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NOT IS ALL AS IT SEEMS
(A True Tale From The Castro. Eat your heart out, Armistead!)
by Ezekiel J. Krahlin
[ Fraternal Reader: please do not jump to conclusions after reading the first part of this blog entry. Be patient, and you will be rewarded with a much different outlook than initially conceived. FYI this article predates my last ten posts, only because I needed to give my RSI-damaged fingers a rest. Now I've got some catching up to do. ]
From: Zeke Krahlin
Date: Fri, Oct 24, 2014 at 5:06 PM
Subject: Attacked by a Gay Alpha Male
To: several gay newspapers
On October 24th I was attacked by one Larkin Kelsey before he got on the 24 Divisadero in front of Twin Peaks Tavern. In short, I had confronted him for his bullying me numerous times in the Castro. At that moment, he gave me a swift kick to my person before boarding the bus.
Mr. Kelsey has been a frequent harassment towards my strolling the Castro. We were friends once (and for many years), but he suddenly turned on me more than two years ago. I cannot figure out why, but maybe he has a brain tumor, early onset Alzheimer's, or has turned drug dealer or hustler since he moved from SOMA to the Castro five years back. For which reason he doesn't want anyone to get too close to him.
Be that as it may, I've always been a good friend to him...because, in truth, he has also been a wonderful friend to me. So it is with great heartbreak that I must oppose his abusive behavior by posting his offenses in the media.
Anyone who was a witness to his kicking me just before he boarded the 24 Divisadero on October 24th, I would appreciate that you contact me at:
zeke.krahlin AT gmail.com
Larkin Kelsey is a very handsome man around 53 years old, 6-foot-4 in height, and frequents Twin Peaks Tavern, Lookout, Moby Dick, and The Edge. He is very congenial and charismatic on the surface, but is obviously quite disturbed otherwise.
Most sincerely,
Zeke Krahlin
[ Impermeable Reader: this letter never got published, thank dragon. Read on. ]
From: Eleanor Cooney
Date: Sat, Oct 25, 2014 at 11:17 AM
Subject: Re: Attacked by a Gay Alpha Male
To: Zeke Krahlin
Eleanor wrote:
{{ I'm sorry to learn that Larkin's behavior has finally turned into direct violence. Protect yourself!}}
And I'm sorry, El, for overreacting! For Larkin did not actually kick me, he simply brushed a foot against my leg to make it look like I was physically attacked in the eyes of bystanders (most of whom were gazing out the window of the 24 Divisadero...one woman scolding, "Hey, stop that!"). He knew this feigned assault would raise my hackles, and in my love struck blindness, I'd respond in outrage.
But he also knew that in hindsight some hours later (long after he boarded that bus), I'd realize he never struck me in the first place. Don't know how to explain this better, but I assure you: Larkin only brushed me across the calf.
[ Bleary-Eyed Reader: if you've been a faithful disciple of My Larkin Adventures, you'll know by now that My Beloved Basilisk positively enjoys pressing my buttons. He did not hurt me in the least, though brought out my angst, which resulted in a conflict that provided more hilarity than perfidy in this latest encounter. Yet umbrageous moi took things way too seriously for their own good. Such are the vagaries of great affection for another who has been a vexing pain in the butt for more than eight years now.
The conflict just described did not arise out of the blue. For Darrin had just popped up before me, as I stood at Castro & Market, awaiting Larkin's possible presence. I never expected to see Darrin at that moment, but there he was in all his glorious Latino beauty: trim and handsome like you wouldn't believe, all of 34 years old at this point. When we first met five or so years ago he was quite the wreck, albeit fabulously cute nonetheless, and ready to have me (and anyone else who was handy for the job) shove my boner up his fine ass. Which I did not, in spite of his readiness to go the full monty. For I loved him dearly, and would rather hold him in my arms all night, than take advantage. And that is exactly how things came down.
In the years since, he has obviously grown in leaps and bounds, and not forgotten my kindness. So when he appeared like a vision of hunkiness, I threw my arm around him and smooched his darling cheek. At that moment, Larkin appeared crossing Twin Peaks Tavern on his way to the bus stop just fifteen feet ahead.
"Larkin!" I called to him, "this is Darrin."
He turned His Celtic Glory in our direction to declare: "Beat him up for me!" To which I responded:
"Who do you want to beat up? Me to him, or him to me?"
Larkin paused but a second before clarifying: "I want him to beat up you!" Which of course is what I expected, so I retorted (with my hand grasping Darrin's left shoulder):
"He's younger and stronger than you, and he's gonna beat the shit outta you!" Then I announced to Darrin:
"Here, watch this!" and proceeded to confront Larkin for his arrogant proposal...ignoring Darrin's appeal when he declared he can't watch this, he's got an appointment to run to.
I stepped right up to Larkin and exclaimed, "Very funny, telling Darrin to beat me up! Do you realize I have a large medical bill I can't pay, and because of this I may go blind? I have not a single fukkin friend in this world to turn to, even though my sight is going south!"
As the bus pulled up, Larkin hollered several times over: "Get the fuk outta my face!" And that was when he raised a foot to cuff me on my right leg. His bold lack of compassion only enraged me further, so I admonished (screaming louder than his own shrieks that attempted to drown me out):
"How dare you kick me? You don't even like Zachary, you just live with him in order to keep a roof over your head!" (Which I must admit, Poignant Reader, is good enough reason for any low-income gay for whom life is so cruel, that he must resort to less-than-ideal conditions, no matter how gorgeous his appearance; or talented, or witty, or smart, or friendly...all of which gifts he owns.)
"You're a loser, one big, fat loser!" is how I completed my accusation just before Larkin boarded the 24 Divisadero and grumbled away. I then looked back to where Darrin stood just before I began to heckle Larkin...but he was nowhere to be seen. Guess he really had to make his appointment, leaving me without witness against Larkin's diabolical mind-fuk. So as usual, I stood without an ally to defend me against outrageous false witness that may cause a wellspring of demons to wipe me out before I have my day in court.
So then I goose stepped back hovel, angered and hurt once more by what I perceived as my latest Larkinish insult. Later that night, I came to realize that My Private Devil did not kick me, even slightly...but he knew that I'd be outraged at the public humiliation and explode in his face as a result. "Talk about pressing my buttons!" (I thought to myself.) "He was putting on a show for Darrin, and being the beguiled fool that I am, I fell for the ruse, too!"
I wound up laughing like a hebephrenic, as it finally dawned on me that Larkin once again pulled off a clever hoax, with yours truly playing the fall guy. Next time I ran into Darrin, I told him I hope he wasn't upset by my confrontation with Larkin in his presence, we were just having some fun at his expense. (He said he understood, and chuckled.) So now ya know, Cumulus Reader, why I begged you to be patient and hold off passing judgment against Larkin.
You should also know that my medical bill has been covered retroactively, once I got back on Medi-Cal two weeks ago. I was treated for a possibly detaching retina in 2010, and must get my eyes checked once a year to prevent further damage. I was never charged for the laser surgery, or my annual checkups, so did not comprehend why I suddenly had to pay for the latest exam. Turns out that--ever since Medi-Cal has resumed coverage of eye (and other) care (such as dental, hearing, etc.)--the student hospital would no longer pick up that expense (for which Medicare only paid about 25%). I did not know this, so I put off getting back on Medi-Cal until the very last moment. Ya gotta thank Obamacare for restoring the vital health care services that I had to do without for too many years.
I had a second silly encounter later that same day, only this time with Larkin's housemate, Zachary. I was still PO'd, so dragged homeless friend Mikey to point out Larkin to him, who was seated beside Zachary at Twin Peaks and chatting things up.
"There's Larkin, Mikey," I exclaimed while grabbing onto his coat sleeve. Mikey had already seen Larkin two times before (per my walks with him when My Dragonly Nemesis passed by from the opposite direction). "He kicked me earlier today!"
Zachary suddenly looked up at us through the north-facing plate glass and--with a withering scowl on his mug--blurted something to Larkin, then stepped out to confront me:
"You can summon all your homeless friends to badmouth Larkin, but I'm not scared of you!" He hollered right into my ear, wagging a finger like a loaded gun, face raging crimson like he was about to bust a gut. I remained silent while staring into those gin-shot peepers. "If you don't call this stalking, you're a bigger jerk than even Larkin claims!"
Zachary screeched further, three sheets to the wind and ready to keel over. I paid no attention to his remaining rants, for I was looking back at Larkin who simultaneously gazed in return. Our eyes locked, my own as if to say (a la Oliver Hardy): "Well, here's another nice kettle of fish you've pickled me in!"
Larkin's own expression was one of mischievous affection and a sparkle in his eye. Our stare remained steady for a good twenty seconds, and my spirit blushed with joy. Zachary then turned tail and marched back into the tavern, albeit with a sailor's wobble to his step...while I hollered back: "Larkin doesn't even care about you, except that you keep a cheap roof over his head!" *zing!*
Mikey, meanwhile, remained totally blase to the entire debacle. Who knows what he was thinking? In spite of his physical presence (6-foot-1, skinny, dirty-blonde, 34 years hung and terribly gorgeous), he is often "not here," if you get my drift. Maybe it's crystal, maybe it's crack, maybe it's the stress of being on the streets, maybe it's being raised by a severely dysfunctional family out of Ithica, New York. But he's so damn cute in a masculine/elfin sort of way, I don't give a fuk...and he's got a huge, fat juicy cut schmeckel so much fun to play with, he brings me such oral ecstasy you can't imagine.
Larkin's sweet and prolonged gaze did not sink in until some hours later, when I realized these two encounters were but absurd scenarios orchestrated by My Grandiose Gremlin. Not to hurt me in any way, but because his gentle face-off through the picture window would assuage my vexed spirit a little later down the line. And so it did. ]
Note to Zachary October 27:
[ Explanation is due. Once I realized that Larkin set up both myself and Zachary, I composed the following missive. ]
[ Reference to "you owe me a cigarette": while battling it out with Larkin by the bus stop, and he feigned kicking me before many witnesses, a Fortuna I held between my fingers suddenly came up broken. Don't know how that happened, but I was furious. ]
Postcard sent October 28th:
Postcard sent November 3rd:
Postcard sent November 5th:
Postcard sent November 5th:
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