Tag: Man

Meditation 296 ~Braxton Wasn’t Planned, Virgil~

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I didn’t plan on being a Dad. And I can’t count on being a husband. Last I saw, I was $3,000 in the hole. Showing a bunch of anime holes or writing about lady parts equals a whole lot of nothing. My boys need to eat. “Braxton Wasn’t Planned, Virgil.”

Wednesday, April 23, 2025

Meditation 296 ~Braxton Wasn’t Planned, Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… But no, I haven’t knocked up Braxton and Virgil’s future stepmom. I should stop calling “M Anime” that.

“Accidents ambush the unsuspecting, often violently, just like love.”
― Andrew Davidson from The Gargoyle

I didn’t plan on having a son. I didn’t plan on my Braxton. I didn’t plan on being a Dad. But one night, my father walks in with this little ball of fluff. And though I had begged for a dog for years… There’s this tiny thing being flopped into my sister’s hands. My Neo.

That’s what I called him anyway. My Ma quickly changed it to Braxton. But to me, he would always be “The ONE.” And because my sister knew how to make a life. And “I am an equal opportunity misanthrope.” “Here I Am”: Father, Friend, and Fiend. Because I never planned on killing him. But I survived. I learned. And I’ve never forgiven myself, either. I dream, plan, and do nothing.

So that’s why I’m here Monday, April 21, 2025, financially effed. I should have followed.

Who, Braxton? “Too Little Too Late,” as the Barenaked Ladies sing. We’ll get to that. Today, there’s Virgil. 984 days ago, he wasn’t here. Hell! Braxton was very much alive on Tuesday, October 20, 2020, when Virgil was born. Three months later, my Braxton passed.

How much did it cost for tests and trying to keep him alive? “It Doesn’t Matter.” But when was the last check I got over one hundred dollars? And now Virgil’s vet visit, security, and the fact we need to eat… I didn’t plan on seeing forty or on trying to be Virgil’s hero. SIGH

He needs a father. I need to be a man.

Please! I don’t know the first thing about being a man. I’ve got man parts. And what was I doing with that hardware before coming here and talking to you, E? Trying not to come.

Talk about blasphemy because I was the same way on Easter Sunday. Whether it was M Anime’s nightmare that I’m writing “Cries Come Women, Come Country.” There are thoughts of Cherry’s huge vanilla Yabbos. Then such and such posted Megumi and Ayami from “Ecchi na Onee-Chan ni Shiboraretai,” so I had to cut up their episodes. But this led me to two more sisters I was moaning about in the bathroom. Filming OnlyFans? Nope. “Don’t know why I didn’t come.” “Mama told me not to come.” Braxton Wasn’t Planned, Virgil.

1543 Days Without B III, Day 984 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 295 ~No B In Sharing~

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Manners! Language! You talk too much! Should I say more about my furry kid? Four years gone. Or what about the walk with his little brother on a rainy morning? Money woes. Manuscripts that will never be published. Manhood. My Evils. “No B In Sharing”

Tuesday, April 22, 2025

Meditation 295 ~No B In Sharing~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? Enough to SHARE my life with you. Or give it. Oh, to be so noble.

Missing my Braxton, I could be a modern-day samurai. Committing Seppuku? No. That would only dishonor my firstborn son, you, my love, and our family. What? You didn’t think I only studied Japanese Adult Anime. Would you instead have me share more about B III?

Money has also become a concern. I was talking to my Ma the other day and wanted to share with her that I am afraid. A man provides for his family. Husband and father. “What Kind of Man Would I Be,” to admit that I’m afraid I can’t give you and our kids everything you want and need. But I wouldn’t be a good one. “What Makes a Good Man?”

Manuscripts full of bad ones. I was reading “My Writing.”

Yesterday, I kept getting the same response from “the critics.” I share far too much.

Truthful, yes, but too much. There’s “No Hope Left.” Apparently, I can’t say such things. I didn’t tell Braxton that as I watched him die. I don’t tell Virgil that when we walk every day. He needs to believe in a better world. A better me. What about myself, love?

Looking at myself in the mirror, I inevitably say, “I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend.” But what’s the truth? I want to tell the worst things, my Dirty Little Secret.

Braxton was euthanized Sunday, January 31, 2021, because I failed him. I don’t know how to reach Virgil. And I wish I was never born.

Because I am afraid. “It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared all the time.” So why not share my sins with you? The things I have never done. Is it effed up that I think about this, like sharing food with my boys? Braxton eating hot dogs, and Virgil has pizza bites. You love?

I get off on the idea of watching you with someone being “ravished.” Cuckoldry vs Netorare (NTR). There’s a book in the closet, “Ravishment: The Dark Side of Erotic Fantasy” by Desmond Ravenstone. I’ve been excited by nonfiction violation stories. Exhibitionism is something I’d explore with you. My Sadism. Fear brings out my depravity. I share this with you because telling myself, my boys, I’ve failed. No B In Sharing.

1542 Days Without B III, Day 983 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 294 ~To B At Peace~

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Peace be unto you. Unto you be peace. I miss sitting with my son and watching a movie. The Book of Clarence? Braxton’s favorite girl, and I watched that. But can I still afford streaming memberships? Such despair at being broke. “To B At Peace.”

Monday, April 21, 2025

Meditation 294 ~To B At Peace~

Hey Dad,
It’s Me, Baby B… “Can you feel that? Ah, sh*t. Ooh, wah-ah-ah-ah!” I’ll leave the singing to you, my father. I still bark.

But not now. You used to say that my barking said more than most humans. And at least when I barked, I was helping you out. We agree that most humans make too much noise. There are exceptions to that. My favorite girl, the future stepmom I never met. Cherry.

And what about my little brother, Virgil? I wish you so many things, my father. Somehow, someway, someday, today, I want you to be at peace. I wish you peace. Peace be unto you, my father. I know I’m getting a bit preachy. A little biblical… Like father, like son. But neither of us would be found in a church. Yesterday was Easter. So, dinner…

You know me. Food always made me feel better. Until…

Um that’s not what I came to talk to you about now. My resting in peace and all. No dad.

How can I sleep when I can feel it all the way from here? The Rainbow Bridge? Elysium or whatever. That big bed in the middle of our sunny backyard with food on every side.

Your depression and the danger you wake up to when you head to that bad place. You said that’s how you got me those fried golden sticks. But now what you feel the most is DESPAIR. What’s one more human word? You would cuddle me and tell me so many.

But peace? Even if I don’t understand it, I have seen it, my father, last night as Virgil cuddled you.

And all those nights we would spend with my favorite girl watching the glowing box.

There were the days after you came from the bad place and fell asleep. And as you closed your eyes you’d watch me sitting at the corner of the bed. You’d come to no harm.

However, when it was your turn, I’d sleep on your heart as you read books. And there were all the times I would lay on my pillow at your feet, and you’d write your stories.

There were days you would breathe afterward as if the greatest task ever was done. Sometimes, you’d kick me out to do “whatever,” watching certain things. You’d be finished, clear. Always unto you be peace, Dad. To B At Peace

“Why don’t we have a word for the utterance between laughing and crying?”
Peter Heller, The Dog Stars

“Because your question searches for deep meaning,
I shall explain in simple words”
― Dante Alighieri, Inferno

1541 Days Without B III, Day 982 of Virgil’s Arrival

Always and Forever,
Your Son

Meditation 293 ~Space Between B’s Virgil~

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Am I spacing out? No, I believe I have my feet planted on the ground along with my eyes. I can’t have Virgil eaten by some possum or anything requiring a rabies shot, which reminds me of Money for V’s vaccines like B. “Space Between B’s Virgil.”

Sunday, April 20, 2025

Meditation 293 ~Space Between B’s Virgil~

To Will:
It’s the Man In The Mirror… But, Because, B*tch… It’s only 8:20 AM. And already you’re making excuses and cursing your “life.” Sorry.

The week I’m leaving to you is effed. Only which is more effed? A week filled with humiliations galore, as mine was. Or a week where you’ll make half a day’s wage. Cue the stomachache you’re getting. The space between the zeros in your bank account is getting tighter and tighter. Your stomachache could be a good thing. Smaller stomach.

As if you got any guts. Yesterday, I admitted I was terrified. You know why that is.

“Aren’t you supposed to be validating me or somethin’?

Oh, yeah, actually, I am. Uh, but I’m not gonna do it anymore because you’re lying to me, and it’s exhausting.

(Scoffs)

And you want me to validate that? No. In fact, fuck no.”
Joel and Gail, The Last of Us

In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not your friend. Braxton was/is your friend, son, protector, therapist, and a million other things, but at best, I’m an “Everyday Normal Guy,” ha-ha. “I’m just a regular everyday normal mothereffer,” you’re singing today. You’re an “A*shole” refusing these Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE VIEWING Backyard Dungeon 15, Logan Jacobs
    Completed
  2. I WILL BE VETTING Pictures, My Braxton’s Life Story
    Failed
  3. I WILL BE VENDING Gulp: Poetry Book
    Failed
  4. I WILL BE VOWING To Keep Pants On (Day 002, No Fap). Real Girls Are An Exception
    Failed (Day 001 No Fap)
  5. I WILL BE VALUING My Flesh Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
    Failed
  6. I WILL BE VALIANT Being The Man My Son Thinks I Am
    Failed

What does Braxton think about that? He’ll tell you on Monday. You’re dead like him. You get so few Day Job hours that you’re surprised anyone knows you’re still living.

Virgil does. You’re sure V appreciates you not letting that possum eat him while walking. If you want to show your gratitude, it’s this. At the Day Job, you only think about the bad. On the path behind the house, you think of the good and the bad. Being afraid.

Horrified, you’ll always be that boy saying, “I learned about sex from the Sears catalog. And then I played with my mothereffer all day long.” What else is there? Writing…

Seriously (looks at you almost brain-dead). What about OnlyFans? Wishes, worries, wanking. Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE VIEWING Independent Study ― Harem University Book 5 by Dirk Knight
  2. I WILL BE VETTING Pictures, My Braxton’s Life Story
  3. I WILL BE VENDING Gulp: Poetry Book
  4. I WILL BE VOWING To Keep Pants On (Day 001, No Fap). Real Girls Are An Exception
  5. I WILL BE VALUING My Flesh Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
  6. I WILL BE VALIANT Being The Man My Son Thinks I Am

Hell, if you were going to change things up, how about thinking of a way to make over a hundred dollars this week? Write it down or wank one out so you’re clearheaded. Uh Eww! But you know who you are. It’s only been ten hours. Boys, books, boo… Yabbos.

You have two books about Braxton, and you’ll take a picture of Virgil daily… Profit?

However, if you can’t or WON’T do that, you have three erotic books and all the time in the world to imagine. How tight do Yabbos have to be to grip man parts? You’re gross.

How much space do you have between now and the end? Virgil’s vet visit. Other responsibilities that require big bucks. Blame Space Between B’s Virgil

1540 Days Without B III, Day 981 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 292 ~The B’s Hurt Virgil~

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Sitting in “my car” stuck in traffic, hoping I could get a $5 Meal Deal. Fear was riding shotgun. Grief was massaging my shoulders… Where Braxton once sat. And Rage asked, “Are we there yet?” Bereaved, Butt Hurt, but to be Brave? The B’s Hurt Virgil.

Saturday, April 19, 2025

Meditation 292 ~The B’s Hurt Virgil~

Hey, Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… Eff me! I wish that were a true story this very second. But life’s a bully.

Bereaved, it isn’t a b*tch. Amongst other things, such as the death of my son, Braxton. I think this is the first time I’ve shed a tear for him this week. Or is it the fact my eyes need the lubrication? I’ve taken Virgil for walks on the path behind the house four times, Lu.

It reminds me of good times, but the Rainbow Bridge it’s not. Lady Lunalesca, am I in such a hurry to see Braxton again? In a word… YES! As much as I fantasize about Cherry and her Mum, I beg to see M Anime’s Yabbos and start salivating over a specific model. I mentioned last week that she went private. It’s not good for her image. So, as RuPaul put it, “Supermodel, You Better Work.”

Butt hurt? Angry? Not at her, but at life in general. My God, Lady Lunalesca, this week was one for the books. Now, that’s something I’m angry about. Why the eff am I not writing books and editing. By this point, I should have had so many publications on shelves.

I could use the money. At this point, Lady Lunalesca, it’s what is scaring me the most these days: I’m broke… That, and the idea that I would wreck the car all for McDonald’s food.

“Calm down, Doctor! Now is not the time for fear. That comes later.”
— Bane (2012)

So what has brought on my fear and wrath? Honestly dear Lady Lunalesca, I could write a whole book on that. But if anything, everything that has to do with the Day Job. I can’t survive with or without it.

Be brave… Thou art courageous… Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. Oh, my dear Lu. I am terrified by the end of the month or a few weeks into May. I won’t have anything.

I’m afraid that’s about as much positivity as you’ll get from me, my dear Lunalesca.

Wanting to take Ellie and Dina to bed. Revealing secrets. No! What scares me is failing to take care of my boys. And as much as I hate myself, I stay alive to look after them. I am the keeper of Braxton’s memory. And a provider for Virgil. And as I sat there yesterday afternoon with my Grief, Rage, and Fear, my bullies… And I imagined when the money runs out. The B’s Hurt Virgil

1539 Days Without B III, Day 980 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 291 ~Creating The B-Plot Virgil~

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Well, if it’s any consolation, this horrible week will be over when I reread this. Didn’t I want more hours? It’s why I’m writing this on a Sunday and not a Friday. I’ve written of worse weeks. And even worse stories. Creating The B-Plot Virgil.

Friday, April 18, 2025

Meditation 291 ~Creating The B-Plot Virgil~

Hey, Lady Sophia,
Let me tell you a story… Because I won’t be giving you a book review today. Have I finished “Backyard Dungeon 15”

Considering today is Sunday, April 13, 2025. And speaking of stories, doesn’t The Last of Us Season 2 begin tonight? My son, Braxton, was so creative. When Sundays rolled around, and Daddy communed with the dead… The Walking Dead, that is. He would come up with ways to entertain himself. That is if he didn’t want to crawl beside me and be quiet for an hour or thereabouts. Hell! B was considerate enough to die in the off-season. That’s dark…

But by now, Lady Sophia, you know, that’s how I like my stories. Happy Endings… Whatever! Virgil would have something to say about that. This being his forever home. Ha!

I’m sure “The Art of Racing in the Rain” is better. I haven’t read it.

And what about my books? We’ll get to that. Because you don’t know how badly I wish I could say this week is “Unwritten.” However, regarding the Day Job, “Every Day Is Exactly the Same.” This wouldn’t be so bad if I were “just a regular everyday normal mothereffer.” But no. I’m sure this week has expanded on Humiliations Galore.

Excuses not to go in; they are coming up empty. I have lots to explain, well as the song goes:

“‘Cause I’m a loser
And sooner or later, you know I’ll be dead.”
3 Doors Down

Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser, baby, so why don’t you kill me?
Loser, Beck

Explanations for this. Not movies, music, or manuscripts. I don’t blame it on missing my Braxton. Or missing the spark that made me a great father… Seriously, I’m failing Virgil.

Editing my novels? It’s like a B-plot to a movie.

Mind you, Lady Sophia. A lousy movie, as sleep always comes first. Stealing dreaming time.

Bad dreams, as is the case with M Anime. Earlier, “Cries Come Women, Come Country.” What did you get when you take a lovely lady’s military nightmare and the anime series Kuroinu? “It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me.” An African-American Writer. I wish.

Sophia, only days before, I was working on “Nightmare At The Meat Market,” Ch. 19. Honestly, I told M Anime I already had ideas for a sequel. As horrible as I am, I’m not Donald Trump. FDT! I have more than “concepts of a plan.” Ripping off Discipline: The Hentai Academy. “The Eve of a Cherry”? What happened with that book? Existence… Or I keep trying. Creating The B-Plot Virgil.

1538 Days Without B III, Day 979 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 289 ~Braxton’s Shelved Elsewhere, Virgil~

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I’ll read and/or write anything today, as I’m not checking the mailbox. And I don’t want to read about dogs in distress… Uh, half my Kindle is Pet Loss books. Disregard females and acquire currency. Ah, writing. “Braxton’s Shelved Elsewhere, Virgil.”

Wednesday, April 16, 2025

Meditation 289 ~Braxton’s Shelved Elsewhere, Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Considering this conversation is on Tuesday, April 8, 2025, how do I know. I’m living three to five.

What are those sins? In no particular order, Braxton is dead; I have thoughts on big Yabbos, and like MAGA… And make no mistake, Inspector, I despise MAGA. Eff DJT! Anyway, like MAGA, I give into IGNORANCE and HATE. But what rivals my son? FEAR!

Is it a sin to live in fear? Yes! Because of FEAR, I’m not the man I should be, Inspector. Existing… Living in FEAR is disrespectful of my Braxton’s life. The little brave dog he was. And I’m not the Dad I must be for his brother Virgil. I swear what I’ve thought up, E.

I saw a message about a distressed dog, and I thought the neighbors were talking about my Virgil. But it’s much further up the street.

I hope… Yes, I hope. But what do I hope for the most today? Other than B III beating death.

I want to be… I am a writer. Wimp, womanizer, and worthless but writing Inspector. That’s what we’re going to talk about today. The books “Nightmare At The Meat Market,” “The Eve Of A Cherry,” and “Cries Come Women, Come Country.” These are not just titles; they are my struggles and my desires. My darkness, Inspector. As I said last week, you’re no librarian or editor, but the inspiration of Yabbos trumps my fears, Inspector… For now. But today, all I ask is for creativity, originality, and time. More sins.

“The Eve Of A Cherry” we talked about last week in Meditation 282 ~Virgil Has Tales, Braxton~. And it is about as original as talking about an English girl’s Yabbos can be. I discovered “Fake Driving Lessons” and “Fake Taxi” due to Cherry and her lovely mum. But… again, I began working on that story after so many years because of another muse of mine.

“Nightmare At The Meat Market” was all M Anime’s doing. Funny, both she and Cherry are writers. I know how to pick ’em, don’t I, Inspector? But Cherry shared dreams, and M Anime has nightmares… They just so happen to be the hottest things ever.

“Cries Come Women, Come Country” is M Anime’s recent nightmare. Or so that’s the title I chose. Long story short, a resistance soldier is captured and is used as a “comfort woman” for a general. But where are my son’s novels? Braxton’s Shelved Elsewhere, Virgil.

1536 Days Without B III, Day 977 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 288 ~Love’s A B, Virgil~

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I’m sure I’ll turn to look at the love of my life in bed and then down at my feet and mutter, “Son of a B.” Not in an Eddie Murphy/Marcus Graham sort of way from Boomerang. It’s because B isn’t resting there. V’s trying his best. “Love’s A B, Virgil”

Tuesday, April 15, 2025

Meditation 288 ~Love’s A B, Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right? Something you and Braxton have in common. The reason I’ve been playing the song “Jumper.”

“I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend
You could cut ties with all the lies that you’ve been living in
And if you do not want to see me again
I would understand.”
Third Eye Blind

Must I always jump to memories of my firstborn son, Braxton, who died long ago, long ago, long ago. Four long years, and still, I linger on that first minute. I love it and him.

Only I’m quick to jump onto some mattress with you. Or anywhere, for that matter. Love and lust. Dare I say I might actually like not feeling so sad all the time? I’ll take love over war. As I’ll take Sadism over Masochism. Are those dirty words? If you have read what I have been typing lately in novels. Again, if I sound like anything from Jumper, then be worried.

But Virgil’s here, along with our other children, so you and I, my love, won’t be jumping or bouncing soon.

Son of a B! Am I mad, grieving, horny as the Devil himself. I’m confused and depraved, and even when I wake up, the first thing I think of is that I’ve had enough. Hence, Jumper playing. If only love…

You know what stops me? My son B, B III, Little B, Braxton. I was once… Dad of a B. However, to love like that again, there are no words because there aren’t any answers.

How many words are in the English language again? And I was working with a writer the other day on one of many stories; “The Eve of a Cherry,” “Nightmare At The Meat Market,” and “Cries Come Women, Come Country.” The third is an Erotic Horror War Thriller. And thinking of all the horrible things I put in that synopsis. Honestly, is that what love is to me? Is it making someone feel horrible? Like me 24/7. You’re still here.

“In my trials
And my tribulations
Through our doubts
And frustrations
In my violence
In my turbulence
Through my fear
And my confessions
In my anguish and my pain
Through my joy and my sorrow
In the promise of another tomorrow.”
Will You Be There

My Braxton is not here. But he loved me when I had no earthly or divine idea of how to love myself. And I could honor him by loving myself the way he loved me. The way he chose to love me when he should have been a furball locked away in my sister’s purse.

And that’s why I hear his voice, his bark now. The words “I love you” should mean something. But there are other words… Braxton says, “Don’t be afraid.” You tell me, “Whatever you want.” Virgil and the other kids call me “Daddy.” Myself? “Tomorrow’s gonna suck.” Love’s A B, Virgil

1535 Days Without B III, Day 976 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 287 ~They’ll B Better Words~

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Love is a word used too often. But I believe love is the answer, too. Tell that to my sons. I wished B all the love in the world and…? V’s waiting. And with women, as Akon put it, “I wanna love/eff you,” But B’s talking today. They’ll B Better Words.

Monday, April 14, 2025

Meditation 287 ~They’ll B Better Words~

Hey Dad,
It’s Me, Baby B… Did I ever ask you if you had a good day as you asked me? Better not to ask.

Because even if I did… If I asked you what you were thinking of right now. Or how you feel about today and tomorrow. This whole week. But Thursday will be bad. It makes you shudder. You’ll burst into tears. You want to sleep away today. Like father, like son.

My little brother is getting a head start. But you won’t go cuddling into Virgil’s fur, blaming the tears on all that yellow stuff blowing in the wind. What did you call it? What does it matter? Humans have so many words. Even you, Daddy. Forty years, my father, and I am honored I got to share my fifteen with you. And you talked to me more than anyone with two legs. Good or bad

You had a voice, Daddy, and I miss it. Again, you talk to me every Thursday. But what would I like to hear? Could you just read to me, Dad? Could you sing “Watch it now, here he comes. He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus.” For I am far more than a prayer so many days ago when I would sit on the corner of the bed listening for the bad words, Dad. Humans.

I remember when you promised me that the bad words you were writing would make a better world for the two of us. Those words you would whisper to a future stepmom, who would understand.

My stepmom? Though I was happy being your son, listening to your breaths, heartbeats, beliefs…

That all you need is LOVE. What a word LOVE is my father. I listen, hear, and understand that one word more than anything. It’s my name. It’s Virgil’s, but you won’t say it yet…

It’s my aunt’s, my favorite girl. It’s parts of Cherry’s, uh… comfy spots… Yabbos. Dad!

“To my wife… that is not your business.”
― Gladiator

You’d say such things are none of my business. Like all the things you were telling M Anime last night. LOVE, like, LUST. Whatever. You feel alive. Daddy, you’re alive.

Existing isn’t the word, Daddy; it’s living. Say all the nasty, naughty, and nighttime words you want to M Anime or some woman that leads to you building a nursery…

However, above all this, tell yourself this, Daddy. I LOVE you. They’ll B Better Words

“Grief is just love with no place to go.”
― Jamie Anderson

There is no greater sorrow then to recall our times of joy in wretchedness.”
― Dante Alighieri, Inferno

1534 Days Without B III, Day 975 of Virgil’s Arrival

Always and Forever,
Your Son

Meditation 286 ~B And V’s Letters~

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If I were to write letters to my sons, they should be about being good men or doggies. The fact that their Dad loves them. I could stop apologizing to them all the time or say that I’m happy. That almost made me laugh. 26 letters. “B And V’s Letters”

Sunday, April 13, 2025

Meditation 286 ~B And V’s Letters~

To Will:
It’s the Man In The Mirror… And I wish I could say this.: I’m proud of you, grateful, or even “I love you.”

Yeah, I know. I spent a bit of yesterday listening to Fearless Motivation and everything. Secondly, I would be lying to you. And seeing how it’s now 5:50 AM, you would be lying to yourself. Weren’t you supposed to be up at four? Well, a part of you was. Disgusting.

Instead of focusing on yourself, you could have progressed on ‘Cries Come Women, Come Country.’ You could have been editing M Anime’s short story or delving into her nightmare that inspired your novel. These missed opportunities bring you to your current state of mind. That’s…

Mad. Well, at least you’re not crying over Braxton. As I said so many times last week. Are you depressed or allergic? Either way, it’s not these Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE VIEWING Comfort After Pet Loss; Effectively Cope with… by Xydnee James
    Completed
  2. I WILL BE VETTING Pictures, My Braxton’s Life Story
    Failed
  3. I WILL BE VENDING Gulp: Poetry Book
    Failed
  4. I WILL BE VOWING To Keep Pants On (Day 003, No Fap). Real Girls Are An Exception
    Failed (Day 002 No Fap)
  5. I WILL BE VALUING My Flesh Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
    Failed
  6. I WILL BE VALIANT Being The Man My Son Thinks I Am
    Failed

And there’s so much more to be done. You can only tell Braxton you’re sorry.

Explanations, Exaggerations, and things to make you go Eww! What were you looking up before Virgil did that little panicky run of his? HK. If M Anime and Cherry knew. Unlike most guys, you have a need for names, not just nonsensical Yabbos nonsense. Ha!

So why aren’t you working on your novel? Because you got up late. And now you need to talk to yourself. You have to speak to Lady Sophia as well because next week’s gonna suck.

Every day sucks, especially the last 1533 of them. Something else to apologize for. Hmm. Sorry, Virgil, and you’re grateful for him. And if only you’d do Six Impossible Things.

  1. I WILL BE VIEWING Backyard Dungeon 15, Logan Jacobs
  2. I WILL BE VETTING Pictures, My Braxton’s Life Story
  3. I WILL BE VENDING Gulp: Poetry Book
  4. I WILL BE VOWING To Keep Pants On (Day 002, No Fap). Real Girls Are An Exception
  5. I WILL BE VALUING My Flesh Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
  6. I WILL BE VALIANT Being The Man My Son Thinks I Am

Imagine the Dad that Virgil deserves, the man that Braxton believed in. You have the potential to be that person. You’re not even the one singing out somebody “Save Me” right now, but you can change that. You’ll write it down. But to do it… Writing is both the virus and the vaccination. Whatever. Seriously, you know as much about medicine as RFK Jr… You’re not that effing stupid. You have the potential to learn and grow, even at 40.

That’s about all the motivation you’re going to get from your past life this morning. There’s also the fact you don’t have any videos of Aika Sano from Ane wa Yanmama Junyuu-chuu, so you won’t cut up clips for X. Nevertheless, time, money, and existence.

Big words and ideas you’ll pen. But perform? No! 26 letters in the alphabet saying nothing. B And V’s Letters?

1533 Days Without B III, Day 974 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will