Meditation 237 ~Bury B, Belly V~

I’m full of IT. But what IT is changes daily. This morning, IT was the spirit of FEAR. And while I am not a religious person, I remember singing God has not given us the spirit of fear. But my Little God died with an empty belly. Bury B, Belly V

Sunday, February 23, 2025

Meditation 237 ~Bury B, Belly V~

To Will:
It’s the Man In The Mirror… Open your eyes. Ignorance is bliss. Ignorance is strength. Deceiving, Dangerous, and disgusting words. So what’s worse?

You… You’re sorry to start the new week off so harshly. But with the way last week went, and here you are today. THEY say when the going gets tough, the tough get going. Right?

But not you. No! You look to what you have already survived, and upon seeing this, you float along. But it doesn’t stop your stomach from dropping. The horror, the horror, my friend. And there are much better books than “Heart of Darkness.” Are you going to compare Joseph Conrad to Eric Vall? Really!? For the last few days, it’s been all FEAR. Too Much!

It feels like you jinxed yourself. Starting on the 15th, things were supposed to get better. Somehow, someway. But looking at these Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE VIEWING A Season of Giving Harem University Book 4, Dirk Knight
    Completed
  2. I WILL BE VETTING Pictures, My Braxton’s Life Story
    Failed
  3. I WILL BE VENDING Gulp: Poetry Book
    Failed
  4. I WILL BE VOWING To Keep Pants On (Day 001, No Fap). Real Girls Are An Exception
    Failed (Day 001 No Fap)
  5. I WILL BE VALUING My Flesh Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
    Failed
  6. I WILL BE VALIANT Being The Man My Son Thinks I Am
    Failed

Doesn’t it make you sick? You’re sick, but not because of these things. It’s the more you know. And last week, that consisted of three things. Comedy comes in threes, so THEY say. And none of those had you rushing off to the bathroom. And today’s energy shot isn’t helping things. But what did you know? You’re wasting the week. Why? Because you’re alive, and B is gone. You’re not blaming him. Your son stopped eating. And you… Well, you can’t keep anything good down. Food in your belly, 2-V off the bed, etc., etc.

Only the bad things… The monster in your pants, dirty words in search bars. Keywords.

The dead rising isn’t good. Especially when you don’t look a thing like Jesus. Could he accomplish Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE VIEWING Satan’s Sorority Girls 9 ―
  2. I WILL BE VETTING Pictures, My Braxton’s Life Story
  3. I WILL BE VENDING Gulp: Poetry Book
  4. I WILL BE VOWING To Keep Pants On (Day 001, No Fap). Real Girls Are An Exception
  5. I WILL BE VALUING My Flesh Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
  6. I WILL BE VALIANT Being The Man My Son Thinks I Am

I think he had greater concerns than yours. But what if he had a dog? Jesus had twelve dudes and a Naughty Girl. Are you listening to Beyoncé? Anything beats the beeps and boops, your bare feet hitting the floor, or busting on Cherry’s Yabbos. And M Anime got the outfit you sent her Yesterday. And now it’s The Beatles. What is wrong with you?

You’re not you when you’re hungry. But what about when you’re scared like you are. Fear comes in flavors, and none of them are good. And I understand I ain’t helping. I’d tell you to eat something, drink your water, and down a painkiller. Still, you wonder why… Braxton, Virgil, you? Bury B, Belly V

1484 Days Without B III, Day 925 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 314 ~To B Little Bellies~

When I have to work, I sleep on my back. When I don’t, I’m on my belly. B hated being on his back too. Well, unless he was getting his belly rub. Then all the days at the Day Job so he could eat. Then he stopped. I face laughter… To B Little Bellies.

Wednesday, May 11, 2022

Chronicle 314 ~To B Little Bellies~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now. That means I can afford top-of-the-line AirPods, people singing my praises. The silence that money brings.

I’ve had enough silence without B III. He was only silent on days like today. The beauty of Time Travel Inspector. 465 days ago, I could walk in and tell Triple B to shush it. I’d scoop him up and cuddle him as I lay out here and try to forget. What’s keeping me up? The fucking belly laughter, pardon my language. Um Tuesday, May 3, 2022, there’s been a lot of talk about bellies. Or, more to the point, there’s a song, “Reproduction, reproduction!”

But you know me, Inspector. While I could get all political, and you know damn well I’m going to get sexual, I’m a selfish bastard. Today, my time not theirs, I faced “Humiliations Galore” at the Day Job. Where else?

I’m not against laughter Inspector. Hell, B III would laugh whenever I rubbed his belly. Am I lying? Can dogs laugh? There was joy, I know. I love Braxton’s joy, but it was his peace in particular. Time and time again, I have written about how “The Comedian” I died. Yet I laugh when I remember the first time I ever saw Braxton give up on some food he wanted. When his Aunt Carolina made him a cake. He laid there staring at another bite. The ways I have suffered to put food in his tummy. Inspector… worth the humiliation. Inspector, today I’m not on my belly sleeping because I can’t stop hearing it. Laughter. Ironic how I was talking about my ears for weeks.

Now I’m trying to drown out what happens at the Day Job, Inspector. Always, forever? It doesn’t help that I’m on my belly like a slug, rubbing one out with Azur Lane – Enterprise Gets Fucked Hard. Yeah, I told you I would get back to the sex. I always do. I wonder if I will start from scratch with Six Impossible Things by the time you see this Inspector. I look at my body and wonder should I get back to my Stuff And Thangs. I didn’t buy lunch, today Inspector. Of course, I wasted enough money on what again? I believe Braxton isn’t going hungry and has found another hand to rub his belly. Inspector, B III could be waiting. To B Little Bellies.

465 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will