Chronicle 274 ~B III Of Stories~

Am I writing a new novel today? With the way, I’ve been feeling and considering when I’m writing this. Now I could talk about B III forever. Point out a post before January 31, 2022, where he isn’t mentioned. And there’s always Gulp… B III Of Stories

Friday, April 1, 2022

Chronicle 274 ~B III Of Stories~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now. But this moment, that’s only “another” word like so many I’ve written. Where to begin today?

Time Travel? Of course, seeing how today is Sunday, March 27, 2022. So, of course, you know why we’re speaking today. Existence is nothing to write home about. But fiction? Considering that it will officially be Camp NaNoWriMo season by the time you read this. So should I write a new novel as per usual? Everything within me screams absolutely! Only I did say fiction, right? I’m still cringing over my stupidity and/or horniness this morning over Cherry. I’m checking every now and again. I’m worried about losing a friend. Hell, if that whole series I wrote didn’t do it… And I’ve forgotten plenty of it. I should start publishing books then, you say? How about writing another one about a B III universe? Gah!

I want to publish, My Turn To B III. It’s only gotten longer if you count every letter I’ve written to Braxton by now. But that’s not going to get done with me staying in bed all day yet again. Wouldn’t I be better off working at the dining room table than the Day Job? My Grandma always said I was one for pride, so is it that when I say no nine to five? Sophia, I could take Braxton into the fiction world. You remember how A Dog’s Journey got to me. Talk about reasons not to see films. Clarity June got to me, and then there is X. Do you remember the horror movie I want to see? But without writing any story?

This brings me to Gulp. I paid those people off years before my son passed. I swear if I had a dollar,… more like if I had my money back for everything I’ve wasted on certain sexual novelties or time. There’s $200 somewhere with a particular sex worker. Thousands more on a pretty sizable investment. I like Eric Vall, but he stole a twenty. I could go on; anyway, back to writing. Finishing Gulp and sending it off is always in my Six Impossible Things. Who knows, that book could have saved Braxton. Again my fucking Day Job. You tell me to get to writing. How about back to reading and listening? Most of the time, I only sleep. Like today… B III Of Stories.

425 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,

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