Tag: Honesty

Log 295 ~This Party Will Be~

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The day I met my wife should be the happiest day ever, and that was well… how about the day I met my firstborn, or when I met my best friend (human). I’m not one for huge celebrations, but I know the high holy days of women. “This Party Will Be”

Tuesday, April 21, 2020

Log 295 ~This Party Will Be~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I’ll benefit from the high holy days. Yeah, I can talk about Christmas, Easter, but what about Valentine’s, Halloween. Oh, to be back in the days of retail, and aren’t I still? I’ve never been one for holidays or celebrations, to be honest. Now don’t you worry, your birthday, our Anniversary, and I already mention Valentine’s Day. I’m the type of man that will bring some flowers for no reason or something shiny. An attempt at distraction perhaps for the days I should be celebrating that I usually dread.

For example, last night and this morning Saturday/Sunday. I was terrified for My Dæmon. I didn’t get a wink of sleep, which explains why I’m running so late today. Nothing is going to happen to me because I got you and the kids. I’ve never cherished every breath though with myself. When it comes to him, though? His life is a celebration. You’ve seen me buy him a mountain of fries on his birthday. My firstborn has been with me for over a decade, and it just shows I should do better. Thirty-five years for myself, and I still don’t want to go out on “My Day.” Let the kids bring breakfast in bed, and I know how I want to spend the night; with you. No singing though, no Happy You Know What. Like Dennis Hof, I might go into “work,” but that day isn’t a good one, but needs are only survivable babydoll.

When I finish writing a book, like I did this weekend, there’s no party. I take a breath and a well-deserved nap. Of course, Camp NaNoWriMo isn’t recording the finish yet. I still have editing to do, but there’s never been a thing for one more novel down. I don’t celebrate when I publish either. Most writers go crazy as in, taking happy pictures and having their family all around. I’ll party when I see the money flow into our account, and I’m sitting on a beach watching you and the kids play. Now that’s my dream. I’m sorry I’m not one for celebrations. My Love. Living is what it is, and as long as we’re happy. I don’t need fireworks, lots of loud people, and as the song goes, “You’re All I Need To Get By.” You didn’t think we’d talk without me breaking out a song or two.

Singing because you know I’m not one for “Movin’ Cool.” I promise I’ll stop, hah, but I didn’t even dance at Indiana Gone’s wedding. That was a good day, and I am happy for her, but I still regret not dancing with her. Now, of course, that explains our wedding, Star Wars meets The Hunger Games. As always, I am a traditionalist, so you know I wanted everything, but I was more for “The After Party,” hah. Baby Girl any day being with you is a good day, and you’re all the fun I’ll ever need, This Party Will Be.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 294 ~One’s Art Is Another’s Disgust~

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What am I trying to express other than an obsession with adult entertainment? I should be finished writing my book sometime this week, then editing… and I’ll file it away with all my “other” titles. One’s Art Is Another’s Disgust.

Monday, April 20, 2020

Log 294 ~One’s Art Is Another’s Disgust~

Hundred And Thirty-Third Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and that’s great. If anything, like the song, goes, “Hire eight bodyguards that love to beat up assholes.” Except those “people” would be a lot of pretty girls. No, I’m not one of those “incel” losers, and I hate how I always end up sounding like Trump having to explain what I mean. SIGH first and foremost, women are the most beautiful creatures on the planet Earth. Okay, next to My Dæmon, of course. Everything I want and do in my life comes back to that, women.

So last night, I was talking about The Eve of a Cherry,” my novel. If you knew how many days I’ve spent first on the novella and then expanding it. I keep saying I can’t let anyone read it. It won’t make money, so why bother. It feeds my rank soul. What good is it, though. I don’t have the writing chops of S. Wolf, Todd Michaels, definitely not Skye Warren or Tillie Cole. Right now, I’m thinking more of Lily White, who wrote The Five and The Director. We’re talking snuff films “ravishment” fantasies, sex for drugs, and everything in-between. That stuff gets to me Madam Justice, it makes me feel alive. I can’t watch comedy for the sake of STUPIDITY. No toilet humor. Anything with mistaken identity or twins… well, that isn’t adult entertainment, but the funny stuff turns me off, without fail.

“THEY” talk about beauty being in the eye of the beholder, but I refuse to be blind. For a few weeks now, I’ve been arguing with myself over the idea of “Doublethink,” you know, from 1984. My kid is the perfect example of that, he can be a demonic little asshat, but I love him like pancakes, always and forever. I would fight anyone, though, that says anything wrong about him. Look, everyone is entitled to their opinion. Still, it’s the concept that everything I find amazing is looked at as putrid, perverted, or petrifying. One more reason I put women in everything. Only here I am nearing the end of my story, and as Jigsaw would put it, there will be blood. The Coronavirus (COVID-19) is running rampant, and I’m upset that there are no zombies. People are willing to die for some “beautiful” world I can’t see. Our American Dreams, my such art, One’s Art Is Another’s Disgust.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 293 ~Thy Will Be Done~

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Go ahead and ask me what I want right now? Eric Thomas said if you’re going to be successful, you have to be willing to give up sleep. Well 1700 words and this conversation, and it’s after midnight. Thy Will Be Done

Sunday, April 19, 2020

Log 293 ~Thy Will Be Done~

To Will:
I AM a Billionaire right now, and when you are, remember to buy a posher bed, first thing. Please excuse me if I sound a bit incoherent right now. Wouldn’t that mean you’ve heard me coherent? Anyway, you can see what time it is now, and I will do better? Still, my will right, not yours seeing it’s a Friday night/Saturday morning. Now I’m not a Bible guy; it put me to sleep, but I was trying to read each and every book. My point is, when are you going to start calling the shots? If anything, who am I working for, and why am I done tonight.

Well, you have more food, a plethora of snacks to choose from? Tonight I didn’t eat dinner because I was too busy feasting on the word. You’re welcome because, by the time you’re reading this, you should be finishing The Eve of a Cherry. I’m tired because I used up all my adrenaline worrying about My Dæmon. He got one of his nails stuck in his collar. It’s been sigh months since that happened, and I have the money to take care of it. Only the timing is not ideal with the Coronavirus (COVID-19) out and about. Oh, and do yourself a favor, stay off WebMD. Okay, so I mentioned money. I spent most of the day figuring out what I was going to do with the stimulus. In the words of South Park, “And It’s Gone.” Why is living such a chore, I ask? Not doing Six Impossible Things:

  1. I AM Keeping It In My Pants (Day 001 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
    Failed (Day 001 No Fap)
  2. I AM Always The “Father” My Dæmon Deserves
    Failed
  3. I AM Reviewing Twenty “GULP” Poems
    Failed
  4. I AM Reviewing Raphael By Tillie Cole
    Failed
  5. I AM Not Receiving Any Warnings From Norton About Security
    Failed
  6. I AM Writing 25,000 Words, Camp NaNoWriMo “The Eve of a Cherry”
    Completed

Look at that I got one. I keep working on that story, but why don’t I stop? As one of my motivations would say, “you’ll be tired of being broke.” Eric Thomas would say you have to get tired of losing. I’m tired of being lazy, and that’s why it has passed midnight. At least it will be easier to get to sleep because I won’t be telling myself the same old video game stories. It’s been Far Cry 5 lately, and my motion sickness is coming back when I tried watching it on YouTube. Finally, I hope you’re as sick of being an addict as I am. I swear I’m not that good of a… see now I’m feeling all motivated; Six Impossible Things:

  1. I AM Keeping It In My Pants (Day 001 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
  2. I AM Always The “Father” My Dæmon Deserves
  3. I AM Reviewing Twenty “GULP” Poems
  4. I AM Reviewing Raphael By Tillie Cole
  5. I AM Not Receiving Any Warnings From Norton About Security
  6. I AM Writing 25,000 Words, Camp NaNoWriMo “The Eve of a Cherry”

It’s up to you, okay, to make this world your desire, Thy Will Be Done.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 290 ~Will’s Paining For Porn~

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The words are calling to me. Unfortunately, they are saying the same thing, and that doesn’t bode well when you are writing a book. Oh, is that what I’m doing until the stimulus check comes and what then. “Will’s Paining For Porn”

Thursday, April 16, 2020

Log 290 ~Will’s Paining For Porn~

WARNING, 18+, READER DISCRETION ADVISED

Come In Dirty Diana,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and with that kind of money, I never want to feel pin again. Now, of course, I know this is impossible, but where do most of my FEARS come from? I’ve never been hurt sexually, not in any criminal sort of way. I indeed like spankings, don’t ask how I found that out. As the song goes, “scratches all down my back to keep me right on” that’s from Crazy Bitch. So today, I started out with the idea of Hard Limits and maybe next time, but my nature is Sadism. Though I’m still here hurting myself with No Fap.

I’m still writing my The Eve of a Cherry, and how many times have I written the word FUCK? Dirty Diana, I fear the day that word loses all meaning. The thing is, love hurts ME but fucking? I get to do that to someone else, so I pursue it relentlessly. For an added bonus, fucking isn’t killing. While I’m busy repeating that word ad nauseam, along with bitch, slut, whore, cum dumpster, and others.

I call women plenty, but even in my novel, there are words I avoid. So you know, I want to say them, but there’s a line you know. Calling a girl a Fat Bitch, a cow, or even a cunt. The words don’t sit well with me. Sometimes I want to yell them out, they’re sexy but the harm they could inflict? Am I only going to talk about language?

Like the difference between Rape and Ravishment? They can mean the same, but ravishment can be defined by other means in better ways. In The Eve of a Cherry, Bridgman has no problem with blackmail or threats. Harming someone physically, though, well until THE END…

In reality, I’m a dominant, I practice BDSM. Still, before you can go there, you must know SSC Safe Sane Consensual. Also RACK Risk-aware consensual kink. However, I’m not one for leather or whips, chains are good, but I prefer more everyday items. Belts, bras and panties, a few dildos to use on a girl. The pain, though, is more psychological than physical. Thus, in some specific ways more dangerous. That’s why I have to get to know a girl or a character. With no knowledge, there is no risk.

It’s kept me from paying for a lot of porn. No, Will’s Paining For Porn.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 289 ~The Mask Of Willy~

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Last week I talked about fearing to be different and not wanting to hide. All of this would explain not leaving the house and being wrapped up in blankets. At least my kid can see my face until I take a shower and get STUPID. The Mask Of Willy.

Wednesday, April 15, 2020

Log 289 ~The Mask Of Willy~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but is it because I’m doing something positive? Chris Rock said something to the tune of a black man must be positive. In this country, it must be all good works. Of course, white people can create, capitalize, or conquer whatever they want. Excuse me for getting a bit racial. What I’m getting at today is that even if I had everything, I couldn’t imagine smiling. Happiness has become that much of a foreign concept. Besides that, every day, it’s like I’m hiding, and someday it’s all going to come out.

Here I am in a world that wants us to literally wear a mask, but do I? No, I’m too afraid of one more humiliation. I hear about people being accused of being criminals. Indeed, I might get sick, but as long as I’m what? I don’t even know anymore, Inspector Echo. If there’s something I can be sure of, it’s that I’m all sorts of lazy. Right now, I’m all wrapped up in blankets, and I could give you a dozen or so lame excuses. Last night I had a coughing fit and thought I was getting sick. It was only something caught in my throat. Speaking of which, I continue to ask the question of why do I write. Could you imagine me singing like Akon to Cherry or M Anime? I text all the time, “I wanna (love) you, you already know.” Love… that’s a dirty word considering my true motives, so yeah, what’s this about masks.

My writing is a mask because I’m not a rich white guy. I also refuse to be a STUPID black one. Yeah, I heard what I said, and you would be right to call me an “Uncle Tom” like Surgeon General Jerome Adams. At least “The Eve of a Cherry” is fiction, for the most part. Sex makes me feel “decent,” but like any other drug, it becomes consuming. As of this moment, 2 days, 17 hrs., 48 min, 36 secs of NO FAP. Will I make it the week (today is Monday)? Inspector Echo, why don’t you tell me how one is to mask desire? I have rage sure, and Zorro hid behind this persona. I guess like going to the store I won’t wear the mask and the sickness is always there waiting.

I’m sorry, Inspector Echo, for FEAR, The Mask Of Willy.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 288 ~Means To A Will~

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I’ve never agreed with the sentiment that you have to love yourself before you can love anybody else. I avoid mirror but I look at my furry son every day and if I was looking at someone next to me that decided to share my life? “Means To A Will”

Tuesday, April 14, 2020

Log 288 ~Means To A Will~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but do you want to hear how I did it? On the one hand, I don’t want you to be Ava Fontaine, not caring what I do. I’m not one to keep secrets from those I love, which explains My Dæmon and me, telling him everything.

I’m grateful I don’t have to explain who Ava Fontaine is or the term Dæmon. You see, there was this girl once who said she felt like she knew me and then she stopped talking. I know Baby Girl I can be a lot to deal with, I’m always defining myself. I’m hard to love. There’s no denying at all.

The thing is My Love, you get me, you’re there. When I tell you, “I’ll Be” the greatest fan of your life, I mean it. Obsessive, stalkerish, “I’ll be around” as the song goes, I want to know everything, from your head down to your toes. I did tell you I have a thing about feet, right? Anyway, when I quote a book, other than the question, where’s that from? I need you to know what I’m trying to say. Even if you debate me on it, don’t ask what I am trying to say. You know I hate talking on the phone, but I’m like the President with my pauses. Obama, not Trump, because I won’t lie to you ever. It’s in my silences where I speak the loudest. It could be too much to ask, but I’m not asking you to read my mind but feel in the blanks, you ought know Alanis.

Call it me getting in touch with my feminine side, and if it that offends you, good. It’s not the very first time, nor the last time. The point is you should know I don’t want to hurt you ever, okay, and even in that, I shouldn’t have to explain myself. Baby Doll, I guess I’m feeling alone, and everyone that wants to talk doesn’t get me at all. I love being a father. I love telling beautiful young women what to do. Like Jigsaw, I want people to see as I see. You’re different though, I need you to see me. That too is too much, I know. If I were to say “Stay With Me until the end, please,” You would say “Always.” Now, what game’s that from?

Sigh Means To A Will.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 287 ~Your Words Must Pick Sides~

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Don’t say it, and I wish it was something like “Cowabunga.” My Olds spent much of my life telling me not to talk, and when I grew up making me speak, but I didn’t want to sound like them. I want my words to choose me. Your Words Must Pick Sides.

Monday, April 13, 2020

Log 287 ~Your Words Must Pick Sides~

Hundred And Thirty-Second Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now because my words chose me here and now. At least I wish because they didn’t last night; two hundred words for, The Eve of a Cherry. What was I talking about last night? Yes, my tongue remained silent as I was ripped apart by the world. It reminds me of something I’ve heard from the Bible. The sins of the fathers will be visited upon the children or something like that. I’m still not a Christian man, but I am the son of one. My “Father’s” words became the world’s words, and then my own Madam Justice.

“The mistakes of our fathers make us fight our brothers.”

Again, left off from yesterday, I pick the worst words hoping once written down, they’ll take mine. The things I say to hurt myself. I remember the book Sick Fux by Tillie Cole. Evil words Rabbit and Dolly used to pleasure themselves in bed together. They were the words of those who ravished them. Madam Justice, I again practice gratitude that I never knew such horrors. Still, when one knows a monster’s pain, how dare anyone ask me to rise above. Right there, why do I immediately fall from Man to Monster? I had one of those and a good Mother, and so I became ME. I’m always trying to define myself. These words, Madam Justice, they have power, I know. So what am I doing with such force when I’m not destroying myself daily?

I wish I spoke with more kindness and love when it comes to My Dæmon. Every morning I begin with one word, “NO.” At this rate, I should consider SLEEP a holy writ for myself. Of course, neither of those words help me in the slightest. Who else do I speak to nowadays? Marianne Engel from The Gargoyle had the stone, and I have the screen, but I understand her shackles. The great labors to form her grotesques. Here I haven’t even begun my work, too busy talking to you. That’s not a dig, it was only a decision when I needed to get out of bed. If anything, I want to believe in my words. To have that freedom, but they are sitting in limbo as the song goes. Haven’t I shown on more than one occasion my willingness to destroy them, quickly enough?

Misguided, misanthropic, and missing to become decided, disgusted, and discarded. Your Words Must Pick Sides.

“The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth” – African proverb.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 286 ~Will Raises A Roar~

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Easter Sunday, though you’ll see, I’m not a participant. However, I am trying to bury my anger. It will probably rise again whenever I decide to go out and see what’s left of the world, but right now, I feel like the Devil. “Will Raises A Roar.”

Sunday, April 12, 2020

Log 286 ~Will Raises A Roar~

To Will:
I AM a Billionaire right now, and when you are, as the song goes, Heads Will Roll. Now don’t shoot the messenger… with what, gun loading sucks. At the moment Academy sucks, Jim ‘N Nick’s BBQ, Walmart. Don’t take me as ungrateful, I do appreciate the essential workers. One of these days, I’m going to give you the full speech about why I think the Coronavirus (COVID-19) had to happen. Today though, I want to scream at everybody, well not the cashier at Walmart but a bad day.

Let me say that I am the first one that will take the blame. As messed up as I am, I will take the hit, that’s how you know you f*ed up, right. I wasted another day. When I got back, even the food wasn’t enough, and I needed a pink bra and a beautiful set of boobies. It didn’t start out that way, understand. I handled the books, ordered the speed loader. Somehow I even made a semi-decent mask. Of course, I didn’t wear it. What, did I roar, did I scream, did this apocalypse finally come to fruition? No people are people. Besides telling you my mindless ramblings, I didn’t even work on the book today. Okay, that may change, considering today is Friday. Still, what will any of this mean when it comes to, and I hate saying it, Six Impossible Things:

  1. I AM Keeping It In My Pants (Day 006 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
    Failed (Day 001 No Fap)
  2. I AM Always The “Father” My Dæmon Deserves
    Failed
  3. I AM Reviewing Twenty “GULP” Poems
    Failed
  4. I AM Reviewing Raphael By Tillie Cole
    Failed
  5. I AM Not Receiving Any Warnings From Norton About Security
    Failed
  6. I AM Writing 25,000 Words, Camp NaNoWriMo “The Eve of a Cherry”
    Failed

Not to sound like Cameron Tucker. The truth is I hated most of Modern Family but was kept “abreast” about it. I probably shouldn’t say it but Alex Dunphy/Ariel Winter’s boobies. Why do I keep talking about “Divine” boobies, because I had an epiphany? I was wondering why I wasn’t swearing at Jim ‘N Nick’s. I didn’t yell at Academy Sports. You know I was scared about talking about Necrophilia. What about how many times I mentioned my gun like I like the NRA? I don’t, or we don’t. Anyway, my writing is my ROAR. It’s how I curse the sky at whomever or whatever is up there. Even when there’s nothing at all. It’s me spitting on graves or dancing. Of course, it’s how I hurt myself the most with SIGH Six Impossible Things:

  1. I AM Keeping It In My Pants (Day 001 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
  2. I AM Always The “Father” My Dæmon Deserves
  3. I AM Reviewing Twenty “GULP” Poems
  4. I AM Reviewing Raphael By Tillie Cole
  5. I AM Not Receiving Any Warnings From Norton About Security
  6. I AM Writing 25,000 Words, Camp NaNoWriMo “The Eve of a Cherry”

There’s this country song “If I Die Young” which says it best. For now, while my hands are busy in some disgusting ways. In my throat, Will Raises A Roar.

“A penny for my thoughts, oh no I’ll sell them for a dollar
They’re worth so much more after I’m a goner
And maybe then you’ll hear the words I been singin’
Funny when you’re dead how people start listenin”’ ―If I Die Young

I Will Have No Fear

Log 283 ~Will Of The Dead~

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It’s the face, isn’t it, when I’m writing out the nice guy routine that works extremely well but then what happens? I’ve always figured I would use the zombie apocalypse to date outside my league but alas no “Walkers.” Will of The Dead

Thursday, April 9, 2020

Log 283 ~Will Of The Dead~

WARNING, 18+, READER DISCRETION ADVISED

Come In Dirty Diana,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so of course, I would make this movie, “Will of the Dead.” Hell, I hunger for brains and flesh too, but of those two, definitely, I’m all for skin. For the record as the song goes, “I, got a fetish for fuckin you witcha skirt on.” Now, Dirty Diana, you have to excuse me for speaking to you at this late hour. It seems I have gained a new fetish of sorts, to quote another song, “Diamonds and Guns, Diamonds and Guns.” Only for me, it’s Boobies and Guns, Boobies and Guns. I’m being serious.

Necrophilia (Noun) ― sexual intercourse with or attraction towards corpses.

Now since I know, I’m not afflicted by that… will we go over my “Red Dawn” fantasy again? Two redheads or any girls at this point come to my place to escape The Purge. We have fun, but I decide I want to watch a Purge, so the two girls fight. What do I do with the loser? Okay, seeing as how I got your attention, I’m still thinking about that Realdoll giveaway I entered. I swear I was ready to grab up a Piper Doll for a little bit. After my story to Earth Erotic sigh, what should I spend my money on? Dirty Diana, this explains where I’ve been. I’ve talked about my new gun all this week, like some NRA cunt nugget. Anyway, I was overcome wanting to look at an AR-15 and a shotgun. A pistol scares the crap out of me, and I want bigger.

I’ll spare you the “Bang, Bang You’re Dead” script before I get to high school. To be fair, any high school teen could beat my novel, which I haven’t worked on all day. It could be having to cut the grass and deal with my Olds. Another excuse would be I regret what I did to Anna Cecilia Fae. Don’t panic! She’s a character in my story, which is looking more like a porno or a snuff film. Out of fifteen female characters, only five are fucking the Grim Reaper so far. Yeah, it’s literally beginning to look like that Hentai “Dark Shell.” If anything, that’s my saving grace. Breaking NO FAP sadly but trading shooting one thing for another. I should try shooting some words on the damn page.

Is that what I want, to keep writing, what is the Will of the Dead.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 282 ~Will To Be Different~

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Worse advice I’ve ever received, be yourself, the best advice is the same, and I haven’t erased such speeches from my motivations yet. People don’t want me to be myself, they want me to be a particular version, and so I try. Will To Be Different

Wednesday, April 8, 2020

Log 282 ~Will To Be Different~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now. Unless I invested in the WWE or my porno fixation. How about I buy-in with that drug Trump’s hocking? For now, the only number I’m “obsessed” with is how long I’ve kept it in my pants. Well’s there an App, of course, but a friend introduced me to a much better one. I still hate Math, but numbers, time, word counts, lists make me feel better. So as per usual, anything that makes me feel good is wrong or at least different, so here we go.

Inspector Echo, you know that gun I just bought that’s freaking me out? To quote the movie Snowpiercer (2013), “They’ve got no bullets!” Now it’s not like the store was out entirely, but I lacked the courage to pick some or gasps ask. I wish I could tell you that’s the only reason, I haven’t been sleeping, I did order some Saturday night though. Why I’m not sleeping, well Girls, Girls, Girls. From Whitney Wright to Lily Bowman, Little Lupe, the list goes on. I’m amazed I’ve lasted at present (8 days, 21 hr, 57 min, and 15 sec). I’ve mentioned FEAR, or let’s say general embarrassment, and you know what I’ve been harping over. It’s that lady that was yelling at me because I have to grow accustomed to the Coronavirus (COVID-19) world. Even in a blooming apocalypse, I continue to be the odd man out; give me zombies.

Well, even if the universe did, would I be upset that I was alive instead of dead? I would go get myself bitten because I don’t like how the Walkers are looking at me. I’m not scared of getting sick, I fear not having a mask and looking out of place. How messed up is that? Not more than writing a book that no one will ever read. I’ve written 10,000 more words for The Eve of Cherry, and not one of them will be published. Only I keep on writing about a wide arrange of girls I’m not with. My hands aren’t in my pants, so isn’t that a win. Win William Bridgman, one of my protagonists or antagonists, I’m not sure. It’s like trying to count up how many “adult” scenes I’ve written out. How many people side with sex over some murders?

I’m sorry, Inspector Echo, such fears Will To Be Different.

I Will Have No Fear