With everything going on in the world today, I’m too braindead… Not nice at all. But it’s like I can’t even read a clock anymore. Well, we’re all being dragged back to Jim Crow. Drop me off where B III was still alive. Braxton The Napper, Virgil
Wednesday, May 13, 2026
Journey 316 ~Braxton The Napper, Virgil~
Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Again, look at the time—2:30 PM. Hell, I’m not sure what day it is half the time.
A day late, a dollar short, and a dog gone. But V is still here. For how long, I cannot say. While I was thinking about all the appointments I’ve missed. Optometrist, Nurse, and now Vet. And the question I keep asking myself, my dear Echo. With what money, hmm?
Inspector, am I singing to my girl on Ben Franklin when I croon something like…
Can’t get you off my mind (can’t get you off my mind)
I’ve tried my best to be a man and be strong
I’ve drove myself insane
Wishin’ I could touch your face (touch your face)
But the truth remains you’re (gone)
Gone ‧ NSYNC
That’s the song sung in my dream last night. Or Tuesday, afternoon. Yup, it’s Wednesday.
But, Braxton, help me, it seems like I opened my eyes and saw “Mr. Blue Sky,” and I felt like a kid again. Like I was missing a day of class or something. “Ain’t That a Kick in the Head”? Just not in the teeth.
“Pinch me, pinch me
‘Cause I’m still asleep
Please, God, tell me
That I’m still asleep.”
Barenaked Ladies ‧ 2000
One more person to see. A dentist. With all these sugary drinks. Eff Bum Energy, I think I’ll stick to Bloom because I am effing exhausted right now. And I hate myself, Inspector. But that really changes nothing to be sure. And why. Because I’m not Chance The Rapper with the energy to ask “May I Have This Dance,” much less perform it, Inspector Echo.
But in the end, I’m a writer anyway. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. Again, like these piddly-ass energy drinks, I’m a bum. I’m a lazy mother effer who sleeps a lot.
And what time did I go to bed last night? Starving artists still need to eat, right? And it woke Virgil right up, too, Inspector.
Supper, sex, and being a scared piece of sh*t, the true mark of a southern man these days, Echo. Or a Simple Man. Trust me, the ranks of MAGA are worse. Eff MAGA and FDT!
And here I am, unable to dream of a better world because I can’t get to sleep on time, Echo.
Braxton and Virgil make it look so damn easy. And you know which one of my sons I want to follow. But M Anime is begging me to stay… Amongst other things… Cherry is busy with her writing. And B’s Favorite Girl is still up and about—career, love, stuff.
However, all I want to do is sleep. Well, that second Bum drink is kicking in. Braxton The Napper, Virgil
1928 Days Without B III, Day 1369 of Virgil’s Arrival
B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will
