Tag: Epiphany

Tale 216 ~Braxton, Virgil, And Bookworm~

WillLeave a comment

There are few words on the page that I can call my own. I have to feed the beast. I’d tell B my words that would save us. But I feast on the words of others. A bookworm. I spared B that fate because I don’t burn books. “Braxton, Virgil, And Bookworm”

Friday, February 2, 2024

Tale 216 ~Braxton, Virgil, And Bookworm~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… about how not to write a book review. Or not finishing Red Rising. And getting up…

I swear, where are the worms and maggots already? I didn’t let them have Braxton. Dearest Sophia, didn’t I tell one of the girls the other day that my son had gone through the fire? Hell! On the day Braxton passed… I swear, as I walked outside, the son, my son, shone down on me if there was ever a more perfect time for the end of the world, Sophia.

But that’s how it did end. “Not with a bang but a whimper,” as I think T.S. Eliot wrote. Hmm.

So I can read that, but not Red Rising by Pierce Brown? Let me be clear. I will finish it, but not this week. Unless I buckle down… Ha-Ha! Again, the worms, maggots, and grubs.

That’s as likely as me reading the Bible. How else am I going to stay out of Hell for what I’ve done to my son? What about the way I treat Virgil? And women? I am trying to forget. When Braxton was gone, I lost everything. And you want to talk about love, Sophia?

I would become a eunuch. Virgil doesn’t have his “stones.” Grey Worm had two beautiful women. Darrow is trying his hardest to resist Virginia/Mustang. I could go on for some time.

But my point is, I would give THAT up if I could see my son again. But the answer’s no.

And now I read all these books, Lady Sophia. If we’re talking about 2024, there’s been Robyn, Julia, and Tasha from Satan’s Sorority Girls. Jenny/Sister Meretrix from the Pessumae Christi. EO/Persephone and Virginia/Mustang from Red Rising. I’m on a list… I’m a worm on my belly. Or whatever. Tossing and turning with what’s to come

Sunday, February 4, 2024… But it was a Thursday in 2021 when my boy met the fire, and then… I’ve only opened his box once to see what had become of my son. My Braxton.

Sophia, this is the way the world ends. I bought a gun in 2020 on the grounds of keeping my son and me safe… Of course… Only 2021 came not with a bang but whimpering. Braxton would never. That would be me. What have I learned in three years since about Braxton, Virgil, And Bookworm?

1097 Days Without B III, Day 538 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 209 ~Virgil, B Seeing You~

WillLeave a comment

The first time I saw 2V, I imagined seeing some of B III in him. The brown around his eyes, three black spots (B III), him being a “ghost” or “reincarnation.” But the doctor said I’m not blind yet. And I’m reading about who I was. Virgil B Seeing You

Friday, January 26, 2024

Tale 209 ~Virgil, B Seeing You~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… No, I haven’t finished reading Red Rising yet. I need to start on Imogen Linn’s Epiphany.

But this week and next are all about my son’s passing. A fictional tale? By calling it B’s passing, sure. My Braxton’s murder, execution. The word I’m looking for… Euthanasia.

And speaking of “medical procedures,” I went to the eye doctor yesterday. Uh, talk about a change of pace. Or me trying to be positive. As the doctor said, the change in my eyesight was minuscule. There was no need for new glasses. I’m only getting older at 39. And there goes my positivity. But this week was not meant for “joy-joy” feelings. And next week? I get to see the world continue to go to Hell. And without my son B III protecting me.

And then there is Gospel 209 ~Will’s Yearly Eye Exam~.

Tuesday, January 26, 2021, I still had no idea of Braxton’s fate. But it’s creepy, coincidental, or at least enough to convince me that B III is Somewhere Out There. “Somewhere Only We Know.” Because, once again, Sophia, I doubt I will ever see Heaven. And I can’t imagine Braxton in Hell. B III liked being very warm, for sure. A spot by the fire…

It’s not my turn! Saga 209 ~Death, B Not Virgil~

Thursday, January 26, 2023, I told Braxton about his great-grandfather, who had passed. I’m surprised; I didn’t ask him to stay far away. I could tell you a story of a puppy that died bloody in my arms. My granddaddy’s dog attacked him. That’s some more sadness for another day.

Maybe? If I ever get around to finally publishing the two books I wrote about Braxton. And before that, there’s Gulp. And what about today? I’m talking to you and all the other girls as I prepare to spend next week crying. Don’t let me forget about Satan’s Sorority Girls 4, Sophia. There is plenty of writing to do. I will never forget the worst day of my existence like this. All I did was prepare more words. Braxton’s Emergency, Euthanasia, Eulogy… B’s E-Day is the day he died. My E-Day is my birth, Emergence, Existence, Extinction… Only I don’t see that last part coming. Again, the eye doctor said my sight was fine. I can see everything: everything but my son Braxton, alive. There’s Virgil. Virgil, B Seeing You.

1090 Days Without B III, Day 531 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Lesson 244 ~How “Write” You Are~

WillLeave a comment

A man of my word, a man of few words, but if I had to choose one word, it would be hope, but that’s not going to be enough as Carl Grimes once said, I’m going to need words galore, promises, punishments, posts. How “Write” You Are

Friday, March 2, 2018

Lesson 244 ~How “Write” You Are~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I Am Not Afraid Anymore, and I would like to think I’m a man of my word, indeed a man of words, only how often must I admit that words fail me? Then again I talked about having an epiphany the other day, living my life as though my submissive, my wife, the future mother of my children is watching me and for some reason, those words mean a bit more honestly.

Love is exhausting, to say the least, and I can only imagine it will get worse when I have someone; it’s weird how words on paper provoke a different reaction than words that we write on our hearts. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t “love” my job, and as that bastard general manager made clear, there is no contract saying I have to stay with the company, fair enough. Only I gave my word to; I guess myself, to go in when I’m supposed to, I do my best… most of the time, and while my father never taught me the value of a man’s word now, the concept carried weight and didn’t I say I hate lies, without purpose?

“I can’t learn anything from you, I can’t read in some fuckin’ book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. Then I’m fascinated. I’m in. But you don’t want to do that do you sport?” Sean/Robin Williams ― Good Will Hunting (1997)

I tell you and the others, Lady Sophia, that I’m going to write every day and here we are two hundred and forty-four lessons in, sometimes two a day just because I’m busy on a particular day. How about my novel though, I think I signed a contract for NaNoWriMo, and I did it in November, but then again I signed an agreement to start editing and January, February just flew by didn’t they? What about love though, what about dignity, do you know how hard it is; better a conversation with Dirty Diana but I lift my feet up when I walk, I talked more at my day job, and when the porn mood strikes… I looked up the girl, downloaded the video of the picture (thank you Pinterest) and haven’t watched it since.

Hell, that must mean I’m already expecting to chalk up another failure but not today; I think I’m starting to see why some sign contracts in blood. Could it be that I have just been using the wrong medium all this time or I need someone to keep tabs on me; back to my hypocrisy, I have my word, but I don’t trust myself sadly.

Why do you think I write out all my secrets here, including my humiliations, my sadism, right down to the days I just FAP… maybe because seeing it, speaking, remembering will one day help me to keep my word I hope, How “Write” You Are.

I Will Have No Fear