Saga 322 ~Write Stuff. Braxton, Virgil…~

I write stuff. Not the right stuff or the white stuff. “First let me explain that I’m just a black man.” Prolific? There’s “All I wanted was to see her naked.” Then there are website developers and things for The Boys. “Write Stuff. Braxton, Virgil…”

Friday, May 19, 2023

Saga 322 ~Write Stuff. Braxton, Virgil…~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, meaning I would never have to write again. I love writing (every day…) but… the dream.

I don’t blame Braxton for saying, “bye.” More like “later.” Like father like son, Sophia. Though how many times have I written about Braxton’s last WORDS? “Why can’t I stay?” That’s from Angel, Season 5. Episode 15 “A Hole in the World.” But again, Lady Sophia, father, and son. How dare I say Braxton’s best days were/are sitting on the loveseat with me watching crap. I’ve told B III’s story. How he knew and would leave his toy with me. If anything, it beat him sitting under the table. Waiting for me to write anything that could resemble crap. I would go to the library. There was me writing alone as he went to bed. And here we are two years after. Have I published…

I don’t blame Virgil for being bored, either. Hell! I went most of the day without speaking to him. I wish I could say I was writing. Oh, I was hitting keys. But that was only to watch other people’s stories. And I wish that it was only that. I’m lazy but plenty worse, Sophia. And then there’s all the right, white, write stuff—words with many meanings. It’s not like living, surviving, and existing. I can tell one from the other. Doing anything… For Braxton or Virgil, The Boys? I hate how in this head, there’s already a story being… let’s say, edited? Hell! I have been thinking it’s gone on way too long daily. But V’s tale, Sophia? I still can’t read him.

I will blame myself for that. At least I don’t have to type the words, delete, block, and eff off. That would give me even less time to be with B. Please! Writing now. Sophia, it could be so much worse. All the novels, notes, and nothing poetry written and disgusted with myself. Over what I wrote last night. Yeah, typing into a search bar. Doctors would have a field day. Not that I’m going to see one soon. I don’t need the bills, ok? Despite knowing something is very wrong with me. In a physical sense, to be sure. And the answer is always the same. Only it didn’t save Braxton. Or solidify Virgil, and I’s friendship. The Boys say Write Stuff. Braxton, Virgil…

838 Days Without B III, Day 279 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,