Chronicle 278 ~That B’d The Line~

I read something once to the tune of making sure your bags are packed if you ask a person to choose between their furry kid and you. A line in the sand, if you will. I deal with a line ending my son 429 days ago on a piece of paper. That B’d The Line

Tuesday, April 5, 2022

Chronicle 278 ~That B’d The Line~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and I always figured it would make me happy. There’s your boobs, my boy, a b…

Well, a dangerous word that would be crossing the line. It’s why, once again, I’m time traveling. Constantly reminded of the bullshit of the old Day Job. Pardon my language. But you know, babydoll, I’m not one to lie ever. I’ll admit I’m one to omit specific things when needed. Only I know with “All These Things That I’ve Done,” I did kill my son. Even now, 429 days since, all I can think is that B III needs some company. Why do you think I read a book on reincarnation? The Rainbow Bridge, the Other Side, Hell itself, Braxton is my family. He didn’t have anyone else; I shouldn’t say that. His furry family could greet him? I need a drink or good drugs.

How many lines were I, “Tryin’ ta get over” to get next to you? B III was always on my side of the line, and when I hopped it? Ah yes, here come my tears now. Today, being Sunday and all. Of course, this was his last day. I stole his line. Or, more as we said it together, “can we go home?” No, he wasn’t at the vet now to get better. Protecting him. Anyway, I remember the things I kept from him. The stuff I showed Braxton’s aunt… There are lines, even now, I can’t utter because those would be the ones to end me even if truthful. I’m not some fucking member of the “GQP,” again language. Black lines, skin, over white…

A smooth talker, or as Sade put it, Smooth Operator. I know I’ll cut my phone off. That’s something you have over Braxton. He hated my phone, and I don’t think I cut it off even when he lay dying. No beeps or boops, though, ok one boop as I watched him. B III’s nose. I’m trying to say that I wish I could remember the line that got you. The things I needed to say. I’ve continued to tell this story but the moment I knew I was Braxton’s family was when I said, “get in the car, B.” Without a word (rolls eyes), he hopped, Braxton and Will. So what’s my line? I love you and him, always, forever. That B’d The Line.

429 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 271 ~To B In Love~

If you asked me right this second, who or what I loved? My Ma? Then why aren’t I a better human being? My writing? Then why do I still have my effing Day Job? B III? Where’s my tattoo, my gold chain? Why isn’t he alive? “To B In Love.”

Tuesday, March 29, 2022

Chronicle 271 ~To B In Love~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but I don’t love money. It’s more like I love not thinking about money. “Brewster’s Millions?”

But to this day, this remains my position on love. Love is the want, need, desire, the ability to put one above self. But, when I remember all my younger years, chasing several “shes who shall not be named.” I accept my foolishness, my “Idiocracy,” hell, stupidity. Hate that word. If it ain’t music, YouTube Reactions, or movies, it’s audiobooks. I’ve heard plenty, my love. Oh, and about “that word,” “stupid.” Don’t go there. Hey Stupid, I Love You… Divorce. Another big no, no would be getting rid of my four-legged child. 422 days dammit. Dearest, you’ll have to forgive me. The fact that I’m speaking through time travel lets you know, today is one of those that reminds me of my old Day Job.

Ok, so let me start over. Like an old fucking Republican that has an answer but asks again. What Is Love? I swear, I’m trying to chill on the pop culture, but “Todd,” Succubus Lord? I want to say that love is routine. I can’t tell you how I feel calm, peaceful, and glad when I know everything has its place. When I know where I belong. When B passed, day fucking one, I said everything remains the same. Everyday Is Exactly The Same. I’m trying. Anyway, I fill his water bowl, call him for meds, say hello and goodbye, because how can I not? A Man Provides… yes from Breaking Bad. But Stephen King wrote that Hell is repetition. Love grows, you, our children.

This leads me to believe that love is obsession or at least some form of madness. It’s an addiction, a habit, but that sounds like routine… And don’t people dive into them at their darkest hour. Well, until they hit rock bottom. Then they die or recover. Losing my son… Yes, that’s rock bottom, but then I look at you. Oh, I know it can get worse. I’d take it as another punishment in my failure to protect Braxton, but I can’t lose you, Babydoll. Continually I say I’m in love, which has never changed, but why doesn’t it feel that way right this second? When you love by my definition and that one above is gone… well, people choose eternity, To B In Love.

422 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 264 ~Being Blind To Love~

The perfect woman? Not much has changed since Princess Leia. Take a look at most of the Star Wars heroines. Padme, Rey, Jyn. Had a big crush on Katniss. Hell Braxton had plenty of brown/tan hair. Here I go crying. Being Blind To Love

Tuesday, March 22, 2022

Chronicle 264 ~Being Blind To Love~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but no, I’m not into organ harvesting. Um, at least not the usual type. Kinda dark…

Would you instead have me crying about B III? It’s been 415 days now (Sunday, March 13, 2022), but I know that’s one thing that hasn’t changed. How long will I cry for B III? Indeed how long will I deny myself the pleasure of your company or without? Yes, at the moment, I want to keep my monk status. And it’s one more reason I find myself in bed. Look at the time, 3:00 in the afternoon. I would hate to meet the man in the mirror right this second. Hell, I have hated him for again 415 days by now. Then I wonder what you see in me. I mean, you haven’t walked out yet. I don’t have qualms about my body, ha.

You know my whole business is based on being a shallow prick. Am I not, considering I’m open to lots of women. In the “company sense,” Baby Doll; always, forever. I’ve got the perfect woman at home. And yet I am where I am now in life? And the others? These men aren’t looking for love. Well, at least I hope not though I can understand the idea of “I’m In Love With A Stripper.” But of course, that’s only one aspect of “my place.” As I said, I’m one for all the organs. Some I like looking at. And where others stick them well… And I’m not in love with the almighty dollar either, but I always want more. Greedy? One woman, one family?

One dog, which is my Braxton. B III. I ask myself, when did I know I was in love before. On the one hand, it was love at first sight. He was a puppy; what monster doesn’t love puppies? But he wasn’t my puppy. The moment he had my heart was when my Olds moved, and I said get in the car B. If it worked for Chris Rock right,” Bitch, get in the car.” As for when I knew I loved you? If I told you everything, I looked for physically in a woman… Braxton’s Aunt could sum it up. But when I knew you had my heart, well? Some say love is blind. I’m shallow. But loving another furry? Being Blind To Love.

415 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 257 ~A Write To B~

All the signs that Braxton has been sending… I hope he has been sending and still is, and what have I responded with. Considering when I’m writing this because I won’t have the strength after. I’ll hate myself the rest of the day. “A Write To B”

Tuesday, March 15, 2022

Chronicle 257 ~A Write To B~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means writing a check shouldn’t be any big deal. It’s more anxiety-driven than financial. (Shudders).

Imagine the time spent thinking money. Republican Tendencies, America, Everyone. Hell, what about the time I’ve wondered about the ghost dog Saturday, March 5, 2022. Aren’t I time traveling now? That’s what happens when you don’t learn from history, baby girl. I’m doomed to repeat it. Even though now I love what I do for a living. A living, huh? Aren’t I having the time of my life in my business? Braxton’s death… 408 days. Such a love puts me to shame. I wonder if it would put me out of business. Who would have thought being in a room full of women would tick me off; Karens/Rebeccas? Less than the old Day Job. You don’t want to hear me go into that. Time Travel.

I know you wish I would. Become the man I once was. But again, I say of love once known. As a husband, I deal in LOVE… ok, and a bit of LUST. In business, it’s all LUST, you know. Only B was the first to give love meaning. Is that an insult, to my Olds, to you our kids? 15 years 13 days, and I’m still trying to define it. I don’t mean any offense to the “people” in my life, but I think of all I have said. More like all I have written down in life. To my “father,” there were notes for money. Oh, begging for something like Braxton. The first time he buys a “family dog.” He’s for my sister, ha.

If that wasn’t a sign? Oh, for weeks, I’ve been going on and on about signs. Am I still hmm? You’ll never see me leaving with a pink slip, writing two weeks’ notice; my businesses. Baby doll, it’s only days like today; I go back to thinking I should walk out on the old Day Job. Remind me someday to write about how I escaped that shithole. Pardon my language, but the Day Job is a shithole. I’d call it the ninth circle of Hell, an accessory to the murder of my son. Anyway, why would I write a book for such a place? Never… Instead, I would write of Braxton. I would speak of love. But to you and everyone. A Write To B.

408 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 250 ~Bruh, By, Bye Love~

No, I’m not “religious.” I love No Strings Attached Sex, FWB, and saying hi to my monster as much as anybody. Not as much as being Braxton’s Dad but a close second. Sex does have a purpose, though, other than fun and beauty. Life… Bruh, By, Bye Love.

Tuesday, March 8, 2022

Chronicle 250 ~Bruh, By, Bye Love~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but by the sweat of my brow? All the beauty in creation but being a creator?

I am struggling over whether to confess. That I’m not much of a creator? True enough, but there is more. Braxton, he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t get me wrong, baby girl; you can easily see your effect on me. I’m just a man, only human. The knowledge that I’m a father when I look at our children… I still cry every day for Braxton. 401 days and still counting. But looking at the family we have made together brings more tears of joy and gladness. I can’t swim, but I haven’t drowned as of yet. Babydoll, it always comes back to why all this beauty ends up in my hands. Hell, why aren’t I jealous when not by these hands hmm?

There’s much to be rage about, Spotify, the destruction of this world, hatred of self. Inevitable but let me fall back into the music, “With Arms Wide Open.” It would be those lines, “If I had just one wish, only one demand. I hope he’s not like me. I hope he understands.” But I look to the signs but not the ones I’ve been reading about. But why do I have a hard time finishing writing books or making anything? “Why do the things I hate come so naturally?” That’s “Dance On Our Graves” Paper Route. To bring beauty to the world… I’ve said that Braxton was the best man I know. If he was so perfect, what’s that say about me, his Daddy? Am I good? “Bye Bye, Love…”

Damn! You know something; I should talk to robots more often because I got it. I talk plenty about hatred and pain. In another life, I studied torture. I always looked at it as a means of intelligence gathering. But there is something else, babydoll. Torture is fun. Same with sex, making love, fucking, pardon my language. Yes, fucking is all kinds of fun. Again, next to being Braxton’s Daddy, it’s the best thing ever. But as I keep saying, fatherhood is the epitome of manhood. Making love also means the chance to create life. Braxton was not a life I made, but he is my own. I thank everything for you. The children… a joint effort. To fear losing life… Bruh, By, Bye Love


401 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 243 ~Reasons To Be Comfy~

I’m never happy people knows that. I have/had Love, isn’t that supposed to make you happy? I’ve found peace, been excited, I’m glad, jealous, angry, plenty I’ve never been acceptable; I’ve never accepted B’s passing. Happiness, Reasons To Be Comfy

Tuesday, March 1, 2022

Chronicle 243 ~Reasons To Be Comfy~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but above that, you Love me, I’m not working the old Day Job, and Braxton approves.

Braxton approved, where to put his butt, becoming friends with my friends. And beautiful women. If you weren’t a sign from him. Hell, that has to be the greatest compliment I can give you. Braxton is all about you. Also, I don’t have to share your Yabbos. He’d like them. So why are we talking this afternoon, Sunday, February 20, 2022. I like my business. Undoubtedly it makes other people uncomfortable. But after all my years feeling that way, simply breathing. Speaking of which, I still don’t feel right without B; it’s been 394 days. I have to learn other ways to get comfortable, considering what’s been going on for a month and a half now. It’s still not worse than losing my little boy.

What about our kids. Don’t they bring me some comfort and happiness? That’s always been a touchy idea with me. Being happy? I’m talking like “The Giver,” you know, Love. Knowing things makes me comfortable. Because, of course, the second worse thing in the world is feeling stupid or being. That’s why I lie down and read every night, Knowledge. This brings me back to the word happy and the book The Giver. The precision of Language, baby girl. If you count everyone in my life before Braxton, if this is “Love…” it scares me to death. Braxton was/is the first time “Love” was something not to be feared. Celebrated. The same can be said of happiness. Take Disney world, I said I was happy…

The happiest place on Earth, isn’t that what THEY say. But was I comfortable, ever? Everything I’ve been reading talks about being happy again? Even Braxton knows that I wasn’t. It’s like that song “If I cannot bring you comfort. Then at least I bring you hope.” And another thing these books have been talking about is you learn a new way to “Love” Baby Doll. Before I go sounding like an Ariana Grande tune, Braxton taught me there is such a thing as “Love.” It’s not a duty, an obligation, something on my to-do list. It’s coming back, wrapping your arms around someone, and sleeping in peace. That’s happiness. Love to see it with eyes and arms wide open. You. Reasons To Be Comfy.

394 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 072 ~All Hair B III~

I lost my crown when the little prince died. Still, my head is heavy, taking a good look around the world. I’m not a military man. I’m not a woman living in TX. When will they break out those white hats? I also need a haircut. All Hair B III yep

Saturday, September 11, 2021

Chronicle 072 ~All Hair B III~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and the first thought that popped into my head was Braxton’s hair. The world’s pretty cruel.

Cruel enough for Tue, September 11, 2001, to happen is what I should say. I was a High School Senior in an English Class. I had too much hair and not enough brains for sure. Lady Luna, keyword being Lady, I could talk about TX’s Abortion Ban. Oh, for the record, I’m Pro-Choice. Outside the confines of the bed, I’m not one for telling women anything. Speaking of Humiliations, I endured yesterday. That’s the last thing I want to do, from Drive-Thru to BOSS orders, ASM. Dammit, you would have thought I would have woke my ass up earlier. Turns out that Yung is right (Blue Gender). When you’re asleep, the monsters can’t get you. Want to “scare” somebody? Say you want to sleep forever.

Or planes smashing into buildings. Things we didn’t think of, as in Sometimes in April; the horror of the Rwanda Genocide. Now Texas meets The Handmaid’s Tale, I see now. “Charlotte’s Rape” in that show Private Practice. Witnessing that, how long did I watch? I still think about that short movie “Soulmates” I saw on Gofobo. The baby, the Notice. What Rachel did to herself in Fear The Walking Dead. Weren’t people disturbed by that? Lady Lu, there’s big news on The Matrix, but um; The Animatrix: The Second Renaissance. Talk about reasons to have a hothead daily. Being angry at the whole world. These horrors being real, not becoming. I don’t want to go outside, but it’s been months since a haircut, plus doggies.

I should be ashamed of hating myself. A few think I should be for crying over B III even now. My Ma said that I’ll have room for good memories. Now it’s Creep, Say Something, Asleep. How about the song Mad World, which makes the most sense? Braxton’s being as Ass. That’s what the groomer hinted at when he was getting washed. Lunalesca, I know. As small as B III was, there’s so much hair. If I stayed in bed too long, I couldn’t breathe. What A Heavenly Way To Die? The colors of Braxton make you appreciate rainbows. The softness of his fur makes you want to reach out to everything… Am I Wrong? Crying for Braxton beats this world. All Hair B III

223 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 065 ~B A Little Happy~

I had little to no control over these ramblings, or so it feels that way. How do I feel today? Going to PetSmart today. Lunch with my bestie, my homegirl… is there a manly way to say that. What little cash for food and “Emergence.” “B A Little Happy”

Saturday, September 4, 2021

Chronicle 065 ~B A Little Happy~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now; because is anyone a trillionaire? Do I need my expectations any higher? I’m not a Dad.

At least not anymore in the dog realm. Nowhere near the TRADITIONAL sense. But as has become my “New Normal,” I’ll stop by PetSmart today, then visit my second BFF. Lady Lu, I don’t mean to sound so down, and it’s only 7:45 AM. So yeah, I’m late as is. Feeling like The Priest from Romeo & Juliet “There art thou happy.” Don’t I need to go back and look up my most hated words? I’m sure Happy was on the list. When B lived? Was I happy, you ask? Hell Lady Lu, anything was better than this. For the past few days, I’ve been biting my tongue. Yesterday I finished the novel “Tampa” by Alissa Nutting. Writers aren’t meant to do as I am.

I mean to mince words for a small mind. Alissa didn’t, but every day I try to move a little bit faster. I make myself out to be smaller. And what, am I ashamed of all that I am? Lady Luna, you have seen what is becoming of this place. On Friday, I even tipped an OnlyFans creator to get my “Stuff And Thangs” promoted and expanded. A “Shower Cam,” yeah. Making money makes me happy? If it did, wouldn’t I feel something for the Day Job? Yet again, I left a note in an attempt to get out of a shift. Preparations for Emergence trouble. The second worse day of my life next to Sunday, January 31, 2021. On the 30th, I watched Braxton.

He wasn’t my happiness. How dare I, right? Nobody can make you happy, but you THEY say. Calm, Peace, Love, that was B III. I still hate the phrase “Live, Laugh, Love,” but to say B? The tiniest thing, and that’s the essence of man, I say. Fatherhood to Manhood. Titans gave creation to Gods. Those Gods made Men. Men sought power over everything, not knowing we gave our hearts to those we sought to own. Dogs? Conan The Barbarian? That’s one of the little things, Lu. At the Day Job, the first thing I would listen to is Braxton’s playlist. Now it’s TBR Schmitt’s reaction to Conan. I’m not happy. In fact, in this “Mad Season,” I feel STUPID. To B A Little Happy?

216 Days Without B III

Gospel 068 ~Willing Existence Day To Be~

Well, I’m back to time-traveling because I will be too busy surviving the day to bother with writing. Today is like someone announcing the annual Purge and that means I have to hide. Only if I were to have the Perfect Day… Willing Existence Day To Be

Monday, September 7, 2020

Gospel 068 ~Willing Existence Day To Be~

To Existence Day #36

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, yes I am. Madam Justice, today is not about a rule. It’s Existence Day. Now yesterday, I talked about reality, but today I want to speak on Existence Day um, why not now. So if you dare…

My Dæmon is an old man, much like me. He has a little beard, maybe a few gray hairs, but he runs around with my two-legged kids. If I have a son and daughter, of course, Luke and Leia. Three daughters, Katniss, Tris, and Ember. Anyway, how’s breakfast in bed? My loving wife has long gotten me over hating today. She was up early for a “variety” of reasons, and after a kiss, good morning, she’s taking pictures. After breakfast, there’s a shower, but of course, I’m not alone, and why would I want to be. No more hiding today. As I walk through the house, several of the staff are wishing me well. I don’t grumble at them. I don’t have my earphones blaring away. Even now, hearing my voice sounds a little weird.

Now I’m not working today, but somebody has to keep things running. Before my beautiful wife, I would probably have a celebration at one of my many brothels. I have established several, so there’s plenty of stops to make. Everyone’s excited, and the gifts wow. That wonderful wife of mine has a surprise at the studio. Most of the staff will be taking a lunch break as we make a movie. I swear the woman is insatiable, and I’m getting used to my birthday suit.

We take the kids to the beach. While I’m still not much of a fan of the water, my wife is a talented swimmer. My Dæmon is barking his head off, but he’s trying to pull the kids away from the water. He’s getting too old for this stuff, but what about me? My age? Heading back to the house, well geez, everyone has arrived. Cosplayers, writers, some of the tamer girls I know. Indiana Gone, M. Anime, a couple of the MILFS. I don’t dwell on those missing, and my mom is a bit freaked out, but she did raise a gentleman, I think. “Surprise,” my wife announces in her dress, and she brought a friend. Happy Existence Day.

To me, that would be perfect, happy to be alive. Willing Existence Day To Be

I Will Have No Fear

Log 119 ~Happiness Is Just Being Yourself~

Am I happy today, this second, nope, but I’m still glad; I’m finishing up today, there is food in the freezer, my kid is resting, TWD reactions are badass, and I’m not all horny, the thing is I believe. Happiness Is Just Being Yourself

Monday, October 28, 2019

Log 119 ~Happiness Is Just Being Yourself~

Hundred And Eighth Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but does that make me happy? Sometimes I like to think I’m different from other guys, and then I talk to Cherry or MILF Dos. How many mornings has it been where I’ll say I’ll do better? Well, it’s 5:00 PM, and I’m not reading but talking to you. I don’t mean that as an offense, but I should be elsewhere. Hell, I never thought I would make it this far. I hate that it bears repeating, but I’m not suicidal. Today’s lyrics would be, “I ain’t happy, I’m feeling glad,” true.

Take, for example, last night, SIGH; I broke my NO FAP rule. Call me crazy, anything but happy, but a woman saying, “I want you to feel me cum on your dick” (LANGUAGE). I know today isn’t Thursday, but that was my unfurling. Sometime this afternoon, I was talking to Cherry about old journals. You remember I wrote some hateful stuff once upon a time and got arrested, Juvenile Detention. Of course, the porno, which is the last journal I showed her, didn’t do me any favors. I might as well be like those guys that send “penis portraits.” I remember what I would write to the Basic Bitch “Skeevy” and even when I tried to be kind like to the Rainbow Girl. The cops have a point; I have the right to remain silent or not considering the company.

There is a song that says, “happiness is a warm gun” let’s not go down that road, though. Sex makes me happy, no doubt. You want me to be happy myself, books, brothels, and bucks. The only three B’s more vital to me belong to my Firstborn. How many times do I need to say it, I want to live the life of Dennis Hof. I could go through quite a few names, but wouldn’t they all be sex icons? My motivations though talk often enough of being happy this very moment. I would be satisfied if I weren’t checking my phone every second of the day. Now didn’t that start in September, perhaps? The thing is, worrying, obsessing, fearing, is all I am. So if these things don’t make me happy, then I don’t like myself wouldn’t you say?

I am trying like hell though Madam Justice, to be a man worthy of happiness. Happiness Is Just Being Yourself.

I Will Have No Fear