Tag: Hate

Chronicle 060 ~Young Deaths Equals Older Humiliations~

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This should be a longer, like B’s life. At least I’ll say it. I don’t ask for the young to die so I can make some sort of statement. To think there was a time in my life I wanted to be the Secretary of Defense. Young Deaths Equals Older Humiliations.

Monday, August 30, 2021

Chronicle 060 ~Young Deaths Equals Older Humiliations~

Two-Hundred And Third Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, but I wish I had done it sooner. Tomorrow would be good.

Tomorrow as today is Thursday, August 26, 2021. More Time Travel. Now would be a decent time to bring up Rule Number Two, “You Are Not A Caveman.” Only today’s rule is so damn usual in a world of kids dying so old white men can allow plagues, own guns. Hell, I want to be a daddy someday; I was to Braxton. The odds of B III outliving me? All I know is he should have lived longer. That is my failure and my disgrace. Thus my shame. I don’t bury children lightly, not like the men and women I see every day on TV. I don’t want to get all political, Madam; I want to be real, but manhood’s purpose is family. That’s a man to me. Be that.

I’m a man, as Nicolas D. Wolfwood put it. With the loss of my child, yeah, I said it. Braxton, “He’s My Son.” With his death, I’m not like… Do you remember Hurricane Katrina? Black people lost their homes, and then they were made out to be refugees? Politics Madam. Anyway, I was never meant to make it this far. I’m about to be thirty-seven and with what I’ve done. Years of suicide attempts, not now. The lot of them I tried to hurt my father. It’s not like he would have cared, but maybe Madam maybe, shock, humiliation, failure. There was no shame when Braxton left me, for he fought with everything he had. He wanted to live. I didn’t, like father like son.

My father lives with his shame of a son, and that’s the thing, ain’t it? I live. I would have gladly died instead of my son. I was always worried about leaving B III alone. I talked to B III today (again Thursday), and I had an epiphany about why I’m still eating. Because no one will ever say he died because of his dog. How hard is it for anyone to understand this from Denzel Washington in John Q

“I AM NOT GOING TO BURY MY SON! MY SON IS GOING TO BURY ME!”

People, no, politicians have no shame. The young and the old don’t die for your power. For 211 Days, I would die for love. Others? Young Deaths Equals Older Humiliations

An old man dies. A little dog lives. A fair trade. I love you, Braxton

211 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 053 ~Lift, Step, Repeat, Falling’s Harder~

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Sum up my job, pick it up, put it down. Boxes, tools, my feet, but B wouldn’t complain if I brought food. Eat first, then let him run around the backyard. I’m cleaning up as if he’ll step off the Rainbow Bridge. “Lift, Step, Repeat, Falling’s Harder”

Monday, August 23, 2021

Chronicle 053 ~Lift, Step, Repeat, Falling’s Harder~

Two-Hundred And Second Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I always have a soft place to land. I swear Braxton quested for comfy spots.

It didn’t take me 204 days to realize he was the cuddliest thing ever. Being as exhausted as I am, I’m always grateful for my head to hit the pillow. Braxton’s fur is long gone. Madam, at this moment (Sunday, August 22, 2021, Time-Travel), I’m in B III’s favorite hoody. His pillow is beneath my feet. Yet I’m cold AF. AC, stupidity, my B’s love? Don’t you think I should look up how to work the thermostat for once? That’s something Dads do, isn’t it? Talk about a lift. For all my failures, I once could say I’m B’s Daddy. Braxton can no longer lift my spirits, and whenever I raise my foot, I’m heading off in the wrong direction. It’s a decision, I know.

When my foot comes down, I wish I was in the ground. Didn’t I say today (again Sunday) that I must be careful with my words. Like wishing I could fly as Braxton does? How many steps must he have taken in his life? I’m 36, 37, but Braxton had four paws for fifteen+ years. The thing is, he appreciated every one of those steps while I hate mine. You ask me what the last step I wanted to take was. Not as profound as what I was thinking because of the truth. Taking Braxton to die, of course. The Hardest steps of my life. After those would be the ones, well, who knows how long it took me to walk after my “Emergence Day.”

Only I keep going, don’t I? I can’t tell you the last step I took that I was happy about. Carolina Bound would be disappointed because, in July, we all went to lunch. My friends. Braxton would be proud that Saturday I went and bought new pruning shears… What’s My Age Again? I’m trying to take care of the backyard. Braxton, come play again, please? I’ve even written it into my budget now to go and pick up lunch. McDonald’s will be pleased with $10. Taco Bell has fries. I need plenty after the Day Job shitshow; I know it. What else do I know? I don’t want to fall on my face; for scams and not in love again. Lift, Step, Repeat, Falling’s Harder

204 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 046 ~Decide To Accept Yourself Unconditionally~

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I don’t look at the “Man in the Mirror.” I would have to ask what I have become, and there is no answer for that. Does it matter as I would always say I could do better? B would think good enough. Decide To Accept Yourself Unconditionally.

Monday, August 16, 2021

Chronicle 046 ~Decide To Accept Yourself Unconditionally~

Two-Hundred And First Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, and I would have no trouble accepting that as a Republican asshole.

To lie, cheat, steal, and kill. Not to get all political this early in the morning cough 7:20 AM. I would sell out for the right price. Speaking to M Anime, I told her that we all have a price tag. It’s called a paycheck. For the record, mine is nowhere near $15.00 an hour. Madam, I take it right, don’t I? I’m not the first to clock in or the last to leave, contrary to my playlist. Hell, those early days of Braxton’s death, I wanted to be anywhere else. Working the Day Job was acceptable. Only I say it every Sunday, the roughest thing with my Six Impossible Things. I WILL Be The Man My Son Thinks I Am. My Braxton wasn’t delusional.

Delusional, dumb, or dead. 197 days and counting as I refuse to accept the fact that Braxton’s gone. Even if I’m starting to talk to myself again because I can’t even pretend to speak to B III anymore. Every day is a struggle to remain that abstinent, asexual, agamist asshole. The things you learn when you’re looking for the word celibate. Anyway, I must accept what people think of me, so I spend all the time I can, hiding in the house, an asylum. Last night I had a nightmare about how I’ve let the backyard become overgrown for sure. Then it started raining, so it’s not like I can do anything about it now. Who am I kidding, right? I’ve had four days off.

There’s a difference between acknowledgment and acceptance. Notice that the rule says accept and not love. M Anime and Carolina Bound would say they love me. I’m 36, about to be 37, come Emergence Day, my first in 15+ years without Braxton. I’m a failure. Madam, what kind of man relies on his Olds the way that I do. If I didn’t have them, hmm? I acknowledge my failings in all my dealings and being a father, but I have yet to accept it never. If for any other reason, that I don’t know who the fuck I am (pardon my language). I hate that saying you have to love yourself before you can love anyone else. Braxton and I had unconditional love but now. Decide To Accept Yourself Unconditionally

197 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 039 ~I Love You Has Flavors~

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And they call it puppy love, but Braxton was no puppy at fifteen, yet he’ll always be my baby. As far as other babes or whatever movie I happen to be watching… The Tomorrow War. How about the love of money? I Love You Has Flavors

Monday, August 9, 2021

Chronicle 039 ~I Love You Has Flavors~

Two-Hundredth Rule Madam Justice

I AM a Billionaire right now, but as The Beatles put it, “money can’t buy me love.” Only I know plenty of websites that disagree.

It’s been 190 days, and I don’t even want to think about love. I love that little doggie in the window. Which doggie, what window, you may ask. I answer, where have you been. Nobody loves me enough to read this, and no, I’m not complaining but stating the obvious. How I wish love could be so frivolous as to allow me to keep loving The Tomorrow War. It’s my Flavor of the Week, as it were. I can’t even watch it anymore, Amazon Prime. Finances have been a pain in my ass as I did them this Sunday afternoon. You know what that means. This week is going to be um eww and my usual blah, Olympics, the WWE. Books have been good though

My love of reading is nothing in comparison to that of B being here. Now I wouldn’t read my A.J. Markam title to him, but Chris Dietzel has been speaking to me. What do these authors have in common? Nothing? But my rage at myself and my desolation as well. Madam, it wasn’t supposed to be this way. Braxton and I were aiming to be the next Dennis Hof and Domino. Of course, that type of lifestyle wasn’t about love. I did want to give him a mom and siblings. How dare I dream of such love without Braxton, sigh. Braxton loved a daddy he would never see in this life. But somebody said that love can’t tell time, hmm.

Nine weeks, nine months, until his bucket finally runs out of treats. What about those hotdogs I never eat or all that cheese? How about forgetting to fill Braxton’s water? Madam, if it ain’t the time, then it’s the expense. Hell, I had a woman offering me another Chihuahua, but I couldn’t do it. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I looked at prices. Astronomical. For me anyway, and I am not a billionaire yet? Maybe when I fill in the application form at some of these places. My words murder my heart, ha. Torture, why M Anime likes me? It’s strange to think there is so much love in the world, but I’d instead be walking Braxton singing It’s Hard Out Here For A Pimp. Life’s harder when I Love You Has Flavors.
190 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 032 ~Sweat, Blood, Learn To Swim~

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There’s always talk of sweat, blood, and tears to get anywhere in life. Who knew by this time I would have more than enough tears. And “his” blood that rests on my hands. As far as sweat… I could use more but the Day Job? Sweat, Blood, Learn To Swim.

Monday, August 2, 2021

Chronicle 032 ~Sweat, Blood, Learn To Swim~

Hundred And Ninety-Ninth Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which can buy a lot of towels. Hell, dry off in cash. I never learned to swim.

That’s because I rather stay in bed. As Eric Thomas would say, you’re given twenty-four hours, and what did you do with it? Cried about B, of course, on what’s now Day 183. Grumbled, Groaned, and Growled about today… (it’s still Sunday.) Isn’t Time Travel great? I’m not upset about grieving. That’s not going away anytime soon. And the only thing making me hot, because I’m not going outside… Yeah, by the time this is up, my blood will be boiling. Should I also add how disgusted I am with myself? I think I might vomit. Bathing is a good idea. But with all the “dicking” around, I have to do. I should stop using that word. Yeah, Madam. Go back to being a monk.

Return to some form of “atonement” as Braxton’s blood still rests on my hands. The definition of insanity. I continue to cry, but tears won’t do anything. Braxton’s still dead. The ink I spilled throughout his book “My Turn to B III” did nothing. Not that I expected it to. You must admit that there was some sweat there. I put in the work, exhausted, except that I always am. I’ve even turned to chocolate like I’m some girl. Yeah, that might have been sexist. Anyway, I was at the store the other day but not singing in the rain. Madam, I was only making more excuses. If anything, they are the one thing that is keeping me afloat. Braxton was my life preserver, Madam.

Too soon, brave captain to lose him. You know how I would tell Braxton that line from “Battle For The Planet of the Apes.” One day you will be as tall as a king. Yes, from my ankles to the couch. To the bed, in my heart on my shoulder, in my head, damn Rainbow Bridge. I’m the one that can’t stand tall anymore. I’m the one who once again falls into the bed as I did when I failed Braxton. I’m the one who bends the knee to a Day Job I abhor; who’s treated like slime and muck. Let me stop with the “I’m the one.” That’s Tony Baker Comedy. Talk about someone coming up swimming. Not me. Sweat, Blood, Learn To Swim.

183 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 025 ~A Thousand Choices Is Lonely~

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B III didn’t tell me what to do. He simply gave me a whole new set of options. Kinda like Detroit: Become Human. Without him here, you would think I would be freer but do I really want that. A Thousand Choices Is Lonely.

Monday, July 26, 2021

Chronicle 025 ~A Thousand Choices Is Lonely~

Hundred And Ninety-Eighth Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, or I would be if I would shut up and finish the damn book. We’ll get there.

So why are we talking at noon on Friday and not on Monday? Better yet, why not Friday morning at around 7:00 AM. I made a choice Madam to sleep and dick around, no doubt. Pardon my French; I’m annoyed at myself. I would be at B III if he tried to wake me up to go out. Yes, I made a choice, and that led to his death. And me, hungry, tired, angry, etc. I don’t want to leave these soft sheets because, as I told B III often enough. Make good decisions. I’d like to start working at the dining room table. “I’m Gonna Be Somebody,” I’d sing. Of course, that’s bullshit, right? Well, Braxton isn’t around to hear me use such language.

Yeah, my choice, isn’t it? My choice was to starve because if Braxton was here, he’d need water. Or I would have already gone out and picked up food if B’s bowl was empty. Being Dad. I was talking to Lady Sophia; yep, it’s Friday. Only I’m not looking to be anyone’s hubby, lover, or even Mr. Right Now at the moment. To be fair, love wasn’t a choice for me. Telling what happened this AM, was a choice, and it was the wrong one. If M Anime is right about her resistance to the vaccine, I’m going to Hell. But I already knew that. Madam, I have so many choices, but each and every time, I make the wrong one without question. Well, one.

Why? Because these choices are all about me and not about anyone else. Love makes you do the craziest thing of all. It makes you stop thinking about yourself. I’ve never liked that saying about you can’t love somebody else until you love yourself. Yes, that’s a big lie, ok. You can have a thousand choices. Although in The Cure by Sonia Levitin, there were far fewer. So I still don’t love myself. I keep saying I can’t love another fur baby like Braxton. Soon my body will give out and make me go downstairs. Before that, leave it to the Internet. And, of course, why I’m talking today? Once more choosing my Day Job over writing Braxton’s novel (sigh). A Thousand Choices Is Lonely

176 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 018 ~Nakedness Doesn’t Need Any Pockets~

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I was different when the rules came out. I can’t even tell you the year. Take a look at me now or don’t. The truth ain’t all it’s cracked up to be or cracked too much… It ain’t pretty, so I keep a mask in my pocket. Nakedness Doesn’t Need Any Pockets

Monday, July 19, 2021

Chronicle 018 ~Nakedness Doesn’t Need Any Pockets~

Hundred And Ninety-Seventh Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now. Well, if I was, I would need much bigger pockets and pants.

As you can guess, Madam, when this rule came into being, my mind was elsewhere entirely. Not that for 169 Days, I would still be mourning my lost boy. My Braxton, who was not one for clothes. He would have taken a few fingers, a whole hand, for trying. Though he loved his collar. And as Shakespeare put it, with both wind and wrack, he died with the harness on his back. He met the end with my arms wrapped around him, in his own bed, surrounded by pure love. Love Madam Justice, is not anything found in pockets. Dare I say my Olds taught me that. Putting up money, so I can live, exist, be ok right now. For the love of money

Indeed, I “love” money but considering “Stuff And Thangs.” Yet another try, not netting me any money. I’m not ashamed of my nakedness. Oh, we could have a massive talk about me but two things. One is the idea of Time Travel, and two is the rule itself, how to explain. Violence Madam takes plenty of things and places to hold those things. Love or, more in my case, lust doesn’t take anything. It’s how I try explaining to M Anime the primal need of the species. I’m not a Trumptard, but hate is more than one’s skin color, dear Madam. You tell white people they deserve more. Then black people deserve less. And like a child asks. Why? Because you’re another color than them.

My Ma called Braxton and me brothers when clearly he had nothing, while I was given everything. He was my boy, my best friend, my brother, this is the truth. He had nothing to hide and nowhere to hide it. If anything, he only hid, and that was his lies. Monday will be a day full of lies, as it is Sunday now. I can’t tell you how sick I am of lying, Madam. It’s one reason I stick with Stuff And Thangs because I don’t have to hide. Well, my face and how did Quasimodo put it, “No face as hideous as my face.” What about my mind, heart, and soul? Nakedness is a truth away from secrets and lies we all sometimes keep, Madam. Nakedness Doesn’t Need Any Pockets.

169 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 011 ~Know Real Or Not Real~

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You love me, Real or Not Real? Now I never had to ask B that question, but sometimes he gave me a look. With everything after his passing, I don’t know what to believe anymore. It’s like I’m constantly dreaming while I’m awake. Know Real Or Not Real.

Monday, July 12, 2021

Chronicle 011 ~Know Real Or Not Real~

Hundred And Ninety-Sixtieth Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which of course, is not real. Now do I want to be?

Real, always and forever, like my little Braxton. Of course, I say that now about the money because I’m highly motivated and you know why Madam. Come next Sunday, I see one more FAILURE. Oh yeah, and once again, I’m time-traveling, meaning, yes, I wasted another weekend not working on Braxton’s book. If I hadn’t wasted so many days, would I be Richard Branson? That kind of money, muscle, and mindset should be Not Real. Yes, I should have said unreal, but you know where this rule comes from, Madam. Hunger Games, Mockingjay, Katniss, Peeta. As the song goes, “This is no ordinary love.” Did I know what love was before him? Hell, my Ma is going to kill me if you ever ask her.

I’m sitting here, pretending to do something, telling myself, I’ll work on Braxton’s novel after. Do you know why I hate liars so much? I look in the mirror; I see the damage lies do. If you want the truth, I’m hungry. As I told Carolina Bound, my arm is okay, but no sudden movements. I got two books from Amazon, one for both heads. I’m always so tired now. If I want Not Real, all I need do is look at my list of Six Impossible Things. That pretending was seeing how much I don’t have to write, counting up Braxton’s letters. It’s playing around with the chicks on Onlyfans. Of course, my own Stuff And Thangs ain’t nothing to talk about for sure.

Telling the difference between what you feel and what’s real is getting harder to do. I don’t know all of what The Capitol did to Peeta in Mockingjay, but I’m more room 1408, so I think. What I need is some of that Room 101 motivation. Would that make Braxton Big Brother; everything for him? Or what about “Wanted,” shooting the wings off of a fly. I wanted to say something else, but people would take me for suicidal instead of. What, depressed, discontent, disgusting? I have to focus on something, anything else. Braxton Is Real. It could be the fact that I ducked when I heard “gunshots” just now. I’m alive, I’m real, Madam Justice, and you? Is it a question of Real or Not, more or less? I have rules for a reason. Know Real Or Not Real

162 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 004 ~Crushes And Stalkers, Fiction, Nonfiction~

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I don’t remember when I wrote this rule. But, I was in a group reading of alpha males, with flawless women on the covers. Or shirtless dudes. In their world, specific actions and words well… “Crushes And Stalkers, Fiction, Nonfiction.”

Monday, July 5, 2021

Chronicle 004 ~Crushes And Stalkers, Fiction, Nonfiction~

Hundred And Ninety-Fifth Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I can afford to lie in bed all day, now to turn off everything… right?

This is the perfect rule for today, as I’m starting a new year of Will’s Writings, Witticisms, & Wisdom. As THEY say, a “tale as old as time,” song as old as rhyme. I started all this because of a girl I’d rather not talk about, but when have fingers cared? From Lessons, Episodes, Logs, Gospels, and now here we have a new Chronicle. I’m still talking about females. But it’s been Braxton for the most part for the past One Hundred and Fifty-Five days. Don’t worry, Madam Justice, we’ll get to him. Only we must go back. There was Lesson 001 ~Look Who Grossed Up~. I thought I had a Crush; she thought I was a Stalker. No, she said SKEEVY, at first, yeah.

Even then, Braxton was here, and I thought of myself as a Daddy. No, I was only a BOY WITH A BLOG (and a dog). To be fair, I would kill to be that SKEEVY BOY WITH A BLOG again, if only for B’s sake. Five years I’ve been here, “Oh I’ve Wasted My Life.” Madam, to think wronging the Basic Bitch and I believe around ten different women was bad. My crime now is simple, and again you’ve heard me go on and on about this. I killed Braxton. I killed my son, my best friend. All with the hatred for this godforsaken universe. Now that B III’s gone, my holy trinity, it sure is. And I’m his prophet. Am I writing his Bible?

For once, I’m hoping with Time Travel and all, today is June 30, 2021; I’m writing the truth. Now that gets me back to today’s “perfect” rule. You see, life is not some porno, erotica, or even a bit of softcore. The things I do, acceptable with money, manhood, might. No face as hideous as my face as the song goes. In fiction, I’m good, but for real, I’m skeevy. No one on Earth can tell me this. B III wasn’t my son, my firstborn, yet THEY will keep telling me he was only a dog. I wasn’t a parent; B III was not my family for fifteen-plus years, Madam. Words have power. They make us “Real or Not Real.” Crushes And Stalkers, Fiction, Nonfiction.

155 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 362 ~Though Routine, War Never Changes~

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Whenever I left, I’d tell my son, “I love you, B, I love you, Braxton.” Then I’d face the world and return full of Fear, Anger, and Hate. He made sure I wouldn’t suffer alone. I didn’t notice his routine changing. “Though Routine, War Never Changes.”

Monday, June 28, 2021

Gospel 362 ~Though Routine, War Never Changes~

Hundred And Ninety-Fourth Rule

Madame Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I should be screaming at someone, screwing someone over. And still sleeping like a baby.

The routine of what I call my life… When B died, routine is what kept me running or instead shambling. To this day, 148, to be exact, I continue to do everything in my Denial. What I can’t seem to figure out; when it comes to the Day Job, is which is worse, Madam? It’s not “Another Day,” I can’t show that indifference anymore. But it was Anger that led to me ignoring my son. No answer is good for me, and why the fuck should I care what the Day Job thinks? Pardon my French, but here I am on this Sunday; Time-Travel, SIGH. The mere thought of the Day Job. “It makes my blood boil. Turns my eyes to flames,” like the song.

I don’t think I ever spoke about what happened with the signs at the Day Job. Once again, why do I give a damn? I screwed the company over, or routine; every moment is my failure. It’s me being STUPID. Next to Braxton’s loss, stupidity is the worst feeling in the world. The third would be that night remembering the Basic Bitch. Fourth, failing to know success. I said this morning that I screwed myself over this weekend. Not doing a thing to help myself. M Anime and I talked, and she’s expecting a war, and I swear I want peace. So why is it I like to fight, to be filled with rage like one of those Infected in “Patient Zero.” Remember the peace

Braxton and I, sitting on the couch. I would read, and he would sleep, perfectly content. I would wake up in bed. And he’d be sitting on the foot, watching the door. The walks we shared together when it was only us. Brothers, warriors he and I but grateful moments. It was always my promise to give him anything, everything, but that’s not the purpose of war. “War can’t give life. It can only take it away.” It feeds on itself, Madam Justice. Yet we continue, and why? It becomes our routine. For only a little while fifteen years, Madam. At least I had an ally, and I wonder why my rage overflows these days. I am The Walking Dead. Though Routine, War Never Changes.

148 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,