Wednesday, August 20, 2025

Journey 050 ~Ay Caramba, Braxton, Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… So why do I call out to my boys like this is Smallville? Somebody “Save Me!” “Aye-yi-yi-yi-yi, Inspector.

Because I’m not cool enough for The Simpsons. Are they still cool? How would I know working my 8-6 schedule in the Dining Room? For FREE! Sold any books, Inspector…

Only I’m not that guy. But I’m not blind either. I’m not making a wage. How much am I writing? And this damn back wall that I keep watching and worrying about. Oh my woman? Braxton and Virgil’s potential stepmom, M Anime, is getting back to me, Inspector. Honestly, with everything we say to one another. So, Inspector, my message:

“I feel angry, I feel helpless
Want to change the world, yeah
I feel violent, I feel alone
Don’t try and change my mind, no”
One
Song by Creed (1997)

“Say what you need to say,” in my own words. While I still have eyes to see and hands to type. Both of them are burning. Chemicals, crying, and crumbling walls. It is a WAR.

And by the end of it, I’ll end up as an early Geordi La Forge. What? The Federation doesn’t require money, so I’ll be good. Not if my Old Man wrings my neck like Homer does Bart all of the time. Or not. I remember reading somewhere Homer had to stop doing that to Bart. My father is holds no inclinations. When he sees all that has happened, Dear Echo.

That’s why I feel like Alpha 5 from Power Rangers. Inspector “Back In The Day.”

“Back in the days when I was young I’m not a kid anymore.
But some days I sit and wish I was a kid again.”
Back In The Day, Ahmad

Seriously, have you seen the calendar? M Anime was just telling me about her birthday.

E-Day is coming up so fast. Emergence Day. For me or the effing BUGS. Emergence, Existence, Extinction, and Evolution. FEAR is blinding me to everything.

Yet here I am despite everything. Honestly, I would rather give up because of “All the Small Things.” I’m not talking about my boys’ potential stepmom. Yes, those are yabbos.

But it’s more her words, Inspector, the small things that mean even, well, “Vis-a-vis, love.”
The idea that I could get her pregnant. If the house is still standing, that is, Inspector. She wants to plant seeds in more ways than one. And here I am poisoning B’s yard, myself.

Virgil is safe and sound. No little creepy crawlers. But he sees his papa panicking.

Problems surround us, and I can’t pay to fix anything. But I plug plenty of words into an AI, creating a world I’d rather see sometimes. Ay Caramba, Braxton, Virgil.

1662 Days Without B III, Day 1103 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will