This will be the first Camp NaNoWriMo that Braxton won’t be here. My writing buddy, my words were supposed to save us. Maybe if I had written to God instead. The Vet told me there was nothing to do but with a higher number. For Once B Write, I failed
Wednesday, March 31, 2021
Gospel 273 ~For Once B Write~
Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so how am I still living on my knees, my belly, landing flat on my face?
“Please” is a word I’ve been using less sarcastically nowadays. Yeah, please, I’m not in retail; I’m a writer. It’s been more like please and thank you to people. Of course, I should be polite. It’s not only because of B III. Please, God, Doctor, anybody save my Little B. Hell, I’ll never forget how I was crawling along after him. How I was on my knees before taking him in. As the song goes, “No one laughs at God in a hospital.” I was sitting, well falling to my knees as Braxton left me alone in this world. How dare I ask for anything? Most days, I’m an atheist through and through, though I push agnosticism. Funny and sad, no human’s made me feel…
“All I know is the child is my warrant… And if he is not the word of God, then God never spoke.” –
“Person-like?” A man, a father, a writer, somebody, anybody. Again I think man evolved but not for the likes of me. No, I’m a primate, an ape, a monster, which is why most of my stories deal only with men. Okay, an android here or there and one of my characters evolving. On Twitter this morning (Saturday, March 27), I saw #SoTheLastTimeIHadSex. I still want a family Inspector Echo. That’s another thing I don’t write about. Wasn’t I working on a Christmas story at some point, “Look A Thing Like Santa?” Yeah, Braxton had a role in my tale too. Now here we are on my last day of… again, I never know anymore. Camp NaNoWriMo is about to start, and what am I going to write about or complete?
Poetry or Prose? Not a day goes by where I don’t imagine, “if only I had finished GULP,” where would B III be? I wouldn’t have been at the Day Job, that’s for damn sure. I could have paid a bit more attention. Maybe it was the water he was getting, those hotdogs, his food. I want to write a book for him since I’ve given up reading about dogs for now. While a good story, a Dog’s Purpose didn’t do me any favors when it comes to… what healing? Did I ever believe writing does that? It’s been two months now today, Braxton’s death. If I start my former series again… I’ll kill him?
Braxton’s character, which wouldn’t be right? For Once B Write
BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,