Tag: Daddy

Chronicle 146 ~Law Abiding Citizen B~

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Justice was done today; more like people were held accountable. What is justice? The song goes, “First, let me explain that I’m just a black man.” I don’t have any reason to go walking or jogging anymore without B but my crimes? Law Abiding Citizen B

Wednesday, November 24, 2021

Chronicle 146 ~Law Abiding Citizen B~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means Hell yes, I’m above the law. If anything, I need to buy some forgiveness.

Now you’ll have to excuse me, Inspector Echo. Like I’ve been telling all the other girls and B III about calling you so late. While I’ve been dicking around with my writing, I’ve been looking at white boys getting away with murder. White men, going to jail or “I Hope.” Yeah, break out my best impression of Morgan Freeman from The Shawshank Redemption. But I’m more like Tim Robbins except fucking myself often. You’ll have to pardon my language Inspector but believe me when I say I’ve written much worse. Don’t worry, we’ll get to my novel. At the moment, the worse crime I’m committing is the fucking smell. Writing like this for two days straight. Starving myself. And sleep being my second greatest sin.

Of course, we know what the first is, don’t we? 297 Days and I “always” speak the truth. Three little words… I killed Braxton. I have continued reading “Only Gone From Your Sight.” Kate/Jack says I’m doing Braxton a major disservice wallowing in grief still. Inspector the idea that Braxton is with me right now? I do take comfort in it, but the things I do. Hell, B III was a saint by comparison. It’s scary that I don’t want B to see me. Yes, I’ve said that he accepted me for everything but between this and “This Dog’s Afterlife.” As the song goes, “Cause without you, they’re never gonna let me in.” Braxton’s defense? To be honest, he’d follow me straight to Hell, dammit.

“So I’ll say, “Why don’t you and I
Get together and fly
To the moon and straight on to heaven?
‘Cause without you, they’re never gonna let me in” ― Why Don’t You & I

“Now that the world isn’t ending
It’s love that I’m sending to you
It isn’t the love of a hero
And that’s why I fear it won’t do” (Chad Kroeger)

I couldn’t do that to my boy. Then we get to my writing and where my “character” is a family man with Sabrina (wifey), Bastian (B), Willow (daughter). Oh, my wife is expecting too. Then I go and turn Willow into a mass murderer. What is wrong with me, Echo? While I was writing that tripe, I got back into, let’s say, a past life. Remember Virgin Roster? Anyway, I was busy perusing J-List and, as they say, “English Visual Novels.” There’s one title of the sort that nobody sells. And I took a character from that and Virgin Roster. Inspector, you don’t happen to work for, um, The Man? I always go back to the week before Braxton left me. Law Abiding Citizen B.

297 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 144 ~Guilt Is A Controlling Mechanism~

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If I had known the moment I called B and he hopped in the car that this is how it would end? Hell, I do shit all the time knowing that it could come crashing down. Yet my guilt at all that I’ve done hasn’t stopped me… Guilt Is A Controlling Mechanism

Monday, November 22, 2021

Chronicle 144 ~Guilt Is A Controlling Mechanism~

Two-Hundred And Fifteenth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, and if I have learned anything from others. There’s no shame, guilt. No need for a conscience.

Mine died 295 Days ago. My soul, my serenity, my son. His Dark Materials put it best, my Dæmon. If I had any reason to stay in line, it was him and now? Well, why do you think I’m calling you so late. Every day I don’t leave this bed, um, every afternoon, I fail. I keep up with Braxton’s treats… what was it a day or so ago? I noticed I missed one. When I leave the house, I keep up the usual banter, and when I return. I’ve had tacos, two days. Hell, Madam, when I don’t bring fries back, I know that I’ve failed Braxton. Daily ritual. When I can’t keep it in my pants because I want to feel something “good.”

Fuck Aria Logan and Cherry, um yes, please if again you’re wondering where I’ve been. Satisfaction? Nope, guilt kept me from coming. It’s the guilt that keeps me from going. Back to bed, that is. Only again, I’m sitting right here knowing I won’t get a wink tonight. Not if I don’t tell you all these horrible things in my life. Losing Braxton, always first. There’s also my nighttime ritual of lying to NaNoWriMo about my progress in writing. What about the Day Job I hate? And yet feel like I failed them, and by God, I did once again. It’s the guilt. I am guilty. And if I told you all my secrets… “First, let me explain that I’m just a black man,” yep.

While I’m busy ripping off songs, “I’m only human after all. Don’t put your blame on me.” While I was reading this evening from “Only Gone From Your Sight.” Jack/Kate says, “stop identifying yourself as my victim.” When it comes to B III, I never have. What do I see? The killer in the mirror, staring back at me. B III is the worst thing I ever got away with. Take your pick with the things that could cost me everything. He’s the one life, the crime everybody goes “meh.” Braxton’s body wasn’t even cold. Father “Get a new dog.” Fucking asshole, and I feel guilty saying that. I say guilt controls and yet my crimes. Braxton is still dead. Guilt Is A Controlling Mechanism

I believe in consequences.

No, you believe in guilt.

Maybe. But guilt before we act is called morality.
“Liberal Arts“

295 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 140 ~B In The Corner~

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Don’t remember when I was a boy (I still am, overgrown baby at 37) if anyone ever told me to stand in the corner. I got a friend who wants to be a real fighter; as for what I want to do in the corner. Sit in the fetal position and cry. B In The Corner

Thursday, November 18, 2021

Chronicle 140 ~B In The Corner~

291 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I hate saying this, but this is another day I’ll curl up in the corner.

“Legends don’t die; they reload.” There’s also, um, “Marines don’t die. They go to Hell and regroup.” Now ain’t the time for such ideas? I also know I’m no legend or marine. But B III, the world is a step closer to the brink, and where are you, apocalypse partner? Braxton, I know I’m late talking to you today. When I did wake up from my nap today, I was scared out of my mind. It’s been 291 days, and I’ll always miss you guarding the stairs. The days when you would sit in the den waiting for me to share my fries Little B. It was the only way I could get undressed. The corner of my bed B III brings me to today.

First, it was your spot to protect me. I would wake up and not fear a goddamn thing in the darkness. You’d be sitting right there staring into the abyss which is outside this room. Second, I’ve been reading a lot about what dogs can see. It’s no secret that even when they said you were going blind, you could see me. You fought back the evils of my mind. No wonder I’m thinking about the military, or it could be First Blood and Red Dawn. Anyway, third, speaking of movies, you were always in my corner, my Mick. Nicknames? You, more than anybody, know my affinity for good cinema. In this case, Rocky. And then, last Saturday, I went looking for an Apollo Creed.

I’ve been waiting to ask you all week, what would you think about that? Lord Give Me A Sign as the song goes. Last night your grandma called and told me your great grandfather’s dog passed. Are you making new friends? That was a warning. Dammit, I could not go through such a loss again. Then at the same time, I could have saved him B. I’m talking about Chase at PetSmart. To be a Dad again? I’ve never stopped. Only I’m not worthy. Now yes fuck R. Kelly as a human being but that song Bad Man. “And don’t need no love.” That’s what I keep telling myself, but there’s one problem. You’re standing right there in the corner and ain’t hear no bell. Woke, B In The Corner

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 139 ~Number Of B’s Gotten~

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When I was a kid in summer school, I prayed to “God” that I ended up with a D average to keep my father from beating me. He nearly ruined root beer. I hit a dog once, which almost ruined Icee’s. Stuff a D student, shouldn’t do. “Number Of B’s Gotten”

Wednesday, November 17, 2021

Chronicle 139 ~Number Of B’s Gotten~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I shouldn’t be catching many Z’s, but the ones I get must be peaceful.

Usually, after I pull my shorts back on. Such is the start of my shame today at what? It’s 7:10 PM, so why am I calling you so late. Day 1 of No Fap again, thanks to 2. Scarlet and… Anyway, along with the conversation we’re having, I have yet again written 5,000 words. I continue to lie to NaNoWriMo. I’m at 28,000 when I should have 28,900. Wasted day. Inspector, I thought I would stop with that. What, did life not matter 290 Days ago? If it had, Braxton would be here. He’d be bored to tears, but “I’m writing for us,” I’d grumble. Should have thought better of that when I was still in school. I would be better off. A B student?

If you count what I know about B III, that is. As for how many classes I failed. How I could make it out of high school at all. My Olds money I threw away at junior college. Such sin. Why not add up everything I have going on with me mentally. Right now, I’m pretty clear-headed, and I told you why. The biggest problem is, at the moment, ADD or OCD. It goes. It was only at the Day Job a day, or so ago, I caught myself counting, I don’t know what. Perhaps how many dogs I’ve seen die. That I can take some guilt for… 2 or 3, B III being last. The worst are dogs I hated. Being A B student?

I was too full of, as Star Wars would put it. Fear, Anger, Hate, Suffering. Again at this very moment, it’s pretty much all disgust and self-loathing. Mixed with exhaustion. Looking at my schedule for the rest of the week. Sometimes I think NaNoWriMo should revoke my membership. Not like they’re checking up. Arrived at the point of no return. Yeah, like I was at PetSmart last Saturday. I talked about checking my wallet, week 3, and no Chase. I didn’t even talk to the ladies there. They say comedy comes in 3’s, huh, Echo. I’m not ready to be a dad again or any other type of “Real One.” Because I keep saying I’m no B Student. Echo, count the Number Of B’s Gotten.

290 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 137 ~Victory Is Faster Than Escape~

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So what did I win today? I didn’t get fired from a job I hate; my humiliations were kept small. Somebody got banned on my blog. I get to talk more about my dead son. This for sure ain’t winning, but where would I run? “Victory Is Faster Than Escape”

Monday, November 15, 2021

Chronicle 137 ~Victory Is Faster Than Escape~

Two-Hundred And Fourteenth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, and money is the fastest way out of any situation. Well, a bullet, bucks, and, yeah, boobies.

I find the sandman can be as efficient as any hitman. He acts as quickly, at least because, as you can see, I’m still alive. I swear, J, if you told me I could close my eyes and never open them again… I’m not saying something STUPID like I love you, I’m not crazy either. Yeah, I keep telling myself that. Hell, I ain’t been right since Braxton died; I wasn’t right before that, but I at least had someone. I told Carolina Bound today, you know B III’s Aunt that it keeps piling up. All that pain, prose, and those penis-pumping wants. Is it any wonder I became a monk 288 Days ago? Victory, Escape, no Madam, I was defeated. Accept my unconditional surrender.

NaNoWriMo hasn’t defeated me yet, but I still lie my ass off every day. It’s like I’m some make-believe General and I would settle for that than what I’ve been. Today has been challenging, and what am I complaining about? Who am I complaining to; a better question, J? This Monday, I have yet to cross the point of no return regarding my writing. I even listened to some motivations, and I was getting revved up and then, of course, life. It seems that I and everyone else in my life are dreaming of a place to call home. Where’s that? Tell me where Braxton is and that I could follow him. B III fought hard just to get home. He’d want me to win.

The problem is to be a winner, I have to destroy the man he tried to save. Does that make any sense, Madam? How do they say you win some, you lose some, but you live. Talk to Braxton about his last fight. I had to destroy his father and become the freaking reaper J. I was telling Cherry this morning that a man provides for his family, and may I be such a man someday. I’ve often said that the epitome of manhood is not where you stick your dick but what happens after. Being a father, that’s me winning, success, victory. I would instead Take The Long Way Home. Braxton died at 15; I’m 37 and getting older. Victory Is Faster Than Escape

288 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 133 ~So Who You B~

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Yeah, sometimes I’m too tired. Others I’m asking for help in the strangest of ways. If “This Dog’s Afterlife” is anything more than wishful thinking, then dogs learn how to read. So I keep writing to my lost boy. Or I should ask, “So Who You B.”

Thursday, November 11, 2021

Chronicle 133 ~So Who You B~

284 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? If “This Dog’s Afterlife” is any indication, then I’m sure it’s freaking awesome. I hope

Santa, is that who I should be talking to? I was thinking more Morgan Freeman, aka Red. “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year,” well-inching closer Braxton. Awesome… Satan doesn’t think so, or that’s what I was thinking to myself when I held Chase the Saturday before last. I should stop thinking about that fur baby. Christmas present now? Soldier, steady on. But while I got soul, I’m not a soldier as the song goes, and yes, I know what day it is. It was yesterday, though, that was so exhausting. I’m all discombobulated. Like on any day since you’ve been gone, I’m trying to find myself again. 284 Days isn’t going to cut it. I’m only hoping that I can be as productive.

Writing? Is that what I’m doing. I’m a writer. I still remember you thought I was a doorman with your demands. At least you got me out of bed, B. Where am I right now? Wealth isn’t raining over me, but I did get paid today. If you were here, I wouldn’t ever let things get this bad. B, I’m looking at grilled cheese sandwiches, and as for your food? Women never came before you. Though I thought for sure, you would have gone home with your aunt. How about the way you led her to the bedroom? Southern Braxton… Have you changed at all? As I said before, with the book, I’m reading. If it’s one thing I know, it’s that you could fly.

Sinning prevents me from doing as such. Yes, your Daddy is still on his wanting to be a monk trip. At least I did do some pretty decent work, though… after. You had gone out. Survivor, or the Soul Survivor, that’s what I am now, and I don’t like it. But I better get used to it because come this Saturday I will still be alone. Heaven, the Rainbow Bridge? Savior, when I don’t look a thing like Jesus. Sorry about all the musical references. As I said, I’ve been working. But how could I see you again? Had I known how to save a life? That was the last song, promise. But my B with everything you have going on. So Who You B

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 132 ~To B So Heavy-Handed~

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Well, that was a mess. The other day I noticed Braxton’s old pills bottles are fading with his name, and inside is plenty of dust. I’m getting down to crumbs with his treats. And my head is being crushed by Heaven falling down. To Be So Heavy-Handed.

Wednesday, November 10, 2021

Chronicle 132 ~To B So Heavy-Handed~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I could produce the worst porn imaginable. Brock Lesnar and Rasputia. Didn’t get off…

Well, I did last night. It’s one of the reasons I’m so dirty, disgusted, and a bit dedicated for the next half hour, please. All thanks to a pair of English Yabbos (that I’ve never seen). Heavy the head that wears the crown? More like Heaven came crashing down hard. Anyway, my dream. I was wining and dining Brock, trying to get him to take Rasputia off my hands. I bought him a gun, and I took him to Buffalo Wild Wings. Hmm, I should take away the “wine and dine” part. I couldn’t even pay for the meal Inspector. Confession time, are you ready? Here at thirty-seven, I’ve never bought a woman dinner at a restaurant. I mean ever. My apologies to Braxton’s aunt.

Let me get even STUPIDER, Inspector Echo. While I can’t stand Brock Lesnar, he seems to be a staple in the wrestling community. As much as B III is a part of my life. Hell B was/is my life. And without him, what is life. As they say, ahem Life’s A Bitch, Echo. Could it have been Rowdy Roddy Piper? No, he’s dead, and I’m not scared of him. But Brock? If anything, I need my own Beast back because living with Rasputia. She’s life, in all its glory. Carolina Bound, M Anime, Cherry, will hate me for this, but ok, Echo the truth. Besides having big Yabbos, they have huge issues. I got them too (issues); that’s no secret. I can’t handle them all.

Only B III, Little B, so small, so tiny. No wonder I didn’t listen to him and put him down. Literally, and what a horrible thing to think, but what am I carrying around, Inspector? There isn’t that much cash. But what I do have, I throw at Tits and yet Echo not seeing any. What I do see is Will’s Willie. Only I haven’t been putting him up on Stuff and Thangs a lot. As far as what I’ve been putting into my belly these days? Crumbs, crushing nutrients. I wouldn’t subject another life to the shit I’m going through. Chase won’t be there… Anything I touch turns to dust or makes a big mess. So much for being light-hearted. To B So Heavy-Handed

283 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 130 ~Pain Should Never Be Hoarded~

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Too many damn sticky notes. Floating around me. Those yellow note pads are only one more thing that I’m hoarding for work. Humiliation, Hurt, a hunger for something more than this. But no, only pain. And I know… Pain Should Never Be Hoarded but

Monday, November 8, 2021

Chronicle 130 ~Pain Should Never Be Hoarded~

Two-Hundred And Thirteenth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I’m the biggest victim in America. Woe is them and me, right. Oh, the pain…

Yeah, that ain’t true. As the song goes, “Mo Money Mo Problems.” What I wouldn’t give for such burdens. Ahem, my son’s life, light reminders, literally parts of my flesh. If I ever get that tattoo of him or decide to become a monk, hmm. Asking where I’ve been today. What on a Sunday evening, knowing that this week is going to suck? It’s torturous making money. Or at least the way that I go about it. Instead, I would choose to be a pimp, a man of prose, a pornographer, but we’ll get to that. Like everything else, sigh. Money is the root of all evil or the lack of it. I go back and forth. It’s strange how sins connect. Greed and Sloth.

I would say that I’m greedy with sleep, but what have I been doing all day? If I haven’t been on my belly sleeping, I’ve been grinding away. No, I don’t mean that in a good way Madam. I’ve worked on two galleries today, and neither one was Braxton’s. Earlier this morning, it was all about Yabbos or the complete lack thereof. Coins, cash. There are another few C words I could talk about, but neither one is polite conversation. Madam, the truth is, I hoard lust. If I had the money, it would all go right back there now. What about my boy? Braxton’s been gone 281 Days, and again where is his reminder, his tribute. Well, other than sitting on my nightstand, Madam.

So why not wrath? To roar, to rampage, to have revenge. It’s thoughts like that which let me know humanity. There is too much hate, misery, and pain. To quote another song, I’m just a “Sucker for Pain.” It’s what makes me the perfect sadist; I receive but choose to give. The only time I denied, despised, and became disgusted by pain was that of Braxton’s. Madam, the pain I’ve felt of losing my only begotten son… Should I chill with that religious reference, Madam? Anyway, that kind of pain nobody but me deserves. Masochism? No, I don’t enjoy being in pain. How about being broke, belittled, and Blue Balls? Where should the pain go, I ask. There’s nowhere. Yet, Pain Should Never Be Hoarded

281 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 126 ~Just Be It Braxton~

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Nothing against Nike other than the expense. Too busy with my belly, some English boobs, books, and of course B III. No, I can’t Just Do It. Although if it meant my Day Job for the rest of my life? Why I don’t fear Hell but Happy Just Be It, Braxton.

Thursday, November 4, 2021

Chronicle 126 ~Just Be It Braxton~

277 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Or should I be asking, were you a good boy? It’s Heaven, Rainbow Bridge, whatever.

But then again, you were here… It’s the end of the spooky season, I know. And I did eat quite a few chocolate-covered almonds. My form of an exorcism, hmm B. But driving you away? I did that before, but let’s not talk about January 31st but here on Day 277. Hell, I didn’t get anything done. 3 things woke me up this morning, your picture and hoping for Cherry’s boobs. I’d swear you were haunting me if I didn’t notice the power had gone out. If only for a second. I found your PetSmart bandannas on the floor, but they could have slipped off, B. I’m looking for signs, Braxton. Last Saturday in particular. I’m a fucking traitor B III. Pardon my language, B.

What kind of monster am I? Well, I killed you, and people want me to stop saying that. Deaf ears, dead man. I wish I could return to being the zombie-like man I was afterward, B. Yesterday I was intent on becoming a ghost. All the white ceiling dust or my white shadow following behind me. I was in the air on all those ladders, and if I fell, Braxton. It wasn’t high enough to kill me, but sticker shock at the hospital. Which brings me to why I ain’t writing? I didn’t want to be a murderer, and I can’t stand liars. My NaNo novel? Even in that, Win William Bridgman wants to sleep. I didn’t make the girl a corpse but a robot.

Would you have liked to be a robot, like out of Alita: Battle Angel? I never showed you off when you were alive and since you’ve been gone. Every day now B III without fail. Today if I died and went straight to Hell because I trust I’m not going anywhere else. Would you come looking? You’d go What Dreams May Come. Don’t Braxton ever. Braxton, knowing how you listened to me before. Sad the first time you ever obeyed some orders, it took three needles. I’ll never be that man. Holding that fur-baby Saturday. Braxton, he got lucky I didn’t choose to bring him to your home. Wherever you are, I hope you’re happy. Regardless of Yabbos, happy I can’t Just Be It, Braxton.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 125 ~By The Ladder B~

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Up the ladder to the roof. Like the song. I didn’t get that high today. Days like this have me thinking about Jenny wanting to jump off that bridge in Forrest Gump. I don’t fear heights, but if I had gone flying through the air today? By The Ladder B

Wednesday, November 3, 2021

Chronicle 125 ~By The Ladder B~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I know something about the corporate ladder. If you mean my Day Job… Fuck.

Pardon my French, Inspector. If I had fallen off a ladder today, that would have been the last word I would say. It would be more to the tune of “Thank You.” Falling’s a luxury. It takes far more courage to jump. Hell, I jump all the time, out of FEAR, a firm tone, a girl I want to fuck. If I had taken a few more bumps on the head today, I’d learn something. Only it’s as if I played a few rounds of Glass Stepping Stones from Squid Game. No matter where I put my feet today, every step sent me falling. But I kept climbing, why, Echo? The higher I go, the easier it would be to find Braxton. Isn’t that poetic?

Surprised I can even remember what that is. Aren’t I supposed to be on some incredible rise, writing? Between my unpublished poetry and NaNoWriMo, which I’ll be lying to. Only I haven’t been lying about my genuine desire. Yes, Inspector Echo, something else is rising, besides the dick in my pants. Let’s say that Pounds have Dollars beat for sure. OnlyFans girls would be P.O’ed at me. Climbing ladders for $12.00 per hr ain’t helping. Again, I was supposed to be somebody, a leader. Instead, I was followed by a puppy of the human variety all day. Look, I have issues. Understatement of the century but actual mental problems? Do people see me like him? A supervisor asked, could she buy me a Christmas gift.

As long as it doesn’t breathe and doesn’t remind me of the dead. It has to be about B III. In better days, every dollar made scaling those ladders would be for Braxton to eat. Inspector Echo, we are in the days of Humiliations Galore. As always, but more noticeable. I’m hanging all sorts of balls/ornaments on the ceiling. I’m wondering where my balls are. Oh yeah, I’m splashing the contents all over some girl attempting to see her Yabbos. Inspector, I’m having a ball instead of working on my novel. I mentioned NaNo’s lie. Echo, to be a better man and work all night like when Braxton was here. The latter man sucks compared to my former self. Braxton’s Daddy. By The Ladder B.

276 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will