It’s not easy waking up every AM. Yet I’m “blessed,” “privileged,” “grateful” to do so? Only to hate all the time that comes after? It was easier with Triple B, and how did that work out for him? I always think there’s more time. B Easy, There’s Time
Wednesday, July 20, 2022
Saga 019 ~B Easy, There’s Time~
Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, meaning I have all the time in the world. Or no time at all if those motivations are correct. You think?
Yesterday, sitting right where I am now was the least of my “Humiliations Galore.” Yet shameful nonetheless with the time. You see how I fight in the AM talking to you and the other girls. Only how fast did I get through a conversation with Dear Future Wife. Now that’s something I shouldn’t be bragging about. It’s not like she’s B III. Ok, that was a cruel joke. Laughing to keep from crying. That’s the name of the game these days. Like when I was talking to B III as well. I’m continuing to keep up with Camp NaNoWriMo. Is that a promise? How many times have I broken a promise? Look at my Six Impossible Things or Braxton’s box… To remember my Treachery Inspector.
There’s always time to be a man of my word. A better man as I think of the “Basic Bitch.” The dates I don’t look at, ha. If it isn’t any days, B III was dying; it’s” Sometimes In August.” Again the Basic Bitch and realizing how much time I’ve wasted working the Day Job. Inspector, the movie “Sometimes In April” is a powerful story, for the record. But I have no time to watch it again. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. I don’t need that much drama. Somehow I always make time for the worst things, the wasteful. Dare I say whoredom. Hell! At least sleep is some form of recovery. Then again, I’m avoiding mechanics, doctors, and, oh yeah, any publishers.
Yet another reason I’m sitting here letting the smartphone die. The thing has no time. Inspector, if I was to begin this day in gratitude, at least I gave B III more time than a piece of plastic. That’s something to be proud of. Still, at the moment, I would instead sleep some more after all the time I wasted yesterday. I could think of better things. Like writing? The fact that I work so few days this week. And if I put my nose to the grindstone? It would be better if Triple B stepped on my face again. That always got me moving. So why don’t you tell me where I’m going, Echo. Hell’s a vast place, I’ve heard. B Easy, There’s Time.
535 Days Without B III
BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,