Well, did I survive the day? Are we talking today or Monday? I was dead this morning when I cut off the alarm at 4:00 AM. Then spent 1:00 PM edging. And I’m sure I did something STUPID today. But I got the right rule down… “Some Are Born Many Times.”
Monday, April 17, 2023
Saga 290 ~Some Are Born Many Times~
Two-Hundred and Eighty-Seventh Rule
I AM a Billionaire right now… so seeing that money is no object, let’s see if I can get this right today hmm.
As I’ve died so many times. But I only need to get it right once. Only you’ve never seen me write a goodbye… um, a suici… I’ve never said, “I’m going to see my son, so take care, everybody.” Please! Madam, I’m more inclined to go all in with this. “My respects to all friends, confusion to all enemies. God bless you. Take care of my little boy.” The Alamo. That’s from the 2004 edition, to be precise, Madam. How I hate counting these years. Talking to Lady Lunalesca today… It’s Saturday, April 15, 2023. So yes, I’m time-traveling. Even now, I wonder why. As I took a catnap, once again, I hoped, “prayed” I wouldn’t wake up Madam. Reincarnation’s a bitch. Braxton understands that.
I told Lunalesca that, approaching thirty-nine. I see how I’ve wasted this entire existence (sigh). Not that I ever asked for it. Or the fact that I have to relive it again and again, hmm. I keep telling myself that when I go to the Day Job. And they ask how I’m doing. I’ll say: “I’m waiting to see who will piss me off today.” It’s more like, “I’m waiting to see what kills me.” As the song goes, “You make me wanna die. I’ll never be good enough.” I don’t have to wait for them, dammit. The fact that we’re talking today… Dying. Yesterday or a few days before, I let the Day Job take this Monday and why. The cash to live, ha-ha?
If I told you about every single time I died. Much like The Cherry Collision. Or The Zoe Colletti/Tifa Lockhart Incident. Hell! I have pictures. NSFW work, though, Madam. Of course, there is Sunday, January 31, 2021. It was around 4:00 PM Braxton passed. Madam, Thursday, June 3, 2021. The day my “grief” ended? Never! But my cock gushed. Tuesday, January 11, 2022, The Zoe Colletti/Tifa Lockhart Incident. The first time I needed a doc for something besides my eyes. And how do I feel now, with The Cherry Collision? Monday, January 30, 2023. The day I stunk worse than my Granddad—his funeral day. Then there’s E-Day. Emergence, Existence, Extinction. What about tomorrow Madam? Unlike Braxton, I die, return… Some Are Born Many Times.
806 Days Without B III, Day 247 of Virgil’s Arrival
BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,