Saga 216 ~Breathe, Virgil And B~

Smells Like Teen Spirit or worse. B was only fifteen. But I’m thirty-eight, crying over a second year without my son. He’d be eighteen come February 13. And I haven’t washed his bed since he passed. The smell… um, no, that’s me. Breathe, Virgil And B

Thursday, February 2, 2023

Saga 216 ~Breathe, Virgil And B~

732 Days Without B III, Day 173 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I remember how you used to dance, wag your tail, and your footsteps. Little toesy-wosies…

Oh, how long did it take me to learn English after you left? Uh, you’d listen to me rant, B. But of course, I’d rather not today. Only you wouldn’t have me crying either, Braxton. Confession was earlier this morning, Wednesday, February 1, 2023. I am still afraid, B III. Cooking something to eat? You’ll be happy to know I have food left from the funeral. No, not yours. I’m sort of pissed about that. It’s tradition. Barbeque… Piggie Potato. Yesterday, I wanted both. Only since the place I got my first meal without you sucks at making a Piggie Potato… Well, a part of you says I’m thinking about myself. But no B III. Well, other than the fact I stink… I don’t know.

Not any people around here to make me nervous. I swear I should have had you registered as Emotional Support. As for Virgil… He’s still breathing. A low blow Braxton? Please, he’s only been here about six months. Call me in fifteen years, eleven months. Actually, call me sooner, Braxton. I won’t forget about you. But then, forgetting myself, B? How I wish I could B III. For real, I want to forget about that damn funeral and my funk. One more reason I’m going to go ahead and finish that food from the funeral. And I can hope that I don’t hear from your grandparents for a while. All that’s taking me away, B. That’s how I lost you, B. Holding my breath boy

Barely. Forgetting. And not wanting to breathe. Being around people B III. It’s like I don’t have the right to be alive. I want to be so small. But you are my world, a god, and even a titan. And on today of all days, I remember carrying you dying. The smell of my failure. All I need is the air that I breathe. And if that meant I could keep you alive without pain. If I had to carry you around to keep you with me, B. I wouldn’t mind at all. Not ever. Always and forever, that smell I couldn’t put my finger on, holding you. Those McDonald’s fries you loved. Braxton, you’re my reason to breathe… and smell. Breathe, Virgil And B

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 223 ~Curse Of Being Aware~

Another reason I sleep all the time. I’ll miss the truck that runs me over. I feel a little better than I did yesterday. Haven’t downed any pain killers… yet. And I only feel bad about the day job. Everything I’m feeling today. “Curse of Being Aware”

Wednesday, February 9, 2022

Chronicle 223 ~Curse Of Being Aware~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now. Billionaires don’t tell the truth. Only a Sith deals in absolutes, right? Things I know absolutely…

Um, besides the fact that Hemingway will ding me for “LY” words. Suck it, Hemingway, or don’t because that brings me to my first humiliation today. Being sick. Inspector, I talked about this a few weeks ago, and I don’t mean COVID bad. I’ve been vaccinated and boosted, but it’s like I’ve been hit by a truck. This was on the 29th, Echo. None of the shots reunited me with my boy. Anyway, I’m all sorts of fucked up, and I’m about 99.9% sure why. So what am I going to do about it? Well, the fact I’m not a billionaire speaks volumes. At this point, nothing. But take pain meds which have been failing these past days. The placebo effect, I’m well aware of.

As much as I know where my tax refund is going. Do you remember the few thousands investment I made? I still owe some people money. Inspector the feeling, the hurting. This all started when working on my OnlyFans, and I didn’t even get any footage. Hell, if I had, I could see a doctor. Doubtful, but that’s like keeping my oath to B III, Inspector. Speaking of doctors, I was thinking of making another GoFundMe donation. M Anime told me what was going on, and I did help out. If I did so again, it would be for the wrong reason. As the song goes, “All I wanted was to see her naked,” M Anime, Inspector. Dammit, I’m hopeless, Inspector, which is why I’m aware of so much PAIN.

Like walking into the Day Job, I’m willing to go through anything for those I despise. Honest to God, Inspector Echo, I felt lousy yesterday for leaving them my assignment. Inspector, my supervisor, said I was good. But I don’t give up like that. That’s how I look at it. I gave up because my body was so out of it. The fact that I haven’t dived into more pills is a freaking miracle. Of course, I didn’t eat dinner either. Braxton’s sickness, um no. Only he didn’t eat; my son couldn’t play with his toys. He only got up under the direst circumstances. And yes, he lived in his bed those last days. I’m not a prophet but suffer the Curse Of Being Aware.

374 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 216 ~What Will B The…~

Speak softly, carry a big stick. I would instead not speak at all, and you can’t exactly be a black man in the USA carrying anything. I haven’t gone out for a walk since B III. But who knows the future? I’m writing this way early and What Will B The…

Wednesday, February 2, 2022

Chronicle 216 ~What Will B The…~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so I must know something. But not what will be. I am not a prophet, Inspector.

What I am is angry. As mad as I was those few hours at the Day Job, finding out my schedule. Today on this Thursday, I’m saying. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about (blank).” What I am is scared, Inspector. I’ll clamor up like I did at the Day Job, again last week. Hell, I might not have a job come this week. Even more so, Humiliations Galore ensue. What I am is sad. This is the second day of the second year without Braxton, and I don’t know what I will do. Can’t I grieve about that Inspector? With the Day Job? FUCK! But talking to you, I must still have it, right? “Gospel 216: Will And His Pancakes,” written January 31, 2021.

That’s my first shame for today. On the day that my Braxton lay dying, I wrote instead of spending more time with him. The 1st I was working. And on the 2nd LOVE. What the fuck do I know about love. Sorry for all the effing; I told you I was mad. Or am I fucking horny wanting to add to my blog? Furry little Braxton. Pretty women shaved pussies. Inspector, it’s inevitable that those two ideas set me into motion. Ideas because where’s Braxton? And you don’t see any women walking through here, but both set me to move. It’s my Day Job that I’m ashamed of, and yet I do everything to keep it. But the tape over my mouth… Curiouser and Curiouser.

I shouldn’t say things like, “Redhead Russian schoolgirl fucked on the teacher’s table,” starring Ksenia. Hell, that might never be with my extraordinary laziness. Inspector, still, that is easier to say than to keep my mouth shut. Besides saying B is gone and counting the days. This I will continue to do. Vow of silence, amongst uh other things. Speak no evil. I won’t dare compare myself to the great Maya Angelou. But thinking, my voice and pen got a man killed, my little boy, my son. This might explain why I like Time Travel. I’m always wrong, aren’t I? So why not about being the one to kill Braxton? My indifference towards him and hating the Day Job. But always, What Will B The…

367 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 209 ~Dreading What Will B~

Hurry up and wait? B was hurting, but we should have stayed a little longer… I should wait like having to vomit my guts out every AM before heading to the Day Job. God knows I never show any there. Why do I want to wake up late? Dreading What Will B.

Wednesday, January 26, 2022

Chronicle 209 ~Dreading What Will B~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but it’s every day before making my first billion that I’m afraid of. Every single day.

I’m disgusted with myself. How can I be afraid of anything when the worse thing has happened? How I hate Wednesdays. Not you, Inspector Echo, but where was I 2021. Inspector, the days are blurring together with this week. That has yet to even begin. Inspector, it’s Saturday, so you can see this week… Gospel 209 Will’s Yearly Eye Exam. How blind was I, seeing Braxton, the Dæmon, in the future? Surrounded by love, Echo. Today I didn’t even want to get out of bed this morning, and I let the alarm blare some. Inspector, there will be a repeat of this when you read my report. Hell, I even meant to take a nap this morning after speaking with Lady Lu. Dreading the day.

Not that talking to you girls or my son is hard. It’s everything outside this bed that hurts me. Next to Sunday, I’m sorry to say, but Wednesdays are the worst. This one in particular. It’s the day I became what I fear the most. My father. The Abomination? Inspector, do you remember those days? Not for a second did I dread those decisions. Yeah, and they led to B III dying. If he knew the first day, we jumped into the car together. Ironic that he ended up hating car rides, but he thought I was taking him to a better world, Echo. Is that what we’re calling Rainbow Bridge? When’s the last time I wasn’t scared of getting in the car at all?

Today I’ll go to begin a process some would call living. The world’s more hellish. Inspector, you know how I know, I ain’t dead? Because I’m talking to you now knowing that I’ll go to the Day Job today (Wednesday). Every breath from AM until I return. My heart is pounding. Stomach-churning. In each moment at the Day Job, I’ll wish I was dead, Echo. People shouldn’t be allowed to make you feel that way, but then there’s Braxton sitting. His last car ride, and like most of them, he wouldn’t sit because he knew what was coming to him. For 360 Days, I’ve dreaded what’s coming. Hell 15 years with him, 10 at the Day Job. Side by side. Sitting, Dreading What Will B.

360 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 202 ~Breathe In, B Out~

I’ve breathed in worse than the Day Job bathroom. The germs of 99.9 of people I know. B’s aunt is an exception. Mourning her family’s loss of their beloved Dobby. Sometimes I wish I could stop altogether, but B’s favorite game. Breathe In, B Out

Wednesday, January 19, 2022

Chronicle 202 ~Breathe In, B Out~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, I always say. Today (Sunday), ahem, when it rains, it pours. My condolences to Carolina’s, Dobby.

I know, I’ve talked about “The Long Walk” before. Not the book so much as the concept. Sorry, Stephen King. Sorry, Aunt Carolina. How about sorry to the veterinarians? B? Should I include you as well, Echo? As I’m sure, I’ve told this story. Hmm. We’ll work up to B III. I don’t know how old I was, but it was on an Emergence Day. In the cartoon Beetlejuice, there’s this character that goes, “What in tarhooties?” Only I said, “What in the Hell?” Next thing I know, I’m being pulled outside, but what was the worst part, Inspector? Breathe in, breathe out, and what? It damn sure ain’t living. I haven’t lived for… since losing Braxton; 353 Days when you see this Inspector Echo.

The death of a child. Honest Echo, I should have died with that Emergence, Inspector. Every day, stepping into school and it’s what I wish. I’m no killer. Somehow inevitable. Only the one I killed was in this house. B III called it his home. I’m worse than my Olds. And forgive my Republican tendencies once again, but going out is like a Death March. You know how I talk about the restrooms at the Day Job and how I can’t breathe in the stench. The whole damn place is like that. I can’t breathe, and then I beg to get out. Then, of course, I whine about being let back in. One of Braxton’s favorite games. The look on his face before the diagnosis.

Breathe in, breathe out. I know B was doing this. Because as I’ve been reading and as the song goes. Listen To Your Heart. Braxton told me, “Daddy, let’s go home.” If anything, I speak fluent Braxton. If I had only listened before, but no. Always breathe in, breathe out. It was my life, put one fucking foot in front of the other for those bastards at the Day Job. We were struggling to breathe but sitting together, laying together. The air up there B? Is it better, not as you need it. I don’t know how I keep doing it. I was a zombie. And no matter the horrors slurred, spitted, are shat I walk, I breathe. I killed Braxton. Breathe In, B Out.

353 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Episode 160 ~Love, A Medicinal Will~

A choice, live your life with hate or love and embrace death, I’ve seen it recently “Me Before You” “A Million Little Things” and speaking of little things, my little boy won’t take his tiny pills, and my heart is too big. Love, A Medicinal Will

Saturday, December 8, 2018

Episode 160 ~Love, A Medicinal Will~

Hey Lady Lu,
How To Make One Million Dollars, do something like “Are You The One,” I’m sure shows like The Bachelor/Bachelorette make a lot of coins or love anything besides people and animals, that is if you don’t plan on keeping the money. Love is priceless, love is infinite, and love is broke because with life too many things can go wrong and maybe hearts have to be empty so that you can fill them with, well whatever, to make room how you can.

Does size matter; I mean that in a purely non-sexual way since I broke my NoFap streak yet again because of two dark haired MILFs and two blonde actresses; yeah when the bed is empty, and I’m pushing nightmares aside, something has to fill the void. Plates get larger since I’m not sharing. Nevermind the fact my belly seems that much more empty today. I don’t feel like eating as I’m full of such emotions, hell maybe I’m the one in need of medication. B III sigh his heart is becoming too much for his little body, but his big mouth won’t let him swallow the tiniest of pills he needs, because my love can’t save him, love is eternal.

Hate doesn’t have to be, though I have views on that as well, it can be like the nightmares I’ve been having about my pest problem, I dreamt that I was holding the door closed and rats, snakes, even alligators, were trying to get through, along with the ants and other creepy crawlers. It’s that rage that builds up inside me that makes me feel like I’m going to explode and maybe I can understand why guys try to get bigger or at least carry more muscle. When I’m writing, fifty-thousand words seems like a daunting task, but then they don’t seem to be enough, I have so much more darkness, that must know oblivion.

The difference between love and hate, one makes you bigger to encompass more, the other makes you smaller, and there never is enough room, it’s a thin line when it comes to B III, hating what he’s doing now has him locked up, because I won’t have this house empty without love. Is it the same in BDSM I wonder, bondage, focusing pain and pleasure because I might lose myself to something as big as love… that’s a big pill to swallow am I right Luna; Love, A Medicinal Will.

I Will Have No Fear

Episode 153 ~Will Is Back Alright~

You did not take up to be mediocre, even if you’re on your back all day your eyes are wide freaking open, and you know what you are, an actress, a superhero, working for NASA perhaps and I am a writer. “Will Is Back Alright.”

Saturday, December 1, 2018

Episode 153 ~Will Is Back Alright~

Hey Lady Lu,
How To Make One Million Dollars, well there was an experiment with NASA where I could be paid thousands to stay on my back for a few months; trust me like white people don’t want to be black, I don’t want to be a girl but if I were a pretty one I’d do porn. Of course, guys do porn too but that doesn’t seem to be in the cards, and how much has “B III” made just lying here. Free room and board, medical care, he has me rubbing his belly and head on most days.

Lying on my back is not my purpose, and I did not wake up to mediocre, so why did I wake up at all… walk “Triple B” (it was raining), his medication, check the “War Room” the battle goes well, you are what you eat (Chicken) and talking to you. Sometimes I ask myself, have I always been like this; when I was trying to end my life, taking sleeping pills, painkillers, one every half hour because you know I’m a stickler for time, there was my reason for staying in bed hurting. Now I stay in bed merely trying to recover, and that means nothing is getting done, besides novels, naughty fantasies, and counting what will never happen ever.

Not all heroes don capes, but a lot do because they know who they are, others believe in who the people protected might be someday, and others want to know how strong their enemy is and know they can’t fall back, their backs to the wall. Another benefit is heroes fight back to back so they know who they can trust, villains always worry about knives, so at least evil is forever on their toes, but my point is they are awake and alive. November was about the walking dead (my version of them), whores, and wakefulness; so why do I only want more, falling to me is akin to failure, and I continually return to one of my Motivations where Eric Thomas quoting 50 Cent says, sleep is for those people who are broke.

You know I can complain about money, but for longer than that I haven’t only been “broke” I’ve been dead, and I can’t imagine who I was before, and if I go back let’s say to October, I wasn’t exactly living either. Zombies wake up to feed, and that’s it, though I might be a “Whisperer,” yeah waking up to watch The Walking Dead, my most active time, death is when one feels the most alive and if I could be that guy every moment screaming Will Is Back Alright.

I Will Have No Fear

Episode 034 ~Getting Behind The Will~

Last week it was getting out of bed, and this week it was getting behind the wheel, and there is no time for baby steps, I’ve run like a madman for most of my life, and I would take an “ACME” rocket despite the consequences. “Getting Behind The Will”

Saturday, August 4, 2018

Episode 034 ~Getting Behind The Will~

Hey Lady Lu,
Give Me One Reason to not turn around other than my past, because to quote another song; my future is coming on, and as fast as I might run I am in no hurry to go and catch it. You know how all these motivational studies of mine talk about purpose and why, like learning how to drive I just wanted to go faster, I need to escape, if anything I want to know a place where I will never be afraid.

The thing is Lady Luna there is no such place and not to sound like Trump or anything but as long as there’s air, no wonder the man wants to destroy the planet, my aunt said I wanted the same thing, but I saw no profit in it. There are days when I think that people can be okay and days when I believe a psychopath, a plague or purge is what the doctor ordered like yesterday, Master Yoda is right. Between being in line at Starbucks, driving, and Walmart, the one thing that was constant was the fear and rage threatening to swallow me.

“Behind every fear is a person you want to be. Fear is self-imposed, meaning it doesn’t exist. You create it. You can destroy it too. You face your fears and become the person you want to be. You run from your fears; you’re not living.” Greg Plitt 1977 – 2015

What a monster I must be not to want to go forward and face myself and what a coward I am for not wanting to turn around, but this isn’t a conversation for us, “I just want to know why” as the song goes. I could go on forever and a day about fear and my rage, again driving my car or getting to the library late, anxiety and Z Nation, what was that I said about a plague? All I know was yesterday I was in my car, listening to my affirmations and somebody started honking at me and first came fear, then “GTA Motherf*****” in less than a minute and change.

I’m not selfish enough, you heard me right, my life is spent learning about everything in this world so I might survive it and I don’t know anything about the survivor, the Man In The Mirror, the man behind the wheel, or before the keyboard. There are so many mirrors in a car, and I only need to avoid one, the vanity, the rest are showing me what to evade, I drive to the library to see who I might be, the day-job to know who I hate, just saying.

You know what they have in common, they keep me from being stuck but aren’t I always, what hurts more the mirror, the reflection in my dog’s eyes knowing he feels such love (wishful thinking) I hear that man say come and Find Me. That man might Hurt Somebody, yes I know “The Darkest Minds” which was perhaps the highlight of my week, maybe one day taking a Drive won’t be an escape until then Lu, Getting Behind The Will.

I Will Have No Fear

Episode 027 ~Tell Me Your Will~

Heads up, it’s danger ahead, or I’m fighting back my anxiety, and before all of that I need to get out of bed, and people always said that I had a big head, because I’m so full of ideas and I have to breathe right? Tell Me Your Will

Saturday, July 28, 2018

Episode 027 ~Tell Me Your Will~

Hey Lady Lu,
Give Me One Reason to stay here, and I’ll find sixty or more reasons to get up, honestly, where has Spotify been All My Life… well at least something is getting up in the morning more often than not. I don’t remember the last time the rest of me got up and wasn’t tired, tipsy, or terrified but I had a bit of a revelation thanks to a motivational speech by Will Smith, and he said something to the tune of, the higher up you are, the harder it is to breathe.

Now for me it starts with getting out of bed, lifting my head up is hard enough, one foot in front of the other, and God help me when I have to go outside, that first breath feels like it just won’t come and more often than not I don’t want it honestly. While I’m thinking about God that’s just the thing, people downright demand those that are poor help those at the top, and at the top, if you must give, then it is God’s will but the higher you are, the fewer people above you. What about when it comes to women, confidence right, that starts with lifting your head up, keeping your chin and honestly Lady Lu it hurts, it physically hurts because I haven’t done it in such a long time.

“I’m sick of taking care of everything, paying bills, making peace and plans and keeping my chin up. God, I am so sick of my chin being up.” Angel 04×02

So yesterday I was sick of listening to people, saying I should stand shoulder to shoulder my head held high. Authors are telling me I should keep my head in their books, having to turn side to side, out of this constant fear. No more looking up to people; okay I know I look up to Will Smith, and I won’t be giving up the motivational speeches anytime soon but no more looking down on people either or letting fear take hold of me. If I am to die it will be because I’m at the top of the mountain almost out of breath than staying down here getting dizzy for want of my survival.

That sounded a bit more hopeful than I was thinking today and wasn’t it yesterday I was talking about people are always chatting no matter what but if you climb the mountain the ones I hate won’t be heard and the others, well who knows but it would be nice to see. It all starts with me and the man in the mirror that I need to face, I need to tell him what I want because nobody else is going to give it to me. “Indiana Gone” looked up and now she’s getting married so congratulations to her, but as for me and “Mr. I Don’t Feel Like It,” *sigh* Tell Me Your Will.

I Will Have No Fear

Lesson 029 ~Great Another Small Talk~

I should really look up where the term “shut up” comes from but I get where Dear John comes from, not one more breath to give and what of the words fell on deaf ears anyway. Great Another Small Talk, yeah something I don’t do

Sunday, July 30, 2017

Lesson 029 ~Great Another Small Talk~

Hey Lady Lu,
You know I thought about “genocidal wording” but that just doesn’t have the same zing as small talk and doesn’t sound nearly as much fun. Of course, it isn’t much fun to someone with anxiety but last night did I not endure enough of it, a “Dear John” letter in a way.

Words Luna should not be wards of the state, maybe I’m making it more complicated than it needs to or I’ll try to but all words have a place. You know in my everyday life how I sort of give in to my OCD, my front door, my music, hell candles but I honestly believe that everything has a place that it belongs. People use words as if they get a tax credit for everyone they find lying around and then giving away and most days it simply overwhelms me.

Can you imagine if words weren’t only of what was; I can’t say that it would be great for our relationship Lady Lu because don’t I live in the past? The same could be said if we were to talk about the future, most of the time I don’t and when I do it only makes me sad, most of the time I come to the conclusion that I don’t have a future. Imagine a conversation where people talked about what is, some people do but they quickly burn out because you can’t keep a fire burning on the nothingness which is truly becoming the general everyday life of most.

Not that I’m anything special, I know that but my words will never leave me… for long anyway but I wish I could have left that conversation last night. I’m sure “Gospel Girl” would have enjoyed it. How does one say, Dear John, I do not care, that would have been awfully rude but wasn’t he pretty rude with what he said; I’ve gotten people into “trouble” for saying less.

Isn’t that just the thing though, saying less is considered a crime in this world, even now my lady, I’m thinking I might have to cut our conversation short because there is no time; yes, I’m still planning a time travel session when the opportunity presents itself. It just feels wrong somehow to cut this session short because there are things I should be doing, eating, sleeping, in other words finding a way to live and survive the night again.

Weirdness, like something from O’Grady, but it is weird when people treat words, all talking in general as if a means to live, not that I’m discounting you Lady Lu at all. Words do give life but it’s weird how people use them and maybe that’s why I use sparingly, I guess I’m just doing my best to help save the environment. Yeah, there is a dog I could be saving, a dog I could be talking to but I have enough trouble just keeping the breath in my lungs.
Every word to me is like an escape from a war torn land, it’s hard and it’s cruel and where do those words find themselves at the end of the day… in a place that no one wants them. How about those words are bombs that are quickly obliterating everything inside me daily and if there is nowhere to find peace, what is left to do but fight? Another reason I don’t talk too much because if I said everything that I ever wanted to say, I might never start swearing, and small talk to me is just a 9mm, everybody has them or bigger and the reasoning remains constant.

I think you see what I mean Luna… okay, no you don’t but all the weirdness has to go somewhere and if I stick with this, by tomorrow we will have been talking a solid month. The war with “Ms. Seasons” that has never come because she doesn’t need to waste words on me, but haven’t I been the same.

Indeed, whatever would I say to her; personally I rather not think about it but yet I am, what would I say to anyone really if I honestly talked to them because I don’t want small talk and again I will give into it. Probably why I prefer the physical, Braxton doesn’t talk but he understands, how many times have I put my fist or foot through something, or at least given it the good college try, how about my “baser” instincts, like a beast?

Words should be more than a welcome to my madness, did I ever welcome you my dear Luna, do they have welcome signs in Hell. Other times I can barely get a word out but maybe I’m taking a cue from the zombies that will one day overrun the planet… at least it will be quiet, and as they say, the pen is mightier than the sword; am I joining the NRA, more guns and bullets, less typing, texting, and for sure talking? If anything I wouldn’t be apologizing so often, I could be all, “That’s What Johnny C Do”, or how about Donald T, or Willy B, I’m not trying to be political though.

I bet you remember when I was all chock full of flowery words, still burns me up some that “better” men than me could use those sweet words only for some girl to lie on her back and physical show them what those words mean to her. No Christian Grey is still not my role model but he didn’t have to talk to Anastasia at first… see that’s the reason Fifty Shades of Grey sold so well, people say the writing was horrendous but we know what they really wanted right? Luna if I’m becoming a zombie like the masses at least I want to be a well-rounded zombie, as Chris Rock put it, a man’s goals, food, sex, silence.

So what have we learned today, as I said all words have a place; does that include small talk too, I would say I’m fresh out of that but as you have seen… Well, that is something else to consider, the fact that this nearly was only an hour of conversation, Great Another Small Talk.