Tag: Hell

Chronicle 154 ~From B’s To Effs~

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No one is above the law… Well, white guys with lots of money. Or an asshole who likes to wear earphones. A chick, having full-blown conversations on the phone while on the clock. But anything that brings me peace? Air pods? From B’s To Effs

Thursday, December 2, 2021

Chronicle 154 ~From B’s To Effs~

305 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? My day was effed up with a capital F. The worst day of my life?

Of course not, B. Always and Forever, I love you like pancakes, but your last day, Sunday, January 31, 2021, is my worst. I still use that day as the bar. If I survived that day, then today was nothing. It’s how I know I’m not suicidal. Well, I’m always a little, but I’m still breathing. That leads me to Emergence Day, which is a step down from your death. Me being given life. In the words of Captain Deladier (Starship Troopers). “Someone made a BIG goddamn mistake!” My Olds. But isn’t today supposed to be about you and me, Braxton? If it were more about you back then… Anyway, like yesterday I have ten more for the Humiliations Galore.

  1. Paranoia, um, the boss got called into the office. Oh no, it’s the cops, but it wasn’t B III
  2. Paranoia, I thought I got bit by a spider. It would serve me right.
  3. Remember all those rules the Manager went over yesterday. Yeah, only apply to me.
  4. Then she went over the same rules as other people broke them. That bitch
  5. I had to hear about my ineptitude twice today fucking crappy praise from supervisors
  6. I couldn’t point out garbage bags. But after all, your daddy is a waste
  7. I couldn’t help a customer find a Hallmark ornament
  8. Here’s a big one, lying about being pissed about #3 through #5
  9. Used the restroom at the Day Job, so I’m pretty grody. No shower after, room’s gross
  10. I got a KAREN at work today over some shoes. What’s My Age Again?

So what would be your advice Little B? First off, stop doing things that will get me arrested and fired so I’d end up leaving you. I’m not a white man with money. Again rules apply to me and no one else. Take a damn shower so I can cuddle you. I did get McDonald’s today, so you would have never forgiven me for showering first. Tell the damn truth. You would use silence to lie B, like father like son. It’s sad though, I say your name to avoid cursing my entire life. But honestly, B III, eff my life. From B’s To Effs

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 151 ~Obsessed Men Are Dangerous Men~

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Docs have diagnosed me with plenty over 37 years. Social Anxiety, Bipolar Depression, Astigmatism (eyes in my head). Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder sigh. The Day Job takes advantage and how I keep a specific collection. Obsessed Men Are Dangerous Men

Monday, November 29, 2021

Chronicle 151 ~Obsessed Men Are Dangerous Men~

Two-Hundred And Sixteenth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, but as the song goes, “He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus.” But today, “It Is Finished.”

Can I be any more profane, offensive, or STUPID? That’s how I feel about today, J. Can’t I be positive for one whole minute? If I weren’t suffering from a massive case of blue balls at the moment but we’ll get to that. First things first, I’m not lying to NaNoWriMo. That’s right, Madam, for the fifth time, according to the good people at NaNoWriMo, I have completed my 50,000 words. This is the part of the story where I would pick Braxton up and dance. Of course, we’ll get to that too. Right now, my legs are twisted pretzel-like. So I finished “Behave In A Cherry Patch,” so as NaNoWriMo says, Now What? I want all the fucking badges. I can’t stand it, Madam.

Apologies for the language, but I was obsessed with writing my novel and every badge Madam. Come December 1st, I’ll never think about it again until Camp NaNoWriMo. I’ve finished three this year, two camps, and November without my boy. Um, today there was Cherry. Hell, even before her, there was Ariella Ferrera, Yuffie Kisaragi, to say the least. How many times have I wished I could be a regular guy that watches porn? No, I’m one for intimacy, meaning I need everything. Do I need to go over the list again of frightened women? Money though? Every CEO, billionaire, Mafia Don. Whatever money man gets the women in the novels I read. Or a beard and/or a motorcycle. I’m in on some particular Yabbos.

But at least for now, my grief is richer. My promise, my vow to B III. 11 Days right now. It’s been 302 Days without Braxton, though. I believe before, and then when he died, I went 161 Days. B give me strength that I don’t give in to temptation and since I’m done, Madam. Braxton is my obsession. But when he was alive, though, I became indifferent. Obsession leads to trouble, Madam. And it seems, for the most part, my obsession is my own pain. As another song goes, I’m just a sucker for pain. Yeah, fuck you, Hemingway, for dinging the word “just” and the name Grammarly. Oh, there’s the $139.00 you took, Grammarly dammit. Stories, Boobies, Doggies. Obsessed Men Are Dangerous Men.

302 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 147 ~Forgetting A’s Yeah B~

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This was my son’s “Christmas.” Sure he would get a large fry for himself on birthdays. His aunt baked him a cake. He’d get half my fries when I stopped for fast food. Today though, he’d get to see Grandma and, of course, turkey. Forgetting A’s Yeah B

Thursday, November 25, 2021

Chronicle 147 ~Forgetting A’s Yeah B~

298 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? If “Only Gone From Your Sight” is to be believed, nothing I do tops wherever…

Only I ask that you allow me to try. Now we never did the holidays though you stuffed your face full of fries on many birthdays. There was also the time your Aunt Carolina “baked” you a cake. And let’s not talk about my Emergence, but there was steak, Braxton. Anyway, today is your Christmas or, instead, Happy Turkey Day. Can you tell that I’m trying to remember all the good times? The way you would dance around. And B, if you’re a good boy, pretty lucky one, grandma would pat your head. Thanksgiving dinner. Braxton, this isn’t me being a smartass, but you do remember last year? She brought a whole turkey… You were here to share it with.

Speaking of sharing, you know it’s my routine to share my sins on Wednesday. I did plenty, but I’m talking to you a bit earlier, not by much. You know about this time with NaNo season, I’m deep into my writing. There was the time ants invaded us one year. While I was working this afternoon, I found that I got 4,600 words down before 5:00 PM. So that’s good for me, right? You know what I’m doing half the time… But do you know why I got this done today? I didn’t stop to cry over you. Oh, I sobbed later, B as always. Braxton, it was like you weren’t on my mind at all. Language of the Heart, Only Gone From Your Sight.

It gets worse B III. Yesterday I spoke about things from my past. There are things I bought or did before you were ever here. I’ve been lugging one around with me all day. I feel as Ellie did some “Its light on the reading, but its got some interesting photos,” Um, yes and no. English Visual Novels B III. We would lie right where I’m sitting now, and I would read all sorts of stuff. Of course, things like cough Virgin Roster cough I saved for when you went to bed or got in trouble. Finally, there was what concerned me before you died. I shouldn’t cough, and I should say you’re still alive. Right now, though, I’m hungry, and I can’t share with you. Forgetting A’s Yeah B

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 144 ~Guilt Is A Controlling Mechanism~

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If I had known the moment I called B and he hopped in the car that this is how it would end? Hell, I do shit all the time knowing that it could come crashing down. Yet my guilt at all that I’ve done hasn’t stopped me… Guilt Is A Controlling Mechanism

Monday, November 22, 2021

Chronicle 144 ~Guilt Is A Controlling Mechanism~

Two-Hundred And Fifteenth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, and if I have learned anything from others. There’s no shame, guilt. No need for a conscience.

Mine died 295 Days ago. My soul, my serenity, my son. His Dark Materials put it best, my Dæmon. If I had any reason to stay in line, it was him and now? Well, why do you think I’m calling you so late. Every day I don’t leave this bed, um, every afternoon, I fail. I keep up with Braxton’s treats… what was it a day or so ago? I noticed I missed one. When I leave the house, I keep up the usual banter, and when I return. I’ve had tacos, two days. Hell, Madam, when I don’t bring fries back, I know that I’ve failed Braxton. Daily ritual. When I can’t keep it in my pants because I want to feel something “good.”

Fuck Aria Logan and Cherry, um yes, please if again you’re wondering where I’ve been. Satisfaction? Nope, guilt kept me from coming. It’s the guilt that keeps me from going. Back to bed, that is. Only again, I’m sitting right here knowing I won’t get a wink tonight. Not if I don’t tell you all these horrible things in my life. Losing Braxton, always first. There’s also my nighttime ritual of lying to NaNoWriMo about my progress in writing. What about the Day Job I hate? And yet feel like I failed them, and by God, I did once again. It’s the guilt. I am guilty. And if I told you all my secrets… “First, let me explain that I’m just a black man,” yep.

While I’m busy ripping off songs, “I’m only human after all. Don’t put your blame on me.” While I was reading this evening from “Only Gone From Your Sight.” Jack/Kate says, “stop identifying yourself as my victim.” When it comes to B III, I never have. What do I see? The killer in the mirror, staring back at me. B III is the worst thing I ever got away with. Take your pick with the things that could cost me everything. He’s the one life, the crime everybody goes “meh.” Braxton’s body wasn’t even cold. Father “Get a new dog.” Fucking asshole, and I feel guilty saying that. I say guilt controls and yet my crimes. Braxton is still dead. Guilt Is A Controlling Mechanism

I believe in consequences.

No, you believe in guilt.

Maybe. But guilt before we act is called morality.
“Liberal Arts“

295 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 140 ~B In The Corner~

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Don’t remember when I was a boy (I still am, overgrown baby at 37) if anyone ever told me to stand in the corner. I got a friend who wants to be a real fighter; as for what I want to do in the corner. Sit in the fetal position and cry. B In The Corner

Thursday, November 18, 2021

Chronicle 140 ~B In The Corner~

291 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I hate saying this, but this is another day I’ll curl up in the corner.

“Legends don’t die; they reload.” There’s also, um, “Marines don’t die. They go to Hell and regroup.” Now ain’t the time for such ideas? I also know I’m no legend or marine. But B III, the world is a step closer to the brink, and where are you, apocalypse partner? Braxton, I know I’m late talking to you today. When I did wake up from my nap today, I was scared out of my mind. It’s been 291 days, and I’ll always miss you guarding the stairs. The days when you would sit in the den waiting for me to share my fries Little B. It was the only way I could get undressed. The corner of my bed B III brings me to today.

First, it was your spot to protect me. I would wake up and not fear a goddamn thing in the darkness. You’d be sitting right there staring into the abyss which is outside this room. Second, I’ve been reading a lot about what dogs can see. It’s no secret that even when they said you were going blind, you could see me. You fought back the evils of my mind. No wonder I’m thinking about the military, or it could be First Blood and Red Dawn. Anyway, third, speaking of movies, you were always in my corner, my Mick. Nicknames? You, more than anybody, know my affinity for good cinema. In this case, Rocky. And then, last Saturday, I went looking for an Apollo Creed.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pv8wFyt2jQs

I’ve been waiting to ask you all week, what would you think about that? Lord Give Me A Sign as the song goes. Last night your grandma called and told me your great grandfather’s dog passed. Are you making new friends? That was a warning. Dammit, I could not go through such a loss again. Then at the same time, I could have saved him B. I’m talking about Chase at PetSmart. To be a Dad again? I’ve never stopped. Only I’m not worthy. Now yes fuck R. Kelly as a human being but that song Bad Man. “And don’t need no love.” That’s what I keep telling myself, but there’s one problem. You’re standing right there in the corner and ain’t hear no bell. Woke, B In The Corner

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 137 ~Victory Is Faster Than Escape~

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So what did I win today? I didn’t get fired from a job I hate; my humiliations were kept small. Somebody got banned on my blog. I get to talk more about my dead son. This for sure ain’t winning, but where would I run? “Victory Is Faster Than Escape”

Monday, November 15, 2021

Chronicle 137 ~Victory Is Faster Than Escape~

Two-Hundred And Fourteenth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, and money is the fastest way out of any situation. Well, a bullet, bucks, and, yeah, boobies.

I find the sandman can be as efficient as any hitman. He acts as quickly, at least because, as you can see, I’m still alive. I swear, J, if you told me I could close my eyes and never open them again… I’m not saying something STUPID like I love you, I’m not crazy either. Yeah, I keep telling myself that. Hell, I ain’t been right since Braxton died; I wasn’t right before that, but I at least had someone. I told Carolina Bound today, you know B III’s Aunt that it keeps piling up. All that pain, prose, and those penis-pumping wants. Is it any wonder I became a monk 288 Days ago? Victory, Escape, no Madam, I was defeated. Accept my unconditional surrender.

NaNoWriMo hasn’t defeated me yet, but I still lie my ass off every day. It’s like I’m some make-believe General and I would settle for that than what I’ve been. Today has been challenging, and what am I complaining about? Who am I complaining to; a better question, J? This Monday, I have yet to cross the point of no return regarding my writing. I even listened to some motivations, and I was getting revved up and then, of course, life. It seems that I and everyone else in my life are dreaming of a place to call home. Where’s that? Tell me where Braxton is and that I could follow him. B III fought hard just to get home. He’d want me to win.

The problem is to be a winner, I have to destroy the man he tried to save. Does that make any sense, Madam? How do they say you win some, you lose some, but you live. Talk to Braxton about his last fight. I had to destroy his father and become the freaking reaper J. I was telling Cherry this morning that a man provides for his family, and may I be such a man someday. I’ve often said that the epitome of manhood is not where you stick your dick but what happens after. Being a father, that’s me winning, success, victory. I would instead Take The Long Way Home. Braxton died at 15; I’m 37 and getting older. Victory Is Faster Than Escape

288 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 133 ~So Who You B~

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Yeah, sometimes I’m too tired. Others I’m asking for help in the strangest of ways. If “This Dog’s Afterlife” is anything more than wishful thinking, then dogs learn how to read. So I keep writing to my lost boy. Or I should ask, “So Who You B.”

Thursday, November 11, 2021

Chronicle 133 ~So Who You B~

284 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? If “This Dog’s Afterlife” is any indication, then I’m sure it’s freaking awesome. I hope

Santa, is that who I should be talking to? I was thinking more Morgan Freeman, aka Red. “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year,” well-inching closer Braxton. Awesome… Satan doesn’t think so, or that’s what I was thinking to myself when I held Chase the Saturday before last. I should stop thinking about that fur baby. Christmas present now? Soldier, steady on. But while I got soul, I’m not a soldier as the song goes, and yes, I know what day it is. It was yesterday, though, that was so exhausting. I’m all discombobulated. Like on any day since you’ve been gone, I’m trying to find myself again. 284 Days isn’t going to cut it. I’m only hoping that I can be as productive.

Writing? Is that what I’m doing. I’m a writer. I still remember you thought I was a doorman with your demands. At least you got me out of bed, B. Where am I right now? Wealth isn’t raining over me, but I did get paid today. If you were here, I wouldn’t ever let things get this bad. B, I’m looking at grilled cheese sandwiches, and as for your food? Women never came before you. Though I thought for sure, you would have gone home with your aunt. How about the way you led her to the bedroom? Southern Braxton… Have you changed at all? As I said before, with the book, I’m reading. If it’s one thing I know, it’s that you could fly.

Sinning prevents me from doing as such. Yes, your Daddy is still on his wanting to be a monk trip. At least I did do some pretty decent work, though… after. You had gone out. Survivor, or the Soul Survivor, that’s what I am now, and I don’t like it. But I better get used to it because come this Saturday I will still be alone. Heaven, the Rainbow Bridge? Savior, when I don’t look a thing like Jesus. Sorry about all the musical references. As I said, I’ve been working. But how could I see you again? Had I known how to save a life? That was the last song, promise. But my B with everything you have going on. So Who You B

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 130 ~Pain Should Never Be Hoarded~

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Too many damn sticky notes. Floating around me. Those yellow note pads are only one more thing that I’m hoarding for work. Humiliation, Hurt, a hunger for something more than this. But no, only pain. And I know… Pain Should Never Be Hoarded but

Monday, November 8, 2021

Chronicle 130 ~Pain Should Never Be Hoarded~

Two-Hundred And Thirteenth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I’m the biggest victim in America. Woe is them and me, right. Oh, the pain…

Yeah, that ain’t true. As the song goes, “Mo Money Mo Problems.” What I wouldn’t give for such burdens. Ahem, my son’s life, light reminders, literally parts of my flesh. If I ever get that tattoo of him or decide to become a monk, hmm. Asking where I’ve been today. What on a Sunday evening, knowing that this week is going to suck? It’s torturous making money. Or at least the way that I go about it. Instead, I would choose to be a pimp, a man of prose, a pornographer, but we’ll get to that. Like everything else, sigh. Money is the root of all evil or the lack of it. I go back and forth. It’s strange how sins connect. Greed and Sloth.

I would say that I’m greedy with sleep, but what have I been doing all day? If I haven’t been on my belly sleeping, I’ve been grinding away. No, I don’t mean that in a good way Madam. I’ve worked on two galleries today, and neither one was Braxton’s. Earlier this morning, it was all about Yabbos or the complete lack thereof. Coins, cash. There are another few C words I could talk about, but neither one is polite conversation. Madam, the truth is, I hoard lust. If I had the money, it would all go right back there now. What about my boy? Braxton’s been gone 281 Days, and again where is his reminder, his tribute. Well, other than sitting on my nightstand, Madam.

So why not wrath? To roar, to rampage, to have revenge. It’s thoughts like that which let me know humanity. There is too much hate, misery, and pain. To quote another song, I’m just a “Sucker for Pain.” It’s what makes me the perfect sadist; I receive but choose to give. The only time I denied, despised, and became disgusted by pain was that of Braxton’s. Madam, the pain I’ve felt of losing my only begotten son… Should I chill with that religious reference, Madam? Anyway, that kind of pain nobody but me deserves. Masochism? No, I don’t enjoy being in pain. How about being broke, belittled, and Blue Balls? Where should the pain go, I ask. There’s nowhere. Yet, Pain Should Never Be Hoarded

281 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 126 ~Just Be It Braxton~

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Nothing against Nike other than the expense. Too busy with my belly, some English boobs, books, and of course B III. No, I can’t Just Do It. Although if it meant my Day Job for the rest of my life? Why I don’t fear Hell but Happy Just Be It, Braxton.

Thursday, November 4, 2021

Chronicle 126 ~Just Be It Braxton~

277 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Or should I be asking, were you a good boy? It’s Heaven, Rainbow Bridge, whatever.

But then again, you were here… It’s the end of the spooky season, I know. And I did eat quite a few chocolate-covered almonds. My form of an exorcism, hmm B. But driving you away? I did that before, but let’s not talk about January 31st but here on Day 277. Hell, I didn’t get anything done. 3 things woke me up this morning, your picture and hoping for Cherry’s boobs. I’d swear you were haunting me if I didn’t notice the power had gone out. If only for a second. I found your PetSmart bandannas on the floor, but they could have slipped off, B. I’m looking for signs, Braxton. Last Saturday in particular. I’m a fucking traitor B III. Pardon my language, B.

What kind of monster am I? Well, I killed you, and people want me to stop saying that. Deaf ears, dead man. I wish I could return to being the zombie-like man I was afterward, B. Yesterday I was intent on becoming a ghost. All the white ceiling dust or my white shadow following behind me. I was in the air on all those ladders, and if I fell, Braxton. It wasn’t high enough to kill me, but sticker shock at the hospital. Which brings me to why I ain’t writing? I didn’t want to be a murderer, and I can’t stand liars. My NaNo novel? Even in that, Win William Bridgman wants to sleep. I didn’t make the girl a corpse but a robot.

Would you have liked to be a robot, like out of Alita: Battle Angel? I never showed you off when you were alive and since you’ve been gone. Every day now B III without fail. Today if I died and went straight to Hell because I trust I’m not going anywhere else. Would you come looking? You’d go What Dreams May Come. Don’t Braxton ever. Braxton, knowing how you listened to me before. Sad the first time you ever obeyed some orders, it took three needles. I’ll never be that man. Holding that fur-baby Saturday. Braxton, he got lucky I didn’t choose to bring him to your home. Wherever you are, I hope you’re happy. Regardless of Yabbos, happy I can’t Just Be It, Braxton.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 123 ~Outlive Your Enemies, Not Friends~

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There ain’t no rest for the wicked as the song goes. Not for them or me. Only the good die young. Where’s B III? He was my baby even at 15. Old dogwise. Hell, I did believe he would outlive me… I had my reasons. Outlive Your Enemies, Not Friends

Monday, November 1, 2021

Chronicle 123 ~Outlive Your Enemies, Not Friends~

Two-Hundred And Twelfth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means the man I’m looking at is the world’s enemy. Somethings will never change, Madam J.

Of course, right now, I’m scraping by. The fact that we’re speaking on a Wednesday afternoon in October (Time Travel) lets you know that It WASN’T A Good Day. It’s one thing to not have any friends at the Day Job. I don’t want any but being lied to, Madam. I’m sure that the manager lied to me about my paycheck and my responsibilities. Who knows, I could be wrong, but everyone there believes I’m STUPID anyway. It’s a disease. Not only STUPIDITY but how I find enemies. It’s like a fucking Hydra. One head drops dead. And two more rise. To think of all the times I got mad at Braxton for barking at nothing. No, he saw everything.

Well, not me. B’s murderer, his killer, the fucking Grim Reaper. People are getting sick of me saying that. Hell, I don’t blame them. I reached out to a few friends today (Wednesday). Braxton’s aunt said hello. Another is pretty injured, and one said nothing. That leaves me with a few choice words for the man in the mirror, well, one. “Yuck.” Remembering my motivations. Someone spoke about your best friend/worst enemy staring at you in the mirror. Well, Braxton was my best friend. My worst enemy lives on. If I had the guts to leave my Day Job, they would go on. B III would have died faster. Yet here I am, Madam repeating the words of Rick Grimes. “We Are The Walking Dead. Lived to become the villain.

Like father like son, right? If my father and I agree on anything. It’s the fact that I should plan on not outliving him. He’s over half my age, of course. Fuck I’m thirty-seven. Every E-Day is a failure. Oh yeah, today starts NaNoWriMo and NoFap. The Good, Bad, Ugly. Only Braxton isn’t here to sit under the table, keeping me focused. Hands meet keyboard. You don’t see any girlfriend around here making me break into “Baby I Love You.” Madam, you’re an imaginary one out of six, and I should be writing about “Bridgman.” Oh, what? I’m not writing about B III again. I outlived him, and my enemies are slothful. I’m the worst of them all, dear friend. Outlive Your Enemies, Not Friends

274 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will