Tuesday, May 20, 2025

Meditation 323 ~L’s Between B, V~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? That’s why we must tell our children about the birds and the bees. That conversation.

“But, uh, has anyone talked to you about the birds and the bees?”
“Oh, you mean dicks and vaginas?”
― The Last of Us (2025)

Thank you, but I prefer it my way
Andre Baptiste Sr., Lord of War (2005)

The first time I gave something even remotely similar to that speech was with Braxton.

More to the point of Ain’t nobody “Humpin’ Around.” What can I say? Like father like son, my love. Braxton was supposed to be my breast… Excuse me. My Best Man. And he and I were both big fans of Yabbos. And he B III liked his aunt. A lot. I had to tell him.

What about Virgil? He won’t need that speech, I’m afraid. The ole snip, snip, treatment. Is it any wonder that my secondborn lost his balls? Braxton had some huge cojones.

Seriously, what’s with all this talk about my boys’ anatomy? Trying to be lighthearted, ha!

I’m so “Heavy In Your Arms.” So “Let’s Get Lost.”

The Twilight Soundtrack? That’s the lightest of it, my love. I want to lose my crown. I’ve never been a good man, but how dare I refuse to be king. I don’t have the heart for it. Mine was broken when I lost my firstborn son, little Braxton. Now yours, our kids, trying to mend Virgil’s. A jar of hearts. And no, not like Christina Perri, more like Marianne Engel.

Do you remember when we read Andrew Davidson’s The Gargoyle? That Marianne. Do you remember her man, the pornographer? Eff! How I want to get lost in you, baby doll.

“If you have any idea what I want to do to you right now. I can’t live like this.”
Will Traynor, Me Before You (2016)

Fingers, tongue, and, uh, penis. As the Isley brothers said, “Enough of this singin’, let’s make love.” But “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin'” I have.

“It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me.” And I can hear you now if I quote one more song…

But what would be left of me? I can’t tell you the critics. And the one who I could tell…

There’s SADNESS, FEAR, and LUST. So, as I have a week to lie here, I don’t have a week to lie here. So what do I do, my love? What do we do? I can’t do this. But husband, father…

What should I read some more? This morning, it was more about pet loss. When I close my eyes, there’s another ding that scares me. And looking at your beauty. And not being able to do anything Less, Loser, Lost, Me. L’s Between B, V.

1570 Days Without B III, Day 1011 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tuesday, May 13, 2025

Meditation 316 ~Virgil, I’ll B Saying~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? More than my boys? I plead the 5th. My love, I’m not that lying Trump.

I have my soft and hard limits, but may I never be as vulgar, vindictive, or vicious as those of MAGA. And yet one of my sons, Braxton, saw Trump’s end… Virgil sees Trump 2.0.

But no, I don’t want to talk about politics today, Monday, May 12, 2025. Or ever. But we have no choice in the matter. As I have no choice but to keep loving Braxton. Always.

And Virgil? I don’t love him as much as Braxton. Later V, Later Virgil as opposed to Love ya B, Love ya Braxton. And look at me crying again. It’s not only because of Braxton. Mother’s Day has been pretty HARD till now. And OH MY GOD, we’ll get to that. Only, I miss Braxton.

Would you rather listen to me cry over him love or sweat over you? Mourning or Moaning? Grieving or Grunting? Wiping my tears or Whipping my… Must I be gross?

“Should I say it out loud?

Yeah, I should. You can’t heal something unless you’re brave enough to say it out loud.

I’m scared, though. I’m scared to say it… which is why I have to.”
The Last of Us

Love, if anything, as Roger sang, “I Want To Be Your Man.” I need “Sexual Healing,” as Marvin Gaye spectacularly put it. What’s better than making Love “Between The Sheets.”

My boy isn’t the only one that can put together a playlist. But we’d have to send Braxton, Virgil, and our two-legged rugrats to bed. Especially considering who I want to be with you. Annoying? I can be that too, but at least I’m not crying anymore, but you, darling.

Well, I want to effing “Tear You Apart.” Because “You get me closer to God.”

And that’s the truth, “I Wanna Eff You.” But not only because I love you more than anything. (Braxton looks down on me from Heaven). I don’t have alternative facts; I have ADDITIONAL facts. Effing MAGA! Anyway, my love, I’m afraid. Yes, I’m worried, but it’s FEAR, my love. And it has begun to overwhelm me. But I’m “Just A Man.” A man provides, protects, and pets puppies. But Braxton isn’t here anymore. And a man isn’t supposed to call on a woman for help, but who else is there. My Ma? Anyone at all?

Love, I don’t know what to do. WHATEVER IT TAKES! I sound like one of my motivations, or Captain America. So what’s next. I have Virgil. Virgil, I’ll B Saying.

1563 Days Without B III, Day 1004 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tuesday, May 6, 2025

Meditation 309 ~Virgil’s B In Language~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? But as Snow Patrol sings, “Those three words are said too much. They’re not enough.”

How do I know? Despite how much my Old Man paid my way, I hate him. My firstborn son, Braxton, died. And I could say it to my secondborn son, Virgil. But I hate lying.

Always and forever, there’s you, my love. There is the family we created together. And you know me, a beast with a beat. “Havin’ my baby. What a lovely way of sayin’ how much you love me.” That’s all you because I highly doubt Braxton would send me such a song. If he were here today, his four little legs would run circles around his two-legged siblings to keep them safe. Virgil would be quieter than them, easy. Long story.

Love can be quiet or loud. It’s a difficult language.

And since I’m reminiscing about people, places, and even pieces of myself I hate. LEARN.

I’m constantly having to relearn how to love myself. Love, I am The Walking Dead. However, I’m not saying that because today is Sunday, May 4, 2025. So we both know, um, Tuesday, May 6, 2025, is going to suck. Oh, we’ll get to the sucking. Uh, ew. Uh, lovers.

Watch my mouth? Again, we’ll get to that. I say the most horrible things, and we’re not a religious household. But love, Jesus had it easy. If we skip the torture, he just died, love.

My Ma would say he died to save us. And I live? Not because I particularly care to do so. That’s my love language. STAYING.

Again, from a biblical context, Jesus came back. God is love. Dog is love, and my B III, “I said he doesn’t look a thing like Jesus,” as The Killers put it. However, “My Goddess.”

Um. Did we put the kids to bed four-legged, two-legged, and all? Okay, dearest love.

Purely in a Shakespearean meets The Pretty Reckless type of way, “You make me wanna die.” Hear me out, my love. My grief brings me closer to my son, B. Not really, but that’s what I’m going with. Being with you brings me closer in a way to dying. Seriously? Neither of us is Rihanna, but “Sex with Me,” sex with you, I tell myself, “I guess I die another day.” Virgil’s B In Language.

“I think I’ll find another way
There’s so much more to know
I guess I’ll die another day
It’s not my time to go

For every sin, I’ll have to pay
I’ve come to work, I’ve come to play
I think I’ll find another way
It’s not my time to go.”
Die Another Day

1556 Days Without B III, Day 997 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tuesday, April 29, 2025

Meditation 302 ~Room After B, Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? Every little step I take, you will be there. But I’m not Bobby Brown. I’m…

That’s the thing, my love. I want to say, “All Yours.” But I’m not one to shy away from the truth. And while I’m constantly asking myself where I am going, It’s where I am.

“Where you gonna go, where you gonna run, where you gonna hide? Nowhere… ’cause there’s no one like you left.” — Carol Malone, Body Snatchers (1993)

Darling, I have never left the last place I saw my boy on Sunday, January 31, 2021. There was Braxton, in his own bed on a vet’s table, looking at me to do something, save him, or spare him any more pain. My boy wanted to stay. And since he couldn’t, I have. That is the truth. It could be a new definition of love. At its most simplistic, love means you before me. By that logic, I do love Virgil, too. But the concept that one would only stay.

Baby Doll, I could give you a whole playlist on that “Stay With Me” “If I lay here. If I just lay here. Would you lie with me and just forget the world?” “We were made to never fall away.” You can thank B for that last one. “You’re coming back for me.” Damn right!

However, this is the rub. How can I return to a place that I have never left? Where am I?

We are in a dream. I still see us on a beach somewhere. Our two-legged kids ran along in the sand and waves. Little Braxton pulled with all his might to keep them from the water. And you are pulling me and trying to get me to join you. Where?

Again, I don’t know. A man is supposed to lead, but I would rather follow my boy or have you, my love, follow my rules. One of those reasons is “chains and whips excite me,” ha-ha! You know how I’ve been feeling about money these days. Building our “Red Room.”

More like I wanted to “Paint It Black.” Like all the ink along the pages of the books I write. I read something last night and to see the dark lusts, depravity, and desires. Love? Honestly, it could go either way. Let’s say all the dark places in women that men yearn to go, my love. Because with you, at least, I’m moving forward in a Kama Sutra way, baby.

Love? Room After B, Virgil.

Even if you leave this room, you can never leave this room.
— from 1408 (2007)

1549 Days Without B III, Day 990 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tuesday, April 22, 2025

Meditation 295 ~No B In Sharing~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? Enough to SHARE my life with you. Or give it. Oh, to be so noble.

Missing my Braxton, I could be a modern-day samurai. Committing Seppuku? No. That would only dishonor my firstborn son, you, my love, and our family. What? You didn’t think I only studied Japanese Adult Anime. Would you instead have me share more about B III?

Money has also become a concern. I was talking to my Ma the other day and wanted to share with her that I am afraid. A man provides for his family. Husband and father. “What Kind of Man Would I Be,” to admit that I’m afraid I can’t give you and our kids everything you want and need. But I wouldn’t be a good one. “What Makes a Good Man?”

Manuscripts full of bad ones. I was reading “My Writing.”

Yesterday, I kept getting the same response from “the critics.” I share far too much.

Truthful, yes, but too much. There’s “No Hope Left.” Apparently, I can’t say such things. I didn’t tell Braxton that as I watched him die. I don’t tell Virgil that when we walk every day. He needs to believe in a better world. A better me. What about myself, love?

Looking at myself in the mirror, I inevitably say, “I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend.” But what’s the truth? I want to tell the worst things, my Dirty Little Secret.

Braxton was euthanized Sunday, January 31, 2021, because I failed him. I don’t know how to reach Virgil. And I wish I was never born.

Because I am afraid. “It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared all the time.” So why not share my sins with you? The things I have never done. Is it effed up that I think about this, like sharing food with my boys? Braxton eating hot dogs, and Virgil has pizza bites. You love?

I get off on the idea of watching you with someone being “ravished.” Cuckoldry vs Netorare (NTR). There’s a book in the closet, “Ravishment: The Dark Side of Erotic Fantasy” by Desmond Ravenstone. I’ve been excited by nonfiction violation stories. Exhibitionism is something I’d explore with you. My Sadism. Fear brings out my depravity. I share this with you because telling myself, my boys, I’ve failed. No B In Sharing.

1542 Days Without B III, Day 983 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tuesday, April 15, 2025

Meditation 288 ~Love’s A B, Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? Something you and Braxton have in common. The reason I’ve been playing the song “Jumper.”

“I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend
You could cut ties with all the lies that you’ve been living in
And if you do not want to see me again
I would understand.”
Third Eye Blind

Must I always jump to memories of my firstborn son, Braxton, who died long ago, long ago, long ago. Four long years, and still, I linger on that first minute. I love it and him.

Only I’m quick to jump onto some mattress with you. Or anywhere, for that matter. Love and lust. Dare I say I might actually like not feeling so sad all the time? I’ll take love over war. As I’ll take Sadism over Masochism. Are those dirty words? If you have read what I have been typing lately in novels. Again, if I sound like anything from Jumper, then be worried.

But Virgil’s here, along with our other children, so you and I, my love, won’t be jumping or bouncing soon.

Son of a B! Am I mad, grieving, horny as the Devil himself. I’m confused and depraved, and even when I wake up, the first thing I think of is that I’ve had enough. Hence, Jumper playing. If only love…

You know what stops me? My son B, B III, Little B, Braxton. I was once… Dad of a B. However, to love like that again, there are no words because there aren’t any answers.

How many words are in the English language again? And I was working with a writer the other day on one of many stories; “The Eve of a Cherry,” “Nightmare At The Meat Market,” and “Cries Come Women, Come Country.” The third is an Erotic Horror War Thriller. And thinking of all the horrible things I put in that synopsis. Honestly, is that what love is to me? Is it making someone feel horrible? Like me 24/7. You’re still here.

“In my trials
And my tribulations
Through our doubts
And frustrations
In my violence
In my turbulence
Through my fear
And my confessions
In my anguish and my pain
Through my joy and my sorrow
In the promise of another tomorrow.”
Will You Be There

My Braxton is not here. But he loved me when I had no earthly or divine idea of how to love myself. And I could honor him by loving myself the way he loved me. The way he chose to love me when he should have been a furball locked away in my sister’s purse.

And that’s why I hear his voice, his bark now. The words “I love you” should mean something. But there are other words… Braxton says, “Don’t be afraid.” You tell me, “Whatever you want.” Virgil and the other kids call me “Daddy.” Myself? “Tomorrow’s gonna suck.” Love’s A B, Virgil

1535 Days Without B III, Day 976 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will