Tag: Best Friend

Meditation 042 ~ Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies~

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Just keep writing, just keep writing. Writing what? For example, in Math, I have no answers. I can give you another excuse. And while I hate to lie… I’m not as eager to join Braxton as I hoped. Giving the truth scope. Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies

Monday, August 12, 2024

Meditation 042 ~ Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Sixth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… And mistakes have been made. The Trump Thing? The Trump Thing. So I’m sorry. Shall we begin?

As always, it starts with… Braxton. The blank space that my son made in my existence. If you are reading this, you see it. Unfortunately, I am, as well. But anything could happen, Madam. I’m speaking to you from Thursday, August 8, 2024, so who knows? With my luck… Well, I expect there’s a tombstone that is missing my name. And a dash. A blank?

Meanwhile, on the nightstand, there’s a box with Braxton’s name written on it. His grave.

What I wouldn’t give to “sponge away the writing on this stone.” It is far too early for Christmas, Madam. But I would take that holiday over several others. Existence?

Tomorrow is Virgil’s Gotcha Day. I signed my name on the dotted line. Blank Space

And why did I adopt Virgil? Because Braxton asked me to, from wherever he exists. I carry the weight of his request, his existence. His Heaven? “My eldest son, heir to my throne, defender of my kingdom.” Braxton is dead. And to this day, I still make excuses as to why. Euthanasia. Eejit’s job. Ejaculation. Inevitably, the reason is there is none. It doesn’t matter. Oh, there’s always a thing.

Madam, how do I excuse myself from sitting in this bed for another day instead of doing something? Anything! “I came up with a million excuses,” as the song goes. Miracles? Each one explains why I continue to exist. And why I’m not dead. Because, like Trump… Eww! “Oh, there ain’t no rest for the wicked.” That’s my excuse for being such a monster, Madam. I struggle to accept myself.

I have something I have to do. That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one, Madam. Well, Look at me! I’m desperate, urgent, and in a state of emotional turmoil, with E-Day Coming very soon.

Better to look at Virgil. I got a call from PetSmart asking about his next appointment, Madam. And what did I say? I have to think about it. Lies are too easy, Madam. My God!

It beats saying, I’m broke? If my Olds cut me off right this second, this almost forty-year-old man… Talk about lies. That I would be alright. I’ve seen the bills, Madam. And yet I lie and say I deserve to be here. What happened to Braxton again? There is always time to make things right. How? It’s a blank space, an excuse, and a lie. Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies

“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1289 Days Without B III, Day 730 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 040 ~Braxton, Language! Virgil, Uh…~

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I turned into Hank Hill last night, asking, “Are you Chinese or Japanese?” It was in my dream… I swear, with the “anime” I watch, “I’m turning Japanese.” Wow! I was never good at talking to people. Neither was my B III. Braxton, Language! Virgil, Uh…

Saturday, August 10, 2024

Meditation 040 ~Braxton, Language! Virgil, Uh…~

Hey Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… So I could buy an island, create a country, and write my own language… Silence Lunalesca.

I ache to talk to my son. If there’s anything that made me truly ‘special,’ it’s the bond we shared. I miss speaking Braxton fluently. But that dream I had last night… I can’t shake the feeling of loss. Who was that talking to me?

Am I losing my mind? I need to eat something substantial, not just fast food. But it can’t be more shrimp and pasta. Virgil can’t handle that. It’s like the only way he can communicate with me is through his pain. It makes me feel like a terrible person. He’s sniffling or sick. How long it’s been without a mess…

Lunalesca, he’s alive. I show that every day. A picture is worth a thousand words.

You’re lucky if you get a dozen out of me daily. Let’s say ten because that’s a round number. Or fifteen because that’s my lucky number… It’s how old B III was before… he passed.

Euthanasia? I still don’t like that word. I understand how Braxton died. By his hand! Lunalesca. It was by my hand signing the paperwork and a vet, showing him mercy.

Every day, I speak a language of grief. And ‘Nobody Knows’ it but me. Not even Braxton’s Aunt. I care for her, but she’s dealing with her own losses. One in particular? The loss of her fur buddy, Gabriel (Gabe). So, who’s left to understand?

I’m either bawling, quoting some book, or singing beats? My modes of communication and language…

I was going to say are “weird,” but nobody wants to be that. I’ll say I’m woke or wicked if anything. And being both? Is that what my dream was trying to explain last night?.

I don’t want to know myself. Honestly, I was done by seven… That’s when Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze came out… I never expected to see seventeen. And now I’m approaching forty. I want to join Braxton more than ever.

Lunalesca, it’s either that or look at some Yabbos. I swear some moaning masochistic mistress… Did I mention I don’t talk to women well? Too much effing on the brain.

Lunalesca, I don’t share that with my boys or female friends. Uh, yeah… I’ll shut up. Braxton, Language! Virgil, Uh…

1287 Days Without B III, Day 728 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 039 ~Defining Mr. B, Virgil~

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The Refraction of Mr. Saturn? That’s a title. How about the books I’m writing? The books I’ve written. Two of them are about my firstborn son. My Old Man can’t define me, and I still refuse to represent my son. Too much to do! Defining Mr. B, Virgil.

Friday, August 9, 2024

Meditation 039 ~Defining Mr. B, Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let me tell you a story… Just different from the one I’m supposed to be working on. “Sofía’s Nightmare.” It’s still untitled.

It’s a heavy burden, Sophia. Braxton’s novels remain untouched. And even if I edit them, it’s too late for me now. I couldn’t save Braxton from fifteen, and now I’m left to grapple with the thought that I can’t save myself from being almost forty.

Sometimes, it still burns me up that he was 13 days shy of 16. He died on the 31st, and his birthday was on the 13th. Virgil’s Gotcha Day will be on the 13th of this month. A coincidence? A conspiracy? After crying for my boy and watching some cute girls’ yabbos, I started listening to people define their type of crazy. Racism, running elections, rewriting history, etc. How do I explain my conspiracy theories? How do I define refraction?

Look at the time; it’s time for a book review:

Big Ideas For Mr. Saturn

Well, maybe not, considering this is a short story and what happens in the end. But it gets five stars from me. The ideas are so “out of this world.” At the same time, it is relatively simple for a guy like me and the characters within it. However, Ms. Courtenay Schembri Gray is a complex individual. Or so I think. It’s one of the reasons I rather enjoy her work so much. Though I can’t pinpoint any particular moment in this story, I consider my moment. As a whole, it is an excellent piece. And the only thing stopping me from purchasing several copies for friends is simply that it’s on Kindle. I’ll ask them all the same. The prose is truly excellent, and I’m sure you’d appreciate it as much as I do.

Will that get me to stop thinking about such and such yabbos? I really want to get back to writing “my” story. Well, it’s a story a girl dreamed up who has an impressive set of yabbos herself. The things I write that aren’t a part of the anatomy, Sophia. I complained about the “Day Job’s” hours some time ago, and now I must write to stay ahead. Somehow hmm.

Then, there was looking at the financial books. As Cherry said today, “Everyone is broke!”

So, Lady Sophia, I find myself grappling with the weight of Braxton’s death, the responsibility of keeping Virgil alive, my gazing at M Anime, and the allure of Cherry’s buxom bodies. And amidst all this, I’m reading the book Morning Star. Can I genuinely define myself in this moment? I find myself wanting to try. But Defining Mr. B, Virgil.

1286 Days Without B III, Day 727 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 035 ~Never Tell Me The Odds~

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What are the odds I wake up to questions? Where is Braxton? Why isn’t he here? Does he still look after me? Did Virgil make a mess? What’s up with Star Wars and Disney+. Who’s Yabbos are on Instagram that I can look up on X? “Never Tell Me The Odds.”

Monday, August 5, 2024

Meditation 035 ~Never Tell Me The Odds~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Fifth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… So I’ll ask, but please don’t tell me the odds about Braxton, the Day Job, or Self-Gratification…

What are the odds that I’m still stuck on Sunday, January 31, 2021? That’s when my son, my Braxton, left this world. The weight of this loss is unbearable, and even now, I shouldn’t see more. No more. Everything hurts.

But then came Saturday, August 13, 2022. That’s when I met Virgil. What were the odds I would hear Braxton’s voice saying, “This is black and white, Dad. Save him!”

Indeed, what are the odds that I could live so long before B III found me? And so long after. Madam, E-Day is coming up fast. Forty is too long. The odds of this reality are beyond belief. You see…

But fifteen was not enough. What about eleven? What are the odds that today, Friday, August 2, 2024, I would be in mourning with Braxton’s Aunt? Braxton has a friend.

Gabriel Michael “Gabe” has passed.

B’s Aunt has joined the club… Another parent lost her fur baby, her son, Madam. And what are the odds she wasn’t ready? I wasn’t with the right words, songs of woe, or sage worldly advice. Hell! I thought B would live forever. Or that I would fall before him.

People play with their hearts regarding our four-legged friends or those that swim. Whatever. The odds that we can ever be the same without them… How does zero sound to you, Madam? And what are the odds that we have to keep getting up every single day? I ask why?

What are the odds that I let Braxton down and join him? It’s storming outside. I have my “protection” in the drawer. Trip, Poison, Stupidity…

But the Grim Reaper doesn’t play like that. Not with me, anyway. I’m not a “believer,” but God didn’t save my son. He is keeping me, though, or maybe that’s B III. Come on, dude.

No! I’m the one who plays. Today, I took a twenty-minute nap. I shouldn’t complain, but I’ve been trying to comfort Braxton’s Aunt as she comforted me when Braxton passed. Finding solace in this journey is a constant struggle, Madam.

What about the odds of having fun? Uh? Virgil got into trouble, so I sent him to Braxton’s room, which means I’ve been looking at Olivia Casta, Pawnshop, and anything else. I know, Madam, Eww! Can I keep it in my pants for at least three days? With this existence? What are the odds? Hmm.

Rest In Peace, Gabriel Michael. Be Nice, Braxton Barks, Please.

“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1282 Days Without B III, Day 723 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 033 ~Braxton, Virgil Burial Furs~

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Everything happens for a reason. NOT? Like me reading about the Howlers and one of Darrow’s best friends dying. Uh, spoiler alert… My best friend is gone, and now my second best friend is mourning her fur baby “Gabe.” Braxton, Virgil Burial Furs

Saturday, August 3, 2024

Meditation 033 ~Braxton, Virgil Burial Furs~

Hey Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… But that doesn’t make me miss my boy, my son, Braxton, any less. If cryogenically frozen…

But I’ve been lost in fiction for this week, Lady Lunalesca. The cosmos’s coldness? Yes, I’m still reading “Morning Star.” We’ll get to that. There’s “my” unnamed title, “Sofía’s Nightmare.” Sofía, in a bunny costume from The Blackmail II: The Animation, is with the CEO. He’s saying, “Let’s Get It On”. There’s a random book I bought, too. Burning cash. It’s my way of finding comfort in these trying times.

Lunalesca, what am I forgetting? Got To Be Real, right? Braxton’s on a seventies kick. Wherever he is? Again, he’s not cryogenically frozen. B died. And now he has company.

Yesterday, right after speaking with Lady Sophia, I got the word from Braxton’s Aunt. Her fur baby, Gabriel Michael, joined Braxton with the “Spirit In The Sky.” August 2, 2024

Braxton’s Aunt’s son passed away.

If I didn’t make that clear, Lady Lunalesca, may his little soul rest in peace. She has to make decisions as I did when Braxton met his end. But Gabe tried to spare his mom. He died on his own and can say I did it “My Way.” That’s Frank Sinatra in 1969. Sixties and seventies music? I wonder. How will Gabriel talk to his mom? I’m trying as well.

Lunalesca, I’m at a loss. I have a record of what I did when Braxton fell, but I don’t know what to tell his Aunt. Who have I ever buried before… That I loved? Really, Luna. Two-legged family… I swear.

Braxton is in a box on the nightstand and a pendant I wear. Burial details are something new to me.

But I know she’s getting Gabe back as well. Braxton was cremated on February 4th, and he was “home” on February 10th. As for a ceremony? That I lacked Lunalesca.

This leads me back to reading. I showed Braxton’s Aunt as many books on grieving as I could—and there are even more. But how did I spend the rest of my night as she grieved?

I’m burying myself deeper with M Anime and her troubles as well. She’s the “Girl All The Bad Guys Want.” Why she deals with me, I’ll never know. Grieving, Groaning. I feel like I’m drowning in it all. Depression, Depravity.

Lunalesca, I’m doing one or the other. Or reading Cherry’s writing. There’s the Day Job humiliations. But Thursday pales in comparison to Friday’s news. Poor Gabe. Braxton, Virgil Burial Furs

1280 Days Without B III, Day 721 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 032 ~Virgil WRITES B’s Goodbye~

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WE don’t write like I once did with B. He would sleep under the table while I would type away. WE don’t read like I once did with B. I don’t go and lie on the couch and try not to drop my device. And reading about pet loss… Virgil WRITES B’s Goodbye.

Friday, August 2, 2024

Meditation 032 ~Virgil WRITES B’s Goodbye~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let me tell you a story… Or sing you a song? I would rather go back to sleep. Always. Yesterday was bad.

And I only write bad stories. Sad ones, at least. And so I remember the worst story I ever wrote. A bill for euthanasia, cremation, and my son, my boy Braxton, in a box. It still amazes me I can sweat over days like yesterday. The weather Sophia… Please! Hell?

That’s what I deserve, whether it be from embarrassment, Eros, or, again, B III’s euthanasia.

I’m just a “Sucker for Pain,” It’s what makes me a great $adist. The fact that I understand my ma$ochism. And I trying to fool any censors and the like. Like little Virgil? That’s TMI.

I haven’t had much private playtime. Not with Virgil, “my constant companion,” (rolls eyes) always by my side, even when I’m trying to write.

Even now, he’s lying here while I write a book review:

It Takes The Hardest Goodbye

To do what exactly? Heal? I won’t say I like this book. But who can say they like any book about dog loss? It’s good, needed, necessary, but no one wants to read them. Still, I did to the tune of three stars. I’m still reading things like this, and my fur buddy, my son, has been gone for three years. Titles like this blend together after you read enough of them. But the fact that I took a few quotes, here or there, to heart honestly says a lot. I know a few fur parents, and I could recommend better. But The Hardest Goodbye is a good starter book for anyone taking this long and lonely walk of loss.

Can I say, Sophia, for the record, that I’m absolutely livid with the Kindle App for removing this book from my list? It’s not like anything I’ve written or will. Will ever be seen… like for real. Ever! My works…

Sophia, I’m still working on “Sofía’s Nightmare,” And I “won” with my goal of 15,000 words for Camp NaNoWriMo. But each chapter only gets worse. What’s the last one without:

  1. Houkago Ren’ai Club ~Koi n Etude~ Casual Romance Club
  2. The Blackmail II: The Animation
  3. The V Games
  4. Slaves To Passion Hana Dorei
  5. Olivia Casta
  6. Dakota Skye

And there’s more…

But I should shut up and wonder how I’ll pay for the next crisis. Virgil’s fur is getting around everywhere. It’s like he’s leaving a trail of his presence, and I’m left to clean up after him. There’s always something. Hello! Virgil WRITES B’s Goodbye

1279 Days Without B III, Day 720 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 028 ~Rage Against Plenty Of Things~

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Some people only seek out hate. Sadness makes it so I can’t breathe. Lust and Fear, too. Rage? I’m like a carrier of the “rage virus” in 28 Days/Weeks Later. But that only condemns me. And the ashes were once known as B. Rage Against Plenty Of Things

Monday, July 29, 2024

Meditation 028 ~Rage Against Plenty Of Things~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Fourth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… like choosing my fears over rage. I choose plenty over rage. But that’s the secret, like Bruce.

“I’m Always Angry”
The Avengers

You know one of the many reasons I envy my son? He’s dead. And don’t get me wrong, Madam. You can hate the dead. Speak ill about them and everything. But of everything I remember about my Braxton. I don’t remember the anger. And I was angry at him, sure.

But not once have I been angry about him leaving, as I told Dear Future Wife today. It’s Tuesday, July 23, 2024. Anyway, I told her I was always angry at me, myself and I.

Again, every book on loss is against this. And I’m mad at those writers. But it doesn’t mean I go around burning books like some people. B III’s death is in the hands of two.

But more on that later. What am I mad about today? There’s been Humiliations Galore?

Which is why we’re talking today. Only what has me now this second? Existing, Madam.

Everything is falling apart around me, for starters. There was a storm. So, I need to check on the fence. A light came on in the car, so I must get that checked out. I mistakenly looked up appointments, and they’re already talking about five hundred dollars. No effing way!

That means I can’t risk ordering something. But “no worries,” Madam. I won’t let Virgil starve. And Virgil is as confused as ever, not realizing his business belongs outside only.

It’s not like I’m training him or anything. Locking him behind one of Braxton’s gates.

This brings me back to the one I hold the most rage for… Myself. And there are not enough words or time to explain why I hate myself so much. And joining my Braxton… sigh.

Okay. First is the euthanasia of my son. I blame myself and the other culprit… The Day Job. There was so much rage for and from those people there that I ignored my son. Then?

B III in a box on the nightstand. My rage burned my son to ash. The Hell within me. Rage!

I look in the mirror. Through a camera lens. Even my search history. For example, Pacifica Ocean aka Paz Ortega Andrade. That’s from a few minutes ago. Talk about fire. Rage Against Plenty Of Things

“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1275 Days Without B III, Day 716 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 026 ~The V Games Braxton~

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Have they begun complaining about The Olympics yet? I called myself patriotic, taking the day off to watch the Opening Ceremony twice. It gave me time to catch up on mobile games and anime. What about writing? The V Games Braxton.

Saturday, July 27, 2024

Meditation 026 ~The V Games Braxton~

Hey Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… But it isn’t from writing—not yet, at least. And that’s not why I started writing.

At this point of the story, my son Braxton would raise his head. I told him that I was going to give him the life he deserved… WE deserved when I finished, Lunalesca. With editing…

I was writing long before I started singing “Welcome to My World” or “Welcome to the World.” Sigh… Today’s songs are brought to you by Wang Chung and Kevin Rudolf. Lunalesca, remind me to make a playlist of the songs Braxton sends me. Did that.

Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh, my writing. Well, my lack thereof with yesterday. The Olympics have begun. Here are a few reasons why opening my eyes today hurts:

  1. Braxton isn’t here anymore
  2. I look at myself
  3. Losing myself to Yabbos
  4. The Matrix has me…
  5. I see the successful
  6. Look what I’m writing

I’m determined to get back on track, Lady Lunalesca, but…

There’s Too Much Sauce. I woke up late again, ok. And I should be grateful for the hours next week for my Day Job. But look at my typical routine, and It’s A Beautiful Morning:

So I’m sitting here, and as I said, Braxton’s Playlist has included again: Wang Chung, Kevin Rudolf, Drake, DJ ESCO, and The Rascals. B loved music, movies, and big mammaries. Then I was thinking about how I barely got any writing done. The Opening Ceremony. But what I did made me question where the novel is moving towards, Lunalesca. Once I read that a good artist creates, a great artist steals. Uh, that’s rude, maybe…

But sitting here, I was thinking about Thursday. Uh Houkago Ren’ai Club ~Koi no Etude~. Me and Japanese, Lunalesca. Let’s just say Casual Romance Club. I’m trying to pin down the novel type. And there’s Casual Romance Club meets The Blackmail II: The Animation, plus Rei Ayanami all wrapped up in “Sofía’s Nightmare,” Lunalesca. However, as you can see, I began looking at The V Games books by Ker Dukey while searching for something to read. And as always, there are Yabbos. In this case, Elsa’s from Frozen… Uh, gross…

And then I wonder why my business is nowhere. I’m broke. And Braxton is gone. Where’d You Go? Lunalesca, I swear! The V Games Braxton.

1273 Days Without B III, Day 714 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 025 ~ B’s Apocalyptic Bills Virgil~

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Can you read? That’s an “at sign,” not a zero. Yikes! If the GOP gains control, people who aren’t them won’t have reading or math. Then again, I’m reading more books and losing more money. And women, children, and dogs… “B’s Apocalyptic Bills Virgil”

Friday, July 26, 2024

Meditation 025 ~ B’s Apocalyptic Bills Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let me tell you a story… though I would prefer to have a heart attack and join Braxton. Read my car bill…

Well, I couldn’t at first and thought it read $1000.00. And that’s after the worker told me it was only $85.00. Remember to read your contracts, kids. But it was $85.00. Still with my cash… And that’s not all. There was a very yummy piggie potato, vittles, and V’s meds.

Needless to say, I feel like I’ve been through an apocalypse—or rather, a car dealership, two BBQ joints, and the pet hospital. So please excuse my tardiness, Lady Sophia.

Apocalypses in any way, shape, or form are welcome. I only figured I’d be riding it out with Braxton. Instead, most days, I’m outside, finding solace in the pages of Pierce Brown’s Morning Star. It’s my escape, my refuge from the chaos of life. And?

And what? “Waiting On The World To Change?” Virgil to learn bathroom etiquette. Book reviews…

Dystopian Girls Good FOUR What?

Well, for starters, four stars. Throw in a loyal dog, and it would be five-star worthy. And didn’t this one have a few dogs? Ah memories. Like how many wives Mason has. What are all the powers they wield? The battles fought. And victories won for the group. And even with all that, it’s the realism… That’s my favorite part. What does that make me? Hmm? Between every encounter Mason has with Stella. Or any of the other girls in his harem. And then the face-offs. Speaking of being face-to-face, I have “some.” friends… Here or there, I could get in on this series, knowing myself and my stance on the end of the world.

I find such comfort in books, Lady Sophia. Until I’m sitting in a waiting room while the car gets fixed. And I get interrupted. I didn’t even tell you about the humiliations galore I suffered at the front desk. A car dealership, a pet hospital, that time I was in junior college and had written about a girl… What waiting room will I find myself in next? And after what tragedy? Virgil is still very young. And regardless of everything, I won’t be explaining to someone why I can’t keep him. It would be like the end of the world. Isn’t that giving me too much credit? I need something because I’m not making money.

Writing and reading what I do. B’s Apocalyptic Bills Virgil

1272 Days Without B III, Day 713 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 021 ~Money Is A Man’s Makeup~

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Phone, Wallet, Keys? But there is money in the wallet. There’s “my” glasses. I look in the mirror, and… that’s uglier than what I put in “my” story. I’d be pretty enough with a dog like Braxton and a good girl. But “Money Is A Man’s Makeup”

Monday, July 22, 2024

Meditation 021 ~Money Is A Man’s Makeup~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Third Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Much like Donald Trump’s face. You’ll have to forgive me. One more week of Trump pics… Eww! But what if I could break the rules that confine me, like the societal norms that dictate my actions, Madam?

If only I could be that much of a grifter. Or if I had thought to use my son, Braxton. I don’t share his and Virgil’s faces to make a buck. I shared Braxton’s pictures because I miss my boy. When it comes to Virgil, it’s so everyone knows that he’s still alive. A miracle?

Madam Justice, all it takes is money, and I had so much of that today, Thursday, July 11, 2024. So if I’m telling you that, by the time you read this, I’m out trying to make a lot more, Madam. And today, between Maxxxine, Moments of “Pleasure” and a Manuscript.

Madam, we’ll get to that. But my son and my boy, Braxton and Virgil. They’re not just my “sons.” They’re the only things that showed that I’m a good person…

But when have I ever cared about that? As I was watching Maxxxine today… Maxine Minx is an adult actress who wants to go mainstream and gets hired for a horror flick. I went in the other direction. I figured I could do poetry. And again, it wasn’t for money. It was to break free from the societal expectations that bind me. Vis-a-vis love, no…

Madam, “What you won’t do, do for love.” I thought to erase my face behind pretty words. Where did that get me? The Dean, the DEA, I’m sure “Beelzebub has a Devil put aside for me.” What I’m trying to say is this. If I got in trouble for words I thought were sweet, why not write the horrors, harems, and horrible desires? I could become the monster everyone sees.

But I could hide, become, and dare I say it? LIVE if I had money! Money is the root of all evil. So, let it grow all around me. My garden of Eden to shield everyone from The Tree of Knowledge. That being what I am. I’m starting to sound like one of those people.

Madam, in the end, we’re all hiding who we are anyway. Anybody with money is only prettying themselves up. But then again, Braxton and Virgil never have a dime, Madam. My boys are handsome. Only yeah, I’m paying their way. With what eighteen bucks? Ha!

The world is so ugly at the moment. Like my new manuscript and the software I got. My Glow-Up? Hmm. Money Is A Man’s Makeup

“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1268 Days Without B III, Day 709 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will