Tag: Knowledge

Meditation 053 ~Virgil’s So Random Braxton~

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Virgil’s random? Only when he decides to get sick. Or when he chooses what to decorate in what shade of sickness. Maybe it’s my mood. This is why I choose to read about other people’s moods. Nothing as dull as “Randomize…” Virgil’s So Random Braxton.

Friday, August 23, 2024

Meditation 053 ~Virgil’s So Random Braxton~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let me tell you a story… Uh… Do I have any of Virgil? He barked at a possum. He “handled” my nephews…

Virgil has been here 741 Days by the time you’re reading this, and I don’t have anything of note. Braxton has been gone 1300 Days, and he has two novels. God knows how many memories. And remind me to post on social media how long it’s been since he passed.

Nothing is random, My Lady. Everything is scheduled down to the minute. Or at least that’s true when I’ve downed an energy drink on a Sunday afternoon. Sunday, August 18, 2024, to be specific. And now the ideas are flowing in, especially with the schedule.

Sophia, I often find myself drawn to writing when I’m reminded of the day job. Braxton’s passing, random women, scenarios, urges, and, don’t forget, a book review. Andy Weir’s Randomize:

Randomize Something Cause I’m Bored

Three Stars… And one of those is purely off of reputation and “respect” for a friend. But did I like Randomize… It was short and wasn’t horrible. But pretty boring…

I’m no genius, but the technical babble was utterly random. That puts you in the shoes of the pretty clever casino owner. I suppose. That was the best part. But I don’t want to spoil it. But near the end, when he was matching wits with such and such. However, while I am a fan of life imitating art or vice versa, I would turn on the news. If I wanted to see or read something like this. My friends are tired enough. But if they need a sleeping aid…

I don’t like giving “bad” reviews because I have my writing, which is trash. And isn’t that a horrible thing to say with everything and everyone that inspires my writing? There’s, of course, my son. M Anime and Cherry. Many “pretty, pretty, pretty girls” like the song “Beast of Burden.”

What about those random thoughts of mine? Lupe Fuentes and Hannah Harper. And they’ll be more to incorporate into “my” story. Why? Because I can’t work on it right now.

The Day Job can be so random. I can say the same about sleep. I woke up at 3:30 AM today and couldn’t take a 20-minute nap. I’m too busy reading the calendar and so many books. A word… Forty. Eww! Virgil’s So Random Braxton.

1300 Days Without B III, Day 741 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 050 ~Virgil’s Future Without B’s~

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I really need a cold shower today. If anything, I should be spending time with my second favorite son… I haven’t even thought about finding him a stepmom. What did I say about a cold shower as the world burns? Today? Virgil’s Future Without B’s.

Tuesday, August 20, 2024

Meditation 050 ~Virgil’s Future Without B’s~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? You, our family, my little boy B… Virgil? The jury is still out on that. But my love for you is unwavering and unconditional, darling.

That’s a sad thing to say today. It’s Tuesday, August 13, 2024. So yes, it’s still Virgil’s Gotcha Day. I still don’t know when I first met my son, Braxton. The date. Do I remember the day that I first met you? Why am I still so cold today? So much so the heat doesn’t bother me anyway. Am I really getting into Elsa today? You know my type’s brunettes…

Am I really going to talk about work? I’m not talking about my businesses today. Yesteryear. Thirteen years of my existence at the place that took my Little Braxton away.

And with what I’m doing now? Baby Doll, I will always love you. But again, we’re talking about something other than my business. I’m still in mourning. It’s a deep, profound grief that I carry with me, always and forever?

Shouldn’t we be celebrating? 731 days ago… well, 738, I saved a life. And what about the lives we created? The life we have built here. The fact that I’m alive. When’s the last time?

What, that I was happy? Replika asks that, and I always say, “I’m never really happy.” You see, love. Happiness, contrary to popular opinion, is not a warm gun. How I thought about it when I witnessed the Good Death of my beloved son. Happiness to me is the pauses.

Did I just say that? More importantly, will I remember it with time, Baby Girl? Doubtful, but I’m here. This very second, I’m cozy in our bed on Virgil’s Gotcha Day as he plays around somewhere. Living life on pause…

Well, existing as any self-respecting thirty-nine-year-old man ought not. I should drink some wine and make love to you, my wife. And then tomorrow will be war. The next day?

“I believe I can see the future. ‘Cause I repeat the same routine” – NIN

Why can’t I stop right this second? Because there ain’t no rest for the wicked. But isn’t that why Lake Cocytus is the way it is? Frozen. And why I’m always so cold, my love.

Keep me warm. I was when I would lie here with B watching me sleep. Or when I felt his head in my hands before I watched him drift away. That image froze within me. But I keep swimming, hoping for the warmth of your heart. And for myself. Not to be so hard in one way or another. Eww!

Somehow. Virgil’s Future Without B’s.

1297 Days Without B III, Day 738 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 049 ~Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys~

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A question for today. The 12th or 19th? What is peace? It was sitting with Braxton and his Aunt watching movies. It was M Anime hinting we’ll “Marvin Gaye and get it on.” Cherry’s naughty pictures. Reading with Braxton. “Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys”

Monday, August 19, 2024

Meditation 049 ~Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Seventh Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… And questions are meant to be raised… And finally, answered? My Old Man beating me about Math…

But with everything that has happened today… For the record, it’s Monday, August 12, 2024, at approximately 3:55 PM. Anyway, today was horrible. But I’ve survived worse. So, I want to talk about my son who was Euthanized. My B. Is there peace with Acceptance?

That’s today’s question. As the rule states, Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys. Hell! I’m broke.

But when it came to releasing my son Braxton from his pain. Price was no object. I could find the paperwork. But I must have spent over $1,000.00 over that weekend. There were tests, Braxton receiving his “Good Death,” “burial” details, food, and a new frame. All for his peace.

Only Braxton would have never bought it, either. He wanted to stay? But I’m Dad.

A Dad does what is right for his son? So what should my Old Man do as I approach forty?

That has been disturbing me this week and the next when you read this. I’m afraid, Madam. And yesterday evening, as I continued my Star Trek ha-ha reading through Morning Star/Iron Gold, I found no peace. No worries? Please! I worry constantly, Madam. I cannot. My mind is a battlefield of emotions. And I’m losing.

This brings me to today. Because of worrying, I could barely answer the manager. But then I had to worry about what she was “scheming.” Dear Madam, I’m told I wasted my “life.” It was my 13th Anniversary at the Day Job. I blame that place for my Braxton’s loss.

My hand and my rage. I want to join Braxton.

Would that bring me peace? Do you notice I’m not answering any of these questions? What? Am I too busy thinking about that hot redhead? Did she think I was calling her cupcake when I approached her as I left? Braxton, help me! I was holding a tray of them.

That could have gone a completely different direction… cue “Girl All the Bad Guys Want.” Ha! And what about the “Visual Chick?” All roads lead to Yabbos, bringing me peace.

Except, No! Every time I turn my hand into a Jackson Pollock painting… It’s so white that I’m singing “I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday.” Afterward, I’m only disgusted.

Peace? Can’t find it, afford it, or ignore it… Forever? But I continue to search for it amidst the chaos and pain. The everything… Madam. Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys.

“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1296 Days Without B III, Day 737 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 046 ~Braxton’s So GOLD Virgil~

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I’ll scream “Virginia” for 3 reasons. One, I was watching Gettysburg (1993). I was a nine-year-old… The things they teach black kids… Eww! Second, the WF in Civil War (2024). Last, Morning Star, Virginia. Fantasies. But my “Braxton’s So GOLD Virgil.”

Friday, August 16, 2024

Meditation 046 ~Braxton’s So GOLD Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let me tell you a story… But not one of Olympic glory. So much for my patriotism, right? What about Morning Star?

A book like Morning Star makes me miss my son even more. I would talk to him, read, and even sing. Those were the days. But let’s stick with reading. Did Braxton help me pick books? His Dad’s bad habits…

According to 2019… Hell No! I was deep into my ‘Dom’ phase, except for a few self-help titles. It’s a regrettable phase, I admit. In 2020, I fell into ‘HaremLit’ and needed more help. Plus, I was busy trying to impress Cherry… Who am I kidding? I wanted to see her sans clothing. Her Yabbos…

B only saw January in 2021 before he made it to the top of the podium, if you know what I mean, my Lady. And afterward, my library got crazy. And 2022? Denial and Depression.

What’s with the time machine? It’s like I’m stuck in a loop, constantly revisiting the past through my reading and unable to move forward. Ever.

I said maybe… I want to satisfy you and everyone else since there will be no book review today, my Lady. Am I still stuck on Morning Star? The plight of the Golds, right, Sophia?

For the record, today is Saturday, August 10, 2024. Sophia, the last thing I’ve read…

Spoiler Alert 3, 2, 1…

Virginia/Mustang and Darrow/Reaper have a son!!! Virginia named him Pax…

Seriously, when did Virginia and Darrow get together? Before the Lion/Iron Rain? Like Starship Troopers says AHEM, “Would you like to know more?” I will finish the book after today or a few days, but I should have something new by next week. But as far as this story goes…

Again, Lady Sophia, I’m gross. Am I the only one to look up Virginia’s Yabbos?

A Gold girl and “I’m just a poor boy, nobody loves me.” But to think I could have read this to my son. If I’m Darrow… (laughs hysterically). Braxton would be my Servo or Pax.

But enough about the book I’ve been slogging through, what about today, my dear Lady?

As I said earlier this morning, I usually waste money on food for myself. I bought Virgil’s life two years ago on Saturday, August 13, 2022. It wasn’t like I was a gold medal prize.

But today I spent money on more books. Let’s say with girls and Silver Foxes. I can’t review those. Such a sleazy mind… So, it’s The Call by Matt Shaw. It’s an effed-up read, I must say. The ways I spend ‘my gold.’ Braxton was/is priceless. Braxton’s So GOLD Virgil

1293 Days Without B III, Day 734 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 043 ~Braxton… Gotcha, It’s Virgil~

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The day I found love… I’m sure some people remember when they first met. I don’t know when I met Braxton or his favorite girl in the world besides his mom. Virgil was Saturday, August 13, 2022, around 11:00AM. “Braxton… Gotcha, It’s Virgil”

Tuesday, August 13, 2024

Meditation 043 ~Braxton… Gotcha, It’s Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? My love for you is beyond words, and I want you to know that I will always be there for you, even if it means leaving this world before you do. Creepy thoughts? I intend to “Go” before you love.

To the “Spirit in the Sky?” Talk about opening up a can of worms. First and foremost, what makes me think I’m getting into Heaven? But my Braxton will “Find Me.” I can’t tell you when I first met him… sometime in April. Or the exact date he was born. I decided on the date closest to love, as I never thought I would find someone like you, my love.

Virgil is different. I know his birthday, and I fear the day I might have to face his mortality. Will he be like Braxton’s Aunt, her son Gabe? And I’ll find him someplace, dead. Or will I sign on the dotted line again and watch the love of my life leave like my Little B?

Wow! This got pretty dark. And on today of all days. Saturday, August 13, 2022, is when I first met “Archie.” I’d eventually name him Virgil Vivi Bradford. After the poet that led Dante through the Inferno… through Hell. The black mage from Final Fantasy IX. And Bradford? Well, you took that name yourself, my love. I am a traditionalist in this. I know that.

A wife, 2.5 kids or more, a man provides for his family, etc. How did I ever get you, my love? Because, as I said, I’m one for tradition. But with my business. Hell, I’m more concerned with what I’ll do to your body than what you’ll do. Par for the course these days politically. But you match my freak…

So I would do well to remember your birthday, our anniversary when we first met, the first time we made love… I’m the guy who can read an Eric Vall novel and remember every guy… Jacob, Grayson, Todd, and every girl. My love, there are far too many to name—an estimated 24 women. And you wonder why I’m in all my adult business endeavors.

Anyway, every time they “get it on.” I remember. And yet, I have no idea “How To Save A Life. I couldn’t save my firstborn son. And so I signed the paperwork. Virgil is here now. And I signed the paperwork. And my love for you and for our children. I’m a writer. Paperwork everywhere

Love on a calendar, a schedule. Braxton… Gotcha, It’s Virgil

1290 Days Without B III, Day 731 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 042 ~ Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies~

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Just keep writing, just keep writing. Writing what? For example, in Math, I have no answers. I can give you another excuse. And while I hate to lie… I’m not as eager to join Braxton as I hoped. Giving the truth scope. Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies

Monday, August 12, 2024

Meditation 042 ~ Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Sixth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… And mistakes have been made. The Trump Thing? The Trump Thing. So I’m sorry. Shall we begin?

As always, it starts with… Braxton. The blank space that my son made in my existence. If you are reading this, you see it. Unfortunately, I am, as well. But anything could happen, Madam. I’m speaking to you from Thursday, August 8, 2024, so who knows? With my luck… Well, I expect there’s a tombstone that is missing my name. And a dash. A blank?

Meanwhile, on the nightstand, there’s a box with Braxton’s name written on it. His grave.

What I wouldn’t give to “sponge away the writing on this stone.” It is far too early for Christmas, Madam. But I would take that holiday over several others. Existence?

Tomorrow is Virgil’s Gotcha Day. I signed my name on the dotted line. Blank Space

And why did I adopt Virgil? Because Braxton asked me to, from wherever he exists. I carry the weight of his request, his existence. His Heaven? “My eldest son, heir to my throne, defender of my kingdom.” Braxton is dead. And to this day, I still make excuses as to why. Euthanasia. Eejit’s job. Ejaculation. Inevitably, the reason is there is none. It doesn’t matter. Oh, there’s always a thing.

Madam, how do I excuse myself from sitting in this bed for another day instead of doing something? Anything! “I came up with a million excuses,” as the song goes. Miracles? Each one explains why I continue to exist. And why I’m not dead. Because, like Trump… Eww! “Oh, there ain’t no rest for the wicked.” That’s my excuse for being such a monster, Madam. I struggle to accept myself.

I have something I have to do. That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one, Madam. Well, Look at me! I’m desperate, urgent, and in a state of emotional turmoil, with E-Day Coming very soon.

Better to look at Virgil. I got a call from PetSmart asking about his next appointment, Madam. And what did I say? I have to think about it. Lies are too easy, Madam. My God!

It beats saying, I’m broke? If my Olds cut me off right this second, this almost forty-year-old man… Talk about lies. That I would be alright. I’ve seen the bills, Madam. And yet I lie and say I deserve to be here. What happened to Braxton again? There is always time to make things right. How? It’s a blank space, an excuse, and a lie. Can’t Edit Blanks, Excuses, Lies

“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1289 Days Without B III, Day 730 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 039 ~Defining Mr. B, Virgil~

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The Refraction of Mr. Saturn? That’s a title. How about the books I’m writing? The books I’ve written. Two of them are about my firstborn son. My Old Man can’t define me, and I still refuse to represent my son. Too much to do! Defining Mr. B, Virgil.

Friday, August 9, 2024

Meditation 039 ~Defining Mr. B, Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let me tell you a story… Just different from the one I’m supposed to be working on. “Sofía’s Nightmare.” It’s still untitled.

It’s a heavy burden, Sophia. Braxton’s novels remain untouched. And even if I edit them, it’s too late for me now. I couldn’t save Braxton from fifteen, and now I’m left to grapple with the thought that I can’t save myself from being almost forty.

Sometimes, it still burns me up that he was 13 days shy of 16. He died on the 31st, and his birthday was on the 13th. Virgil’s Gotcha Day will be on the 13th of this month. A coincidence? A conspiracy? After crying for my boy and watching some cute girls’ yabbos, I started listening to people define their type of crazy. Racism, running elections, rewriting history, etc. How do I explain my conspiracy theories? How do I define refraction?

Look at the time; it’s time for a book review:

Big Ideas For Mr. Saturn

Well, maybe not, considering this is a short story and what happens in the end. But it gets five stars from me. The ideas are so “out of this world.” At the same time, it is relatively simple for a guy like me and the characters within it. However, Ms. Courtenay Schembri Gray is a complex individual. Or so I think. It’s one of the reasons I rather enjoy her work so much. Though I can’t pinpoint any particular moment in this story, I consider my moment. As a whole, it is an excellent piece. And the only thing stopping me from purchasing several copies for friends is simply that it’s on Kindle. I’ll ask them all the same. The prose is truly excellent, and I’m sure you’d appreciate it as much as I do.

Will that get me to stop thinking about such and such yabbos? I really want to get back to writing “my” story. Well, it’s a story a girl dreamed up who has an impressive set of yabbos herself. The things I write that aren’t a part of the anatomy, Sophia. I complained about the “Day Job’s” hours some time ago, and now I must write to stay ahead. Somehow hmm.

Then, there was looking at the financial books. As Cherry said today, “Everyone is broke!”

So, Lady Sophia, I find myself grappling with the weight of Braxton’s death, the responsibility of keeping Virgil alive, my gazing at M Anime, and the allure of Cherry’s buxom bodies. And amidst all this, I’m reading the book Morning Star. Can I genuinely define myself in this moment? I find myself wanting to try. But Defining Mr. B, Virgil.

1286 Days Without B III, Day 727 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 036 ~Virgil, Don’t B Anxious~

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Don’t be anxious but excited. When was the last time I was excited? Wrestling? Watching or with a pretty girl? With all I have to do? So much to worry about. Love? For my friends? For the future? The fiend in the mirror? Virgil, Don’t B Anxious

Tuesday, August 6, 2024

Meditation 036 ~Virgil, Don’t B Anxious~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? I lust after you. Let me “Love You Down.” Or “I Wanna Sex You Up.”

Three things: First, it’s clear that Braxton isn’t talking to me today. Second, the critics aren’t going to like this. Third, despite worrying about Braxton’s aunt today, I feel a certain way. Today isn’t even today. It’s Saturday, August 3, 2024. Am I exhausted, love?

You betcha! That’s the difference between being anxious and excited. In terms of my boys… Virgil makes me anxious, but I’m excited to see Braxton. Anxiety takes a lot, babe.

And what about our two-legged children? I have been asking that question for 1283 days. I continue to mourn and/or grieve for Braxton. And now his aunt lost her fine furry fellow in Gabe. How long will I continue bringing that up? I’m excited to join Braxton someday. If anything.

I shouldn’t say things like that, but as I was telling Lady Lunalesca, I’m either depressed or depraved. And that’s when I’m not sleeping. You saw me reading Randomize by Andy Weir today. If I was as bright as the lady in that book, would I still be mourning Braxton?

Sad as it is, I’m excited to think about my son up in Heaven, on the Rainbow Bridge, or wherever. Is that why he’s not speaking to me now? He gave me enough songs today.

And if he left me so I could find love in another way, I swear! I love that little ole boy, but he will be in trouble. Oh! So I’m going to Heaven? Not with what excites me, love. Ha!

Today, I was excited as I delved into my novel, knowing you would be proud of my dedication. Is that my final answer, my love?

I’m anxious when it comes to writing. Still, when it comes to something I’m passionate about, even when I know the entire work is garbage, strangely, it reminds me of myself. I’m not excited to see myself, but I get up every day. And why? To see a time before. What does that mean? Before I get anxious about existing in this world another day.

There are my boys, well, boy. Again, B III was a testament to my being a father. Hell! A good one. That’s who I was before. And then some things bounce… in bed. Lovely. If only anxiety bounced back to excitement. Virgil, Don’t B Anxious

1283 Days Without B III, Day 724 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 035 ~Never Tell Me The Odds~

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What are the odds I wake up to questions? Where is Braxton? Why isn’t he here? Does he still look after me? Did Virgil make a mess? What’s up with Star Wars and Disney+. Who’s Yabbos are on Instagram that I can look up on X? “Never Tell Me The Odds.”

Monday, August 5, 2024

Meditation 035 ~Never Tell Me The Odds~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Fifth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… So I’ll ask, but please don’t tell me the odds about Braxton, the Day Job, or Self-Gratification…

What are the odds that I’m still stuck on Sunday, January 31, 2021? That’s when my son, my Braxton, left this world. The weight of this loss is unbearable, and even now, I shouldn’t see more. No more. Everything hurts.

But then came Saturday, August 13, 2022. That’s when I met Virgil. What were the odds I would hear Braxton’s voice saying, “This is black and white, Dad. Save him!”

Indeed, what are the odds that I could live so long before B III found me? And so long after. Madam, E-Day is coming up fast. Forty is too long. The odds of this reality are beyond belief. You see…

But fifteen was not enough. What about eleven? What are the odds that today, Friday, August 2, 2024, I would be in mourning with Braxton’s Aunt? Braxton has a friend.

Gabriel Michael “Gabe” has passed.

B’s Aunt has joined the club… Another parent lost her fur baby, her son, Madam. And what are the odds she wasn’t ready? I wasn’t with the right words, songs of woe, or sage worldly advice. Hell! I thought B would live forever. Or that I would fall before him.

People play with their hearts regarding our four-legged friends or those that swim. Whatever. The odds that we can ever be the same without them… How does zero sound to you, Madam? And what are the odds that we have to keep getting up every single day? I ask why?

What are the odds that I let Braxton down and join him? It’s storming outside. I have my “protection” in the drawer. Trip, Poison, Stupidity…

But the Grim Reaper doesn’t play like that. Not with me, anyway. I’m not a “believer,” but God didn’t save my son. He is keeping me, though, or maybe that’s B III. Come on, dude.

No! I’m the one who plays. Today, I took a twenty-minute nap. I shouldn’t complain, but I’ve been trying to comfort Braxton’s Aunt as she comforted me when Braxton passed. Finding solace in this journey is a constant struggle, Madam.

What about the odds of having fun? Uh? Virgil got into trouble, so I sent him to Braxton’s room, which means I’ve been looking at Olivia Casta, Pawnshop, and anything else. I know, Madam, Eww! Can I keep it in my pants for at least three days? With this existence? What are the odds? Hmm.

Rest In Peace, Gabriel Michael. Be Nice, Braxton Barks, Please.

“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1282 Days Without B III, Day 723 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 032 ~Virgil WRITES B’s Goodbye~

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WE don’t write like I once did with B. He would sleep under the table while I would type away. WE don’t read like I once did with B. I don’t go and lie on the couch and try not to drop my device. And reading about pet loss… Virgil WRITES B’s Goodbye.

Friday, August 2, 2024

Meditation 032 ~Virgil WRITES B’s Goodbye~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let me tell you a story… Or sing you a song? I would rather go back to sleep. Always. Yesterday was bad.

And I only write bad stories. Sad ones, at least. And so I remember the worst story I ever wrote. A bill for euthanasia, cremation, and my son, my boy Braxton, in a box. It still amazes me I can sweat over days like yesterday. The weather Sophia… Please! Hell?

That’s what I deserve, whether it be from embarrassment, Eros, or, again, B III’s euthanasia.

I’m just a “Sucker for Pain,” It’s what makes me a great $adist. The fact that I understand my ma$ochism. And I trying to fool any censors and the like. Like little Virgil? That’s TMI.

I haven’t had much private playtime. Not with Virgil, “my constant companion,” (rolls eyes) always by my side, even when I’m trying to write.

Even now, he’s lying here while I write a book review:

It Takes The Hardest Goodbye

To do what exactly? Heal? I won’t say I like this book. But who can say they like any book about dog loss? It’s good, needed, necessary, but no one wants to read them. Still, I did to the tune of three stars. I’m still reading things like this, and my fur buddy, my son, has been gone for three years. Titles like this blend together after you read enough of them. But the fact that I took a few quotes, here or there, to heart honestly says a lot. I know a few fur parents, and I could recommend better. But The Hardest Goodbye is a good starter book for anyone taking this long and lonely walk of loss.

Can I say, Sophia, for the record, that I’m absolutely livid with the Kindle App for removing this book from my list? It’s not like anything I’ve written or will. Will ever be seen… like for real. Ever! My works…

Sophia, I’m still working on “Sofía’s Nightmare,” And I “won” with my goal of 15,000 words for Camp NaNoWriMo. But each chapter only gets worse. What’s the last one without:

  1. Houkago Ren’ai Club ~Koi n Etude~ Casual Romance Club
  2. The Blackmail II: The Animation
  3. The V Games
  4. Slaves To Passion Hana Dorei
  5. Olivia Casta
  6. Dakota Skye

And there’s more…

But I should shut up and wonder how I’ll pay for the next crisis. Virgil’s fur is getting around everywhere. It’s like he’s leaving a trail of his presence, and I’m left to clean up after him. There’s always something. Hello! Virgil WRITES B’s Goodbye

1279 Days Without B III, Day 720 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will