Saga 230 ~Bad News B, V~

That someone can feel the same way that I do? But I’m not reading about dead fur babies this year. Okay, the first three books I read this year. Then The Book Eaters didn’t count on the Kindle. And if Ron has his way… No Black History? Bad News B, V.

Thursday, February 16, 2023

Saga 230 ~Bad News B, V~

746 Days Without B III, Day 187 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? You see what time it is. So you know my day is already bad. Worse…

There is always room for that. And since you’ve been gone, nothing makes it better. Boobs? I had an epiphany last night. Yeah, that’s never a good thing, is it? But okay, let’s go with boobs. I know you always felt better. When you were snuggled up with your aunt. Hell. Could you have stayed longer, B? I’m sure she beat any cloud you’re on. You should still be here in your own bed. Speaking of which, bucks. Payday B III (sigh). I’m crying over you, I promise. I still need to check the Day Job paycheck. Owing Virgil? Be nice to Virgil, I keep telling myself. He did get to lay with me when I was reading last night. So much to do today.

That’s the bad news B III. I mean, it’s always that you’re not here, but I exist and go on. For example, having finished Dystopian Girls 3, I want a new book. Which one, Braxton? I do want to know what happens to Alexa in Dystopian Girls 4. I’m also afraid to. Do you remember Stroke of Midnight? I never went in for the sequel. Plus, that was in 2020. Here come more tears, Triple B. Anytime I have to look into the past. Didn’t I say I have Republican tendencies? Only this isn’t CRT, Black History, or the like. It’s our history B III, and I do feel ashamed. Then looking towards the future… I read to avoid the bad news of the world.

Again part of this epiphany. Mammaries, manuscripts, and money. Anything to avoid the mutt in the next room. Fucking be nice, I know, I know. I am trying with Virgil; Braxton, the bad news keeps coming. I should try that. Yeah, gross; you’re so right, Braxton. Remember, I would watch you show out for your aunt, and I had to have the talk with you. Getting all Bobby Brown “Ain’t nobody humpin’ around.” That reminds me that I still need to pick a song on Spotify. Honest to God, Braxton, I don’t want to begin. Living, laughing, loving? Why is that shit so catchy? Because I’m still existing. For what? To exist and not know why, without you B. Bad News? Bad News B, V

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Lesson 321 ~The Bad News Squares~

Do we call it bad news anymore, one more school shooting and more people will stick to their televisions, computers, and phones for even less time, the revolution will not be televised they say but why risk going out these days. The Bad News Squares

Friday, May 18, 2018

Lesson 321 ~The Bad News Squares~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Can You Love Me Again, after I give you the bad news, that’s the world today, endless bad news, maybe one more reason that my eyes hurt or perhaps I should go outside, but that’s quite dangerous for African-American men these days?

Do you ever wonder if they hate it, the news anchors that at least once a week write about a school shooting, more young people dying, black people, immigrants, all being torn apart every single day? What about the liars who have to know what they’re saying and yet they continue, from our computer screens, our televisions, the snippets in our phones? As the song goes it’s Hip To Be Square but notice how it’s not so much to be a rectangle with as many people as we’re putting in boxes, I wonder if death still avoiding me, just saying.

“This a celly
That’s a tool
On my Kodak
Ooh, know that”
This Is America

To think what was once the norm, people going about their lives, squares, and next thing you know they’re more round faces for squares to use, numbers on charts and graphs, and it looks like other boxes, prisons are filled with the wrong people. So we hide in these boxes, we call homes, for the record, as stupid as it sounds I hate that word home, I’m in a house and while the home is where the heart is, my heart more often than not is pieces. I told “Indiana Gone” my heart was broken five times in one day, from stories, friends, and movies, no Deadpool 2 spoilers here.

“The world will break your heart ten ways to Sunday. That’s guaranteed. I can’t begin to explain that. Or the craziness inside myself and everyone else.” Silver Linings Playbook (2012)

I keep telling myself I’m going to list all the reasons I’m a writer *sigh* well here is another one. I talked about rectangles not being cool but writing is my gift to myself and everyone else, and I only want to get all this down, put it in a box with a pretty bow and hide it. Add it to all the skeletons in my closet because it hurts to look at, like all the potential submissive clothes, and Hardee’s uniform (did we ever talk about that), maybe another day. Let’s not talk about my favorite box either, another reason I haven’t been working on my story as much as I should be and what’s the point with how this country is looking it might be illegal to read and write again, for anybody, children aren’t educated these days.

I never believed them when they would call television the idiot box but look at the people talking, the president is filling boxes one way or another, (don’t look up Stormy Daniels “entertainment”) but do any of us hate it, writing The Bad News Squares.

I Will Have No Fear