Tag: E-Day

Meditation 061 ~Soon, Virgil, Imma B~

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Will I be busy today? I should have been busy for forty years. I never wanted to see twenty-one. But then, for fifteen years, I was Braxton’s father… Can I not talk about my son? Anything beats worrying about the next seven days. Soon, Virgil, Imma B

Saturday, August 31, 2024

Meditation 061 ~Soon, Virgil, Imma B~

Hey Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… Or I’m gonna be. Now… I’ve been saying that (ish) going on thirty-nine years, Lady Lunalesca.

But in seven days, I’ll be going through a transitional period. I’ll be evolving, Lunalesca.

I’ll be leveling up. I’ll be better when I’m older… No. I won’t be the greatest fan of my son’s life. Not today, sorry, Braxton. And not for the rest of the week, Dear Lunalesca.

Because, come this time next week… I’ll be forty. Lunalesca, I shouldn’t be forty. Or? To be honest with myself, I shouldn’t be awake and alive. But Luna, I’m a be existing. How terribly sad.

The second worst decision I ever made. The first is B’s Euthanasia. Was that bad? Again, this isn’t about my son this week. I can’t help myself. I miss B, and for some inane reason, I keep breathing. Forty years of breaths. What a waste!

Since I was thirty-six, most of them have been with the thought,… I’ll join Braxton. Lunalesca, can I not keep my son’s name out of my mouth? And what about Virgil? I swear I got into an argument with the veterinarian the other day. When it came to ordering Virgil’s medication, I asked for Braxton’s first. Uh! Not that he needs meds. My Ma, though.

She could have popped some pills, and I wouldn’t be here. But as I blame myself for Braxton’s “passing.” I blame myself for my existence. I’m a be here Lunalesca.

Inevitably? Immortality? Insanity? Maybe I’ll tell you how I would spend the perfect E-Day this time next week. Um, Lu, it would, of course, be bathed in all my Immorality.

Am I still going on about Madoka Araki’s “Maid Scene?” And thinking about an incredible set of “Melons” from across the pond. I’ll be making a mess at this rate.

Lunalesca, you have to know I hate talking about myself… Did I really say that? Lunalesca, it’s only that I’m an old man. It’s too late to say or ask what I will be someday.

Please, no motivational speeches today, Lady Lunalesca. What am I going to be this coming week if my Olds don’t call and I don’t go to join Braxton, Lunalesca? Waiting…

Sunday, I should talk about endings. What will be my “last” rule on Monday? Tuesday and Wednesday are done. Thursday is for Braxton. Friday, books. Busy? Soon, Virgil, Imma B

1308 Days Without B III, Day 749 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 058 ~Braxton And Virgil Call~

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What’s My Age Again? Thirty-Nine until E-Day. I wouldn’t have made it past seven if I had my way. A time way before the smartphones… Speaking of which, how old is my phone. It’s not like I get anything but bad news. I’d rather Braxton And Virgil Call

Wednesday, August 28, 2024

Meditation 058 ~Braxton And Virgil Call~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… According to “my” phone, at least. Who pays the bill? I restarted the timer of me “getting off…”

What? Yesterday, I was busy writing/stealing that scene from Episode Five of the series Discipline -The record of a Crusade- You know, the one of Madoka Araki. Why was that?

I’m staying alive!!! STAY ALIVE!!! My battle cry? The clarion call? A mandate from Heaven? Or wherever my Braxton resides after his passing. My son is asking me to wait to join him. And where’s Virgil? Well, he’s at the foot of the bed for now. This isn’t about him. But then again, yes, it is. Just because my boys don’t use phones doesn’t mean I don’t hear their voices. Yesterday, I got a call about Virgil. What about the call I’ve been dreading? I got a text from my Olds. It wasn’t about E-Day.

But E-Day, the day of my Emergence, Existence, and Extinction, is coming. It remains the second most horrific day in “my life.” But not yet…

My Olds informed me of some vote that was happening. And while I’m all for civic duty and whatnot, I want to hide out for the next two weeks. Even better, I wish I could just sleep through it all, like the song says, ‘Wake Me Up When September Ends.’ But no, I’m ‘awake and alive’ at this moment, sadly.

I wish I wasn’t, Inspector, my hand to God or Braxton. I would “happily” join the ranks of the dead rather than grow another year older. But haven’t I Echo? I’ve been saying for days now what rests in my head. It ain’t a brain. E-Day worries, women sans clothing.

Inspector? A silver lining? “Today is all about you.” Me…

By that I mean me. And who am I without a phone? Who are any of us, for that matter? I’m someone to Virgil because I got a call about picking up his medication yesterday. Inspector, I’m sitting here hoping “my” paycheck hits early so I can fetch those meds. Echo, it wouldn’t matter anyway because I won’t let Virgil follow Braxton… Not my call? I have to pick up food, so I already made myself sick with an energy shot, but the Day Job? Yeah, I got my schedule. My entire existence is run by the beeps and boops of the screen, Inspector. And if I wanted something for E-Day… Braxton returning… Joining him. Inspector “my” phone should Evolve. But, Braxton And Virgil Call.

1305 Days Without B III, Day 746 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 057 ~Virgil (Shouldn’t) B Hating~

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Virgil doesn’t hate. He’s bored to tears. V can’t stand the rain. And after 745 days, he’s not exactly… Um, I’m no one to talk about brains. Almost 40, what do I know? Harems and Netorare. I miss my son. And I hate myself. Virgil (Shouldn’t) B Hating

Tuesday, August 27, 2024

Meditation 057 ~Virgil (Shouldn’t) B Hating~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? I love the family we have made together. I am endlessly grateful for your presence in my life. I will always love Braxton. And, Virgil…

I am trying, my love. Hell! Virgil claimed the center of the bed this morning. And he seems more than happy. And what about me? Am I happy? We might never speak again with our conversation just yesterday. Meditation 064 Virgil Will B Celebrating… Hmm.

I’ve a better chance of learning Time Travel than happiness when it comes to E-Day, the day I began existing. But everything I say, possibly my last words, will be out of Hatred, Sadness, or outright Fear. Love. Yesterday, there was a lot of hate. This Is America, and I’m an old African American man. And getting older… Effing E-Day. I got enemies, got a lot of enemies but I am my own worst enemy. And why is that? Braxton thought I was pretty great.

And while I’m busy quoting songs, here’s another “I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.” This song resonates with me after Braxton died, as I thought I was singing to him, my beloved. Then, I thought that the pain of my son’s loss would eventually drive you away. Next to Braxton, those that love me… You, Braxton’s Aunt, M Anime loves everybody… platonically, a good girl ha-ha!

Have I read what Cherry has written today? And what about my Olds? There’s Virgil.

Just like happiness, I can’t say I’ve ever loved myself. But there’s the Possibility. And that was because Braxton was here. As I’ve been saying, my battle cry should be… STAY ALIVE. But it was never for me, alone. To be someone that I actually love… Someone with a purpose. I struggle with this, and I hope you can understand.

If life’s a game made for everyone, then love isn’t the prize. No, love is the instruction manual. And on the day my son left this world, and I entered it. Love, that’s Game Over.

January 31st and E-Day. These are the days I hate myself the most. But at least with Braxton, there is so much love that I had for him, and it’s like it couldn’t help but overflow. Drowning? No, I sailed.

It brought me to you. It gave us our kids. Allows me to love my friends. It even found V? I’m grateful for the love and support I’ve received, and I hope you know how much it means to me.

It makes me grateful for all my “adult animation” sins these days. I’m still finding things to watch and to inspire “my” novel.” Gross? Absolutely.

But nine months later, January to E-Day. I swear, another year older, I still hate myself. Love? You try. Virgil tries. Virgil (Shouldn’t) B Hating.

1304 Days Without B III, Day 745 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 144 ~Hurt? B III, Virgil~

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To B III (be free) of pain; there was a lot less of it when I was sleeping. And Braxton would watch over me. He felt the same lying on my chest as I’d read a book. If only a book taught how to make the pain go. Like I’d read it. “Hurt? B III, Virgil”

Wednesday, November 22, 2023

Tale 144 ~Hurt? B III, Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. But Virgil is safe and sound. Braxton? Well, he’s better without me. That’s the only thing that matters.

At least I’m not indifferent. That’s what killed my son. Or angry? I hid my anger from my son… for the most part. No, Inspector, today I’m in pain, and that’s no secret, any day. Hell! I haven’t been without pain since I turned seven. If I ever talk to another psychiatrist… for real this time. If they ever ask me when did the pain start? It started on that seventh E-Day in 1991. Picture a younger me dancing like an idiot because of cussing.

“What the Hell is going on?” Doesn’t sound too bad, does it, Inspector? Being seven… Today, I’m about two months into being thirty-nine. And I woke up feeling my age. Braxton was so much older at fifteen. To join him…

One of the reasons I haven’t is because, like I was telling Dear Future Wife, Tuesday. With all the pain he felt, my son, firstborn, my B, fought with all he had, even against me. Braxton wanted to live. And he would endure the physical pain and ignore the mental. Like father, like son. I will take the pains in my body because whatever’s in my mind is worse. The truth, Inspector. But at least Braxton and I own it. Every freaking day I will. Do you remember how I said I like Bruce Banner, AKA the Hulk, for his truth? “That’s my secret Cap. I’m always angry.” Inspector, I’m always hurting, horny, and ready to raise Hell, which is usually why I choose horniness.

My pain and my perchance for violence are the worst. But being horny, My Dirty Little Secret is the lesser evil. And without that “release,” what’s left, Inspector? Hurting, Hell! Is that why I was out like a light yesterday? Sleep to me is like playing dead. You know I have a problem with laziness. However, I also have a big problem with not getting laid. Um, eww! Everything I do revolves around my bed as it was for my son, who only lay there —dying in his little bed, which I have now hidden in the second bathroom. Inevitable. What? That I would put B’s things away. Or that I’d complain about a lack of sleep, sex, stupid energy drinks. Hurt? B III, Virgil

1025 Days Without B III, Day 466 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 142 ~Laughter Isn’t The ONLY Medicine~

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“If you can make a woman laugh, you can make her do anything,” that’s my only interest in Laughter. B made everyone laugh, including me. And I looked after him for fifteen years. What’s Laughter done for me lately? “Laughter Isn’t The ONLY Medicine.”

Monday, November 20, 2023

Tale 142 ~Laughter Isn’t The ONLY Medicine~

Three-Hundredth And Eighteenth Rule

Madam Justice

Rules Are Made To Be Broken… Hell! Plain ole words, too. The comedian is dead. My son. And FTWD. We are the dead.

I’m not trying to be comedic, clever, or cool. That’s for damn sure. And you know what I’m not cool with? Laughter. “I smile… I laugh… I rejoice this day.” A lot of days, Madam. Back in the day, I wanted to be a comic. I wrote comics for… let’s say a few weeks, Madam. Not the funny kind. But I didn’t start hating Laughter until E-Day number seven. Hmm? I don’t remember, and I don’t want to. Every day we move past E-Day thirty-nine, I come to another truth. I wasted “my” life. Um, existence. And the comedian is still alive and well. Nothing will be bringing Braxton back. And “Fear The Walking Dead” isn’t officially dead and buried, as I missed one episode.

How embarrassing. Braxton would give me one of his patented looks. Every Sunday, I chose my love of the dead over him. And yet I decided to kill him on a Sunday. What! The Walking Dead was on hiatus. Oh! You mean the whole “I killed my best friend” thing. Braxton had a dark sense of humor like his Dad. Again, I remember him giving me those… AHEM “blah, is you crazy?” But he never laughed. He would smile, remain silent, and then sleep. And that was my solace. My cure to every day. Let the people laugh at me. Madam, what else is there for me if it isn’t my son sleeping or guarding me while I sleep? I really want to know. You?

While I’m busy singing one of Jodeci’s hits. “Come And Talk To Me,” for those unaware of the classics. How about “Let’s Talk About Sex?” If you’re wondering why I’m late talking to you, Madam. If it weren’t for the humiliations galore at the Day Job, I would say I hate the implication of “We Don’t Have To Take Our Clothes Off” right now. So, without my Braxton, I’m left with sex and music. And both can be funny in their way, too. As a thirty-nine-year-old man, it’s hilarious that I have to tell succubus stories to sleep. Laughter is one of those medications where the side effects are worse than the disease. Won’t laugh, smile, make a funny face… Laughter Isn’t The ONLY Medicine

1023 Days Without B III, Day 464 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 135 ~Knowledge Of Destruction Breeds Creation~

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The opposite of war isn’t peace. It’s creation. How many tales did I write with B here? I ain’t much, but the two of us were a family. I am his Dad. And when he lay dying, I created beliefs, birthdays, and BS. Knowledge Of Destruction Breeds Creation

Monday, November 13, 2023

Tale 135 ~Knowledge Of Destruction Breeds Creation~

Three-Hundredth And Seventeenth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… So, I bought a gun in 2020. It’s the End of the World As We Know It…

Or so THEY thought… And that was over STUPID things… I can’t get a haircut. Starbucks may have a bad year. Trump doesn’t get to brag about a booming economy. Hell! 2020 should have been our year, Braxton and me. Only, no wasteland or zombies. And if I couldn’t live it out, I should have been writing about it while I had the time. Hmm. The end was extremely effing nigh! What was I doing when “The Man Comes Around? That he did in 2021 for my son. Where were my big plans then? My promises. The graffiti with punctuation, which is us talking right now. What’s that? Destruction, Creation? Madam, in the end, I breed a million excuses because I’m not breeding anything else.

Gross! I know, Madam, sorry. But the truth is that everybody dies. “Daddy… everyone dies.” I can imagine Braxton telling me that. Or was it Katie in the movie “1408?” Sometime last night, Braxton sent me a song from the Foo Fighters, “DOA.” I’m crazy. That’s true enough. But the things that come up when I can’t listen to audiobooks or music at the Day Job. It was pain. The idea is that every hurt and pain is a step closer. Because what can I do as a person? Someone asked me at the Day Job how old I was. Ha! I’m ashamed to be thirty-nine. And over the past few days, I’ve been saying I must do better. I’m at the dining room table.

But the fact is that every day, I’m devolving, being destroyed, dying, my dear Madam. And with full knowledge of what’s happening, what am I doing? Can anything be done? That’s what this rule is all about. When Braxton was here… for his life… I would have found a way. Only that’s a lie, Madam. Because in fifteen years, I could have been doing something to save him. Let’s not count the first twenty years of existence. I would have never met him if I had been “Successful.” I had to be so wrecked for the Heavens to create a life like him. B waited as long as he could for me to bring new life for us, for me. Knowledge Of Destruction Breeds Creation

1016 Days Without B III, Day 457 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 128 ~Harder To Breathe On Top~

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When I think of being on top, it’s having the women, the clothes, the rides. What about my son? I nearly forgot I sent him to Heaven. But now I can barely climb out of the covers, step forward, or hold my head high. Harder To Breathe On Top

Monday, November 6, 2023

Tale 128 ~Harder To Breathe On Top~

Three-Hundredth And Sixteenth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… And if I could make another one, it would be this. Never Get Up Unless Wanted, by…

Me, Myself, And I? As we move further away from E-Day. Thirty-Nine still sucks, okay. Hell! It’s even more than that. It frightens me. And yes, Halloween is over. Because I’m talking to you on Wednesday, November 1, 2023. All Saints’ Day. And faith, Madam? What was it a few years back, November 5th? “Remember, remember! The fifth of November!” I’m no scholar on Guy Fawkes. Didn’t I tell Inspector Echo if I’d gotten A’s? Anyway, I almost got fired way back then because of… I don’t even remember her name or what I called her. But I felt like I was drowning and yet got to keep working, Madam. Only every morning when I wake up for the Day Job… I wish I hadn’t.

And it’s with… I was going to say nearly everything. But when was the last time I took a breath in the morning and I wanted to? All I want is one time. Just one! But every little breath I take, it’s like I’m fighting for it. And in the end, I hate this biological imperative. So, I wrote this rule. It was meant for me to be winning now. To be living “Life On Top.” Why yes, Madam. I just referenced a softcore “drama” that aired on Cinemax. Ha-Ha. But again, being on top is as simple as one foot in front of the other, not dragging. Well, any way existing. Just my opinion. I want to raise my head with confidence, not courage.

I’m not dismissing courage, Madam, but it’s the difference between life and existence. Do you know how those on top say entitlement when they mean earned? So they can take life from others. And I still want to be one of those people, a billionaire, big-shot, a boss, huh? Only it feels like while I’m earning my way… Sort of. I’m fighting that much harder to take a breath. “Running Up That Hill,” making “The Climb,” and even going down “The Road.” Am I making another playlist, Madam? Should I add Rakuen from Trigun? Keeping these eyes on the work is a challenge. Yeah, when I want to be on top of some angel who’s hot as Hell. Geez Madam! I nearly forgot Braxton is up there, somewhere. Without me… Harder To Breathe On Top

1009 Days Without B III, Day 450 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 125 ~Read… Ready… B, V~

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Am I ready to live or exist? Am I ready to read about life? Last week, I read of a guy and a corpse. Now, there’s a guy, a corpse, and a witch coven. People celebrate Christmas… now. I celebrate Halloween? Effing dead. Never Ready. Read… Ready… B, V.

Friday, November 3, 2023

Tale 125 ~Read… Ready… B, V~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… But I would rather write you a few. Hell! I should have written several. Next Week?

It’s like listening to Succubus Lord for… I don’t know how many times by now. But according to Audible, it’s been a lot. And you know what I want to say about them. Only I go back and forth on this whole censorship thing. I wish I could say certain things and call it free speech. It’s why I keep my mouth shut, ears filled and lost fifteen bucks. Meh. Yet opening my eyes and reading. It didn’t occur to me to read all those pet loss books while Braxton was dying. He was going to live. Sophia, that’s where faith lays, with B III. But at the same time, I read as I didn’t want to worry about it with B crossing the bridge.

Now, why do I bring this up today? Well, besides the fact that I talk about B III every day. If I had to express all my fears, we would be here, My Lady. Uh, “EVERYTHING” isn’t that hard to say? Writing it? Anyway, I’m afraid I won’t write Braxton’s name one day. Hmm? Before I decide to start scanning years sniffle worth of blogs. Again, what’s with today? It’s how I stayed ahead to watch my boy cross over. And yet, I’m not ready to step out of this bed. One step towards life or even a better existence at this point. And as I say that, My Lady. There was a zombie package at the door. A package for my package. Uh gross.

I really didn’t make a joke about “my” new toys, did I? My Lady, that’s the only thing I’m ever ready for. I’m always ready to get some. So, when was the last time that happened? This is more of a confession for Inspector Echo, but I’m always ready to read the truth. The last time I ever “got some” would be around seven years ago. Never in this house!!! And I can’t even blame that on Braxton. When it came to Carolina Bound, the woman I would make his honorary aunt since she’s like a sister to me. My son did try to play wingman. Did I ever read to him about moms? Not even how girls became mothers. Nope. Read… Ready… B, V

1006 Days Without B III, Day 447 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 118 ~Just Breathe, B, Virgil~

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So I finished a book about a guy and a corpse. Then, last night, I hoped I wouldn’t see one as Virgil breathed weirdly. Should have read up on how to help him. If I had time. 15 years with B, what do I know of dog first aid. “Just Breathe, B, Virgil”

Friday, October 27, 2023

Tale 118 ~Just Breathe, B, Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… Better yet, I need to read how to perform basic first aid on dogs. Virgil Vivi?

Lady Sophia, if you’re asking why I’m so late this morning. Hell! I lounged around in bed for an hour. And then I can’t say I was reading anything. How do THEY say… A picture is worth a thousand words. So, how many pairs of Yabbos is that? The answer might surprise you. But we’re not here because of Math. Next to History, Reading rules. Inevitable. And according to Kindle, I’ve read for 562 days. And not one of those books would have saved V last night. Don’t worry. He’s very much alive. Breathing? Happy? He’s becoming more and more like me. Except I think he would prefer breathing, Sophia. But what do I know? Braxton wanted to make me happy. What makes me happy?

Didn’t The Beatles write a song about it? Only I’m not one for that kind of violence. Have you seen the news the past few days? Something else I want to avoid seeing, hearing about, or reading. Then again, I could tell you that Virgil Vivi was gone. After the trouble, he had last night. I petted him and begged him to take a breath. Again, looking up medical emergencies. Sophia, I didn’t. While Braxton lay dying, I finished Succubus Lord 7, next came 8. Vladimir Nabokov’s The Enchanter came after. So, um, three books before I got to sigh… A Dog’s Purpose by W. Bruce Cameron. But what is my purpose, to keep breathing? More than likely, it’s to waste air, Sophia, I swear.

It’s a good enough reason not to buy physical copies of books. It’s an insult, Lady Sophia, to trees, blasphemy to the air, and humanity… What about it? Look at the last seven books that I’ve read. Sunday has always been a bad day. Well, since B died. But talking to the Man in the Mirror. Hell! I guess he’s sick of telling me about my failures every week. Anyway, I was talking about novels. The last seven were about dirty priests, vampires, elves, video game vixens, and a girl’s corpse. “Can’t Get It Up If The Girl’s Breathing.” Eww! Thank you, Repo! The Genetic Opera. Unfortunately, genetics, “my” biological imperative, demands I keep breathing. How these stories end. Virgil’s story? Just Breathe, B, Virgil

999 Days Without B III, Day 440 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 111 ~Booked Virgil’s Birthday, Braxton~

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With the reading and writing, I do. I’m now saving Virgil’s Birthday? He’s turning three. So, another step towards fifteen… And ain’t nobody reading Braxton’s books yet. It’s hard when they’re unpublished. But today? Booked Virgil’s Birthday, Braxton

Friday, October 20, 2023

Tale 111 ~Booked Virgil’s Birthday, Braxton~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… About how I was a better Daddy to Braxton than Virgil? Hell! That’s like Succubus Lord.

I know that series front, back, and sideways. I’m getting ready to listen to three again (hint, hint). But when I’m going to sleep, I tell myself a bedtime story. I’m already on six and Jacob’s road into Hell. And if that ain’t the story of this existence, minus the hot succubi and other friends.

But let’s stay on topic, which for once ain’t B III. Who am I kidding? It’s always about Triple B. Only today can I focus on Virgil Vivi. Today, he is turning three. And if he’s anything like me, he’d belt out, “I’m still alive. Must have been a miracle.” Or a curse? As the “Good Book” says, we’re all damned anyway. Well, me always. All for my Little Braxton. But what about “my” Virgil?

Do you see what time it is? I can’t say it was the first thing I read. Next to mirrors, clocks are the worst things to look at. Because every second, I can see myself wasting “my” existence. It’s days like yesterday that show everyone else sees this worthless existence.

So I’m not even going to pretend to be happy for Virgil’s birthday? First, I’m never happy about anything. And second, I’ve been trying to be positive. What would make Virgil happy? I wonder. I wasted another seven dollars this morning, but I’m canceling plenty.

“OF” subscriptions? My Lady, particular kinks will do that. Didn’t I talk about my eyes being messed up sometime this week? If anything, I’m tired. And still, there’s time travel.

Only I didn’t think of that when I refused to stay for three extra hours at the Day Job. And you would think with the spare time I’d be finished reading a particular book, that’s um… how to describe it?

I won’t. But I’m so sick of reading about everyone else’s successes. But not any of my own. My Lady, I never burn books but could use the light from V’s B-Day candles. That is if I decide to get up and do anything for his third birthday. Good Luck. “The sun is up, the sky is blue. It’s beautiful, and so are you.” Well, it beats singing Happy Birthday.

Words on an invitation, a card, a gift. Suppose I had Booked Virgil’s Birthday, Braxton.

992 Days Without B III, Day 433 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will