When I was a boy, I cried over everything. What am I now? Something, someone who is afraid all the time. My Braxton is still gone, but it wasn’t him or the book I was reading. Blasted allergies? Or what’s become of the U.S.A? It’ll B Written, Virgil.
Friday, June 13, 2025
Meditation 347 ~It’ll B Written, Virgil~
Hey, Lady Sophia,
Let me tell you a story… Friday the 13th. Happy Friday the 13th, though we do get a couple. So much blood.
“Yes, there will be blood.”
I’m more a fan of John Kramer, aka Jigsaw, than Jason Voorhees. Jigsaw could explain why I was crying today? Then Jason has the whole John Wick thing going for him. A man/monster of focus, commitment, and sheer will. This “Will” doesn’t have that. Guts!
But I still have my son’s blood on my hands. My poor Braxton, my firstborn. With the stroke of a pen, I ended his life on the “day of our lord” Sunday, January 31, 2021.
Seriously, Sophia, they talk about how long it takes for serial killers to get going. Saturday, August 13, 2022, with another pen, I “rescued” Braxton’s little brother Virgil. “How to Save a Life?” Give me sweat, blood, and tears and not ink. That comes later.
FEAR of sweat, blood, and tears? I’m not a hard worker, hard enough, considering what I’ve accomplished today. “Here and Now,” it’ll be written that I was crying while reading.
Can’t I save the love songs for Braxton and Virgil’s potential stepmom, M Anime. Or shall I call her Julia from “1984.” My Lenina from “Brave New World.” Is she Lorinda from “It Can’t Happen Here?” How about I-330 from “We?” Where am I going with all this other than ideas of dystopian sex? I feel like Winston. I’m weak like Bernard but want to be the Savage. I want to write like Doremus. And I’m a victim, liar, traitor like D-503. A man, ha! All these books, Sophia, they’re all I have to make sense of my identity now. To alliveate the fears of…
A well-read something or other lying with M Anime, someday.
My Julia, as she told me this morning that when we meet for the first time, she should wear some blue coveralls and the red sash of “The Junior Anti-Sex League.” We make plans all the time in texts. All of it is designed to look like ink. Kindle books, love letters, coding, etc. Yet I can’t write out an honest answer. Why was I crying over a book, hm?
Sophia, the book was Spring Break: A Slice of Life Contemporary Harem (Harem University Book 6) by Dirk Knight. No, I was not crying over that. Not even over Braxton.
FEAR grips me sometimes. Hell, like grief over my son always and forever. Writing life. Mine? What’s it saying? The End… It’ll B Written, Virgil
1594 Days Without B III, Day 1035 of Virgil’s Arrival
B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will