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Permission granted by author for anyone to distribute this
writing free of charge (including translation into any
language)...under condition that no profit is made therefrom,
and that it remain intact and complete, including title and 
credit to the original author.

Ezekiel J. Krahlin

(A True Tale From The Castro. Eat your heart out, Armistead!)

© 2007 by Ezekiel J. Krahlin

I'm very excited about the arrival of Shangri-La.

As for book #1, DISM...I'm up to chapter 10. It is SO well-written, that I feel GUILTY how much I'm enjoying the account of your mother's most FASCINATING life, even during her last stages. You wield a magic pen, dear!

I really felt for you when I read of those two cherished typewriters that got totally damaged due to careless packaging. The whole JOURNEY of caring for your mom was such a terrible, hellish time, I'm surprised it didn't make you jump off the Golden Gate!

Such terrors need not happen, if only our society were truly compassionate, and lived up to the ideals espoused in our Constitution and other Amerikan manifestos. Alas, that is not the far FROM the case. No universal health care, no neighbors loving neighbors, and so on.

Thus, in such a family (or friendship) crisis, we are usually left to fend on our own...often with our lives in tatters at the other end. Money is the ruler by which all is measured, in Molech-Amerika. As it says on our currency: "In God we trust". On our CURRENCY...for money IS our God.

You did your mother a great honor by such a well-written, fair-minded, honest and LOVING biography. Obviously, you also honored the friends and victims of Alzheimer's immensely. And I can only imagine how PAINFUL to put together your narrative. albeit CATHARTIC and even necessary on many levels.

Being a TRUE hero is NEVER an easy path...indeed, it is a Via Dolorosa of the soul. Part of the agony being that MANY scorn, ridicule, torment, and threaten us even MORE so when our courageous story is told. I know THAT too well...I'm going through that right now, and have for over 20 years, especially since our society took a hard swing to the political RIGHT (which is WRONG in so many ways).

I will be stepping out shortly for my daily coffee, to read the next three chapters. Holding your book in my hands, I feel like the Holy Grail has been placed in my trust. And in one very important way, it has...albeit metaphorical.

As for your dialog w/Vasumurti: Bravo! And again: Bravo! You did an excellent job of deconstructing this sophist's clever diatribe and rationale. I hope other women have saved your comments, as powerful arsenal by which to confront other misogynistic bigots. Vasumurti is your classic NeoCon, garnering recognition and wealth on the backs of the long-suffering and innocent folks of the world. He is SCARY because so filled with venom, hidden behind a crocodile smile (I know, mixed metaphor: bad, bad, bad).

I noticed you gave him the backhanded compliment of saying he's earned a mention in your next book (or article, I forgot which). Likewise, for my including "rrock" for his homophobic spam against me in newsgroup alt.religion.angels.

They say "no rest for the wicked"...but if that be true, then I retort: "and even less for the good!"

-Your friend in "e-"sprit de corps, Zeke.

P.S.: Dean's jacket is NOT least, it didn't come with that charming faux-velour purple/black tiger stripe false shirt cuffs and collar, and that lovely embroidery, and patches. He has a SEAMSTRESS! We spent an excellent evening at my humble domicile, and I was most charmed and pleased to discover what an intelligent and joyful spirit he well as drop-dead (and get-born-again) gorgeous. He's a lovely blend of Italian and German, bisexual with an attraction mostly for women...but once in a while, when the right dude comes along...okay, gotta wipe this drool off the keyboard before I continue. [brief pause: wipe wipe wipe toss] In fact, he said in kind humor: "Hey, if I smoke some pot and drink a little beer, you could probably do whatever you want with me." So I said "That's the beer talking"...he retorted "No it isn't"...I observed "You sure are FUN and HONEST"...he grinned: "C'mere!" and grabbed me in his arms...I said "That's STILL the beer"...he laughed "I don't think so"...I kissed him on the temple "I think so"...he turned his head and pressed his lips firmly to mine: "Shut up!" And so it went.

BTW, the white embroidery on the bottom of his jacket's back is a heart on wings. :)