Chronicle 027 ~Not Another Word… B~

I wrote so early and posted it so late. I cannot fail my son again. Only, I’ve spent all the rest of this day in bed and before that… well I time travel? As the song goes, My Lazy Ass, but I have been writing about my son. “Not Another Word… B”

Wednesday, July 28, 2021

Chronicle 027 ~Not Another Word… B~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and that’s because I don’t make excuses. Today has been pretty humiliating. I haven’t lived it.

I am, of course, talking about Saturday the 24th. If I was a betting man, I would put money on the fact that Wednesday hasn’t been anything to talk about. Oh, I have done plenty of talking today, right here from bed. If Braxton were here, this couldn’t stand. Inspector, I wouldn’t blame him in the slightest for bitching me out. Okay, I’d tell Braxton to shush it, but I would deserve it. You heard me right about being in bed all day. The farthest I have walked was to fetch my computer. The world, Sick Sad World Inspector. I wish I could tell you it was other people; good, they may be, who had the problems. All my dicking around watching Girlfriend Reviews SIGH.

I’m not sick. Well, physically, I hope. Um, the last time I went out, and that was for BBQ, E. Mentally, the best psychiatrist I ever had was B III, and somehow he made everything okay for me. Now my head is a mess, and all I know is, I did worse today than yesterday. It also didn’t help that I got all in about the day Braxton died. To think that I could cover all of that in one chapter of his novel, about 2,500 words. If I want more shame, how about the fact that I haven’t finished the damn thing yet? When I reread this, what? Inspector Echo, do I expect to be done? If I was doing 5000 words these days?

No, Friday it was only 3100 words, so I could not watch The Olympics. You know what I mean, I diddled on my phone all evening and did some security. Speaking of which, you see the alerts that have been going off. Inspector Echo I want to say “disappear,” careful. I was reminded of that time with the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. Besides Braxton being gone, what else can I say? In a few minutes, I will get up and honor my son as always. I’ll eat some sour worms, get the mail, come back and read. Routine dear Echo. But I am once again failing Braxton. I’m failing everybody. B bothers me more, Inspector. How I wish he was here. Not Another Word… B

178 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

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