Gospel 189 ~Don’t Count On Will~

Being a black man in America, I’m not a statistic… I got up early, six instead of ten, you can thank my furbaby for that. The stimulus came through yesterday but besides my kid, my day job, and car people where’s the money going? Don’t Count On Will.

Wednesday, January 6, 2021

Gospel 189 ~Don’t Count On Will~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which must mean I hate you. Well, I don’t think that way about you, Inspector Echo, or any of the other girls. Okay, so the Man in the Mirror, but as I’ve been saying ad nauseam, it’s a New Year. I’m working on myself… I’m trying. The thing is, I’m asking myself, am I too late? If it isn’t the money, then it’s been my age these days. I’m 36, and if I were to tell you all the things I haven’t done, even this morning. As the song goes, “Time, time, time. See what’s become of me.” Money, Age, Time…

I could wrap that all around my favorite subject in the whole wide world. Well, after my Dæmon, of course. Looks like my Imp’s going to get that vet appointment anyway. Geez, right after I got my stimulus payment. Republican Idiocracy tendencies, “I Like Money.”

Okay, so my favorite subject, I swear I have missed out on so much. When it comes to… well, how do I say this and remain a nice guy? Again I support artists and, in the same breath, thieves. Even with the motherlode of “artwork,” I’ve I miss out on galleries, gathering, and grabbing up all I can. Do you remember after the last Pinterest Suspension/Purge, I was upset about a specific board I lost? I found a few pieces of it the other day but not the whole thing. I would say I find nothing more annoying but that would make me a liar. It’s like finding the perfect “movie” and not being able to download it. How about what happened to such and such a website? What about being so anxious for something and then having it snatched away with fear? Mine… hers?

“A half-read book is a half-finished love affair.’” Cloud Atlas

I feel like Nicolas Cage/Yuri Orlov; I’m always five minutes too early or five minutes late. Being black, I was taught to be early always. As for being a man, I was taught “nice guys finish last” (12 Days, fingers crossed). I’m forever a day late, a dollar short, that is if I want something. I hate being late for the Day Job. Now I love my Dæmon like pancakes, but I got out of bed not by “force of will” but because my son needed me, meds, cleaning, potty.

Hate has my number, but love… Don’t Count On Will.

I Will Have No Fear

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