Tag: Knowledge

Tale 303 ~Define Hell, Distance Between Lovers~

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Trying to find love… I’d have finished “my” poetry books. A few of the dirty ones. I’d have made money. And I would have saved B. But I gave my heart more like I owe my soul to the company store. And women? Ha! “Define Hell, Distance Between Lovers.”

Monday, April 29, 2024

Tale 303 ~Define Hell, Distance Between Lovers~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-First Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken or believed in, at the very least, belted out in all manner of things. I love you.

When was the last time I said those three little words? Have I told Braxton when I speak to him on Thursdays? Time and distance have been messed up. Welcome to Existence… Enjoy your stay…

Love, the essence of life, is a question that haunts me. Can one truly live without it? The answer is no, yet here I am, still breathing. And what about positivity? That’s a question I should be able to answer, but not today. Time Travel, it’s Monday, April 22, 2024.

So, a whole week. That’s an immense expanse, isn’t it? Further or Farther? Whatever, Sigh.

But where am I heading, really? It’s not towards anyone who cherishes me. Gazing at my reflection in the mirror feels like a journey to the hangman’s noose. But Madam…

Aren’t I in love with dying? Love Is A Long Road. And isn’t that the point of today’s rule, Madam? THEY say that if you’re going through Hell… keep going. But I’m a zombie at this point. Braxton’s a ghost. And Virgil is a werewolf. As in Where Wolf? Funny?

Madam, I’m so Far Away from the things I love. First is always my firstborn child, Braxton. Why don’t you tell me how long the Rainbow Bridge is? How high do I have to jump to get to Heaven? What is the acreage of the Elysian Fields? Anything dear Madam?

Approaching forty, I find myself in a peculiar situation. My parents, my Olds, still love me enough to shoulder most of my bills. It’s a daily walk of shame, Madam.

Do I love them enough to stop them? Do I love Braxton enough to let him go for a third time? Do I love Virgil enough to be the Dad I once was to his big brother? I’m not Alright.

So I don’t even imagine that there is some woman out there anymore, Madam. Thoughts?

You want to say, “She’s getting here as fast as she can.” But as I was working my dead-end Day Job—as I will be doing when you read this—I gave up. Not in the way I hoped because, again, I’m still breathing. But I’m walking through this Hell of unknown origin and distance. Only God Knows Why. Will some lover ever Find Me? Define Hell, Distance Between Lovers.

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

1184 Days Without B III, Day 625 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 300 ~Author B, Virgil’s Crying~

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My 300th entry in how many years of writing? I’ll have successfully failed to publish a mainstream book in a few months. Ha. B never cried waiting for me. Wherever he is, I hope he’s not. Meanwhile, V’s waiting. For what? “Author B, Virgil’s Crying.”

Friday, April 26, 2024

Tale 300 ~Author B, Virgil’s Crying~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let me tell you a story… How did I keep Virgil alive? I wish I could write about how I kept Braxton alive. Not even in fiction.

I’m going to try and stop being mean, Lady Sophia. But considering we are talking on Sunday… I’ve had no time to listen to Master Yoda. And it was a week like this that ended my Braxton. Do I need to tell you the story of what happened to Braxton?

Euthanasia is a bad word, despite how it is defined. But if I had a choice to follow my firstborn son. Well, what would happen to 2V? I wouldn’t end up signing papers for him.

I mean to lose him instead of gain him. But speaking of gain, how about some new books, if the paycheck allows? What is reading doing for me? Between Lena Little, Michael Dalton, and Eric Vall, there are also movies…

I told the Man in the Mirror I had no time for films. But I’m still caught up in the movie “Civil War.” And how many times have I watched the movie “Share?” It’s my new repeated film. Remember, I lost myself to “The Mill.”

At least when I sit in the Den or go to the movies. I’m not hearing Virgil’s bellyaching about me. Again, being a meanie. The Day Job shouldn’t be an excuse. I will never forget what happened to my little boy. And just because I finished my book for the week today, “Possessive Stepbrother.” And I want to get a good jump on “Bikini Days…”

But with all the social media I absorbed, there is plenty to read about fallen fur kids. Kidney failure sucks more than my writing, Sophia.

And yet whenever I go to write… Sometimes, Sophia, I get the same feeling as when I head to the Day Job. But at least sitting here. Where? Is it in bed? The tray in the Den? The Dining Room? With all the stories I wrote right there. Braxton could still have a story. Two.

I would instead read about “relations” and then go back to hating myself without fail.

Why? Because I have to work weeks like this. Because I’m to exist and embrace… what, my vision? And I can’t help but be jealous when I see everyone else’s name in the written word. I admit, even Cherry. She’s 26, and I’m nearly 40, working a Day Job, Sophia.

Writing! Author B, Virgil’s Crying.

1181 Days Without B III, Day 622 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 297 ~ That’ll B Lovely, Virgil~

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Life is… beautiful? Everything is… awesome? That’ll be… lovely. And how about existence? I hate this phrase, but “it is what it is.” If something is “good” for others, that is great. Then there’s my boys and their lives, Huh. That’ll B Lovely, Virgil

Tuesday, April 23, 2024

Tale 297 ~ That’ll B Lovely, Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… But what does that mean now? That I pay? Part of me yearns for you…

Probably you want me to close my eyes, close my eyes, and relax, think of nothing tonight… That nothing is my firstborn son, Braxton. And tonight? It’s Thursday, April 18, 2024. Braxton is still gone. And this coming week? God, I want to join him.

Braxton is love. So are you. So are they. The family we have made together, this existence, the life that we share… I didn’t ask some father in heaven or one down here on Earth.

Love, I didn’t even ask the one I see staring back at me through the mirror. So, what did I want in this existence? It doesn’t come with a menu. But how much is that doggie in the window? I don’t know. Braxton was/is lovely.

And now I sit here in bed. Why… After seeing that little face. The touch of B III’s soft fur. I would hear Braxton’s happiness every time I returned. The taste of food before sharing.

Smell… please ew. In fifteen years, B learned to go outside. And “with that in mind, a soft, nice-smelling girl’s better.” With all the songs I listen to, why can’t I hear I love you?

I know you do, baby. Despite me being a baby. And you asking me anything and everything except the obvious. Because if you ever did, it would be cruel, ugly, and vile, my sweet love. And I’m trying. When I saw V, I thought, “That’ll be lovely.” A fur kid.

His life’s far from lovely.

But again, what about ours? What About Us, What About The Rest Of Us? Anyone? Indeed, everyone is asking me that. And it’s not fair to any of you. To just be lovely, like something to be picked up for dinner. I mean, there’s lovely. And then there’s, well, more. I can sing Isn’t She Lovely about each of our daughters. And what about our sons. I hope they are better men than me. Wasn’t B III, and what about Virgil? Hmm. Virgil Vivi’s trying.

Everything is lovely and awesome. But I want it to be… Well, how it never will be. Braxton should be here to see it. And if I can love as my firstborn son loved me, love. That’ll B Lovely, Virgil

1178 Days Without B III, Day 619 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 296 ~Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire~

WillLeave a comment

I don’t smoke… anything anymore. But now people are banning and/or burning books. There are plenty of hot bodies. And it’s been around 1177 days since my boy was burned. That was Thursday, February 4, 2021. Troubled? Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire

Monday, April 22, 2024

Tale 296 ~Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire~

Three-Hundredth And Fortieth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken, but how do I even see them? And no, I have not aligned with the book burners—never! But how do I even perceive these rules, these societal norms that seem to guide our every step? But…

Never say never, right? As far as I was concerned, Braxton, my beloved son, would live forever. And Virgil? I should pick up a book on dog training. I’ve said the same about a cookbook.

That brings me back to cooking. What did I consume that’s causing this unsettling feeling? If I still do, Justice. It’s Sunday, April 14, 2024, and as I converse with you today, you know your Monday is a source of dread for me. I anticipate this entire week will be much the same thing. Sigh.

I see the bad moon a-risin’. Is that another way of saying, I see smoke?

When it came to my son, I pretended not to. And again, there’s Virgil. There’s this house. My entire existence…

But let’s start with something smaller… something bigger. I am equal opportunity when it comes to the female form. I shouldn’t make jokes if I don’t want to be a comedian. Only, I’m not a fireman, either. When things get hot… For example, Sylvia Van Hossen and Saya Otonashi. What is it with me? A few weeks ago, my thing was older women in formal attire. Today, it’s girls with swords. It doesn’t take anything to get me hot and bothered. Heavenly Sword’s, Nariko. Ha-Ha.

Inevitable, like my thirst, terror, or tonight, tomorrow, and the next day wishing I was…

Anyway, I wish I knew what it was that gets me to, “fire away.” Is it the stress of seeing everything getting burned all around me? But again, I pretend.

Only I know I must light a fire under myself to get moving. The fact remains. I got this week’s schedule and know I’ll be burning with my humiliations galore, like the Fourth of July.

Only I know I can’t escape the fires that await me. If I do right by Virgil Vivi, will I have the chance to see my son again? Even before I knew my little Braxton, I was set to burn.

There is smoke everywhere, and I don’t know if I’m cold, cruel, or cowardly anymore. The one thing nobody says about me is, “Let him cook.” No, I’m not that special, my lady. I know.

But I am troubled. There’s smoke and darkness. Lighten up? Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire

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

1177 Days Without B III, Day 618 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 293 ~Virgil Has WRITES, B~

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When was the last time I went to a bookstore? I did go to the movies to get the story a few weeks ago. So… I don’t want to read V’s story or finish writing B’s. No! I’m all into Eric Vall, Lena Little, and Michael Dalton… “Virgil Has WRITES, B.”

Friday, April 19, 2024

Tale 293 ~Virgil Has WRITES, B~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let me tell you a story… or write a review. I can share what I’ve learned about Virgil Vivi. And there’s Braxton.

Yes, there is always Braxton. He’s not the first thought of the day. And no, I don’t take that as a sign of healing or acceptance. But when I got up this morning, it was to pick up Virgil. He does better things on his training pads than I do here—any day you choose.

Don’t remind me. Next week is going to suck. Whenever I see the schedule, I’m reminded that this type of week led to Braxton dying. And I write about next week when I’ve lived… well, existed through the worst week, before my son Braxton’s Euthanasia.

That’s such a sanitized word in comparison to what happened to my son. Can I say the word out loud?

The critic wouldn’t like that. But can’t I be a critic too? Is that why I’m so exhausted every morning? Like a little boy, I tell myself stories each and every night. And since I’m not paying for the Balance App anymore… There’s also the fact that these aren’t fairytales.

Some of these books have fairies, witches, elves, demons, and other creatures sans clothing. This reminds me that I have to buy Eric Vall’s latest audiobook. What’s one more story? That’s another thing I was looking at Thursday night. I want to see “Civil War.”

Between a trip to the movies, which is around $30.00. And Eric Vall’s audiobook, $15.00.

Virgil has the right to eat. And I don’t want to. But again next week…

I have to stick around and tell you how I survived because I won’t be filling you in like some “Possessive Stepbrother” by Lena Little. Don’t look at me like that, my lady. You can blame the Kindle Challenge. And the book was only a dollar… So I’m saving money?

And what will I read next? I’m only reading about everything that is taking my money away. I wish I could do something like in the movie Share.” I have an OnlyFans… Ew. I did make $12.00. That’s my worth?

What about my YouTube channel? So many people review things. What about me having Virgil? He’s not Braxton, and he’s not supposed to be. I know it, Sophia. He’s afraid… of me… What’s Virgil’s story?

Someday, I’ll have to read it. Virgil Has WRITES, B

1174 Days Without B III, Day 615 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 290 ~Love Bugs B, Virgil~

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I haven’t been bitten by the love bug in some time. When’s the last time I’ve been outside other than to let V out. Or go anywhere I didn’t want to go. What bugs me the most. Breathing. I wish I could make it worthwhile. Love Bugs B, Virgil

Tuesday, April 16, 2024

Tale 290 ~Love Bugs B, Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… But while you always tell and show me, I miss Braxton—you and them. Virgil?

Money makes such a lovely sound. But is it love? For the love of money. If I had it 1,171 days ago, would it have saved my firstborn son, my B? Food insecurity? Never, love! Today, Sunday, April 7, 2024. I’m only thinking about all the problems in the kitchen. Braxton’s food still sits on the counter. Three years? Is that a problem? Frightening, Mad?

Even now, I want to yell out to Braxton to take his medicine or fill up his food and water bowls. I do that for V anyway, but it’s not the same, and it sounds stupid. Doesn’t sound like love…

Like the kitchen faucet that’s acting up, the shelf that fell down, or a messed-up drawer. This mess, I swear.

If that ain’t love, then I don’t know what love is. A well-loved house that I should fix for the living. In doing so, I would honor my Braxton. It’s slowly eating away at me.

Inspecting for termites when I would instead be blasting my way through Terminids, Automatons, and whatever else in the game Helldivers 2. What’s one more distraction? Hmm. I need anything and everything to make some noise. Grieving, Hating, but Loving…

Trying to remember what love sounds like bugs me. Only I want to hear it. You and me, always and forever, my love. I want to place the two of us under the covers. Really?
Hey, it beats me thinking about Maiko Kaneda all day. Your husband has a type.

The two of us love bugs. Those two-legged children of ours, bugging mommy and daddy. Someday, I might even look at Virgil as such. One of our kids. But he didn’t have a choice, my love. I can’t say I was even bitten by the love bug. More like I was bitten by my B. And it would have pained me to leave without Virgil. Only I was being selfish or even obtuse with love. Seriously, what’s with all my talk of bugs anyway? Extermination?

Breathing bugs me. Every breath I take. Take this morning for example. I lied here reading, and Virgil was shoving against me. As long as I didn’t look at him, I could imagine Braxton, love bug. Love Bugs B, Virgil

1171 Days Without B III, Day 612 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 289 ~Failure Is A Temporary Condition~

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Braxton’s box looks permanent to me. But I know he speaks to me through books, beats, and this boy eating out of his dish. And speaking of Virgil. He keeps courageously running in here and trying to be friends. “Failure Is A Temporary Condition”

Monday, April 15, 2024

Tale 289 ~Failure Is A Temporary Condition~

Three-Hundredth And Thirty-Ninth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… I should have made one that said I wouldn’t make it to forty. Thirty? Braxton was fifteen.

Almost sixteen. So that would mean B III was somewhere between seventy-six and eighty. But he will always be my baby. He will always be my son. Dare I say, my first real love? Tupac said ain’t a woman alive that can take his Mama’s place. Same, my dear Madam, same. But ain’t a woman alive that can take my Braxton’s place. I swear it.

Madam, I’m so late this afternoon. It’s Sunday, April 7, 2024, 2:15 PM, to be precise. If you’re wondering why. I was drooling over Maiko Kaneda this afternoon. Sigh. She is the perfect woman, the goddess. I know. I would give her or any girl up for my B III.

But why? I failed Braxton. Final, finished, friendship’s fatal finale.

1170 days, Madam, and I’m still shedding tears over him. I save none for myself. Euthanasia is a permanent condition. B III’s gone, and he’s never coming back to me.

Unless I continue to fail at this existence, and that’s the thing. Failure isn’t required. Madam, no matter what, this will all end, and then what? Gods, Devils, Heaven, Hell. You know where I stand, religiously speaking. But I will never believe my son simply winked out of the universe. And he would follow me anywhere. Comfy clouds, warming fires.

But until then. What now? Once again, I have failed for thirty-nine years. My success. Today, it’s the fact that we’re here. So, as I told the Man in the Mirror, how does that help?

I bet I failed to “keep it in my pants.” My money, many distractions, or my monster, dear Madam. As I said, Maiko Kaneda. Cue me drooling like Homer Simpson for another minute or two. Minuteman, indeed (snickers). And hopefully, I’m not into Helldivers 2.

You know I need to make sound financial decisions. And with everything that’s broken here.

This afternoon, I could have been a decent friend to Virgil. I can’t blame him for not holding it in. And if it isn’t him going outside, there are permanent tear tracks down his face.

Madam, my eyes are permanently tired. But this would all be a temporary hardship if…

I did something? Braxton’s in the universe. What about chances? Failure Is A Temporary Condition

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

1170 Days Without B III, Day 611 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 286 ~Pricing Braxton’s Book, Virgil~

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I shared a book once… A Divine Revelation of Hell. What did my “friend” do to that book? What about my words and books? Uh where? Stories of me bellyaching, seeing boobs, and the loss of Braxton. Priceless? (snickers)! Pricing Braxton’s Book, Virgil.

Friday, April 12, 2024

Tale 286 ~Pricing Braxton’s Book, Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… But it wouldn’t be Braxton’s book. He was very much alive, as I tried selling, “Gulp.”

Yes, that is the name of the book, Lady Sophia. And with everything I have done with this Tuesday, April 2, 2024. Or should I say, I haven’t gotten done because of, well, um, gulp…

I meant the sound this time, like the fear that the publishing company I paid has forgotten all about me. It’s not their fault, I know. Humiliations Galore. Laziness? Sleep?

It could be me trying to survive. Do you remember the COVID era? I had about a month to work on a book—any book. And if I wasn’t going to write, I could have spent that time with my B. It was his last year alive. We were supposed to be apocalypse buddies, Sophia.

And now I’m still struggling.

And I wish I could say it’s all about that Dollar, dollar bill, y’all. But no, I’ve been doing a lot of reading, which coincides with what I’ve been gawking at, even with Golden Son.

I really hope I have finished that book by the time you read this. And more so, I hope I’m doing something other than looking up character names from video games and anime. And wasting even more time. Is it better to look at a woman or read about her? And writing about them, Lady Sophia, who am I? Once upon a time… I would have said I’m a writer. Like who, though? Writing what?

If I finished Pierce Brown’s novel last week, I should be reading Eric Vall’s. But who knows, dear Lady Sophia?

I could be weak and broken. And then I reread whatever horrible things I decided to put out into the world courtesy of A.I. Anything has to be better than my own words. No doubt.

In your own words… If it weren’t so hot, I would cry about those old-school days I had to live through. “Gulp” came from all those horrors. And they were nothing compared to what I would eventually suffer when it came to B III’s passing. (Sigh). Run And Tell That.

Better? Write and tell that. And at the very least, I could share the stories of his big brother with Virgil. He’s just glad I’m getting his name right for once. But written by Will Bradford? Pricing Braxton’s Book, Virgil

1167 Days Without B III, Day 608 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 283 ~Hear B, Listen V~

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When was the last time I heard “I love you” and felt something? When was the last time I said it? The last time I heard love and felt it was in Braxton’s last breath. And I’m sure I’ll be hearing it well into the future. “Hear B, Listen V.”

Tuesday, April 9, 2024

Tale 283 ~Hear B, Listen V~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… But I can tell why it has to be this way. My son is gone.

Braxton, my Soldier, Soul dog, indeed my firstborn Son. Even now, while I time travel. Today is Sunday, March 31, 2024, Easter Sunday. He Is Risen? Well, not my Braxton.

Today, how many more will pay for my sins? There ain’t no coming back from all these things that I’ve done. But that’s the thing, my love. I’m still gone, and you’re still waiting for me. Even though I don’t look a thing like Jesus. I know I need to cut the music off, love. I need to turn off all the noise and stay awake. Why? Because love’s louder?

Honestly, that’s my problem. The last time I heard love was my Braxton’s last breath. And for 1,164 days, I’ve only been listening. But hearing?

Whatever DEI! And you know what I wanted to say.

More like they want to say. But why is hate so much easier to explain? Why do the things I hate come so naturally? Like myself for what happened to Braxton. You tell me, I loved, and I loved, and I lost you. You sing to me. As long as I’m breathing, always and forever.

So why don’t I want to hear it? Am I making any sense at all, my love? Love is confusing.

It’s the way it has to be sometimes. But how much longer? As I said before, look how far I am from this day. Look how far I’ve come from the day my B fell. I still hear it, love.

Only you know you, man. My love language is physical touch. And when it comes to you and me, I feel everything. And you’ll do anything to make me feel your love. Actions, right? More than words? And everything that comes with it. But you want me to hear you. You need me to. But all I hear is pain, yours, mine, my boys, B III and 2V, our kids.

And I listen to everything else, like some white noise. I am sleeping away existence. Today, love doesn’t lie bleeding. It’s sleeping. And I have to find my way, darling.

Honestly, that’s the only time I’ll say you remind me of my Ma, baby doll. I’ll let you love me. Hear? Hear B, Listen V.

1164 Days Without B III, Day 605 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 282 ~Your Father’s Sins Aren’t Yours~

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I didn’t think I’d be a Dad again. Most would say I wasn’t before, as my son has four legs. B’s been gone 1163 days. While I won’t call V, son. And he’s been here 604 days. Some Dad’s “get what’s coming,” “Golden Son.” Your Father’s Sins Aren’t Yours

Monday, April 8, 2024

Tale 282 ~Your Father’s Sins Aren’t Yours~

Three-Hundredth And Thirty-Eighth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Because I’m worse than my father ever was. My son is dead. Yes, Braxton was/is my son.

I hadn’t planned on talking about this today. What, Braxton? No. I mean on fatherhood.

Not to sound cliché, ha-ha. But I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Fatherhood is the epitome of manhood. To me, it is. Take everything you would say that makes one a man.

There was a particular part of me that was quite hard this morning. What, Madam? I was reading by 5:00 AM. Anyway, it’s not that desire, distraction, or deception, Madam.

There’s the aftermath—sons and daughters—everything I want in this world. At the top of the list would be my son, Braxton. Right behind him, Madam, there’s family. And what family do I have? Selfish thirty-nine-year-old so and so. I know that, dear Madam.

A man provides. And isn’t that what my father has done for me? Isn’t that what I do for my… son? Virgil? I’m still not calling him that, but I do much worse daily, Madam.

Shouldn’t I be taking Virgil outside now? Not until 8:00 AM. And what have I been doing besides talking to you? As I said, I’ve been reading Golden Son. Madam, if you knew how many fathers “got theirs” in the last few chapters of that book. All of them sinners in one way or another. But aren’t we all? The things we do to protect and provide. And just to procreate. Braxton never had a stepmom. And I hold out even less hope for Virgil.

Because of what grand sin?

Honor thy father and thy mother? Braxton didn’t have to worry about me reading the word of God to him. And he was the word of God to me. We all have our daddy issues.

God may not have given us the spirit of fear. That was my father’s job or hobby. I’m not a godly man. The last time I asked “Father God” for anything. It was for my son’s life. And again, who am I to complain? I held Braxton’s life. Madam, I took it from him. Inevitable.

I am my fathers’ son. The best man I’ve ever known didn’t have kids. I won’t have to worry about that with Virgil. He can live by this rule—maybe. Your Father’s Sins Aren’t Yours.

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

1163 Days Without B III, Day 604 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will