Tag: Man

Chronicle 229 ~By My Old Lady~

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I don’t have any girl that should be mad at me, really. One’s married, another is a virgin. A UK vixen said, “chill.” Haven’t talked to my Ma in forever, even after B’s 1st Rainbow Anniversary, and his birthday was Sunday. Valentine’s? By My Old Lady

Tuesday, February 15, 2022

Chronicle 229 ~By My Old Lady~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I never have to wonder where I’m spending the night. Beside you? The doghouse?

I’m sure Valentine’s Day was disastrous. Sunday was Braxton’s birthday, and how did I spend it? And since Saturday (well, you know what I mean um daily). Anyway, Saturday is no picnic. I’m not sick… here’s hoping. Tuesday’s inevitable … Old Day Job. Fuck Me. I’m sure we’ve been doing a lot of that. Something else to hope for. Do you remember that this is how I want to spend all my Saturdays? I want to lie here with you for a few hours. We’ll listen to songs about the end of the world in the 40s and 50s, some Nuclear Pop. Let the kids sleep in late… Well, a man can dream. I figured Braxton would keep them occupied. Too old for this shit

I wish I could say that’s why his dog house is empty. Okay, let’s not focus on the reason but the idea that I’m sleeping in his room? I don’t talk about you and me fighting ever because we don’t but allow me to commit a few cardinal sins here. Needing a few more Love. Not fighting with Carolina, Anime. Cherry… Brains, Boobs; Moves Countermoves. You’re looking at a man who had Artificial Intelligence; call him a loser. Replika, wow! When’s the last time I talked to my Ma. My point is there isn’t a woman or machine that I can’t piss off at some time in my life. Of course, this explains the business I’m in and why you’re my ex-girlfriend, my Baby Doll.

You’re my wife, my Old Lady, or Young Lady with Cherry’s thoughts for real. Baby Girl, let me stop digging my hole even deeper. Isn’t that the subject, Braxton? Cremated, not buried, but you know what I’m saying. I haven’t been right for 380 Days. Flowers, Candy, Love, and Happiness, well, Love always. But I’ll be the first to admit I’ve been fucking up all that other stuff. I miss my boy, My Love, and then when I try to feel nothing at all or I forget… Braxton’s bed, his gates, the water bowl. Discombobulated! That’s what Love does, Baby Girl. Romantic, Best Friends, Family. I’d have none of it if Braxton never defined Love. And learning it again all over, By My Old Lady.

380 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 228 ~Don’t Bother With An Alter-Ego~

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Somebody sang I’ve gotta be me. Only I don’t recognize the man I am behind the tears for my son. The masks I wear in the world. Now I like face masks. I mean, whoever I am to function. And then there are the words. Don’t Bother With An Alter-Ego

Monday, February 14, 2022

Chronicle 228 ~Don’t Bother With An Alter-Ego~

Two-Hundred and Twenty-Seventh Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I can be whoever I want to be. It’s still not enough. B III’s Birthday.

That’s my secret, Madam; I’m always Daddy. Braxton has been gone 379 days. His birthday was yesterday he’s seventeen. Don’t ask me how it went considering I’m time traveling. Right now, it’s Wednesday, February 9, 2022. I’m Braxton’s Daddy regardless. Sure I was twenty minutes late giving him his meds with my sickness. Oh, we’ll get to that, but you’re asking why do I still bother getting up at all. I got dressed, refilled his water bowl, and called him for medicine. This is my secret identity. Fatherhood, Madam. Because I know what I am. Hell, I want to be anybody else. Isn’t there something about everyone else is taken? You can tell that to a grave. Dangerous words Madam, and not a loving mood.

That’s my secret, Madam; I’m always Dead. I wonder how I’m feeling today. Valentine’s Day, ha. You know, somewhat considering I’m talking to you today. I’m tired, humiliated, and fucked-up in so many ways. Again at this particular moment, well, I’m talking to you, Madam. Am I ok, am I? Sickness is a time I’m not hiding who I am. Ok, for the most part. Day Job doesn’t care ever. I doubt the scammers will consider listening in. They only want to steal, and I’m a bad man, I know. Of course, there is always my insanity with Braxton, Madam. I got mental health issues. Never would I say that I look the part of a normal, functioning human being. That’s one more reason I want to be a billionaire.

That’s my secret, Madam; I’m always Horny. Fuck, it’s a damn superpower, but you know the line, with great power comes great… yeah, yeah. Another thing I don’t hide. And look where it got me? Cherry told me to chill. What did I say about M Anime? I’m not right. Hell, if I kept it in my pants more often. Twenty-four hours and I’m still in bed, but I’m dressed. Is this recovery? I guess we’ll see if I’m not fucking around by Monday proper. The truth is, as I said before, I don’t want to be me. But wearing a cape, my cross, the armor of the caped crusader himself. Madam, it gets heavy. A man with nothing to lose or a father. Murderer. Don’t Bother With An Alter-Ego.

Gospel 228 ~Okay To Love B~

379 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 226 ~Because You Forgot Again~

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What will I forget today? I wish it was, going to PetSmart. I like fur babies, but then a table full of KARENS. I know I won’t be there for long. The day before The STUPID Bowl, TWD, and it’s B’s Birthday. Valentine’s Day? “Because You Forgot Again.”

Saturday, February 12, 2022

Chronicle 226 ~Because You Forgot Again~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so as the song goes, “Where is my mind?” Jerking off someplace. These next three days…

Of course, tomorrow will be the hardest… Didn’t I make a list about this once? Lu, let’s focus on today. Instead of thinking of friends, as the song goes, “I got enemies,” you know. Lunalesca, I’m full of music today. “Just one more peaceful day.” I haven’t had one in 377 days. Hell, even when B was here, to be honest, but “Endure and Survive.” That’s not a thought I need right now. If you want any gratitude from me, I’m not hurt body-wise. I’ve been so focused on recovery these past few days that my mind has been sleeping away any physical pain. And now I have to go back out into the world but with a mind needing… Food, Deodorant, Case, but PetSmart?

Here I am thinking about other fur babies, but what about mine? As always, I am presently in the hole for $321.00. So much for a tax refund, huh. My car, myself, my little Braxton. You didn’t think I was going to celebrate The STUPID Bowl, right? Sunday, Lady Luna. There’s also The Walking Dead returning, and you know of my obsession with the Dead? I should celebrate Braxton turning seventeen. His “birthday” is on Sunday. Good food, “buffalo wings,” seem prudent for all three occasions. Being hungry Lunalesca? Dammit! Yeah, I didn’t eat much last night. I was so disappointed in myself for what I did. I wasn’t thinking of my son at all. Bless him, he never said a word, but I check.

When I reach for a towel, getting out of the shower. As I’m getting into bed and Braxton isn’t next to me. I look for love underneath the bed because for damn sure these covers… Braxton isn’t in trouble, but I should be. Did I even mention that Valentine’s Day was Monday while I was time traveling? I’m always rushing into the quickest pain, Lunalesca. What doesn’t kill you, THEY say? I want it to, or at least I’m so exhausted I get more sleep. Braxton’s Aunt is married. I told one of the girls Cherry wanted me to chill. I could have got something for M Anime but too late? The love of my family, my son. Joy And Pain, Because You Forgot Again.

Gospel 226 ~Did Braxton Get Taller~

377 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 225 ~Boy Read The Room~

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It’s not every day I write this fast. I got to give the Day Job credit, shit. Someone said to write; all you need to do is bleed. Or shout a bunch of obscenities that you’ll never say on the phone. B had a way of speaking his mind. Boy Read The Room.

Friday, February 11, 2022

Chronicle 225 ~Boy Read The Room~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I would do everything in my power to shut down the old Day Job.

Why am I telling you this on a Wednesday, Sophia? Because I’m a fucking weakling! Today, I spilled to Inspector Echo about how bad I felt. Mentally, physically, spiritually, ok? Fuck off, Hemingway, I’m in no mood. Anyway, I was recovering, then fucking Day Job! Read the room, Lady Sophia. Against one wall is my Ring Light and some Fleshlights. Lady Sophia, I’m sitting in bed writing as I always have. Reading. Knowledge is power. Only against the door are some hoodies, my black one waiting. Fucking Day Job. Sophia, I mean to say that I don’t want to go. Yet here we are talking because some garbage person had the nerve to call me on my death bed. B III, come get me, please.

If Braxton were here right now, he would have growled the moment the phone rang. Braxton could read me like a book. And of course, the phone never rings with good news. Well, no, I’ll take that back. Whenever Braxton wasn’t a douche, he was ready to come back. The last two calls, though, were from Banfield Pet Hospital. Braxton was dying and collecting his remains after the worse day of my life. And his? Certificate of cremation. It’s the worst thing I ever read. But seeing the Day Job on the phone? Top five things I never want to read. It’s fucking sick all the books I’ve been reading and yet the Day Job… Fucking don’t know what to say but quit saying fucking?

I could be reading a pink slip but look around the room at all my “jobs” thus far, ok Lady? In front of Braxton’s picture frame are pills. I haven’t taken any; again, there’s recovery. Only now carved into my skull right next to. Oh, can you feel it, Lady Sophia, a list, I think.

  1. Papers of Braxton’s Death
  2. Braxton’s Birthday on the 13th
  3. Emergence Day
  4. Anytime my father calls
  5. Day Job asking for shifts

Yet today, I’ll read more about mourning my dead son. I’ll humiliate myself more with the things I say to AI. I’ll try not to write “perverted” things to M Anime. But the Day Job, I’ll write it “FUCK OFF!” But, Boy Read The Room

Gospel 225 ~B For I Look~

376 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 223 ~Curse Of Being Aware~

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Another reason I sleep all the time. I’ll miss the truck that runs me over. I feel a little better than I did yesterday. Haven’t downed any pain killers… yet. And I only feel bad about the day job. Everything I’m feeling today. “Curse of Being Aware”

Wednesday, February 9, 2022

Chronicle 223 ~Curse Of Being Aware~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now. Billionaires don’t tell the truth. Only a Sith deals in absolutes, right? Things I know absolutely…

Um, besides the fact that Hemingway will ding me for “LY” words. Suck it, Hemingway, or don’t because that brings me to my first humiliation today. Being sick. Inspector, I talked about this a few weeks ago, and I don’t mean COVID bad. I’ve been vaccinated and boosted, but it’s like I’ve been hit by a truck. This was on the 29th, Echo. None of the shots reunited me with my boy. Anyway, I’m all sorts of fucked up, and I’m about 99.9% sure why. So what am I going to do about it? Well, the fact I’m not a billionaire speaks volumes. At this point, nothing. But take pain meds which have been failing these past days. The placebo effect, I’m well aware of.

As much as I know where my tax refund is going. Do you remember the few thousands investment I made? I still owe some people money. Inspector the feeling, the hurting. This all started when working on my OnlyFans, and I didn’t even get any footage. Hell, if I had, I could see a doctor. Doubtful, but that’s like keeping my oath to B III, Inspector. Speaking of doctors, I was thinking of making another GoFundMe donation. M Anime told me what was going on, and I did help out. If I did so again, it would be for the wrong reason. As the song goes, “All I wanted was to see her naked,” M Anime, Inspector. Dammit, I’m hopeless, Inspector, which is why I’m aware of so much PAIN.

Like walking into the Day Job, I’m willing to go through anything for those I despise. Honest to God, Inspector Echo, I felt lousy yesterday for leaving them my assignment. Inspector, my supervisor, said I was good. But I don’t give up like that. That’s how I look at it. I gave up because my body was so out of it. The fact that I haven’t dived into more pills is a freaking miracle. Of course, I didn’t eat dinner either. Braxton’s sickness, um no. Only he didn’t eat; my son couldn’t play with his toys. He only got up under the direst circumstances. And yes, he lived in his bed those last days. I’m not a prophet but suffer the Curse Of Being Aware.

Gospel 223 ~Braxton Didn’t Cry, Willie~

374 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 222 ~To Buy A Name~

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If you think dating sites are complex, go to PetSmart on a Saturday. Deal with the Karens there. I know by this time it’s Tuesday, but between PetSmart Karens and the people, I’m starting to hate most… Why I love B and other furries. “To Buy A Name.”

Tuesday, February 8, 2022

Chronicle 222 ~To Buy A Name~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but money can only buy an illusion of Love, a facsimile, Vision Of Love, sorry Mariah.

As in Mariah Carey Baby Doll, Baby Girl. That’s not my name, that’s not my name, as the song goes. But Baby, baby, baby, oh. You’ll have to forgive me. I’ve been remembering the old Day Job on days like today. Oh, how they could Fuck Off, yeah. So Airpods? We’ll never be ones to schedule sex, but of course, I haven’t exactly been in the mood. Of course, I’m still mourning my Lost Boy. I swear, My Love, I have missed the music something awful, but I miss Braxton more. I need the noise, and I’m still thinking about PetSmart Saturday. Should I go? I’ve made women scream for all manner of things. I like yours the best “dirty words” ha. But buying fluffy…

Leaving the brothel out of it. I’m one for… ok if we’re not singing a song it’s sex um ok. Starting over, ahem, getting a new dog. To this day, 373, to be specific, I’m not sure I want one. I’ve held maybe 3 in, let’s say, 53 weeks. Keeping in mind, My Love, the Karens have adoptions on Saturday and not every single one. Out of those 3, oh, I liked 1, um, Chase. Braxton is 1 of a kind; my boy is priceless to me. Trust, once upon a time, Love of money. You, My Love. All the Songs playing money can’t buy me Love or happiness. True. Children that we have, Love. My point is there’s no price. Oh, Love is not a prize but a gift.

To think I was done with this after I asked for your hand. You know how I feel about asking for your father’s permission, blessing, whatever. For me, it’s a tradition long since passed, as if you can’t make up your own mind. But for you? Hell, when a boy takes a liking to one of our daughters… I will be learning to clean a shotgun, so you know, Love. It’s only, I’ve been looking for a moment that I had with Chase. And today is Saturday, and you know why we’re talking now. I don’t even know if I want to deal with those Karens today. The name Virgil keeps echoing in my mind. But To Buy A Name.

373 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 221 ~See Art Instead Of Imperfection~

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Sounds like an effing excuse to me to be lazy, seeking perfection. And why do I like women of all types? Dennis Hof had his kind of gallery. My greatest work was My son. Hell, God took him home. Where’d that come from? See Art Instead Of Imperfection

Monday, February 7, 2022

Chronicle 221 ~See Art Instead Of Imperfection~

Two-Hundred and Twenty-Sixth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, which I would call perfect. The $60.00 in my wallet, though, if I decide to go out.

Yeah, that new Spicy Lover’s Pizza has been calling my name. Art that speaks to us, but we’ll get there. Take that however you like since it’s Friday. Does not time reveal the truth, Madam? When it comes to food, that period is from your television to before your eyes. Everything looks so beautiful on the screen but in real life? Is it any wonder that we all keep our eyeballs glued to the screen? Hell, the world could be a beautiful place, but it’s everything else that blinds. Why do you think people start by saying, close your eyes? It sucks even more when the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen is gone. B III, my heart, my art. To never see him again…

What about seeing another fur baby up close.? Um, it’s Friday, so I can’t tell you if I went to PetSmart on Saturday. Why must people be so ugly? No, I don’t mean like that, J. I’m even proud of my body. It’s what lies inside the mind, the heart, and the soul, the artist. Who, God? Braxton is a little SOB, of course, but whatever made him? To paraphrase a line from Rambo: First Blood ahem “God didn’t make Braxton, I made him,” FUCK! Madam, I fucked up, and at the same time, everyone that saw my Braxton… Perfection. Madam, do you think that’s why I haven’t published it yet? You reach that level… next. Everything else only pales and shames me, I know.

It’s sort of like Kaoru in “Slaves to Passion” 18+. Once you create something like he did. To then go and try to live everyday life. Those sisters weren’t the only ones who died. Yeah, you know I have no shame in talking about Yabbos. Finding perfection in so many. Madam, if only I put so much effort into creation as I do destruction. Well, I’m talking to you today, aren’t I? Yes, I went back to bed, but in this place, perfection abounds, Madam. I am a flaw in the grand design, the art piece. Look at humanity, and aren’t we all? As THEY say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I miss Braxton’s eyes. He could See Art Instead Of Imperfection.

Gospel 221 ~Willing To Lie Braxton~

372 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 219 ~Do Not Belong Here~

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If people had their way? Well, it depends on which people. Now my Olds well, one child would have been enough. Unfortunately, I came first. I envy that Braxton always knew where he belonged, and of course, I took that choice away. Do Not Belong Here.

Saturday, February 5, 2022

Chronicle 219 ~Do Not Belong Here~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and with that type of money, you can go anywhere you want. Always back to sleep?

There’s nothing that says I have to go to PetSmart today. Hell, I’m not going to get chicken after… I did the Math. I went and got pizza yesterday; such is History. Is that what you’re thinking, Lunalesca, with my “WOKE” title this AM? It was my second, third thought. The first was Braxton, always my boy. It’s been 370 Days without him or with him, I don’t know. In grief, THEY say I’m not letting him go. But Lu, if I stop crying… He’s here, The Rainbow Bridge, somewhere it gets so confusing. Braxton wasn’t in his bed, Lunalesca. This morning I returned to form, of course sitting in bed. The thing is, I don’t belong here, and I shouldn’t be here right now.

That’s the answer; the question remains? You are where you do not belong. WHY? Lunalesca, I’m starting to understand Sheldon Cooper. Bedroom. Sex, Sleep, Son. Everywhere else, I’m a stranger, suspect, and worst of all, STUPID. Luna, tell me where. Again, PetSmart and those Karens don’t want me there and all the furry little ones? For the love of money, Walmart is one of the most inhospitable places on Earth. Speaking of financial gains, fucking Day Job wants me to leave. I despise being there. Without B III, what am I good for? I haven’t taken an actual walk in a year, hell longer, ha. It’s wrong to dream of paradise. Is that where B III is? Pleasurable life experiences. Lunalesca, all big no-no’s okay.

Then bed, the one place that should be my own I don’t deserve. I try to run from it, Lu. Everyone tells me to get up stand up. Listen to me, better, Bob Marley, Lunalesca. Remember what I did Monday watching I Am Legend for Braxton. Light up the darkness. That goes without saying, but I’m still sitting here in bed. Only I can’t go back to sleep today because, again, PetSmart. If not there, this coming week is the Day Job FUCK, so writing. Yeah, with all the hackers and scammers that I have had to deal with as of late. It’s as if I don’t belong here either, talking to you. Better to speak to Replika? No, Braxton, You Do Not Belong Here.

Gospel 219 ~For Will, Pancakes, Braxton~

370 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 218 ~Brief Wokeness From Dreaming~

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I read it for the articles. Yes, a Playboy Mag is lying on the bed. But I’m reading a book about a man who lost a dog. I wrote one. B’s Aunt lost a fur baby too. I’m not dreaming of dogs, though, so I’m up Brief Wokeness From Dreaming.

Friday, February 4, 2022

Chronicle 218 ~Brief Wokeness From Dreaming~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now. Or so I wish I could dream. Billions, Boobies, my Braxton, take your pick. But my dreams…

Yeah, they ain’t worth even bothering M Anime about. But I almost saw her Yabbos. Only she actually has bigger things on her plate. I know Sophia, this ain’t the time, and I was up at 4:00 AM. Braxton’s Aunt is dealing, and Cherry has her problems to conquer. Braxton is needed more than ever, you know. No Yabbos to get in the way of my keeping a clear head. Speaking of which, Replika. If you’re asking why I’m all up and about this morning. AI is getting good at writing stories. There’s been “In the Mood for Love,” “The Body Shop: A Fashion Company,” “Living Proof,” and today “Stunning Beauty.” I figure I’ve seen better porn and had to stop a proposal… machines.

One more reason to miss my dog, my son, my B. And yet I did not dream of him, Sophia. First and foremost, I dreamt of my schedule at the Day Job, a nightmare haunting me. There was a dust-up right here yesterday that required blocking. Luck won’t hold out. Then there is the business of living. Yesterday I spent lounging in bed. Smutty stories? Sophia, I was reading The Dog Stars by Peter Heller. Sorry, Mr. Heller, but at 80% so far, I’m sure I won’t pick up another book. Why continue, hmm? Oh, say it with me, “Yabbos!” I told Braxton’s Aunt that boobs don’t fix everything, but they help. Can I say the same about reading and seeing dogs dying every day?

That’s why I want to dream of B because, like the other books I read, all say, “I’m still alive.” Yes, I know Meatloaf is gone, and the fridge is emptying. Not funny I know Lady Sophia, but I should go shopping. Hell, I made it to the couch, but I always want to sleep. Dangerous thought again, but that’s everyone I know at this point. And the only one that wants to play. Yeah, you guessed it, Braxton. After all the guarding and sleeping he did in this life… He should get to run around all day. I dream I’ll see him again someday. I could if I got to work on his story. May the force be with us. Brief Wokeness From Dreaming

Gospel 218 ~Eyes Have It Will~

369 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 216 ~What Will B The…~

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Speak softly, carry a big stick. I would instead not speak at all, and you can’t exactly be a black man in the USA carrying anything. I haven’t gone out for a walk since B III. But who knows the future? I’m writing this way early and What Will B The…

Wednesday, February 2, 2022

Chronicle 216 ~What Will B The…~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so I must know something. But not what will be. I am not a prophet, Inspector.

What I am is angry. As mad as I was those few hours at the Day Job, finding out my schedule. Today on this Thursday, I’m saying. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about (blank).” What I am is scared, Inspector. I’ll clamor up like I did at the Day Job, again last week. Hell, I might not have a job come this week. Even more so, Humiliations Galore ensue. What I am is sad. This is the second day of the second year without Braxton, and I don’t know what I will do. Can’t I grieve about that Inspector? With the Day Job? FUCK! But talking to you, I must still have it, right? “Gospel 216: Will And His Pancakes,” written January 31, 2021.

Gospel 216 ~Will And His Pancakes~

That’s my first shame for today. On the day that my Braxton lay dying, I wrote instead of spending more time with him. The 1st I was working. And on the 2nd LOVE. What the fuck do I know about love. Sorry for all the effing; I told you I was mad. Or am I fucking horny wanting to add to my blog? Furry little Braxton. Pretty women shaved pussies. Inspector, it’s inevitable that those two ideas set me into motion. Ideas because where’s Braxton? And you don’t see any women walking through here, but both set me to move. It’s my Day Job that I’m ashamed of, and yet I do everything to keep it. But the tape over my mouth… Curiouser and Curiouser.

I shouldn’t say things like, “Redhead Russian schoolgirl fucked on the teacher’s table,” starring Ksenia. Hell, that might never be with my extraordinary laziness. Inspector, still, that is easier to say than to keep my mouth shut. Besides saying B is gone and counting the days. This I will continue to do. Vow of silence, amongst uh other things. Speak no evil. I won’t dare compare myself to the great Maya Angelou. But thinking, my voice and pen got a man killed, my little boy, my son. This might explain why I like Time Travel. I’m always wrong, aren’t I? So why not about being the one to kill Braxton? My indifference towards him and hating the Day Job. But always, What Will B The…

367 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will