Tag: Comfortable

Chronicle 002 ~How To B Comfortable~

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I have said that I have never been so comfortable, never slept so carelessly, and never known such courage as having Braxton watching over me. He would cuddle close at night, yet I wonder why without him, I’m so tired. How To B Comfortable.

Saturday, July 3, 2021

Chronicle 002 ~How To B Comfortable~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but will anything be as comfortable as Braxton’s fur. Does the Rainbow Bridge have comfy spots?

No matter how much sleep I get these days, I wake up tired. Do I blame the Day Job? I won’t go all Idiocracy. “I like money.” Only money makes us all comfortable, THEY say. It would be something if Braxton was still here. He had three beds of his own, and nine out of ten, he chose mine. Is that why I’m finding it almost impossible to leave myself? The couch isn’t doing me any favors either whenever I can reach it. As soon as I get up, I’ve told myself that I’m going to make the bed, surprising what a bladder can accomplish. B III and his walks. I would have been awake way before now, and I am wide awake; dubious reasons.

Let’s just say I broke one of my promises when it comes to Six Impossible Things. Dammit, those things are comfortable, which is why I’ve repeated publishing GULP two years. Always and forever, it seems like, but that only works if you’re talking about grief. I continue to count up the days. It’s been 153 days, and I didn’t even care to check my mail. We found a dog that matches you. At this rate, whoever they are is gone, but I’m not comfortable with the distinction of “murderer.” The only person saying that is me, and the truth hurts. It’s like sleeping on stones, sort of like a prisoner. After a time, you forget comfy beds, and the stone is all that you know.

Of course, my bed has not been the same since B III departed. I can change the sheets, which I’m still mad about. I can get another mattress, my sister’s old one, ain’t I pathetic. I can continue to drape myself in hoodies so I can survive the Day Job. Did I ever tell you it’s like Linus and his blanket? It’s summertime, and I’m freezing again, always and forever. I swear, I should have gotten Triple B, Emotional Support status because I was never braver than when it came to him. By making Braxton comfortable, I made myself too. You’re thinking, but why didn’t I buy him those doggie steps. Why aren’t I eating so well? Braxton, Babes, Bucks, knowing How To B Comfortable.

153 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Lesson 179 ~In My Father’s House~

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With these hands as the song goes but I’m afraid I don’t have an answer to what they could do, should do, or would do and much like when I was failing Math all I could genuinely do is write out more questions, again and again. “In My Father’s House.”

Wednesday, December 27, 2017

Lesson 179 ~In My Father’s House~

Forgive Me Echo,
No Fear, for as Elton John put it, “If I was a sculptor, but then again, no,” I’m not much of a master builder, or a craftsman of any sort and yet I dare to call myself a writer. Maybe because my writing isn’t meant to make people comfortable by any means, my hell, my white room, or red room as the case may be most days.

It seems I go out of my way to make people comfortable, well as much as I can and the thing is no matter what I’m never comfortable even in my place, my comfort zone they call it. Not to sound like a Mad World but it my bed sleeping is the best I can do when it comes to myself and anybody else. You know what’s truly sad is that even my death will be some great inconvenience that I feel guilty about and that’s my sin for today, the fact that I’m always in the way every day.

Now how can that be a sin, I don’t mind watching the world burn as much as the next man, but I’m supposed to be doing something, and not just working but doing it well. Perhaps my failures are catching up to me, I mean didn’t I pay my bill, didn’t I go shopping and the fact that I can do all of these things and can’t put a coffee table together. I got the hammer and the nails… makes me think about my crucifixion but even in that, I find myself lacking and honestly what am I complaining about I should consider myself lucky?

In my father’s house are many mansions or something like that in the bible, but I believe I have told you about my sloth-like ways plenty, I can’t stand being idle, but I can’t stand being a waste of air either, another reason I don’t talk perhaps? Working with my hands is not for me, whether it’s building furniture or trying to remake the universe in my twisted, distorted image.

So is that what I’m apologizing for tonight, a lack of purpose or for failing at the things I give myself to contribute to myself, to a girl, to the world at large. Do you forgive me Inspector Echo for this travesty of life or even survival as I dream yet again of one-day being lost, In My Father’s House?

I Will Have No Fear