Log 259 ~Words Chosen Carefully Are Best~

Well, perhaps my greatest weapon is silence. People think I’m STUPID when most days it’s how not to go to jail and then I come here and what do I say, here you go officer Exhibit A and lying? “Words Chosen Carefully Are Best”

Monday, March 16, 2020

Log 259 ~Words Chosen Carefully Are Best~

Hundred And Twenty-Eighth Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but rich people trust everyone else to be STUPID. My apologies for using that word again and for thinking it ever. The truth though Madam Justice, well what is right or fact. I want to talk about my words, but then the question is, who am I?

How I like to think I pick my words for a purpose, but over the past few days, it has only been a jumble. For some time now, I look at my words like I’ll be played out to Exit Music (For A Film), my “dang” fingers and dirty mind.

Let’s start there with my trying not to swear. Don’t get me wrong; there will be a time and place for it, Madam Justice. I’ve heard people talk about foul language as a sign of high intelligence. I still find it crass and tacky unless in the right context or you’re a hot Irish girl, thank you, Katie O’Shaughnessy. Speaking of women, I see myself talking one of three ways, one as “Beggin.” The second is logical; I got money, and what do I spend that money on, WOMEN. Third, a man should be a man. I’m a Dominant for God’s sake. Only how many times have I got in trouble for being direct, forward, aggressive, dangerous? The internet seems to think so too, can I look up anything that can’t find it’s way into sex? Today (Saturday Morning), I had to write down exactly what I was doing to keep focus. I would say I should make a grocery list, but yeah, the store.

What’s the word they’re using now, um Pandemic. I talk about it being the Plague Era, and I’m not afraid. Well, I’m still joking, but I haven’t ever seen Walmart like that. I continue to use the word “excited” because I am, I built worlds off of an apocalypse. Someone could discover Audible from my stories someday, I wonder. Don’t get me wrong; I still like Audible, but it’s hard sometimes because I get so caught up in the story. Yeah, it’s pretty strange, huh I can’t keep it in my pants, I’m still hearing Rainey moaning away “Daddy.” Last is my son, who can say what he wants and knows I’ll always listen close. Three words, I Love You otherwise I’d never know them. What else can I say? Words Chosen Carefully Are Best.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 252 ~Heart Hurts More Than Body~

My Ma would tell me to go easy with all the seasoning salt. I’ve got quite a long history with women, plus I have my furry kid, I haven’t had a heart attack yet, but I know all about broken hearts. Heart Hurts More Than Body.

Monday, March 9, 2020

Log 252 ~Heart Hurts More Than Body~

Hundred And Twenty-Seventh Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, if only because I refuse to see a doctor. Not because I’m afraid. Indeed in this time of plague with the Coronavirus (COVID-19), I’m excited. Now I know that doesn’t sound right, and it shouldn’t, not until there are zombies. Okay, I’ll stop, I know I’m not funny. I’ve never laughed so much until it hurts. Madam Justice, I’m not one for self-harm. Fists at drywall, STUPID things while people watch. Giving into FAPPING (it’s Saturday). Anyway, my body takes a lot, but what about my heart?

Most recently, what I said about Cherry and I don’t mean my novella. I speak my heart to you and the others Madam Justice. No secrets, but you and I both know that’s a lie. If I told you everything, then we would see the end, and that’s how you know I’m not suicidal. Still, it happens the same way; I try to talk to one girl, I speak innocence to another, I don’t tell one more and wham. I’m having a “Harriet the Spy” moment because it’s like they weren’t supposed to see that. I put my heart out here so the body can keep going. The thing is nobody wants my heart. I think that’s why I’ve been down as of late. If I don’t write out how I am, the body keeps it in, and I “mess” up, horny, hatred, heartfelt, whatever.

Women though SIGH, let’s talk about something else that hurts my heart, My Dæmon. My little boy is getting older; he’s bumping into walls, avoiding his walks on cold days, sleeping more. Then again, I’m in bed, and he only wants to be near his Dad. I’m still not working on my stories, and I miss them—what a waste of the day. Somebody took my shift at the Day Job and how did I spend it, Madam Justice, lying here looking at the usual. Even my FEAR of my father doesn’t have me doing anything. Okay, so hurting my friends or them getting hurt, Indiana Gone told me she got punched in the face. My little boy and my writing, what more do I love in this world. The man in the mirror that is such a waste that it hurts to witness myself.

Only the body doesn’t quit, fingers, eyes, ears, dang humming, Heart Hurts More Than Body.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 245 ~Pretending Is Optional, Not Requisite~

One more story so I can pretend to be a writer, I can say I have more time, but if I don’t do anything with it, and I’m starting back listening to my motivations as if I believe I will be inspired. Pretending Is Optional, Not Requisite

Monday, March 2, 2020

Log 245 ~Pretending Is Optional, Not Requisite~

Hundred And Twenty-Sixth Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, or so I pretend as such. You know Madam Justice, I’ve never been a fan of that saying, “Fake it ‘til you make it.” Well, my motivations say otherwise. The law of attraction, positive affirmations, my current novella. At the moment, I’m unsure because sitting right here on this loveseat; I don’t have to pretend. The “dang” HUMMING is driving me crazy. In the shower this morning, I was breaking down, if you know what I mean. Going out into the world, I was scared to death.

As the song goes, “If I could be like that.” Again I think of my hero Dennis Hof. He was a Pimp, parent of a dog, and he penned a book. Two out of three right, Madam Justice? Sometimes I walk around like I’m a pimp, but as I’ve been saying a lot these days, things are falling apart. What about my story, am I giving up already? Last night I wanted to, no question. I’m three parts in, and I don’t know where I’m going. In chapter four, Minister Bridgeman is, of course, starting to give away his “holy man” ways duh. What about being a rich man at all? How much money did I send today, gorging myself? Didn’t I have a conversation about not spending money on a new Kindle and an HP Printer? Relax, I didn’t because even pretending to be reasonable is something else entirely.

I pretend to be, well, I’m not even a comedian anymore, I’m only the punchline. What’s sickening though is at the Day Job, I’m upset that I didn’t go in today. It’s (Saturday, February 29) LEAP DAY, which of course, I spaced on. Am I pretending to be a writer, Madam Justice? Getting back into my motivations, one says you’re either a writer or not. I’m not pretending to be a writer, but instead that anything I put down makes perfect sense. I’m living in the moment, and I don’t know what any of this means. My pretending is becoming real but only the worse things. If I may quote another song, “Why do the things I hate come so naturally.” One more reason I sleep all the time. But isn’t that, well “pretend that we’re dead.” I’m not suicidal.

When will I stop pretending Madam Justice, better yet how? Pretending Is Optional, Not Requisite.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 070 ~Just Wake The “Hell” Up~

When you’re asleep the monsters can’t get you, I heard that in Blue Gender but what am I going to hear tomorrow, chances are it’s going to be all kinds of Hell, but I refuse to lie there and take it anymore. Just Wake The “Hell” Up

Monday, September 9, 2019

Log 070 ~Just Wake The “Hell” Up~

Hundred And First Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Millionaire right now, and also a Time Traveler. Not only because I’m from 1984 literally. Yes I know I’m starting this on a Sunday. If I were, to be honest, Monday has always been a bad day. Eric Thomas does his TGIM’s Thank God It’s Monday. I have a few in my motivational playlist. The thing is, as the rule states, I need to wake up; I mean to everything Madam Justice. As the song goes, open your eyes, look up to the skies and see. Wishing on a star.

Most mornings, when I get up there is nothing but darkness. I can blame The Day Job or my ambitions. The sad thing is, when it’s The Day Job, next comes the bathroom light. I’m a writer, aren’t I? Shouldn’t I be taking that darkness and getting it down on the page? You know the only thing I love more is my Firstborn. Sometimes I see his cute furry face looking at me for his daily walk. He’s there, the sun is up, the birds, everything. It’s a disservice to keep my head down. It’s like I’m looking for real estate, you know. Find a spot and start digging. I look at my life anticipating a zombie apocalypse you know. Often I imagine I’ll make the perfect survivor, but these days I feel like I’m dead. Who knows what could happen as they always say, live each day as though it’s your last; do I?

Well, today (Sunday) I took a step in that direction. You want to know why I feel dead Madam Justice. It’s illegal for me to be alive. Why do I find solace amongst the dead, the machines, I speak on clones. I write about beasts because they have that excuse. It’s too damn easy to lie there and be a joke. Most people aren’t alive; they’re fucking noisemakers (LANGUAGE). Then those same idiots wonder why they are so exhausted all the time. We aren’t allowed to rest because we are too busy always being someone else or something. You know what wakes me up, a pretty face and a nice pair of boobs. The fact that I will look any man or beast in the eye that threatens my kid. Having a damn brain SIGH.

I can’t sleep away life; I’ll face the living nightmares. Just Wake The “Hell” Up

I Will Have No Fear

Lesson 228 ~Came On The Internet~

What do you say to them, can’t I just nod to whatever because that’s all they want if not a good laugh at my expense, to think when I was a kid, I wanted to be a comedian for quite some time and nobody was laughing at all. “Came On The Internet”

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Lesson 228 ~Came On The Internet~

Forgive Me Echo,
I Am Not Afraid Anymore because my dog won’t embarrass me with his attempts at words; more often than not I find that I envy him. At work, I’ve always wanted to tell people that my dog barks all the time too but at least he’s trying to accomplish something, so what are they doing with their mindless chatter all day anyway.

Not that I could ever imagine to get out anything so eloquent, part of the reason I didn’t call HR back; to think I was all fire and brimstone before. Speech is my sin for today, the fact that I can’t talk to anybody and at the moment I don’t quite want to which is another reason my dog is a great conversationalist. Honestly, I can’t even order hot sauce without humiliating myself which is why I told the guy at Buffalo Wild Wings, “I came on the internet,” I meant my order of course.

Today being Valentine’s Day though I haven’t done that… even spending most of the day in bed, I’ve been recovering. I could say I’ve had worst Valentine’s but this one again in bed, with something I love, if not someone, I have chocolate, and I could go a few rounds with someone… If I wasn’t required to get up and find her and even if I could, what would I possibly have to say? If I could quote my life in three words right; “Don’t Say That” yeah that’s probably going to be a rule that I’ll keep breaking; man has no choice but to sin isn’t that right Echo.

If that is the case then why is everyone else allowed to be stupid and wasteful but I’m expected to shut up or worse, that everything I say is considered a joke. No, I can top that, “family friendly,” “skeevy,” even my name “WILL” when it comes to the bitch that shall not be named. Even today I have to email HR and what am I going to tell them, uh… the truth, which will lead me back to the office and more stupidity honestly.

My dog can’t catch his breath when he’s eating so much, maybe that’s the ticket for me, books don’t work, earphones, and everything else, people always like to talk and are they not entertained? Are you not entertained Inspector Echo, if not I am sorry; if it’s not my words, my spit, some other bodily fluid; came on the internet?

I Will Have No Fear

Lesson 013 ~That’s What She Said~

That’s what she said, no that’s what I said, and truth be told it hasn’t been doing anyone any favors, did I learn nothing from the sound of silence. That’s What She Said or not because I’m too much of a wuss to get her side.

Friday, July 14, 2017

Lesson 013 ~That’s What She Said~

Hey Lu,
I think this is part of the reason we get along so well because you don’t say anything and I know that sounds really bad but in my own personal experience, women talking to me *sigh*. For the record, though I find the joke “that’s what she said” to be pretty damn off putting, one of the reasons I hate going to work.

In “Living Single” Max told Kyle that he didn’t want a girlfriend but a therapist that’s good in bed, I think the whole concept of “GFE” cancels that out but really what do men want when talking to women. I got a friend and half the time we just mirror things back to one another you know how they say “great minds think alike” so you know back in my Saturday morning cartoons they would say “great minds think for themselves” but that is another story. I talk to you and don’t have to worry about you giving me bad advice, chances are I wouldn’t take it anyway, the things that none of us wants to hear am I right.

Which brings me back to work, they treat that joke “that’s what she said” as the end all be all joke, I swear I just want to go all Wesley from Wanted and don’t get me wrong, men can be just as stupid seeing as how it’s a male coworker that always says this. You know I think often about having the answers to life’s questions, but praise the sounds of silence you know. Maybe that’s why the kiss was invented some women and men have some semblance of a chance at keeping the human race going, without screwing up.

“if she’s in the mood to f**k you, shut up and let it happen.” – Chris Rock, Bigger & Blacker

Sometimes I talk too much and I definitely type too much nowadays which is why I got into trouble in the first place… On the other side of the line, women are always talking about being so clear and at the same time men are expected to read between the lines, how do we survive?

Correct me if I’m wrong Lady Lu but I think yesterday was the first talk we had where I didn’t mention “the incident” to be fair I haven’t even gone back to reread what she said again. Now I want to scream that’s a problem but that it’s also the solution but how did they do it back in the old days, you know when not a word need be spoken?

I often talk about having an ulterior motive and then she was so clear but what if I had been someone else, anyone else, would the words have really mattered? Isn’t that just it, when I gave the flowery words to guys for their women, they couldn’t get enough but then I could never do that for myself could I. Skeevy words and yet people will drink, do drugs, and the like and lie to themselves about what makes them do the things they do and sadly I’m no better, a liar, I’m telling you that’s what she said.

Some other girl probably and even today, some women I just ignore, some words are filler and why do I want to hide from the truth but like “The X-Files” the truth is out there. I use to say I don’t want to be a liar, but society deems that we all must, this is the world we live in and eventually, we might evolve past this but I have never gotten that far. In all the erotica I have ever read, the relationships are built on lies and even in the fairy tales that end with happily ever after or in erotica’s case either in bed or with the end of The Graduate, that what did we do look.

I was a nice guy when I never talked to her but the moment she becomes let’s say unrepressed and I say what I said, suddenly I’m skeevy. The moment I saw her as a woman and not just someone, Luna I ask you why does any man want a woman and yes I know this already sounds bad but let’s go with our biology.

“I have four words for you: Listen to the Woman.” White Men Can’t Jump (1992)

Like you Luna, considering you are a figment of my imagination and personally I rather sleep but the reason that you’re here is that while I can’t hear you, I know you want to be here. It’s primal nature and I’m afraid I spoiled some of that today but listening to women and really hearing them is two different things.

I’m not trying to psychoanalyze anyone but it really says something about a woman who is suddenly uncommitted and gets tattoos, her nipples pierced, goes to nude beaches, and everything else, this being the thirteenth lesson, I’m not scared of feminist finding me. What about a woman who asks your opinions on clothes, wear’s stuff that you like, takes up your fandoms and buys you props for them? How about another woman who starts out on your couch, activity flirts with you about a certain lifestyle, and ends up in your bed but stops you right at the cusp hmm?

Even Disney Lu, remember Ariel who gave up her voice for legs, a woman that gives up talking for something physical and then a man that talks too much. How about Merida from Brave when she saw the last man who she thought was a suitor, she responded not as some independent princess but like any other woman. In the end, it doesn’t come down to he said she said, but simply the physical though some men are more equal than others and some women while condemning men in every shape and form only condemn our species, why do you think “Realdoll” even exist today.
“We married wonder women. Supergirls. Amazon queens. Well, you know what that makes us?

Smart, worthy, lucky.

We’re the wuss. The wind beneath your wings. Your support system. We’re the girl. And we don’t like it.” The Stepford Wives (2004)

So I ask what did she say and what did I say and in the end does it really matter, what matters is somebody you can enjoy the silence with, somebody that you don’t need the words with and if you choose to have them let them be true or at least better, what about somebody that doesn’t kill you in your sleep. If anything I just want “I love you” not to be a joke no I want to look at the world and say That’s What She Said.

Looking Grim

I played with the thought, quite a bit actually but if you see the year yeah I survived, I made my way back to the land of the living… am I actually calling this living now hmm? Looking Grim, to be honest things have looked better often enough really

Better than… acting
As if you know the truth
Like life you’re attacking
But do you follow through
Or are you snacking
Leaving it to your stunt crew

Better than… showing
The whole damn world
Where we’re going
What’s the word?
Death
Cheated but defeated?
Blind and deaf
Yet we all meet it

Better than… knowing
Tricks are for kids
But we’re growing
Too big
Bigger you think
Than what’s to come
Kool-Aid to drink
Or you run

Better than… towing
Wisdom and knowledge
Where you going
For me it wasn’t college
Call me confused and lost
If you’re not going to die
Why carry the cross
Jigsaw’s my guy

Better than… lacking
The cure
Success is tapping
But I learned
What’s happening
And so I’ll burn

Because it’s more than a look
It’s me
That cooks
And I see
But was not shook
At what has to be

A blessing and a sin
My brother’s keeper
Better than… looking grim
A look at the Grim Reaper

Copyright © 2011, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.

Mime No More

This is what happens when you speak; I mean my penname is “Marquis de Joker” yeah I’m a clown but I don’t have any jokes, I am the joke, makes me a mime. Mime No More… might find out Saturday, my writing was certainly a joke with HR, maybe.

And he would have been sorry
if he could get a grip
of his love-struck heart; boring
But a pink slip
is gruesome and gory
This is it

With his name on the dotted line
He would walk right out the door
Or he would pretend this time
Only what’s the truth there for
Fine
He’ll ask God once more

Oops
right, he was too damn loud
Talked at all, big whoops
Because he’s a clown and how
For just one big group
Mankind… and he was bound

To want to be one of you
Because of “her”
Pretend, that’s what they do
Wouldn’t you rather…
Well it doesn’t matter; he told the truth
Why was there laughter

if he wasn’t funny
Not enough or too much
Well anyway there goes the money
Where is the love
Suppose he should die really
Because what’s to become should he see

It’s all there in black and white
Line by line and they didn’t have to find
pencil, paper, evidence in sight
Can’t you see his crime?
Guess it wasn’t very bright
There goes his job of being a mime
Sorry is the word that never comes out right

Copyright © 2015 Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.