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,

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