I hoarded everything about my son until he died. I look to his ashes, shut in a box. And I think of a scene from Krull. I can’t stop the sand; you can’t stop time. I won’t let him go. Does that make me bad? With things I hoard or don’t. Let It Go B.
Sunday, February 27, 2022
Chronicle 241 ~Let It Go B~
To Will:
I AM a Billionaire right now, but you’ll cling to, well, everything, the way I hold on to paper. Picture you, a hoarder.
Hell, I wish it was pictures, porno, a way to send your penis over the internet, in a purely non-sexual way, of course. But a 1000 words. You’re still thinking of the Day Job survey. What about “the bills, the bills?” Now to be fair, none of this is your fault yet. I burned through the paycheck. Yesterday I was the one that spent $18.09 instead of the $10.00, ha. And I’m the one that got us ready for the week. No wonder you’re so tired and haven’t had a chance to recover. You’ll still be working too. The Day Job, I mean WTF hmm. Language! Yeah, you know. But while we’re talking about words that you set free… your novels, or Six Impossible Things:
- I WILL BE Finishing “Return From Rainbow Bridge” Kate McGahan
Completed - I WILL BE Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
Failed - I WILL BE Sending Gulp Off To Be Published
Failed - I WILL BE Keeping It In My Pants (Day 001 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
Failed (Day 002 No Fap) - I WILL BE Getting A Tattoo Of My B III
Failed - I WILL BE The Man My Son Thinks I Am
Failed
It’s enough to “make me wanna die” or make you wanna cry, which you did around 4:30 in the morning. I swear 392 Days of tears. Grief is a virus, and you won’t cure yourself. Speaking of getting “Down with the Sickness.” It looks like you’re doing the reverse of my idea. I was holding it in because I had to survive the Day Job, but you, well, we’ll see. And as if you haven’t been thinking about your Stuff and Thangs already this morning. I mean, seriously, between all the stuff you should buy for Braxton. Then sexual treasures. You’re all about throwing your money away. It’s been a month or so since I wanted to see some AI get freaky. Six Impossible Things:
- I WILL BE Finishing “A Dog’s Purpose” W. Bruce Cameron
- I WILL BE Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
- I WILL BE Sending Gulp Off To Be Published
- I WILL BE Keeping It In My Pants (Day 001 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
- I WILL BE Getting A Tattoo Of My B III
- I WILL BE The Man My Son Thinks I Am
You wish that was one of them. Letting go of it/her. It’d be far easier than the sadness. All of it for poor B III. Then his Aunt Carolina lost Dobby, and now fur-baby Odin is missing. I won’t tell you to let go of FEAR, STUPIDITY, SEX. Okay, the idea of sex always makes it into Six Impossible Things. You’d have to sleep a lot. A dangerous idea. Could I convince you to let go of the bed? Hell, I didn’t, for the most part. Yesterday, after going out, I usually set up my tray in the Den. Yeah, eating tacos in bed. It wouldn’t much matter to Braxton. You told him to let go of life. You hoard death… Let It Go B
392 Days Without B III
BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will