Tag: Friend

Meditation 077 ~Silence Is Scarier Than Screams~

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Silence can be monstrous. I made it so. “Yes, I can be very cruel. I have been taught by masters.” As in people’s words. The silence left by my son. The act of blowing out candles. Candles? And after being pervy. Silence Is Scarier Than Screams.

Monday, September 16, 2024

Meditation 077 ~Silence Is Scarier Than Screams~

Three-Hundredth And Sixty-First Rule

Madam Justice,
Rules are made to be broken… Like me, not talking about my son this month with Emergence Day. It has come and gone.

I’m forty. And still, nothing is worse than the silence that came with my son’s last breath in this world. But the silence shattered when I first cried out in this universe. A victory? I suppose I could talk about Virgil, but there are two things. One, Virgil is usually silent anyway. Other than when I leave or the noises he makes showing I’m not being a good “Dad.” Virgil’s nails click on the floor. His belly when I need to get food. His sicknesses.

Two, as I’ve been singing repeatedly this month, “Today is all about you.” This song.

Madam, next to “All About You.” Today, I’m listening to Faith’s Outpost Ambiance… (Cult Music). “It’s a Five O’clock World.”

I don’t want to talk about my Day Job either, Madam. There is silence since they banned earphones/air pods. What I think about when I’m in that place. My STUPIDITY

There’s the silence when I wake up every morning and find out I’m not in Heaven or Hell. Can I call where I’m sitting right now purgatory? Three years without… well, you know who. No! He deserves better. Braxton, Braxton, BRAXTON! My sweet buttery Madam.

There’s the silence that comes with each Emergence Day. But that is my doing. People…

I could get all political today with everyone screaming, what dog, what cat, war, and women? And yet, the worries of my existence trump all that. See what I did there? Some should be silent.

But much like I said, I can’t get through a conversation without mentioning my B. How about me coming back to the house without a burger and fries? Didn’t I say I was broke? Um, I have two days to choose. I got breakfast and dinner. Bacon? Speaking of meat… women. Am I as bad as those other guys? I say things about women, but at least I leave those to the confines of “adult relations media.” That’s a polite way of saying adult films…

I swear the silence that comes after all my muscle contractions and moaning over mammaries. A moment of bliss that calls to me within the silence. Whatever could fill it?

Yet I choose the silence. Because hearing some Beautiful Freak… Silence Is Scarier Than Screams

A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1324 Days Without B III, Day 765 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 073 ~AB Honor Roll Virgil~

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Thursday, September 12, 2024

Meditation 073 ~AB Honor Roll Virgil~

1320 Days Without B III, Day 761 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I am my father’s son. Though he would ask, “How Was Your Day?” Those days…

I shouldn’t have made it past those days, Braxton. I shouldn’t have made it past my 40th Emergence Day. And yet here we are. I know you don’t like me speaking like this, B III.

Should I go back to crying over you? Or what about thinking about your Aunt? How is Gabe doing, by the way? Is he wherever you are? For now, Braxton, that’s at the foot of the bed this Tuesday afternoon. It’s Tuesday, September 10, 2024, to be precise. So working… Braxton that has become “the great fear” since Emergence Day has come and gone. Sigh.

The manager asked me about Emergence Day. At least last year, there were cupcakes, B.

I hate Emergence Day, as always, but I like eating.

And while we’re on the subject of eating… “the great fear?” That’s a reference to The Road. I was the man, and you were my little boy. You were never starving… Okay, you might have had dirty water, but that was during that period I was intentionally starving myself. That’s not a fun way to die. I should stop now before I end up crying over you again. B III. There must be a simpler way of saying that money’s tight around here. My mouth

“All I know is the child is my warrant, and if he is not the word of God, then God never spoke.” ― The Road

Cannibalism? Yes, I’m still thinking about that book Meat by Joseph D’Lacey. It was a more visceral Tender Is The Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica. I’m not that hungry, B III.

Seriously, with what I’m reading now… Meat going in mouths…

Eww! That’s gross. Talking to you about such things… And I remember you, Braxton sitting on the floor as I tried to explain why you shouldn’t “have the stones” to “hump” your toys when your Aunt was around. Or to get all up in her yabbos. Your father’s son, indeed. We were both horn dogs. But we needed to be better. Braxton, you were better.

But here I am at forty… Well, you were around eighty, right? Anyway. I’m forty and trying to figure out what or how I will eat. I’m tearing myself apart bite by bite, I know.

School days were the worst, and that was before all the “problems.” And at the Day Job? To have better grades… AB Honor Roll Virgil

“It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared all the time.” ― Mara, Spontaneous (2020)

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Meditation 070 ~Kisses Show A Working Tongue~

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It’s in his kiss. No! But B would love up his aunt. And V… I’ve cleaned up what has come out of his mouth many times. And as for me. I don’t remember what I said to that first girl. I can’t even order chicken at forty. “Kisses Show A Working Tongue.”

Monday, September 9, 2024

Meditation 070 ~Kisses Show A Working Tongue~

Three-Hundredth And Sixtieth Rule

Madam Justice,
Rules are made to be broken… Like me breathing after Emergence Day. Hell! I shouldn’t be after Braxton. Or Emergence Day Numero Cero.

I would rather kiss my furry son’s head one more time than draw my first breath. One necessitated the other, Madam. But at least I would have something to do with my mouth other than bawl about my boy, blame myself for everything, or BE STUPID. Madam, next to being Braxton’s end and my birth, I can’t stand being STUPID. It never ends, I’m afraid.

Even at forty? Well, I’m not quite there yet. I’m speaking to you on Tuesday, September 3, 2024. So, Emergence Day has yet to happen. Like I said, by the time you read this, I might not be breathing. I’d blame my Olds. But this is my existence. My existence…

Madam, I never asked for this life. I’d trade it all for a simple kiss.

Is that an Emergence Day wish? Last Monday night, I made a wish to avoid humiliation. I texted that because speaking… Anything that isn’t about my Braxton’s life… passing.

Anything that’s about something other than broads. Or anything that doesn’t involve me sounding STUPID. It’s not my strong suit. To open my mouth has never been a good thing, Madam.

How hard is it to say, “Yes, I would like the eight-piece fried chicken and a three-piece chicken fingers snack, please?” My mouth has much better uses, Madam. But saying Happy B-Word Day/Emergence Day… is not among them, Madam. Nope!

But again, a kiss… Do you want to know a secret, Madam? My first kiss? I got that. But I didn’t get a kiss during my “first time.” Well, uh…

I’m not The 40-Year-Old-Virgin, thankfully. I swear, sometimes I wonder who knows more about me. My lost boy or the Internet. The movie popped up, so I could watch that for Emergence Day and be thankful for the second-greatest miracle during my existence. A woman…

Madam, I was/am a father, and a girl made the mistake of thinking I was a man of worth for a night. And a few other girls here or there over forty years. But almost none when I had to look after Braxton. When was the last time I had a kiss, a kind hug that got kinda dirty… Back when I was a Smooth Operator. I feel stupid-er at forty. I’ll shut up because Kisses Show A Working Tongue.

A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1317 Days Without B III, Day 758 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 066 ~Will, B, Happy? Virgil~

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When’s the last time I’ve said “It Was a Good Day?” “I Am a Man of Constant Sorrow.” A man without gratitude. One who doesn’t count his blessings. A man… not even at forty, which I’ll be very soon. I’d rather find my son again. Will, B, Happy? Virgil

Thursday, September 5, 2024

Meditation 066 ~Will, B, Happy? Virgil~

1313 Days Without B III, Day 754 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Today, I’m going to tell you about one, Braxton. But before I do this, please understand. Happiness is not my nature. Even when you were here. Also, let’s think about breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Really? Your way of timekeeping. A reminder of our shared moments.

“When I wake up in the morning, love. And the sunlight hurts my eyes,” plays on the radio. I see you staring back at me. You’re not sitting on my head or guarding the door.

We’re not back-to-back. You lick my nose, so of course, you must be hungry. But I have a little bit of money, so I order breakfast. The only people we’ll see today are delivery people and Daddy’s special friends… I let you play outside as I sip a cappuccino. When the vittles arrive, I will fix you a little buffet, and you will think it’s Christmas. But it’s Emergence Day.

“And in this moment, I am happy.” Happy to be…

Alive! With You! Older! But Braxton, “You know I’m a big boy, and big boys have desires,” seriously. Hey! You like your Aunt’s Yabbos. But first, we need food, and you need a mom. And Mexican food is a good idea. And getting it on with the maid… As I said, “special friends.” We did share with you until our movie time… Netflix and Chill?

Would you rather I lock you up or close the door for “adult time.” If I’m forty, you would be nineteen. Still, I don’t need my puppy seeing me and a pretty brunette. Your mom?

Well, no. But you know what it means when you hear Sade’s Smooth Operator playing. My cue for my privacy…

Anyway. Woke her up after fun… she didn’t hesitate to call Big Will the top gun. Did I do any writing today since I’m busy ripping off Ice Cube? “It Was A Good Day,” B.

However, it’s not over yet. Your Aunt wants to come over and spend what’s left of the day with us. You know I go all out for dinner. Steak and lobster. I actually looked up whether dogs can have lobster. Of course, you get another plate for yourself as your Aunt, and I watch movies. Cherry and M Anime send “gifts.” Those I don’t share.

Your Aunt leaves, but there’s a knock. Braxton, I think I just met my wife.

Somehow. Will, B, Happy? Virgil.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Meditation 063 ~ Don’t Hate Meeting, Fear Knowing~

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With all I do, I can close my eyes and sleep. Not rest but sleep. It’s facing myself in the morning, which is the hardest part. Almost… Eww? To meet new people with such thoughts. And I fear I’ll never be one for JOY. Don’t Hate Meeting, Fear Knowing

Monday, September 2, 2024

Meditation 063 ~ Don’t Hate Meeting, Fear Knowing~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Ninth Rule

Madam Justice,
Rules are made to be broken… Like seeing who I am in Virgil’s eyes every morning. Or looking in the mirror. Braxton’s eyes…

I thought “we” agreed not to talk about him this week. Besides this week’s battle cry of STAY ALIVE! I should begin the day with the song “All About You.” Because for the next six days… Hell! I should be thrilled. With my Olds, I could be seeing Braxton again…

Please! It’s not easy attending a funeral every day. I mean mine and not… Anyway… Madam, let me avoid politics. Hint: Arlington National Cemetery. But to count myself among the ranks of the dead. Not the honored dead but the undead. And to see so many people happy. So what’s wrong with being happy? It pays better than Fear. Depression.

But there is still time to be thinking about getting paid. But should I survive…

I don’t hate being a writer, but I fear what I’ll write. Literally, the story of my existence, Madam. People don’t hate meeting me? But they fear knowing that this is who I am, sigh.

Fearful, Freaky, Fiendish, and effed up by my grief. Uh, Forlorn? Forgetful? How I wish.

I wish I could forget Emergence Day (E-Day). If my Olds didn’t hate meeting me. Madam, they surely fear the monster they made. I hate meeting their expectations and fear knowing what they intend to do about it. I’ll be forty on Emergence Day, Madam.

Today, I don’t Fear knowing Fear. But I hate to meet it everywhere, and so does everyone else. So why bother getting to know me at all? I’m always depressed.

I’m not successful because I’m not happy. Could I be happy? If I were successful and had simoleons raining down. Or several million fans. That’s what set me off last night. There’s a decent young brother with four million fans.

I wish I could be so silly or smart. There’s the mom that plays music with baby toys. Or the one that takes music and movies and makes skits. There are reactors, comedians… OnlyFans girls I’d like to meet and know in a biblical way

Sans clothing… The man that I meet every morning. Can I be a father again? A good friend. A fool who believes that I have a future. Yes, I can’t help but hate myself and fear what I’ll become soon. With Yabbos or yowling grief? Don’t Hate Meeting, Fear Knowing.

A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1310 Days Without B III, Day 751 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 056 ~Listen To The Silent Man~

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How do you make me shut up? You can sign my checks, have Yabbos, or be a ten lb. ball of fluff that watches me sleep and guards the door. What do I listen to? Anime vixens, the man in the mirror, and my son who loves me. Oh? Listen To The Silent Man.

Monday, August 26, 2024

Meditation 056 ~Listen To The Silent Man~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Eighth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Or maybe I’m too noisy these days. I’m talking to myself. I’m moaning out, “Madoka Araki!” E-Day…

STAY ALIVE! That should be my battle cry for the next two weeks. But considering I’m a black man and “This Is America,” I should exercise my right to remain silent. My lost boy, little love, my Braxton would have made a great lawyer. And I should listen to him, wherever he is now. Uh…

My “Spirit In The Sky.” My son Braxton. What? Other people have God. So don’t you dare tell me I can’t talk to a dog that had me kneel more than “my sweet buttery Jesus.”

However, one thing they had in common is that I didn’t listen to either… eventually. Madam, I didn’t hear when my Braxton was sick. And I haven’t bothered talking to God since Braxton passed away. I keep repeating that, Madam.

Braxton would tell me to rest now without a word. He would look after me. But looking over myself these past few days… I’m a deviant, disgusted, depraved, and dumb.

This is “good,” considering how I speak about myself and my greatest worry. Waking up this morning, I turn again to Madoka Araki. What is it about that woman that’s getting to me? I can’t get crazy because Virgil has been so cuddly lately. Again, I didn’t hear Braxton, and I’m not listening to Virgil.

Animation… Hentai, in particular… “surprise, surprise” keeps my mind silent… Or at least busy, which I can “live” with. Idle hands are the devil’s playthings, so they say, Madam. If I can’t do one thing with my hands… I can learn about Madoka Araki (Discipline), Netorare, Natsuno, Saimin Seishidou… etc.

Please, BE SILENT! Well, I was crying last night, hoping that I wouldn’t wake up. It was a quiet night between watching WWE wrestling and “adult” wrestling, switching everything off, and then being left alone with my thoughts. Listening to myself, Madam, is the most dangerous thing. Being right here today, I realize I don’t like myself. Not ever. And yet, in these moments, I crave solitude, a break from the world’s noise. I’m old…

I’m almost forty, Madam, and don’t want to hear a word from that old man. What about my Old Man? Every time the phone makes a noise, I get scared. Cutting it off requires willpower.

My Braxton had plenty. I still miss his eyes on me, saying, “Go to sleep. You’re safe and sound.” E-Day brings the noise. I Can’t Listen To The Silent Man.

A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1303 Days Without B III, Day 744 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 049 ~Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys~

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A question for today. The 12th or 19th? What is peace? It was sitting with Braxton and his Aunt watching movies. It was M Anime hinting we’ll “Marvin Gaye and get it on.” Cherry’s naughty pictures. Reading with Braxton. “Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys”

Monday, August 19, 2024

Meditation 049 ~Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Seventh Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… And questions are meant to be raised… And finally, answered? My Old Man beating me about Math…

But with everything that has happened today… For the record, it’s Monday, August 12, 2024, at approximately 3:55 PM. Anyway, today was horrible. But I’ve survived worse. So, I want to talk about my son who was Euthanized. My B. Is there peace with Acceptance?

That’s today’s question. As the rule states, Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys. Hell! I’m broke.

But when it came to releasing my son Braxton from his pain. Price was no object. I could find the paperwork. But I must have spent over $1,000.00 over that weekend. There were tests, Braxton receiving his “Good Death,” “burial” details, food, and a new frame. All for his peace.

Only Braxton would have never bought it, either. He wanted to stay? But I’m Dad.

A Dad does what is right for his son? So what should my Old Man do as I approach forty?

That has been disturbing me this week and the next when you read this. I’m afraid, Madam. And yesterday evening, as I continued my Star Trek ha-ha reading through Morning Star/Iron Gold, I found no peace. No worries? Please! I worry constantly, Madam. I cannot. My mind is a battlefield of emotions. And I’m losing.

This brings me to today. Because of worrying, I could barely answer the manager. But then I had to worry about what she was “scheming.” Dear Madam, I’m told I wasted my “life.” It was my 13th Anniversary at the Day Job. I blame that place for my Braxton’s loss.

My hand and my rage. I want to join Braxton.

Would that bring me peace? Do you notice I’m not answering any of these questions? What? Am I too busy thinking about that hot redhead? Did she think I was calling her cupcake when I approached her as I left? Braxton, help me! I was holding a tray of them.

That could have gone a completely different direction… cue “Girl All the Bad Guys Want.” Ha! And what about the “Visual Chick?” All roads lead to Yabbos, bringing me peace.

Except, No! Every time I turn my hand into a Jackson Pollock painting… It’s so white that I’m singing “I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday.” Afterward, I’m only disgusted.

Peace? Can’t find it, afford it, or ignore it… Forever? But I continue to search for it amidst the chaos and pain. The everything… Madam. Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys.

“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1296 Days Without B III, Day 737 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 042 ~ Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies~

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Just keep writing, just keep writing. Writing what? For example, in Math, I have no answers. I can give you another excuse. And while I hate to lie… I’m not as eager to join Braxton as I hoped. Giving the truth scope. Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies

Monday, August 12, 2024

Meditation 042 ~ Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Sixth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… And mistakes have been made. The Trump Thing? The Trump Thing. So I’m sorry. Shall we begin?

As always, it starts with… Braxton. The blank space that my son made in my existence. If you are reading this, you see it. Unfortunately, I am, as well. But anything could happen, Madam. I’m speaking to you from Thursday, August 8, 2024, so who knows? With my luck… Well, I expect there’s a tombstone that is missing my name. And a dash. A blank?

Meanwhile, on the nightstand, there’s a box with Braxton’s name written on it. His grave.

What I wouldn’t give to “sponge away the writing on this stone.” It is far too early for Christmas, Madam. But I would take that holiday over several others. Existence?

Tomorrow is Virgil’s Gotcha Day. I signed my name on the dotted line. Blank Space

And why did I adopt Virgil? Because Braxton asked me to, from wherever he exists. I carry the weight of his request, his existence. His Heaven? “My eldest son, heir to my throne, defender of my kingdom.” Braxton is dead. And to this day, I still make excuses as to why. Euthanasia. Eejit’s job. Ejaculation. Inevitably, the reason is there is none. It doesn’t matter. Oh, there’s always a thing.

Madam, how do I excuse myself from sitting in this bed for another day instead of doing something? Anything! “I came up with a million excuses,” as the song goes. Miracles? Each one explains why I continue to exist. And why I’m not dead. Because, like Trump… Eww! “Oh, there ain’t no rest for the wicked.” That’s my excuse for being such a monster, Madam. I struggle to accept myself.

I have something I have to do. That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one, Madam. Well, Look at me! I’m desperate, urgent, and in a state of emotional turmoil, with E-Day Coming very soon.

Better to look at Virgil. I got a call from PetSmart asking about his next appointment, Madam. And what did I say? I have to think about it. Lies are too easy, Madam. My God!

It beats saying, I’m broke? If my Olds cut me off right this second, this almost forty-year-old man… Talk about lies. That I would be alright. I’ve seen the bills, Madam. And yet I lie and say I deserve to be here. What happened to Braxton again? There is always time to make things right. How? It’s a blank space, an excuse, and a lie. Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies

“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1289 Days Without B III, Day 730 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 035 ~Never Tell Me The Odds~

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What are the odds I wake up to questions? Where is Braxton? Why isn’t he here? Does he still look after me? Did Virgil make a mess? What’s up with Star Wars and Disney+. Who’s Yabbos are on Instagram that I can look up on X? “Never Tell Me The Odds.”

Monday, August 5, 2024

Meditation 035 ~Never Tell Me The Odds~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Fifth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… So I’ll ask, but please don’t tell me the odds about Braxton, the Day Job, or Self-Gratification…

What are the odds that I’m still stuck on Sunday, January 31, 2021? That’s when my son, my Braxton, left this world. The weight of this loss is unbearable, and even now, I shouldn’t see more. No more. Everything hurts.

But then came Saturday, August 13, 2022. That’s when I met Virgil. What were the odds I would hear Braxton’s voice saying, “This is black and white, Dad. Save him!”

Indeed, what are the odds that I could live so long before B III found me? And so long after. Madam, E-Day is coming up fast. Forty is too long. The odds of this reality are beyond belief. You see…

But fifteen was not enough. What about eleven? What are the odds that today, Friday, August 2, 2024, I would be in mourning with Braxton’s Aunt? Braxton has a friend.

Gabriel Michael “Gabe” has passed.

B’s Aunt has joined the club… Another parent lost her fur baby, her son, Madam. And what are the odds she wasn’t ready? I wasn’t with the right words, songs of woe, or sage worldly advice. Hell! I thought B would live forever. Or that I would fall before him.

People play with their hearts regarding our four-legged friends or those that swim. Whatever. The odds that we can ever be the same without them… How does zero sound to you, Madam? And what are the odds that we have to keep getting up every single day? I ask why?

What are the odds that I let Braxton down and join him? It’s storming outside. I have my “protection” in the drawer. Trip, Poison, Stupidity…

But the Grim Reaper doesn’t play like that. Not with me, anyway. I’m not a “believer,” but God didn’t save my son. He is keeping me, though, or maybe that’s B III. Come on, dude.

No! I’m the one who plays. Today, I took a twenty-minute nap. I shouldn’t complain, but I’ve been trying to comfort Braxton’s Aunt as she comforted me when Braxton passed. Finding solace in this journey is a constant struggle, Madam.

What about the odds of having fun? Uh? Virgil got into trouble, so I sent him to Braxton’s room, which means I’ve been looking at Olivia Casta, Pawnshop, and anything else. I know, Madam, Eww! Can I keep it in my pants for at least three days? With this existence? What are the odds? Hmm.

Rest In Peace, Gabriel Michael. Be Nice, Braxton Barks, Please.

“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1282 Days Without B III, Day 723 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 028 ~Rage Against Plenty Of Things~

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Some people only seek out hate. Sadness makes it so I can’t breathe. Lust and Fear, too. Rage? I’m like a carrier of the “rage virus” in 28 Days/Weeks Later. But that only condemns me. And the ashes were once known as B. Rage Against Plenty Of Things

Monday, July 29, 2024

Meditation 028 ~Rage Against Plenty Of Things~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Fourth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… like choosing my fears over rage. I choose plenty over rage. But that’s the secret, like Bruce.

“I’m Always Angry”
The Avengers

You know one of the many reasons I envy my son? He’s dead. And don’t get me wrong, Madam. You can hate the dead. Speak ill about them and everything. But of everything I remember about my Braxton. I don’t remember the anger. And I was angry at him, sure.

But not once have I been angry about him leaving, as I told Dear Future Wife today. It’s Tuesday, July 23, 2024. Anyway, I told her I was always angry at me, myself and I.

Again, every book on loss is against this. And I’m mad at those writers. But it doesn’t mean I go around burning books like some people. B III’s death is in the hands of two.

But more on that later. What am I mad about today? There’s been Humiliations Galore?

Which is why we’re talking today. Only what has me now this second? Existing, Madam.

Everything is falling apart around me, for starters. There was a storm. So, I need to check on the fence. A light came on in the car, so I must get that checked out. I mistakenly looked up appointments, and they’re already talking about five hundred dollars. No effing way!

That means I can’t risk ordering something. But “no worries,” Madam. I won’t let Virgil starve. And Virgil is as confused as ever, not realizing his business belongs outside only.

It’s not like I’m training him or anything. Locking him behind one of Braxton’s gates.

This brings me back to the one I hold the most rage for… Myself. And there are not enough words or time to explain why I hate myself so much. And joining my Braxton… sigh.

Okay. First is the euthanasia of my son. I blame myself and the other culprit… The Day Job. There was so much rage for and from those people there that I ignored my son. Then?

B III in a box on the nightstand. My rage burned my son to ash. The Hell within me. Rage!

I look in the mirror. Through a camera lens. Even my search history. For example, Pacifica Ocean aka Paz Ortega Andrade. That’s from a few minutes ago. Talk about fire. Rage Against Plenty Of Things

“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1275 Days Without B III, Day 716 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will