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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!)

© 2004 by Ezekiel J. Krahlin

The holidays were INCREDIBLE for me; though my greatest wish,
once again, has not been answered: that Randolph and I will be
back together again (he's been missing since 1993). His birthday
is Dec. 30 (just turned 57). And the anniversary of when he shot
himself in D.C. by the Vietnam Veteran Memorial a.k.a. "The
Wall"... and SURVIVED, is January 16. The suicide attempt was
back in 1985. Some months before I met--and consequently fell in
love with--Randolph, he had grown quite famous for his 40-day
fast in 1984, on behalf of Nam Vets still suffering; and also
because he was an outspoken GAY activist.

HOWEVER, GOOD NEWS: The last issue of the S.F. Spectrum printed
my letter as a guest opinion, on page 6. (And they did not edit
out my title this time: "The Sheriff of Castro Street". They
COULD have, but they didn't. Cute!)

So that was my New Year's gift, as their paper came out on The
First. I didn't think to look for my letter, so I was totally
caught by surprise. However, it did not click in till a few days
later, the significance of the memorial to Bob Ross on that same
page, beneath my letter (the only article for that page; took up
over 1/3 of the ink space). You see, Mr. Ross who just passed
away, and was the founder and publisher of the Bay Area
Reporter...lent compassionate support in 1985 for my actions to
help Randolph through his horrid crisis.

(And get this: just after I got off the phone with my activist
e-friend from Boston, is when the realization hit me, of Bob
Ross's juxtaposition w/my letter. So I must thank you, Tom, for
your benevolent magic that brings such good fortune to those whom
you inspire!)

Bob kept the news interest alive, and reached out to Randolph,
with assurance of a welcoming populace and safe haven, should he
desire to return to his adopted home town of San Francisco. Now,
Bob and I never met in person; our exchanges were simply via
telephone. The rest of page six was taken up by the narrow left
margin staff box, and a subscription slip just below the Ross
memorium. So the REVELATION came upon me with some hindsight:
Randolph always finds a way to reach out to me during Yuletide
season, if he himself can't yet show up in person. And what an
elegant manifestation of a small miracle! (Often, I feel
Randolph's presence standing beside me, like a ghost. Sort of
like that old TV sit-com, "Topper"...only since we're both gay,
perhaps I should call this "Bottomer". NOT.)

So Randolph's spirit told me I'd meet a lovely young man at the
Detour last night. The drinks were cheap: half-price. I enjoyed
the music and my two stiff drinks, and watching the dudes. Well,
I was ready to traipse on home, not being one to hold my breath
very long for a promise of a miracle. But woddya know? This
glorious specimen of elegant manhood, walked up to me with the
loveliest smile, and offered to buy me a drink. I turned it
around and insisted that I buy HIM a drink...but he wouldn't have
anything of it. His name is Kevin, from Northern England, with
such a romantic British accent, I can barely understand half of
what he's saying. He's 36.

We spent a truly lovely night together; he's such a sweetheart! I
won't get into all the hilarious repartee we exhanged at the
Detour (and our walk directly to my apartment down the block, and
my bed). Besides being so handsome, he has a FABULOUS sense of
humor! So he's going back to England in about a week (heart
breaker!)...and is busy wrapping things up. May not see him
again, though I'm sure when I'm invited by London's gay community
to visit England (and give my lectures and comedy skits), that
he'll come to me. I swear I was with an angel last night.

So the Yuletide magic is strong this time around; Randolph may
still show up soon, as I have felt each and every day of my life
since our second parting. But ESPECIALLY so, this time around.

Happiest New Year, one and all! (Except you homophobes and
Dubya-nutters of course; but shouldn't that go w/o saying these
days? Nope, I'm afraid not. No, not yet. Not quite yet. But SOON
my precious, SOON!)


Your shaman queer activist & culture warrior, 
Zeke Krahlin (a.k.a. "Sheriff of Castro Street")
reporting from the trenches Jan. 6, 2004.

P.S.: I suppose my gratitude should also extend to the
newly-deceased Bob Ross, for doing me ONE MORE big favor before
exiting stage left. WELL DONE, BOB, well done!

Vote for Zeke in oh-oh-four,
Or brownshirts will bang down your door!
Zeke for US gay prez: