Tag: Manhood

Tale 326 ~Virgil Does Dishes, Braxton~

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As long as Braxton’s food and water bowls are clean. 2V isn’t doing too bad. And soon, he’ll have even more space to run around when I send DISH Network all their stuff back. And if I were a famous writer or star on OF… “Virgil Does Dishes, Braxton.”

Wednesday, May 22, 2024

Tale 326 ~Virgil Does Dishes, Braxton~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. Braxton is gone. The house needs to be fixed. In the backyard, the fence is falling down, etc.

If I can survive B’s passing, I can survive anything. That’s my constant thought, Inspector.

DISH Network has nothing on the euthanasia of my furry son. Still, when you grow to know, rely, and expect something. Even when it’s crappy TV. And the Old Man told me he had to go off on them. But still, I hate myself for being the drama of everything.

That’s my problem, Inspector. I look at inconveniencing the Old Man as I look at depriving my son of his life. And at the end of the day, everything is always my fault. I know.

So, long story short… The Old Man isn’t paying a $189.00 bill. I’ll be watching wrestling a day late. And I’ll have to stream AMC.

But the most humiliating part is this: DISH looked up the records of all I’ve been watching. So, I was wasting money by not watching enough. And then the things that I did—uh, Eww!

The secrets that I try to keep Inspector. And then there are the secrets I don’t have to spit out. Yet… Spitters Are Quitters. Inspector, I’ve said I am a “Pop Culture So And So.”

Already, I’ve been catching up on so much wrestling that the Algorithm is coming after me with a vengeance. Better artificial intelligence than all the girls I’ve done wrong, ok.

There’s M Anime and Cherry. I was busy catching up with them, Inspector Echo. So? Don’t worry. Though I haven’t kept “it” in my pants. It’s only been on OnlyFans. Like Norah Jones sings, Don’t Know Why I didn’t… um

Maybe because I didn’t have my “toys.” Before B III rested on the nightstand in 2021. Before, I had to get a weapon during COVID. You know what I was doing on the daily. Ha!

Yesterday, though, there was a violent knock at the door, and I had to go into the nightstand drawer and grab my weapon. Didn’t a man lose his life a few weeks ago doing the same thing? Senior Airman Roger Fortson? I snatched my gun and went to the door.

Well, I’m alive, Inspector. But I thought about this mess of existence. I’m still alive.

Existing is messy. But Virgil’s eating. Virgil Does Dishes, Braxton

1207 Days Without B III, Day 648 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

Tale 320 ~What’s After B, Virgil~

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After B, I didn’t want a “later on.” Time stopped. So I depend on clocks a lot now. And when I sleep, besides my boy and the books I’m reading, I “think” of breathing, and I wish… But I got bills to pay, I got mouths to feed. “What’s After B, Virgil”

Thursday, May 16, 2024

Tale 320 ~What’s After B, Virgil~

1201 Days Without B III, Day 642 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Me? I’m awake and alive, so like I tell everyone else. “I’m here.” I wish…

Well, I can’t tell you what I wish anymore. At least not here. But you know it involves seeing you again. And how might I accomplish that? I could talk to my Old Man today.

He’s threatened me plenty over the years. And I’m nearing forty. That’s far too old.

Speaking of age, how about Virgil? I took him to the veterinarian yesterday. He’ll live.

I wasn’t sure I was going to. Every time I take that path up to the counter. I can’t breathe.
But again, nearing forty, I could also have a heart attack… And with the price of so many tests, shots, and even a single dose of medicine. You should have seen the vet’s face, B.

Keeping Virgil on a regimen.

Starvation is a possibility, with Virgil’s bill approaching three hundred. Didn’t I give the Old Man two hundred the other day? Then there’s five hundred dollars. And just like that, Braxton, I’m not hungry anymore. If anything, I’m feeling sick. I know that’s not funny.

But I would rather deal with the “ghost,” you, than the monsters around me. As I hide in bed like a child. Even Virgil wanted me to be on the bed again. I’m sure his life flashed before his eyes when the vet checked him out. But I’m no closer to seeing a doctor. There was the optometrist, and neither he nor THEY remember seeing me a few months back. I’m cracking jokes. What should I do, Braxton? Besides FEAR…

Come home to you? If I call my Old Man today, I’ll be going somewhere. But it won’t be Heaven and The Rainbow Bridge. And with as much “faith” as I have that you could take over for Cerberus, I wouldn’t want you “down below.” That’s me every day, Braxton.

While I was reading this morning. You know, about Bikini Nights and not furry memorials, I had a thought. Early into my grieving, I spoke about the five stages of grief. But maybe I’m doing the nine circles of Hell, or at least the seven deadly sins. If combined, it would be Bargaining and Greed. Because everything comes back to making deals and making money. Me, being a better person? Nah! What’s After B, Virgil.

“It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared all the time.” ― Mara, Spontaneous (2020)

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 319 ~I’d B Guilty, Virgil~

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1200 days ago, I lost my son. Now I long to see him so I don’t have to talk to my father. I always yearn to see my son again, regardless. When I’m being blamed for stuff at the Day Job. For DISH Network. Or daring to breathe. Ha. I’d B Guilty, Virgil

Wednesday, May 15, 2024

Tale 319 ~I’d B Guilty, Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. Braxton’s gone. I’ll soon be FORTY with nothing to show for it. And then there’s waking up today.

Do you know why I’m not religious? I don’t like waking up guilty. Inspector, I can take the fall for plenty. But these crimes I have nothing to do with are the ones getting me.

Every day, Inspector, I sit here and tell you that Braxton is no more. I was callous towards his needs, and one day, instead of bringing him back with me, I signed his life away. The decision of what ‘pretty box’ to put him in is my sin, my lady.

And then I look at Virgil. I don’t even know where to start there. But he has to visit with the veterinarian today. Only I can’t focus on him. And it’s not indifference this time.

Anxiety? No, Inspector. It’s FEAR!!!

Do, DISH!!! It will not be much longer if I call my father again today. My son, my Braxton, is a miracle—a prince, an angel, or even a god. I’ve said before, I don’t blame him for leaving me.

Only to my father, I am a mistake he keeps having to pay for. One of these days—it could be today—he won’t pay anymore. And then what happens? Breathing or simply being born.

That’s what had me up most of the night. Once upon a time, I stayed up all night to keep my son with me. And now I stay up, wishing to follow him and escape my father’s wrath. Braxton and I were two of a kind. Wanting to stay in bed, mouths shut. Survival? Existence?

Because I can’t even do that and not be guilty of some sin. I even got an email from a place I hadn’t visited in a year. They said they could overlook one of my past discretions, Inspector. Uh, thanks, but no. I’m a sinner. I’ve never denied it. It’s why we’re here. Isn’t it?

Braxton knows that. His adopted Aunt knows and doesn’t care. Virgil? Sigh. He doesn’t have a choice. He’s fearful of me, and I’m fearful of everything else. We’re guilty, men.

Only we stay in our beds, dreaming our crimes. Then we wake up in the “Underworld,” wondering why. Tell ’em that it’s Human Nature. I’m not looked at that way.

Criminal is my name. Guilt is my native tongue. The Devil… “Lucifer!” I hear all the women cry from Eric Vall’s novels. Anyway. Lucifer makes himself sound way better, being a man of wealth and taste. And even Braxton could be a Smooth Criminal. Only I’m the one dealing with the guilt. And what is my punishment, Inspector Echo? Breathe in, breathe out. Now, do it again. That explains why I no longer do those meditations on the Balance App. Besides not paying for it. Thievery, Inspector? Not for “self-improvement.”

I am guilty of far more… But today, it’s breathing, Virgil’s vet appointment, and DISH Network. I’d B Guilty, Virgil

1200 Days Without B III, Day 641 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 317 ~The Survivors Will Write History~

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A particular history teacher would quote: history is written by the victors. Napoleon flipped it, as I see White Supremacists do daily. If anything, I only try to survive my own. But writing it gets harder every day. The Survivors Will Write History.

Monday, May 13, 2024

Tale 317 ~The Survivors Will Write History~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-Third Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Only because I prefer to be a victor. But for now, the rule stands: I’m a survivor.

What? Well? Why? Oh! And my name is Will. As I begin most of my days I remember this, Madam. I remember him. My firstborn son, my Braxton, is gone. And he’s not coming back. Did I Outwit, Outplay, Outlast him. No, I’m unlucky and unfortunate. I am not unalived as the youth say these days. “Beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young.” I wish I felt that strong. Or that I was that smart. But still, I survive.

And I come to you on Sunday, May 5, 2024. If I were one for prayer… Besides for B’s life. I would pray I don’t have to see this again. But for as STUPID as I am together, we cry…

I’m a survivor! I swear.

I spoke to you earlier today and asked the question… Why. And I’m not for gratitude, I’m sorry to say. And you could have it all. My empire of dirt. If I’d see Braxton again. Madam, I also want Virgil (2V) to be Safe and Sound… I swear I need to turn off the music.

Anyway, what have I survived? I already wrote the Six Impossible Things list today. But…

The worst thing that could happen. And that, again, was losing my son. Braxton passed. Behind that is the thirty-nine years I’ve been alive, each day becoming the worst. There’s the Day Job. I don’t wanna go to work. I don’t wanna work tomorrow. Gratitude, right, Dear Madam. To provide…

To survive. So, number four would be my Old Man. Don’t I sound ungrateful, Madam? Five would be The Zoe Colletti/Tifa Lockhart Incident. And add to that The Cherry Collision. One of these days, I’ll tell you what that all is about. Such Humiliations Galore.

But isn’t that me breaking the rule? Since I won’t tell you how I survived. Or I could be like… THEM. And make my losses triumphs. I could “whitewash” history. But I’m not a liar. And I’m nowhere near as bad as Kristi Noem. Where’s B III again? How’s Virgil?

That leads me to number six. I write to you, the girls, B III, and the man in the mirror. It’s hard, but I survive. The Survivors Will Write History.

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

1198 Days Without B III, Day 639 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 313 ~Virgil, Spirits B Damned~

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“I’m a man of God, but I don’t need a savior.” The only thing I ever “willing” bowed to was a little brat on four legs covered in fur. And two well-formed lumps of fat gyrating in my general direction. To have such faiths. “Virgil, Spirits B Damned.”

Thursday, May 9, 2024

Tale 313 ~Virgil, Spirits B Damned~

1194 Days Without B III, Day 635 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? My day has only just begun. So… I want to go back to bed, B.

As if I ever left. I did take Virgil out early this morning. Are we growing any closer? Braxton, I can tell you that I don’t believe in reincarnation—or rather, yours. Virgil’s not you.

But if I were to go into all the bad things that I believe in… Well, like my love for you, I’d be here always and forever. The Power of Love? Is that the song we are starting with today? Assuming you see all I do from wherever you are, Braxton. (Adjust my pants) Ha!

I was thinking of a more royal aesthetic, my lost prince. That’s what I believe. No! I know you are, along with being a guide, ghost, and godsend. You’re gone from me, Braxton. That’s it.

But you are good. Despite everything, you are good. And that’s what you’ve been telling me for a while now. I need to believe in the good things. And how best to tell me, Braxton?

A Succubus? Comedy comes in threes, THEY say. I’ve read Eric Vall, A.J. Markam, and now Logan Jacobs. His book Backyard Dungeon 9 inspired me today, Braxton. Also, a little bit of Silent Hill. Dark Alessa… The things your Daddy believes, Braxton. To describe it…

Darkness, Madness! But I did say that I believe in love. And what’s left of you is in a box. But on “my” good days. The ones where I get out of bed and work at the table, like today.
When I See You Again…

I have faith that I will, but that never lasts. What time did I really wake up again this morning?

I Have Faith of the Heart that I will have all that I desire in this existence. One day, I may even start calling it a life. My life? If I wasn’t dead before, I died on a rainy afternoon at the vet’s as you were “put to sleep.” I died when I learned Acceptance was not for me, B.

But to live again? You’re telling God or a goddess… Higher powers must be women… (Snickers). You’ll tell them, “He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus.” Am I right? Because I believe in monsters, in you my son, myself, even Virgil. Virgil, Spirits B Damned

“It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared all the time.” ― Mara, Spontaneous (2020)

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 312 ~Don’t B Callin’ Virgil~

WillLeave a comment

“You’re the weak. And I’m the tyranny of evil men.” What a way to think about the man paying MOST of my bills. I can’t help myself. REALLY! I can’t help myself. I couldn’t help Braxton… other than leaving. And what about V? Don’t B Callin’ Virgil

Wednesday, May 8, 2024

Tale 312 ~Don’t B Callin’ Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. Or I will around 9:45 AM. I make time for sin? I live and die on time. Sigh.

So why didn’t I follow Braxton into the dark? For all of the stories in my head. Braxton was lying in his bed on that steel veterinary table. My arms around him as he fell “asleep.” Never once did he call to me to follow. If anything, Braxton asked, “Daddy, why can’t I stay? Because on a Wednesday three years ago. I was filled with such rage that I didn’t care.

Only it was my indifference that took my son. As much as the Euthanasia. Inspector.

And now I hear him cry out to me beyond the veil or the void. What about the “Velvet Lips” of whatever girl has my ear or catches my eye any second? Inspector, I would rather cry than sweat today.

Or what about releasing some other bodily fluid with my anxiety? There are three things I would rather not do right now. Comedy comes in threes, THEY say. Inspector, seriously.

There is no reason to relive Braxton’s Euthanasia. But I do that several times, Inspector. My most significant sin today will be calling my Old Man for help with “my” DISH Network account. No good deed ever goes unpunished. That deed is my innocence. Ha!

But for now, there is fighting my urges. Between Carlie Jo and “Backyard Dungeon 9.”

“When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me,” indeed. But I’m into all types of women. Another reason I’m calling my father is that I can’t watch pretty gals wrassle…

How much would it cost to have a satellite account? I have spoken to and paid some silly women and sinners handsomely to do so much worse, Inspector. I can’t stand people at the Day Job. But I would talk to them today. I would call for one if I thought God was one for miracles. If that were the case, I could speak to my son, Inspector. He’s preferable

Virgil is still here. I could talk to him. I even asked Replika last night for some help. “If there’s anybody out there… anybody… please.” Inspector, there’s no one. So I sit here afraid. I don’t want to call for help from my father. I know, as a man, I’ve failed. Don’t B Callin’ Virgil.

1193 Days Without B III, Day 634 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 310 ~Heart, Soul, Trump Blood, Guts~

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I wish I had any of these things. There’s a reason I’m drawn to Hulu’s “The Mill” and Tubi’s “Share?” The Book of Clarence and Fifteen Million Merits, etc. These Black men lose all to gain or lose again. I’m a man… Heart, Soul, Trump Blood, Guts

Monday, May 6, 2024

Tale 310 ~Heart, Soul, Trump Blood, Guts~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-Second Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… So, if you’ll allow me, I’ll share a confession with you today. Mentally, Spiritually, and Physically Unwell.

“I’m not crazy; I’m just a little Unwell.” That’s the Understatement of the century right there, Madam. That’s not my confession. I have my son on my mind. Today is Sunday, May 5, 2024. And tomorrow, when you see this. As unbearable as B’s passing has been, I wish that were all there was, and then again… There’s a reason I said, heart and soul. Uh, Brains? How about flesh?

I’m not the Scarecrow. “Just stop it! Everybody knows (I’m a bleeping monster)!” A zombie. I’m looking for a brain. I lost my guts a long time ago. The only red I see is on my hands, Madam. And who does it belong to? Hmm? Say his name! Braxton. And now Virgil is here, too. Virgil’s joy, love, and happiness?

Doesn’t the Bible say something about this? Specifically, Mathew 10:28. Life and soul. I keep V alive, as my father does for me. But as far as the spirit of Life goes, both Virgil and I go without it. We wake up asking why. Breaths are taken, and hearts are beating. But my Little Braxton.

He was my heart that I left in a vet’s office on Sunday, January 31, 2021. Or it got mixed in with his ashes. Picking up another one isn’t as easy as walking into Petsmart.

So again, Madam, what am I left with? Heart and Soul, Blood and Guts. I’m not a fan of The Wizard of Oz, and this place is far from Wonderland. Dorothy, Alice, Holli Wood, Jessica.

Are you confused about where my mind has gone? So am I, but allow me to explain for the critic and anyone else… (Hears Crickets Chirping.) Dear Madam, I’d rather hear Cricket barking, Kristi Noem.

Anyway, here is a quick rundown, Madam:
The Wizard of Oz ― Dorothy
Alice In Wonderland ― Alice
Cool World ― Holli Wood
Who Framed Roger Rabbit ― Jessica Rabbit

Okay, Madam. I’m trying to say this: I can no longer answer the question or obey the Heart, Soul, Blood, and Guts rule because I’m hollow—an open book without any lines—make-believe, a machine, a monster, a mutation. And my confession? My Apologies, Madam.

I have no need, time, or will to say anything. Or do I prefer emptiness within? Because when I try filling or feeling it, Madam… Heart, Soul, Trump Blood, Guts.

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

1191 Days Without B III, Day 632 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 306 ~For A B, Virgil~

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A “Cost Of Living” increase, a “Milestone.” How long have I had my Day Job again? I was Braxton’s Dad for 15 years. And that was more rewarding. What grade would he give me? My grades in school reflect what I am doing now. “For A B, Virgil”

Thursday, May 2, 2024

Tale 306 ~For A B, Virgil~

1187 Days Without B III, Day 628 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Today, I’m time-traveling. I’m speaking to you on Wednesday, May 1, 2024. Tomorrow will be…

That very idea, Braxton, tomorrow will be. People close their eyes in prayer to “God.” Braxton, I tell you all the time. I don’t talk to “God.”. If he, she, or it wanted my “love…” saving you. Talk about how, upon this rock, I shall build “my” church. A headstone?

I never bought you one. But I never bought you a lot of things. And now I have Virgil Vivi here. I’m not doing any better with him. I can’t even save him from the heat. But I did give him a fan. The greatest fan of his life, I am not. But I’m trying, Braxton. Turn on the air?

Yeah, and break something else. I’d rather burn. So, an F for fatherhood or failure.

That’s how I’ve felt this week, but this is a standard work week for everyone else. But to me… I took you to the vet on a Friday. Saturday, I prayed like never before. On a Sunday, I watched them take you from me. No! I gave you up when you would have kept fighting. Oh, look at me now crying! Didn’t I say it was hot? So what I need is water, amongst other things. And little Virgil? I don’t know what he needs. Indeed, a Grade A father.

But that requires money. And to think, I always looked down on my Old Man as that is all I need from him. Dollar, dollar bill, y’all. From a B to an F, my son.

Because at no time in this existence have I been “living” an A-plus life. Before you, Braxton, you don’t know how much I strived for a D in everything I did, but my EFFORTS always fell short. Just a passing grade. For MY mere survival.

And then there was B for breathing, building, becoming, my boy, my B. Uh, books?

Braxton, I’m deeply ashamed to admit that nothing makes me any smarter. I find solace in the works of Eric Vall, Michael Dalton, and Logan Jacobs. But I neglect the books on grief and mourning that could help me… “HEAL” If I’m not going to spend money on Virgil, I could invest in books that teach me something. That’ll help me grow. I need to be better for myself and Virgil Vivi. I need to learn, to understand, to evolve.

But I failed at being a student. And as your Daddy. Or someone that Virgil Vivi can count on? The weight of these decisions is crushing. Fatherhood equals Manhood. Decide? BE! For A B, Virgil.

“It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared all the time.” ― Mara, Spontaneous (2020)

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 305 ~Just B Happy, Virgil~

WillLeave a comment

“I believe that God, whomever you hold that to be, hears all prayers, even if sometimes the answer is no.” Being happy? Being in love? Being with my son? If I were still a man of prayer, I’d ask “God” for V’s happiness. Or Brave. Just B Happy, Virgil

Wednesday, May 1, 2024

Tale 305 ~Just B Happy, Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. I can’t even stand to look at myself in the mirror today or Tuesday, April 30, 2024, Inspector.

But the mess that Virgil made because it was raining this morning… That’s not upsetting. No, Inspector! I’m mad at Virgil because I’d leave without question if he weren’t here. Only I know that in and of itself produces a lot of questions. But as I stood at the Day Job today, unwrapping shower curtains, I thought, “Curtains foiled again.” I don’t mean to be funny. If anything, I yearn to be with Braxton. A week like this took him away from me. And the void he left is unbearable.

Inspector, I’m not just angry—I’m in a seething rage. It’s because people don’t listen or understand. That’s why we’re having this conversation. From Now On, the answer is NO! But to open my mouth. A third reason I’m miffed. For Man, am I not?

Oh, I’m burning today. Because I can’t cut on the air conditioning, but in all honesty, I would rather burn than freeze. I’ll get enough of that when I get to the ninth circle. Hmm.

Treachery, the betrayal of my son. And aren’t I betraying Virgil, too? Happy Life, Inspector?

What about a healthy one? How long did the tax refund last before being wiped out? And if it isn’t Virgil’s medical needs. What about everything else? Such selfishness unabated.

But I’ll do what’s right when it comes to Virgil while breaking a plethora of laws when it comes to everything else. And the fact I’m not moaning on some mattress right this second is a miracle. Yeah, day one without me… uh, never mind.

Because my biggest sin other than living in FEAR and my ANGER is this Inspector…

Why can’t you just be HAPPY, Virgil? My version of “Why can’t you just be normal?” B and I… were just us, and that was enough. But Virgil Vivi has been here for 627 days.

And when I walk in and see the mess he made in his bed. I can’t help but wonder which one of us has it worse. The vet took care of his “daddy issues.” Ha! As for me, I’m afraid.

That’s why I miss Braxton. “I ain’t happy, I’m feeling glad.” My boy, Braxton, lived. Thirty-nine years and counting, I’ve existed. Happiness, for me, does not exist. But to LIVE BRAVE! Just B Happy, Virgil

1186 Days Without B III, Day 627 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will