Tale 366 ~Happiness On Anyday But Birth~

Eight years. Around three and a half of them without my Braxton. And that’s what I remember. But of the eight years, were any of them Happy? Maybe I should have named Virgil that. But E-Day is coming up in a few months. Happiness On Anyday But Birth.

Monday, July 1, 2024

Tale 366 ~Happiness On Anyday But Birth~

Three-Hundredth And Fiftieth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Along with some ideas. Like finding happiness at all. In Lessons, Episodes, Logs, Gospels, Chronicles, Sagas, Tales…

Tomorrow will mark the eighth year of what, you may ask? Well, a little over a week from now since today is Friday, June 21, 2024. And I can’t remember why I even started. Nor do I want to, Madam.

But for you, Lesson 001 ~Look Who Grossed Up~ Eww!

Think of happier days? Now, Madam, you know that’s not how I operate. The rule we need to discuss was “adopted” on Saturday, September 8, 2018. Please don’t remind me…

Yet I remember the day my Braxton passed away. That was Sunday, January 31, 2021.

But a happy day? There have been good days and bad. When’s been the last day, I didn’t think, “Why not join Braxton?” And seeing how we’re talking today, you know Monday’s been… pretty effed?

Anyway, Braxton loves me. So that Saturday, August 13, 2022, when I found Little Virgil… I’m sure it made Braxton happy because it meant I wouldn’t be following him… sooner.

Madam, we all make mistakes.

I made one today, but I’m unsure whether to “come” clean, Madam. Let’s say this: It involves a dirty blonde, a bathroom cabinet, and looking up black lights on Amazon. Doing such things brings joy but not happiness. Didn’t I say something some time ago about words like happiness, home, and acceptance? That’s one more reason I read—new words.

Speaking of which. I will need a new title if I want to talk to my Dear Future Wife. Right?

Tomorrow will be a new start. Yeah, keeping say that.

Meditations? In honor of Marcus Aurelius. How dare I, right? And Virgil was also a Roman. And considering “my” country is going the way of the Romans… But not today. I’m much too busy being anything but happy. But Madam, baring that, coming so close…

First and foremost, it was holding my son. Knowing that someone loved me. That’s happiness? And then knowing I saved a life. That loving Braxton got me to save Virgil.

The nights when Braxton, his honorary aunt, and I would watch movies on the couch. What I may or may not have done this afternoon staring at some beautiful woman…

Quoting Mad World, “The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had.” Happiness On Anyday But Birth.

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

1247 Days Without B III, Day 688 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 290 ~Some Are Born Many Times~

Well, did I survive the day? Are we talking today or Monday? I was dead this morning when I cut off the alarm at 4:00 AM. Then spent 1:00 PM edging. And I’m sure I did something STUPID today. But I got the right rule down… “Some Are Born Many Times.”

Monday, April 17, 2023

Saga 290 ~Some Are Born Many Times~

Two-Hundred and Eighty-Seventh Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now… so seeing that money is no object, let’s see if I can get this right today hmm.

As I’ve died so many times. But I only need to get it right once. Only you’ve never seen me write a goodbye… um, a suici… I’ve never said, “I’m going to see my son, so take care, everybody.” Please! Madam, I’m more inclined to go all in with this. “My respects to all friends, confusion to all enemies. God bless you. Take care of my little boy.” The Alamo. That’s from the 2004 edition, to be precise, Madam. How I hate counting these years. Talking to Lady Lunalesca today… It’s Saturday, April 15, 2023. So yes, I’m time-traveling. Even now, I wonder why. As I took a catnap, once again, I hoped, “prayed” I wouldn’t wake up Madam. Reincarnation’s a bitch. Braxton understands that.

I told Lunalesca that, approaching thirty-nine. I see how I’ve wasted this entire existence (sigh). Not that I ever asked for it. Or the fact that I have to relive it again and again, hmm. I keep telling myself that when I go to the Day Job. And they ask how I’m doing. I’ll say: “I’m waiting to see who will piss me off today.” It’s more like, “I’m waiting to see what kills me.” As the song goes, “You make me wanna die. I’ll never be good enough.” I don’t have to wait for them, dammit. The fact that we’re talking today… Dying. Yesterday or a few days before, I let the Day Job take this Monday and why. The cash to live, ha-ha?

If I told you about every single time I died. Much like The Cherry Collision. Or The Zoe Colletti/Tifa Lockhart Incident. Hell! I have pictures. NSFW work, though, Madam. Of course, there is Sunday, January 31, 2021. It was around 4:00 PM Braxton passed. Madam, Thursday, June 3, 2021. The day my “grief” ended? Never! But my cock gushed. Tuesday, January 11, 2022, The Zoe Colletti/Tifa Lockhart Incident. The first time I needed a doc for something besides my eyes. And how do I feel now, with The Cherry Collision? Monday, January 30, 2023. The day I stunk worse than my Granddad—his funeral day. Then there’s E-Day. Emergence, Existence, Extinction. What about tomorrow Madam? Unlike Braxton, I die, return… Some Are Born Many Times.

806 Days Without B III, Day 247 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 077 ~B A Good Book~

“My Turn To B III” is a book I wrote that nobody’s seen. Hell, I haven’t looked at it in months. I know what I want to read across these pages, but the last thing I need is cops. I’m a black man told not to cry but without B’s fur. B A Good Book

Thursday, September 16, 2021

Chronicle 077 ~B A Good Book~

228 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Except for sitting on my ass in bed, today isn’t looking any better than yesterday.

God or instead, Dog, Braxton, I wish you were here today. Let me play the Republican right now and act like people don’t have Google or any type of search engine. September is National “blah” Prevention Month. Makes sense with it being my Emergence, right? Once I saw this book “On The Night You Were Born.” I didn’t say I read it; I flipped through a few pages. Um yeah, I got the gist. Hell, on the night I was born, I’m sure my Olds broke out into “That’s How You Know You Fucked Up.” The night you were born B? Well more like the night I saw you being carried into my world. Hell, I’ve already written four books, three as fiction, one biographical

You know a little “Mexican” college student who had a thing for tye-dye hoodies and was adopted. Is That Racist? As I said, I’m playing Republican trying to ignore the things I don’t like. The two worst being that you’re gone and myself. B, I picked up a lifeline card. No worries. The last time I talked to those people, my Olds kicked me out. I ended up living out of a one-room hellhole for around three months without you. What was the lesson? If I was going to do “something,” as Morgan Freeman says, “Go on and do it EXPEDITIOUSLY!” Hell, like everything else in life, I’m a lazy ass. It’s a bad habit that you picked up on. I’d read, and you’d sleep.

Then again, you knew how to live a good life. You knew how to be a best friend, a brother, the boy I would call my son. Even when you were running a brothel in my stories, you didn’t partake. You had a wife, children of your own. All the perverted shit is your Old Man. That’s all me. Of course, the story freaked Cherry out, and why wouldn’t it? I don’t know if I sent it to your Aunt. M Anime would go running for the hills. Publishing it? One of the reasons I’m still alive. You know what I want to say but don’t need the cops at the door. How to B You; a book I should read. B A Good Book

Always and Forever,
Your Dad