Tag: Madam Justice

Meditation 021 ~Money Is A Man’s Makeup~

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Phone, Wallet, Keys? But there is money in the wallet. There’s “my” glasses. I look in the mirror, and… that’s uglier than what I put in “my” story. I’d be pretty enough with a dog like Braxton and a good girl. But “Money Is A Man’s Makeup”

Monday, July 22, 2024

Meditation 021 ~Money Is A Man’s Makeup~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Third Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Much like Donald Trump’s face. You’ll have to forgive me. One more week of Trump pics… Eww! But what if I could break the rules that confine me, like the societal norms that dictate my actions, Madam?

If only I could be that much of a grifter. Or if I had thought to use my son, Braxton. I don’t share his and Virgil’s faces to make a buck. I shared Braxton’s pictures because I miss my boy. When it comes to Virgil, it’s so everyone knows that he’s still alive. A miracle?

Madam Justice, all it takes is money, and I had so much of that today, Thursday, July 11, 2024. So if I’m telling you that, by the time you read this, I’m out trying to make a lot more, Madam. And today, between Maxxxine, Moments of “Pleasure” and a Manuscript.

Madam, we’ll get to that. But my son and my boy, Braxton and Virgil. They’re not just my “sons.” They’re the only things that showed that I’m a good person…

But when have I ever cared about that? As I was watching Maxxxine today… Maxine Minx is an adult actress who wants to go mainstream and gets hired for a horror flick. I went in the other direction. I figured I could do poetry. And again, it wasn’t for money. It was to break free from the societal expectations that bind me. Vis-a-vis love, no…

Madam, “What you won’t do, do for love.” I thought to erase my face behind pretty words. Where did that get me? The Dean, the DEA, I’m sure “Beelzebub has a Devil put aside for me.” What I’m trying to say is this. If I got in trouble for words I thought were sweet, why not write the horrors, harems, and horrible desires? I could become the monster everyone sees.

But I could hide, become, and dare I say it? LIVE if I had money! Money is the root of all evil. So, let it grow all around me. My garden of Eden to shield everyone from The Tree of Knowledge. That being what I am. I’m starting to sound like one of those people.

Madam, in the end, we’re all hiding who we are anyway. Anybody with money is only prettying themselves up. But then again, Braxton and Virgil never have a dime, Madam. My boys are handsome. Only yeah, I’m paying their way. With what eighteen bucks? Ha!

The world is so ugly at the moment. Like my new manuscript and the software I got. My Glow-Up? Hmm. Money Is A Man’s Makeup

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

1268 Days Without B III, Day 709 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 014 ~Just Kidding Is No Excuse~

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What are SOME of the worst sounds in the world? My son’s last breath. The silence when his heart stopped beating, and I came back alone. My breathing, realizing I’m alive. The alarm clock. Laughter! And then, “Just Kidding.” Just Kidding Is No Excuse

Monday, July 15 2024

Meditation 014 ~Just Kidding Is No Excuse~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Second Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… and jokes are meant to be funny. How I wish it were true; a comedian died today.

Better myself than my son. And people might think it’s funny to die for my son Braxton or to kill for him. I am/was his daddy. That’s my job, and I failed Madam. No doubt.

Braxton’s absence is a reality I wish I could turn into a joke. I wish I could jest that I’m the biggest bully and that his return is imminent. But it’s not a joke. Braxton is gone. And with him, the laughter and joy he brought. I would give anything for him to return and reclaim his place, even if it meant Virgil had to leave. Braxton might reconsider… It’s a cruel joke, this reality.

That’s what I called it when I heard Braxton’s voice tell me to save Virgil’s life. Virgil must think his life is a joke, and soon, he’ll have a better human rescue him. Poor Virgil.

When I’m not telling Virgil, No, no, no, no, no, no, no! I’m asking him if he is kidding. I take him outside four times a day. We’re out there for twenty minutes. Only for him to decide to “go” in the house. And every time I lay down… I swear, Madam. Braxton would cuddle close to ensure I was safe and then take his post on the corner of the bed to protect me. I know Virgil is not Braxton reborn because Virgil jumps off the bed and leaves.

The demands of my Day Job are like a joke, forcing me to bend to its will. I look at my schedule for this week and the next, and I wonder, where’s my relief? That’s why I’m reaching out now.

Time may be on my side, but the reality is that I’m in a desperate financial situation. I’m left with no choice but to plead for more work hours. It’s not a joke, Madam. I need money if Virgil and I are to have a meal after today, Wednesday, July 10, 2024. And to earn it, I should write, which also requires some financial investment.

Well, if that website I found is any indication. I could even attend Camp NaNoWriMo.

Now, that’s the biggest joke of all. My existence. Every morning, I wake up Madam telling myself I’m going to Live Brave, Do Better, Be A Man. The Man in the Mirror is a bully!

And I’m just kidding when I fail, like today or Monday. But no, Dear Madam, Just Kidding Is No Excuse.

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

1261 Days Without B III, Day 702 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 007 ~Allowed To Hate Your Birthday~

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I’m sure I’ll regret writing this about E-Day. I regret waking up today. And I can hear all my motivations talk about gratitude. 39 years? Well, Braxton was here for fifteen. And his loss trumps E-Day by a mile? But… Allowed To Hate Your Birthday

Monday, July 8, 2024

Meditation 007 ~Allowed To Hate Your Birthday~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-First Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… But not this one. No! Never! I’m approaching FORTY! What a world? Waste? Why? But not today!

Madam, today isn’t even today. It’s Thursday, June 27, 2024. Will I ever stop lying? Madam, my Existence ended on Sunday, January 31, 2021. That’s the day I “joined my son.” Braxton passed away in his bed at the vet’s. Here I go, crying again. But I rather have the pain of my son’s life ending. Than that of my Existence beginning. So am I saying I’ll take the greater pain? In dog years… yes. That entire week was bad. But it’s not like this week has been any better. But again, I’ll always start with Braxton. He deserves it.

Madam, I remember the day I got my son back… in a box. Uh! And what about my Braxton’s birthday? February 13? A made-up day…

Like, I wish the word “birthday” was only made up? I swear! I have a list of words that don’t mean anything to me. Happy, Home, Birthday… I’m telling you I’m going to quit saying that regarding me. For me, it’s E-Day. Emergence, Existence, and if I ever get lucky…

Extinction. But we’ll get to that. Emergence is what matters. But no, I’m not one of those political types. Yes, I have views. But allow me to be selfish and think only about myself. AHEM…

Madam, I HATE EMERGENCE DAY!

Twenty-one years with nothing to show. Fifteen more? Well, I was Braxton’s Dad, for sure. And how did that turn out for him? And every other day, Madam. Inevitable, Imaginable.

I watched Braxton die! Unimaginable.

Please, King Kong, ain’t got nothing on me or my son. But still, I shut my eyes because tomorrow… What about today? I’m talking to you now because of the horrors this day will bring. It’s hard existing through that. Instead of embracing oncoming horrors…

Madam, I dwell on the worst moments. I survived my son’s loss and my becoming. Whatever doesn’t finish you makes you stronger. But I’m not, Madam. There isn’t a day that passes that I don’t think about joining my boy. However, now I have Virgil.

Everyone calls it Gotcha Day, and that’s coming up soon. The only thing that would change about “my” rule would be to name Braxton’s loss the most hated day ever.

Allowed To Hate Your Birthday

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

1254 Days Without B III, Day 695 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 366 ~Happiness On Anyday But Birth~

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Eight years. Around three and a half of them without my Braxton. And that’s what I remember. But of the eight years, were any of them Happy? Maybe I should have named Virgil that. But E-Day is coming up in a few months. Happiness On Anyday But Birth.

Monday, July 1, 2024

Tale 366 ~Happiness On Anyday But Birth~

Three-Hundredth And Fiftieth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Along with some ideas. Like finding happiness at all. In Lessons, Episodes, Logs, Gospels, Chronicles, Sagas, Tales…

Tomorrow will mark the eighth year of what, you may ask? Well, a little over a week from now since today is Friday, June 21, 2024. And I can’t remember why I even started. Nor do I want to, Madam.

But for you, Lesson 001 ~Look Who Grossed Up~ Eww!

Think of happier days? Now, Madam, you know that’s not how I operate. The rule we need to discuss was “adopted” on Saturday, September 8, 2018. Please don’t remind me…

Yet I remember the day my Braxton passed away. That was Sunday, January 31, 2021.

But a happy day? There have been good days and bad. When’s been the last day, I didn’t think, “Why not join Braxton?” And seeing how we’re talking today, you know Monday’s been… pretty effed?

Anyway, Braxton loves me. So that Saturday, August 13, 2022, when I found Little Virgil… I’m sure it made Braxton happy because it meant I wouldn’t be following him… sooner.

Madam, we all make mistakes.

I made one today, but I’m unsure whether to “come” clean, Madam. Let’s say this: It involves a dirty blonde, a bathroom cabinet, and looking up black lights on Amazon. Doing such things brings joy but not happiness. Didn’t I say something some time ago about words like happiness, home, and acceptance? That’s one more reason I read—new words.

Speaking of which. I will need a new title if I want to talk to my Dear Future Wife. Right?

Tomorrow will be a new start. Yeah, keeping say that.

Meditations? In honor of Marcus Aurelius. How dare I, right? And Virgil was also a Roman. And considering “my” country is going the way of the Romans… But not today. I’m much too busy being anything but happy. But Madam, baring that, coming so close…

First and foremost, it was holding my son. Knowing that someone loved me. That’s happiness? And then knowing I saved a life. That loving Braxton got me to save Virgil.

The nights when Braxton, his honorary aunt, and I would watch movies on the couch. What I may or may not have done this afternoon staring at some beautiful woman…

Quoting Mad World, “The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had.” Happiness On Anyday But Birth.

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

1247 Days Without B III, Day 688 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 359 ~Feeling Good Is A Responsibility~

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Money, Power, Women… Everything wouldn’t make me happy. Braxton couldn’t even do that. But he was better than most women. He made me want to be better. Why, it’s almost like being in love. Now it’s my “burden?” “Feeling Good Is A Responsibility”

Monday, June 24, 2024

Tale 359 ~Feeling Good Is A Responsibility~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-Ninth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… And those that aren’t, I don’t need to be reminded of. Like someone asking, how are you?

Give me my son back, and then we’ll talk. I mean, I haven’t washed Braxton’s bedding or favorite toy to this very day. I’ll need his DNA at some point. If this week works out. Oh! So I’m going to finish a book this week. Am I feeling okay, Madam. It’s been 1240 Days. And I continue to mourn my son’s euthanasia. Feeling Good? Oh No! The depth of my grief is the norm. And they say it’s no one’s responsibility to make you happy. It is yours. It’s mine…

So write the book and “go get the money, go get the money,” as the song goes. But that’s not living “my” purpose. Am I trying to sound like a motivational speech? How I wish.

But having money feels better.

Now, if I can’t get my son, Braxton, back, If I can’t feel the warm and fuzzies for little Virgil…

POWER! No one man should have all that power. And I don’t mean in a physical sense per se. Madam, there is literally another rule that talks about how money makes a man look. A man? Haven’t I been talking about manhood equating to fatherhood? And some of the men that I admire most… I don’t know if they have families of their own. Sigh.

When you spend the better part of the day looking up new adult starlets, you find out the men they’re with, too. To have a body like that? To make women like them, Madam… Uh…

Yearn, Yell, Yield… That’s power.

And Scarface said it best:

“In this country, you gotta make the money first. Then, when you get the money, you get the power. Then, when you get the power, then you get the women.”

I want to feel good, if only for a little while. But I need money to spend. And I am struggling to find the energy to stay awake today. But what wakes me up every day? Rather, how do I feel when I wake up in the morning? I check the foot of the bed for B. Then I check his bed. The longing for the past is a constant companion. My Braxton is gone!

And Virgil? Sometimes, he’s on ‘my’ bed. Other times, I have to set up the gate, and he sleeps in Braxton’s room. Which leaves me alone to what? I look for various distractions, like bigger and smaller Yabbos, to fill the void. I know. Eww!

But if I want to make the good feelings last… I must take responsibility. Had I done this before, I wouldn’t need any ACCEPTANCE. Braxton being gone? No! Never! But… Feeling Good Is A Responsibility.

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

1240 Days Without B III, Day 681 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 352 ~Even The Devil Gets Homesick~

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Everybody wants to go to Heaven, but “Nobody Wants To Die.” Wasn’t that why I was working hard at the Day Job? And what happened to my son. And maybe if I read enough to get smart enough to write enough, we’d find Heaven. Even The Devil Gets Homesick

Monday, June 17, 2024

Tale 352 ~Even The Devil Gets Homesick~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-Eighth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Concepts, Ideas, Knowledge vs Belief? Just words like, better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.

Funny, I bring that up today. Although today isn’t today, it’s Thursday, June 13, 2024.

And I am afraid. You see how the days smoosh together. I’m scared every day. It’s by my doing, for the most part. I don’t Doublethink like some. I overthink! And why is that now?

Yes, Braxton is still gone, passed away, if I’m being nice about it. I don’t mean to sound cavalier about it, either. Madam, my son might have lived if I had weeks like this before.

So, it’s looking like a short week, and the next one will be shorter. I’m not going to be making anything. I abhor the Day Job, but there are three little words: I need money!

For me and for Virgil

And how about more books? Didn’t I mention myself writing one in my “conversation with Braxton?” I’ve got several. There are two I wrote for him. I love reading and writing… As long as it’s not about fur buddies meeting their ends. Why do I read those, hmm? They don’t make me feel better. And they only give me ideas on how to honor B.

Again, that takes money. And I’ll have plenty of time to think about it. But first, I’ll be worrying about the Day Job. Isn’t that what led to Braxton’s passing? Second, I’ll worry about getting in trouble with the day job, my dad, or the “D” in my pants. Third, there’s writing anything worthwhile, period. Don’t I miss it ever?

Yes! This explains why I was at the Dining Room table this morning. And I’m back in bed this afternoon. Because it’s hard not to be dirty. Did I say that? You’re not the Inspector.

But to be honest, what was Heaven? Where is Heaven? I swear, Madam, when I was reading the Day Job schedule and thinking I’d done something wrong… Joining B III?

No! Even on his last day, B wanted to come home with me. B III found his place with me. Heaven was lying with me as I read. Or it was sandwiched between his aunt and me. There’s my drooling over Cherry’s “shenanigans.” Sitting in the middle bed, “relaxed.” Reigning. Day Job’s not Heaven, but… Even The Devil Gets Homesick
“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1233 Days Without B III, Day 674 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 345 ~Impossible’s Not Fact But Opinion~

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It’s six, three, or one impossible thing a day. Just me getting out of this bed. And never with love or happiness. It’s fear and a J O B (snickers). Most people are of the opinion I have a good life. But me existing? Impossible’s Not Fact But Opinion

Monday, June 10, 2024

Tale 345 ~Impossible’s Not Fact But Opinion~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-Seventh Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Tell that to the Six Impossible Things list I make every Sunday. In my “whimsical” tradition, I jot down six seemingly impossible things that bring me misery or betterment… Questions without answers. But how about today, Madam.

I could really use a wish right now. But impossible things are happening every day! Madam, I’m at least writing them out. And since I’m sure I’ll fail five out of six, where shall I go? Don’t tempt me. I’ve got something impossible, but Virgil, the new guy, is here. And so… I’m still breathing.

Let’s talk about Braxton. He’s always number one on my list. And haven’t they been able to clone dogs? Refrain from talking about what I’ve been reading. Just today, which is Sunday, June 2, 2024. I’ve looked it up to see if it’s possible. Not from hair or ashes. Bedding?

I’m sure that carries Braxton’s DNA. And his favorite toy? But besides that, I’ve bought another book to help me cope with losing my fur buddy. And then there’s Backyard Dungeon 11. I’m still bothering…

Cherry has a low opinion of those types of books. I remember when I bought M Anime some titles—awkward. And I still need to get B’s Aunt a birthday present. So, even more books!

Madam, it didn’t take tequila to make her clothes fall off. Did I really say that? Again, she’s almost like a sister to me… Almost. Cherry, M Anime, I fear they’ll get sick of me.

“The horror! The horror!” FEAR, my dear Madam. Of what? Of being abandoned, left alone, or arrested. The things I think about daily. Wild, Wicked, Wrong. Everything I want is insipid, insane, illegal, and/or impossible. It depends on who you ask. B wouldn’t have cared.

Because my son is brave. And the fears I have…

It’s impossible to give each one a name. And if I tell you, I’m afraid of everything, my Madam. It feels like I am more and more with each passing day. My Braxton and Fear.

Three wishes and three impossible things. The third would be to become what I desire.

I can’t clone my boy. I can’t find my courage. And to climb out of bed willing, on any day ending in Y. But why is that? I know full well it’s not a fact. Because Virgil is still here.

It’s impossible for Virgil to be Braxton. As impossible as it is for me to find acceptance in Braxton’s passing. Those are facts. Impossible to live? That’s not Braxton’s opinion. Impossible’s Not Fact But Opinion

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

1226 Days Without B III, Day 667 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 338 ~Height And Weight, Equally Evil~

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The question once wasn’t a man or a bear. There were two questions. How tall are you? And how much do you weigh? The reactions while I’m all, “Whether short or tall, we wanna thank you all for letting us… (do stuff).” Height And Weight, Equally Evil.

Monday, June 3, 2024

Tale 338 ~Height And Weight, Equally Evil~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-Sixth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… And some don’t need to be talked about. Or I’m not in the mood. In the mood…

A woman once asked me if I always carry that… “lovin’ feelin’.” The truth is, yes, Ma’am, even in the face of the unbearable loss of my son, Braxton. There were 161 days of emptiness. I tried “filling” that void with OnlyFans, and then one evening, looking at Chloë Grace Moretz, I… (Cue Homer drool).

She’s as old as Cherry. And the thing is this. I would do precisely the same thing with them both, Madam. How you like that! But it’s better to keep my hands on the keyboard.

As I mentioned, I’m not in the mood, but I’m a hypocrite. Since my indifference led to my son’s departure to The Rainbow Bridge, I Feel Everything. I’m constantly battling with anger, sadness, and a strange mix of emotions. Things that make Pretty, pretty girls go… Eww! Rage, Depression, Lust…

Please, Madam, which is good, that makes the others evil.

Why is it okay to indulge in one and not the other? Like the unnamed narrator of Andrew Davidson’s novel, The Gargoyle, “I am an equal opportunity misanthropist.” That’s okay.

But amid this paradox, in this day and age, to quote George Orwell’s book Animal Farm, ‘All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.’ However, instead of delving into politics, societal issues, or my insignificance… I choose to focus on my two boys. Friend and Freeloader…

Braxton and Virgil are both my boys. But Braxton was/is my son. Virgil’s here, Madam. Even at 660 days, I don’t know what to make of him. But Little B III is frozen in time.

Always and forever, I’m his Dad. But a dog owner…

So let’s talk about me. If a girl asks my height, she’s allowed to do so. If I ask her weight, I’m rude. But I would do the same thing to Piper Niven as to Roxanne Perez. Now, if I could have them both… I know I need to stop, Madam. “Oh, there ain’t no rest for the wicked.” But what makes me wicked? Who says that about me? Do you want a list? Ha!

If people want me gone, that’s okay. But if I agree, suddenly, I need help.

If I have money, I’m a player; without it, I’m a per… Anyway, if I want everything, I’m greedy. If I want nothing… I am. Height And Weight, Equally Evil

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

1219 Days Without B III, Day 660 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 331 ~Harder To Breathe Up Top~

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Will you breathe? Will, breathe. More like, “Daddy, breathe.” Because when my furry little boy died, I didn’t plan on it. But I’ve managed for 1212 days. There are always more books to read. Or babes to look at. But to exist? Harder To Breathe Up Top

Monday, May 27, 2024

Tale 331 ~Harder To Breathe Up Top~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-Fifth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Some people cancel them outright. Some are forgotten about. And still, some will evolve into, well, anything.

It makes my head hurt, along with the time travel. I’m speaking to you on Tuesday, May 21, 2024. However, when this rule was written out, I traced it back to 2018. I mean, wow!

I figured I’d be in another place entirely. Braxton would be twenty next year. And that’s when I expected to lose him. That is if he didn’t lose me by smothering me with his fur.

So what’s making my head hurt now? Why am I breathing when I don’t really want to, Madam? Let’s start by raising my head in the morning. The first breath that enters my lungs. It’s either my Braxton’s name that comes out. Or expletives from my mourning or moaning. Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This.

I’m glad I covered the mirror in the bedroom. But there is the black mirror, AKA the phone, on the table beside me. I hold my breath, looking at the beauty of others. My mind.

Inevitably, I will find other ways not to breathe and instead sound like the zombie I imagine I am. The moans of newly found flesh.

Did I really just say that? And what’s worse is the look on my face when I say or do such things. Taking OnlyFans pictures.

But I could be so exhausted that whatever… risqué book I’m reading falls and hits me in the face. How many times has that happened?

And yet I live. My head stays intact. Breathing away and denying my fondest wish.

What? To follow Braxton wherever he went. The Rainbow Bridge? I am Braxton’s father, but if I had been even more of a man… Would he have lived? I keep asking myself that, Madam. I wanted to be a man of money, merit, and miracles. I would build our Heaven.

There would be no air because we would have everything, and no one could touch my son or me. And yet he found it. I suppose. My B III is sitting in his bed on the vet’s table, not breathing. As for me? When was the last time the “bigger head” has been up? Uhh…

There’s plenty of air as I fall Down To Earth. Nobody but Virgil and I. Harder To Breathe Up Top

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

1212 Days Without B III, Day 653 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 324 ~Blogging Is Graffiti With Punctuation~

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I ask for my Braxton back. I ask not to regret breathing. And to not be a blogger. But I sit in bed messing up the words because I have a Day Job. So, I’m blogging instead of writing. I promised B, but… Blogging Is Graffiti With Punctuation

Monday, May 20, 2024

Tale 324 ~Blogging Is Graffiti With Punctuation~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-Fourth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… But not this one. Well, not unless I’m not here anymore. And how I HOPE for that.

Another week feels like an eternity. It’s Sunday, May 12, 2024. Another tear? Another breath.

Have I forgotten where I am and what I’m doing? If this is the First Circle, Limbo. Then, I could see no better punishment for a writer. If only that were my greatest sin, Madam.

Nowadays, I drift between what I did to my son, Braxton. Then there’s my father. Blogging away about those two extremes when it is still Mother’s Day. I know, Madam.

But if I stopped writing, I would honor women, specifically my mother. Honoring my father would mean keeping my mouth shut, but I couldn’t. So I’m stupid. And to honor my son, I would join him. Only he has a story. People should read it.

And so every day, whether I want to or not, I wake up, whittle away time, and write. It’s more like I cry out for him, Braxton, B III! I argue about balls. And then I blog away. This is my way of keeping him alive. Or, so I thought.

So, how long have I been doing that? How long has this blog existed? Oh! Please understand, Madam. I’m not begging anyone to look at this “work” anymore. I don’t. Only these words in Sister Act 2 have stuck with me: “If when you wake up in the morning. you can think of nothing but writing…then you’re a writer.” Now, when I wake up, there’s Braxton first. Then, the question of why I’m breathing. And then there’s this blog. Daring to call myself a writer…

That’s like calling myself a reviewer. This leads me to where this rule came from. It’s from the movie Contagion. “Blogging is not writing. It’s graffiti with punctuation.” But my writing is simply a mess. The Mess! Madam Justice, I’ll get into all sorts of movies at this rate. But I’m not here for that. And since I won’t edit my novels for Braxton, Madam.

What is it I’m doing? Right now, I’m hoping the DISH Network people come through so I won’t have to keep writing about being a fool and my father. Forgive me for my whining, dear Madam. Yet my words have done far worse, haven’t they? Up against the wall, on Mother’s Day. I’m not writing. Blogging Is Graffiti With Punctuation.

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

1205 Days Without B III, Day 646 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will