows what's really going on? Did Zach fall ill and wind up in the hospital? Was he killed? He is on the streets, and nothing I can do about it.
Let them perish, I guess, and I shall move on. Yet here comes My Randolph's birthday, December 30th 1949...and his suicide attempt on January 16th 1985, etched in my memory forevermore. Enjoy now, my latest missive to Carlyle Lambourne, while listening, perhaps, to "Break Up to Make Up" by the Stylistics, or Handel's Messiah:
Dear Carlyle:
Here is a prototype of your home page. Notice I highlighted your author name to automatically include "subscribe lambourne" in the email link. Please know that I will come up with a dark-blue, sober background color. This is just the first draft.
I have added the instruction to hover one's mouse cursor over each of the four leading images, to learn the reference of each picture. So please send me a very brief description (10 words or less) of each image, that I might create a pop-up explanation for each one.
Regarding Dr. Donald M. MacArthur's statement: July 1st is also my birthday. If you think this is a coincidence, I have overestimated your perspicacity.
The links at bottom are not yet connected to the appropriate files, though I will soon get that rectified. This is just to show you how much more professional your home page can look.
There are some typos in each of your articles, that I am working on right now.
It is a great honor--even a miracle--that we have finally come to this point where I can interface my html knowledge with your incredible efforts to put the truth out there, on behalf of LGBT conquest. Hallelujah, my friend!
As your most appreciative alter ego and ally, I shed tears of joy for your brave and forthright regard for many long-suffering souls. I love you, Carlyle. Yet--I wonder in your numerous visits to the West Coast--why you've never bothered to meet me in person, and perhaps treat me to dinner and your gracious company. There are others who claim to care about me, yet when visiting San Francisco, have eluded my presence...including my brother's daughter, my only niece.
My brother Vince (who is four years my senior) tells me over the phone: "Call me whenever you want." Yet in all these decades he has never called me once, or sent me a letter, though I have to him...more than once (to put it mildly).
It really doesn't feel like I matter for much, in spite of all my excellent efforts. Telling me different via email or other impersonal venue will not cut the mustard. I have never really had a good friend any time in my life. Count your blessings, as I have none. I am seriously considering cutting off any and all of my cyberspace contacts.
I would love to see you and all my other online friends, in person all at the same time, at some sort of lovely gathering. A friend who once lived in my apartment building moved back to his home state in Philadelphia many years ago, and is not doing so well these days. My days are numbered, especially thanks to our government's fukked-up "Obamacare" which "expanded Medicaid" is more a death sentence for me and over 14 million others, than anything helpful.
Do I really want to live out the rest of my life as a blind and homeless old man...or at best, a sight-impaired geezer (suffering perhaps other serious maladies that I can't afford to cure, such as cancer or strokes) barely surviving in an SRO, in a city filled with coldhearted denizens? I don't think so, and I guess I will wind up much like The Father of Gonzo Journalism did, when he realized that his quality of life is rapidly deteriorating. You would have me assassinating this or that enemy of gay people, before I am too helpless to even reach that point.
Yet I tell you: it will do no good anyway. Since for every homophobe I might exterminate, ten more will rise up to fill his space. Nor do I appreciate your email record of discussing such matters with unexpurgated zeal that puts me at risk of NSA exposure, when I am but a disenfranchised, low income person with a spirit already broken.
You will not have your victory without me, nor will any other LGBT.
- Ezekiel J. Krahlin
P.S.: How can I cry on the shoulder of a ghost?
- Zeke
Date: 27 Dec 2015 01:26:03
I am really sad, my sister. I envy your comfy home life, and living with one you love so very much. Something which I have never known, except in my dreams. I envy Carlyle, too, who, though gay, has had a great lover by his side for more than 35 years. To expect me to send out any more unconditional love for all others, is a blasphemy IMO. I will be long gone before this pathetic world blows up into smithereens. May the 4th Horse of the Apocalypse drop me in his saddle and bring me to seat myself in Jehovah's Own Throne. At least for a few moments. Then, maybe, I can make a change. Keep your fingers crossed, dear. I am sorry to be such a burden, but I am facing a tremendous demon.
- Zeke
P.S.: Feel free to plagiarize this passage, too. It would be an incredible honor, AFAIC.
Date: 27 Dec 2015 01:53:17
I am a mammal, a furry creature...at least in spirit, being as I man-scape each and every day since I visited Randolph at the Veterans Memorial Administration Center in Washington, D.C.. back in April of 1985. Now listen to me well:
Randolph is God, who came to me through this person. He has later come to me through Johnnie, then Larkin. But now, I guess, through Zach. I don't understand why God cares to be so elusive, and crush my heart so many times. But He's really wiped me out.
I understand it is a necessary process--this emptying of one's soul--to reach The Ultimate Plateau of Love. But please, I need a break. Really.
I miss Larkin like nobody's business. Can't I have /some/ joy in this life?
- Zeke
Date: 27 Dec 2015 09:47:53
I always go through a catharsis around Winter Solstice. Sorry to have caused you any worry by ranting like a baboon.
- Zeke
Date: 27 Dec 2015 10:59:07
On Sun, Dec 27, 2015 at 10:55 AM, Eleanor Cooney
{{ But aren't you having some joy these days??? }}
Of course I am. Being lovesick over Zach does strange things to my emotions. I'm just a silly bag of dendrites.
- Zeke
Date: 27 Dec 2015 11:03:03
On Sun, Dec 27, 2015 at 10:58 AM, Eleanor Cooney
{{ With Randolph's b'day coming up, no wonder things get rocky for you...I'm happy to be a virtual "shoulder." }}
Not just Randolph any more, but a pileup that forces me to crawl through all the tangled arms, legs and hearts. There are other, new stress factors on top of this, which I haven't bothered to tell you about. All of which led to last night's awesome catharsis. Glad to be through it all, and I woke up feeling pretty darned excellent.
- Zeke
Date: Thu, 31 Dec 2015 14:35:00
...for at least the umpteenth time, that is. He did /not/ show up on either Christmas Eve or Day, but he /did/ appear on Randolph's birthday last night. A sweet entr'acte as always. He slumbered with dreamy contentment, a wry grin said it all. And no wonder, considering how frankly he surrendered that pearly elixir to my gullet before nodding off. This yeoman's mouth of mine has never before been stuffed with such brazen cock as his...subjugating my boundless fervor with a greater lust of its own!
Later that night when things go bump and his trousers somehow slipped into oblivion, his dormant wanger grew stiff as bone in a stunning five seconds. (I happened to be awake, as good fortune so deemed, my face resting close to his crotch by lucky circumstance.) Seeming to possess a life of its own, that joystick sprung freely before my eyes several times, like a frenzied catapult:
"Come hither, My Spartan Boy! I beckon your tongue like a testosterone Jezebel, that you enjoy yet another romp through that sylvan glade you call my crotch."
So being the faithful comrade to his soldierly needs, I did just that, burying my face between those Adonic thighs. I can only praise his sperm-gushing epiphany with the following words:
"My Louisiana Rascal sure has that sexy mojo in spades!"
Next morning I stirred him awake with gentle prods on his left foot, still shod in a Nike sneaker (the other was not). "Rise and shine cowboy, it's another day in paradise!"
He moaned gently and turned over. Now, I should tell you, Ellie, that Zach is never a problem when it's time to go. He just likes to linger for a few minutes more. But I enjoy teasing him while he's still horizontal:
"Oh look what I found on the floor, a ten dollar bill!" I pointed at the currency I had bestowed him with last night, which obviously slipped from one of his myriad pockets to land by an elbow. Eyes wide open now, he saw me snatch it up and wave it in his face, before releasing it to flutter down and onto his chest.
Zach abducted the miscreant bill to stuff it somewhere in his shirt. He then turned his back to me, curled up there on the bedding. So I invented this new get-outta-bed ploy, right there on the spot:
"I'm gonna start hugging you, if you don't get up now!"
Well, since he acts so macho when it comes to hugs (IOW he repulses them), I thought it would be cute. I declared my tender threat two more times, and each time he slipped me a grin...with eyes closed of course, and arms now folded about the torso. An evasive maneuver, I presume.
We had other fun exchanges the next 10 minutes or so, as he finally arose (laissez those ominous hugs) and prepared to exit. He washed up at my sink by splashing water about his face and hair, then repacked his belongings by folding them in four neat bundles which he tied to his latest bicycle with a bungee cord. (Seems that every time he drops over, it's with a different bike; I ask no questions.)
So there we go, Ellie, a great friendship in the works.
- Zeke
Date: Thu, 31 Dec 2015 22:09:14
On Thu, Dec 31, 2015 at 4:39 PM, Eleanor Cooney
{{ Randolph's birthday! C'est si bon!!! }}
Better than Zach showing up on Christmas, a highly commercialized
holiday where every privileged person shoves it in the face of the
disenfranchised, just how favored /they/ are, and the latter are
not. Santa Claus should be disemboweled with a fire iron.
Zach is the best medicine of the soul I have ever known. And such a
handsome darling, too, I can't believe he is /not/ one of God's
Greatest Angels who's come to grant me benevolent succor.
- Zeke
Care to leave a comment? Click here.
Subject: Re: My final (surprise) postcard to Larkin...
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject: Re: My final (surprise) postcard to Larkin...
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject: Re: My final (surprise) postcard to Larkin...
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Re: My final (surprise) postcard to Larkin...
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject: Larkin is my prodigal son...
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject: Re: Larkin is my prodigal son...
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject: Re: Larkin is my prodigal son...
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject: Re: Larkin is my prodigal son...
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject: Re: Larkin is my prodigal son...
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject: Re: Larkin is my prodigal son...
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject: Let Them Perish
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney--
Subject: Your New Web Site (sort of)
Date: 27 December 2015
--
Subject: Really Sad!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject: I am a Mammal
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject: Re: I'm over myself!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject: Re: I am a Mammal
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject: Re: I'm over myself!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject: Zach's return...
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
Subject: Zach's return...
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Eleanor Cooney
