Tag: Knowledge

Tale 265 ~Virgil Booked Fairytales, Braxton~

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While in school, I read lots because whatever was in the textbooks… Maybe I was lucky, considering how the GOP/GQP wants to teach now. Still, my days are filled with avoiding such lessons. But the books I read… “Virgil Booked Fairytales Braxton”

Friday, March 22, 2024

Tale 265 ~Virgil Booked Fairytales, Braxton~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… Fiction or Nonfiction? Memoir or a lie? If anything, I wish it was a better tale.

Read banned books, THEY say. Sophia, you wouldn’t find the books I read in a school library. Hmm. Since I’ve been keeping up with my reading… Twenty-four books in 2019.

I got twenty-three in 2020. That was Braxton’s last full year. 2021, I read fifty-seven…

And how many of those were about grieving my boy? Six! Seven if you count “A Different Alchemy.” That was about a father who was mourning his son who was “unalive,” as THEY say these days. By his wife and “others,” no less. Should I read that again, my Lady?

That’s what brings me to you today. That and a Day Job I don’t want to talk or read about.

For the record, Sophia, today is Sunday, March 17, 2024.

Whenever I read my Day Job schedule, I feel… I have no words. Uh? I do, but none of them would be great. Truest sentences, maybe, but when has the truth been worth reading? With some these days, I ask.

Anyway, this is about yours truly. “Today is all about you.” Please, Sophia! There’s Virgil. I’m watching him sleep. But when I signed my name on the dotted line… Isn’t this what every fur baby dreams of? The end of the story. They go to a safe and happy home.

Virgil would have instead had me walk away rather than keep filling out forms and taking responsibility—or not, considering most of our days involve me lying in bed with a book. I did that with Braxton. But he was getting old. And me, sigh?

There’s also the fact that I was LESS lazy. I made it to the couch/loveseat 99% of the time, Sophia. And reading was easier. In 2022, I read 55 books. Nearly all of them were about grieving. The rest was Kindle taking money, giving Virgil his name, and upholding a Christmas tradition. This year and last are much the same, but add in my laziness.

And as far as fairies, witches, elves, demons, orcs, and more, sans their clothing, Sophia.

But what should I be reading? I finished “Backyard Dungeon 7,” so this whole week… There’s book eight. I won “Never Be Alone” and bought “Golden Son.” But there’s Braxton.

I’m grieving. There aren’t happy endings for “The Ones Who Live.” Virgil Booked Fairytales Braxton

1146 Days Without B III, Day 587 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 262 ~Love Lies, B…eing Virgil~

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Breathe in and out. It’s a simple thing. But I got the paperwork from the vet’s proving how hard it is. I have more than enough from the Day Job, doctor’s office, and my dad. I hope to have some for a bigger family. Hmm. Love Lies, B…eing Virgil

Tuesday, March 19, 2024

Tale 262 ~Love Lies, B…eing Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… And it hurts sometimes. Good morning to you. But pain, fear, and missing my boy.

The things that get me up in the morning. What about love? It’s at the core of everything, my love. But I know what you’re asking. “What’s Love Got To Do With It?” With us?

Before we go any further, is that today’s tunage sent by my Braxton? Please! Ha-Ha! Neither is the zombie ambiance that, by the day, is more and more of a habit to listen to while writing. Why not listen to you, my beautiful wife? I love you. Those three words.

Always, always, I long to hear them but there is so much more. So much that it overflows, overwhelms, and overtakes me. And all I’m trying to do is keep breathing for a moment longer.

To hear my Braxton breathe.

But what about you, our children, Virgil, all the things I’ve built, all we’ve created? Dearest, “Hey Lover,” I’m being bombarded by the winds. Even now, they’re turning my pages… Not literally! I usually read on a tablet. There’s the sound of Haley playing, trying to blow away the sounds of the dead with her “Hurricane.” There’s in and out…

Breathing, my love, I wonder.

Why? So I hear, I love you. And I do, my love, always and forever. I will always mean it. But it is the same for my Braxton. It didn’t end when he lay in his bed and fell asleep.

Like father, like son, love.

I’ve been a fan of The Walking Dead forever. But when Braxton joined the Dead…

Where he goes, I will follow. But not this time, because there’s all this Air. How do THEY say, water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink? Air, Air, everywhere, and not a want to breathe. But because there’s love? To think those that I love would outnumber B.

And if I were to lose you or anyone, especially by my hand. Is that why I lie here, love?

Isn’t that what took my Braxton? The day he needed me, I wrapped him up in my arms and slept away the humiliation, heckles, and hatred of all those who would draw breath. In particular, myself, the man in the mirror? I miss my B III’s eyes looking towards me.

Yours? Love Lies, B…eing Virgil

1143 Days Without B III, Day 584 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 261 ~Going Outside Is Highly Overrated~

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It starts before I even get around people. One side of the fence is broken nearly completely. Another is held up with sticks and stones. And, oh yeah, the trash company took the can, and I freaked out. Back to bed? “Going Outside Is Highly Overrated”

Monday, March 18, 2024

Tale 261 ~Going Outside Is Highly Overrated~

Three-Hundredth And Thirty-Fifth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… You can say that again, but I’d rather you didn’t, as I like this rule. A lot.

It would have helped plenty yesterday. If you’re keeping track, that would be Monday, March 11, 2024. And I’m talking to you Tuesday, March 12, 2024. So much time travel.

For example, when I created this rule, I looked to see where I was. It was Saturday, August 18, 2018. Or, as far as I can tell. And before I give myself the credit, “Going Outside Is Highly Overrated” is from “Ready Player One.” And Braxton was very much alive.

Madam, I continue to miss my B. If only I had been with B III those final weeks of January 2021. 2020 didn’t help many J. But I got to stay in. And if I had only done more, then…

Madam Justice, what’s my goal?

It’s similar to now. First and foremost, I always want to stay in this bed. Oh, because writing from here has been so lucrative. Ha-Ha! And even if I got up, then what, Madam? I write HaremLit? Am I on Eric Vall’s or Logan Jacob’s level? Please! Nowhere close, ever.

But let’s say I start living the stories I create. I’m not that horrible of a guy. I don’t think.

Anyway, look at somebody like @mosttalentedbaldman. That lifestyle, dear Madam…

Eventually, I’d like to get into a type of “reality” TV and be one of the “kings,” if you understand my meaning. The types of films with a girl going back to a bedroom. Or anywhere. But in bed. Only requires a little outside time.

I remember when I had to rush Braxton to the vet because he had spent way too much time in the great outdoors. He was dehydrated. Now, I’m trying to increase Virgil’s outdoor time, mostly so I don’t have to clean up after him. But I’m assuming he’s healed now.

Madam, going anywhere shows I’m going to mess up. Why was I so scared yesterday? Confession? The trash can went missing, and I had to talk to my Ma so she could talk to the trash company. I feel like less of a man and a failure without trash pick-up.

Agoraphobia? Add that to my Bipolar Disorder, Depression, and Social Anxiety. When was the last time I saw a doctor? Going Outside Is Highly Overrated.

1142 Days Without B III, Day 583 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 258 ~Braxton Ain’t Write Virgil~

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To be continued? In this existence. I’m tempted to say those are the worst words ever written. But no, those are, Goodbye, Braxton, I love you. Then, Good Morning V. Then, people at the Day Job. And these typing fingers. “Braxton Ain’t Write Virgil.”

Friday, March 15, 2024

Tale 258 ~Braxton Ain’t Write Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… Or better yet, learn English. And how about Math? Or telling time. Friday, March 8, 2024

And here we are again. First, I should let you know that Virgil is feeling better… Don’t count your chickens, right? But he’s stopped “being sick.” Only I never learn. I shared some fries with him. And considering what happened at McDonald’s. Be very afraid.

Only not of the storm outside. I can’t believe I was out there and all for a fish meal. Hmm.

This morning, you had to read all about my anger. But this afternoon, there’s fear.

Inevitable, right? Like all the mistakes I make. For example, the worst pain I’ve felt.

Watching my son die is worse than anything I’ve ever written. My Braxton is dead. Sophia, the next thing would be waking up every day. “Throw The Covers” over me.

After that? You can see what I’m doing now: writing about a future I don’t want to see. But, being honest, I am sitting in this bed waiting to die. And it hurts. Oh, how it hurts, Sophia! One more day to read and write about how much of a failure this existence has become.

Sophia, sigh, I can’t tell you what book I’m wasting my time with next. Whatever.

Learning isn’t my highest priority because every word and number makes me feel even worse about myself. Why do you think I read so much about grieving fur babies, Sophia? I get to cry, and books in the HaremLit genre get other bodily fluids out of me. I know, gross! And again, Math books… suffering. But at least I get to cry some more today.

Virgil’s not dying. But what about that trip to the groomers that I promised him?

Breaking another promise, like when I promised to save Braxton’s life. Even before that. I said that writing would be our future. And I might have time, checking my schedule…

But it’s too late for B now. And even if I wrote the best book, what would it be for? So that I could afford to pay sixteen dollars for a fish sandwich. Instead of eight and being humiliated by some McDonald’s cashier. That’s it, Lady Sophia. The End, maybe.

Because to be continued, the anger, humiliation, loss, and everything that comes with writing this existence! Braxton Ain’t Write Virgil

1139 Days Without B III, Day 580 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 255 ~Spell Manhood, B, V~

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Don’t crying to your Mama. Cause you’re on your own in the real world. I swear I hear that song every day at the Day Job. And here I am, nearly 40 and ready to text mine because… You wouldn’t believe it. Where’s my pride or mind? Spell Manhood, B, V.

Tuesday, March 12, 2024

Tale 255 ~Spell Manhood, B, V~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… My spelling could be called into question. My courage, too. Even this very existence, love.

But my love for you should never be in doubt despite everything. I’ll even include the loss of my son. I love you. That is the correct answer. And yet, I remain full of questions.

Since yesterday? Try, 1136 days ago. But Monday was a particularly hard one. And you know what I do with a hard one. Eww! Well, no! You like my sense of humor. And what was it that Marilyn Monroe said? If you make a woman laugh and all that. My love, I’m trying to figure out how to provide. Please! Isn’t that solved, considering billions?

Existing isn’t the problem. Living is. “We’re the ones who live.” Of course, I would be one to quote “The Walking Dead.” A dead man.

And what does that make you? My Sabriel, my Michonne, one of Jacob’s, Grayson’s, or Eddie’s girls. I swear! For my love of pop culture. I started my day reading “Backyard Dungeon 7.” Because I don’t love what’s going on outside in our backyard. Braxton?

Yeah, my firstborn would have something to “bark” about that. And what about the front…

That’s what I’ve been thinking about since yesterday. Besides Braxton, wondering where my bravery is and giving into, boo… I mean Cantaloupes. Critics and censorship can be as spoiled as our children, if not worse. But who am I to talk? Husband, Father, Owner, Man…

A Monster, Ahh! My Love…

As the song goes, “I wanna be your man.” Ha-Ha. But what Braxton sent today…

My son tried. “God” knows he tried. All the moments when I thought I had become a man. I didn’t chase those moments… necessarily. But nevertheless, they came, my love.

The first time a girl let me… I thought, yeah, I’m a man. No! It meant I officially like girls.

What about the first time I got into a fight? I’ve never been to war. But the mere act of breathing for me… Not that I mean to offend fighters, warriors, or soldiers. But my manhood? War never changes. The fight never ends. Yet I look out the window and… I want to call my Ma. Well, text because I am without courage. And manhood.

There’s you, our children, Braxton, Virgil. Spell Manhood, B, V

1136 Days Without B III, Day 577 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 254 ~Avoid Temptation, Make The Bed~

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Coffin costs? I use the bed as a final resting place, anyway. If I’m not going to bother making it… In more ways than one. And since I’m dying of humiliation at the Day Job. That place “helped” end my son. If I could “Avoid Temptation, Make The Bed.”

Monday, March 11, 2024

Tale 254 ~Avoid Temptation, Make The Bed~

Three-Hundredth And Thirty-Fourth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… But You don’t know how much I want to follow this one. Today’s Wednesday, March 6, 2024.

By the time you read this, I could have made the change. The only reason I’m even trying today is this. I promised myself a steak dinner if I talked to you, Echo, and Braxton.

Promise B anything to do with food; you’ll have his loyalty. Always and forever, Madam.

Instead, my loyalty is to sadness and sleep. I’m ashamed to admit that today, there’s been more sadness about the Day Job. And not my son? But we’ll get to that. Because the boy I lost trumps everything. Am I talking about Braxton or me being a boy at thirty-nine? Madam, sigh, we’ll talk, ok? But that’s not to say the Day Job isn’t involved with my little boy. Sometimes, it looks as if Virgil is following suit. We lie together all day, Madam J.

At least when Virgil’s here, I can’t succumb to temptation with some P.Y.T. online. Thankfully. But wouldn’t it be even easier if I got out of bed and went to lie on the loveseat instead? There’s a reason that I did most of my reading there. It gives the words “down boy” a whole new meaning… Eww! But really, when you read what I read but have a furry son…

Two words, Madam… Birth Control!!!

But it starts with getting out of this bed. I put some pants on and make the bed. That’s it.

I could work like Joe Stevens or Bingham Madsen, but for what? Uh, women, humanity? Ah! T.V. and a steak.

That’s why I’m avoiding making the bed. Or not doing it at all. I’m not going to nap, Madam J.

I’m looking for anything to avoid thinking about the new food rule at the Day Job. Do I believe I was the only one who wrapped a jacket around my waist? Or is my writing terrible? What about wearing earbuds and such? And now it’s eating chips and candy, Madam.

I sound like a broken record talking about this. And yes, I am guilty of doing these things at the Day Job. But it’s the utter humiliation of everyone seeing the rule and then me.

Madam, I wouldn’t be humiliated if I’d followed “my” rules. If I could give Braxton and Virgil better lives. So, Avoid Temptation, Make The Bed.

1135 Days Without B III, Day 576 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 251 ~Braxton and Virgil’s Rager~

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Like father like son… I’m not calling 2V that. But I wanted to vomit on the notice over the time clock. And V went and vomited on the bed. Hate, like Stupidity, is an illness. I won’t pass that to V. But drowning in anger? Braxton and Virgil’s Rager.

Friday, March 8, 2024

Tale 251 ~Braxton and Virgil’s Rager~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… Or should I be more like the Day Job, stating rules and facts? Reading those Sophia…

It makes me feel more gross, humiliated, and angry than cleaning up after Virgil today. And for the record, I’m not mad at Virgil. But more at myself. It’s like that time I had that Buffalo Chicken Pizza from Pizza Hut. Now, that was sickening. Should I write a review?

If only there were time. How about being in the mood? There’s also the fact that I’m such a lazy… Well, you know. I’m mad at the critic, too. You heard the song Braxton sent.

“Hells Bells.” But upon reading about it, I could be wrong. Or crazy? Inevitable, right?

Because, As I’ve said on numerous occasions. I will never find Acceptance in B’s passing. So anger, once again, finding its way into my grief…

At least it’s keeping the embarrassment to a minimum. And the fact that I hear Virgil chowing down in Braxton’s room means he has no plans to join my “Lost Boy” anytime soon. But still? You remember I hid my anger from Braxton. And now Virgil is getting all sick. Would it help if I talked to Virgil about it? Better yet, don’t share chicken.

Madness, Lady Sophia. What was I thinking? It’s like me drinking alcohol. It’s good, but… Well, you can ask Braxton’s Aunt. But at least I kept all the gross stuff in until she left. Thankfully

Speaking of gross things, there is still my rage. It’s always me and the Day Job, Lady Sophia. STUPIDITY, FEAR… where does it all go?

I finished reading “Backyard Dungeon 6” this morning. But no, I won’t give you a review on that either. But now I need a new book—as if I haven’t bought several already, Sophia. Sigh.

My reading history… Like regular history isn’t supposed to be all sunshine and lollipops. And reading about a “Ray of Sunshine” that has been lost. And saying, “She’s a Ray of Sunshine” in all the other books. For the critic: reading about dogs and girls…

Sophia, I need to read books on rage. While talking to you, I even looked up one of those rage rooms. I need somewhere to put all of my wrath. Because wanting pain, hurt, and…

It’s making me sick. No Fun! Braxton and Virgil’s Rager

1132 Days Without B III, Day 573 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 248 ~Hear B, Hear V~

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I don’t know what kind of man I am. But for this week, at least, I would be glad if I could be a voice. And what would I say? When did I last say I love you to anyone besides my dead fur buddy? And no one would understand it. Hear B, Hear V

Tuesday, March 5, 2024

Tale 248 ~Hear B, Hear V~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… If there’s one thing, I want you to understand. It’s that I love you, Always.

We’ve only just begun to live, as the song goes. I should find another way to communicate other than with pop culture references. As if you haven’t been hearing it all this time, my love. Braxton didn’t care. He understood me in one way, but you are much different. Right.

Braxton knows me as his father. And to you, I’m a… uh… fine man. But you both know me as a friend. And I’m sure on many occasions, I was “Daddy.” Do you know what I am saying? Because that’s what’s been bothering me since last week. Not being understood.

And I don’t know how to say what I need to say. Ever. The why should be easy, my love.

I love you. That’s all.

So why do I continue to mourn and grieve for my Braxton? I don’t know how to say goodbye. You’re a testament to that as well. You’re here. That’s how we live, isn’t it, love?

I’m here, we’re here, they’re here. We all are right here. And I don’t know how to move on. I need the words to move people. Even if it’s good or bad at this point. I need to communicate. And when someone tells you, you’re inappropriate and irrelevant, my love.

Why do you keep speaking? I ask myself every time I look in the mirror. With enough money, what I say is OK. I use others’ looks in the businesses I run. But please listen.

I love you. Please understand!

But I miss my boy. I miss B III. And I don’t see why that is so hard to understand, love. And as far as 2V, my love? I took responsibility. Friendship, love, and happiness? Understand that I wish I could be the man that I once was. I don’t want to remember the child I was. And then there was Braxton. Now, I’m trying to figure out everything else.

But our love. And not only that, but anything and everything nobody wants to understand. Or it’s me. I can love plenty without loving myself. I’m ain’t happy. And I shouldn’t say I am happy for everyone else. But I’ll be glad if you’re happy, our children, Braxton and Virgil. Understand? Hear B, Hear V

1129 Days Without B III, Day 570 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 247 ~Good, Bad, Women Are Complicated~

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What do I want in a woman? Criteria? When B was here, it was simply as someone he didn’t hate. When we met her, I made her a sister and his aunt. “Why do you have to go and make things so complicated?” Me or women? “Good, Bad, Women Are Complicated.”

Monday, March 4, 2024

Tale 247 ~Good, Bad, Women Are Complicated~

Three-Hundredth And Thirty-Third Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… Like giving it the good ole college try when I talk to women. How’d that turn out?

I love my Braxton more than any woman walking the Earth. And he wasn’t complicated. But I couldn’t save B. I knew him better than any human being, but at the end of the day…

And what about Virgil. It’s been 569 days, and I can’t say I know him. Not at all. But he’s not complicated. He’s like Dante’s Inferno. It’s where he got his name, of course, dear Madam. I don’t get Inferno, but at the same time, I know it’s about a trip through Hell. Am I STUPID? You know how I feel about that word… It’s complicated. I’m pretty much the same. Or, as Taylor Swift sings, “It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me.” Complicated? A father or a female…

Wow! In this day and age, I could go to so many places with that. Where do I need to…

Inevitable that I lose the plot of today’s lesson. It’s about women. I wonder if my critic is a man, woman, or… I don’t know what. I’m beginning to sound like one of those “people.” You know, the ones blabbing online day in and day out. I’m an old man.

Becoming a husband, a father, or any sort of a man is getting away from me as “time keeps on slipping into the future.” I keep saying it. I don’t want to be forty, Madam.

There’s a better way to say that. I don’t want to be 40, thinking, “I can’t live my life this way.” What about 39, 38, 37, 36? You don’t understand how much simpler existence was.

Back then, all the time. I would say, “I’ll marry the first girl, Braxton is nice to…” Ha-Ha! The first woman that fits the bill is more of a sister to me, B’s aunt. My tastes are so “freaking” complicated.

Today, Sunday, March 3, 2024, the critic said that “my” words are inappropriate and irrelevant. Duh! Madam, that was only me talking to the man in the mirror. Other people…

Please! What about Virgil? Or should I go all “Make Archie Great Again?” First name…

I want Braxton back. That’s easy enough to think. But the type of woman wanted. Braxton was my everything. I desire the same from women. Good, Bad, Women Are Complicated

1128 Days Without B III, Day 569 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Wil

Tale 244 ~B Takes Flight, Virgil~

WillLeave a comment

Words are flying around everywhere. That’s why I’m careful with the words before my eyes. And in my ears. Says the guy reading about grieving again. And complaining about winning a book. Could I publish “my” book? Well, B’s. “B Takes Flight, Virgil.”

Friday, March 1, 2024

Tale 244 ~B Takes Flight, Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… I mean it this time. Before I rotted “my” BRAIN with a phone. Before BRAXTON. BIOLOGY…

Marine Biology or something like that in high school. I had high hopes for myself back then, but even then, I knew better. I wanted to be a scientist of some sort. And now, I’m not even a good writer. And I only learned how to buy shrimp. Or grill it… in the microwave. Science, my lady. But maybe I should get to the point. If I’m not thinking about B, there are humiliations galore.

Anyway, here’s the story, my lady. So I’m sitting in Marine Biology that day, reading The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman. There’s this girl mad about something, don’t ask me what, but… She ended up snatching “my” book and hurling it at someone, and I had to retrieve it. Humiliating

It’s not much of a story. But the reason I’m thinking of it now is because of this. Instead of having a book snatched away, I had a book hurled at me today. A Kindle book. Must I be overdramatic about everything? You’re talking to the guy who believes his dead son sends him music.

Whatever. Today’s song was Black Hole Sun. And the book I was sent, “Never Be Alone” by Paige Dearth. Think of all the times I’ve thrown my name into the hat for a book. And I finally won this one.

“Maybe God Is Tryin’ To Tell You Somethin’,” as the song goes. But as I’ve said, I don’t talk to God anymore. Not since Braxton’s death. “It” had “it’s” chance.

Sophia, if I hadn’t told you before, I would say that God is a woman. Write that down right. Hmm.

That’s something that would go flying off the shelves so they could burn it. And what about everything else that I have written? Do the words go flying off somewhere? Do you see the dollars flying towards me? I see them flying away. It has been a hard week, money-wise. And who’s fault is that? Yet I want to buy more books because winning them doesn’t help with “my” mood.

Sophia, what mood am I in today? The day has only begun, and I’m careless, confused, and coming apart. And with all the rain? The only flying I’ll do today is to The Land of Make-Believe. B Takes Flight, Virgil

1125 Days Without B III, Day 566 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will