Chronicle 199 ~Don’t B A Douche~

I’ve been reading about looking for signs and how kids can mimic their parents. When I was mad and B was crying, I should have noticed. As for signs, Mr. Miyagi’s Dad was 3 days of mourning, Prince Hector had 12, B will have 16. Don’t B A Douche

Sunday, January 16, 2022

Chronicle 199 ~Don’t B A Douche~

To Will:
I AM a Billionaire right now, and here’s one more lie. Why not a piece of advice. Don’t B A Douche. You Will.

Now there are reasons for this. So let’s go with “the good, the bad, and the ugly?” whatever. Tomorrow’s MLK Jr. Day. And people are giving money in Betty’s name. Conservatives… Racist Republicans are trying to erase “culture.” As they’re fond of saying with the Confederacy. Oh, you got no beef with Betty White. You do have rage with the Day Job. It’s one of the reasons I did what I did yesterday, and it ain’t gonna work out. I’m sorry. I wonder how many times you’re going to utter those words over the next sixteen days. Fuck Humanity, you apologize to B, B III, Braxton Barks Bradford. He’s owed an apology. Who knew 350 days ago, you’d be here without B III and once again these Six Impossible Things:

  1. I AM Finishing Reading Jack McAfghan: Letters From Rainbow Bridge, Kate McGahan
    Completed
  2. I AM Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
    Partial
  3. I AM Sending Gulp Off To Be Published SIGH
    Failed
  4. I AM Keeping It In My Pants (Day 010 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
    Failed (Day 003 No Fap)
  5. I WILL Work On A Tattoo Of My B III
    Failed
  6. I WILL Be The Man My Son Thinks I Am
    Failed

So the question becomes what are you going to do because it ain’t this. You’re going to be a bastard. No, a douche? It’s written somewhere that it’s not illegal to call a toddler an asshole. But frowned upon. Braxton is your son. Died at fifteen, sixteen, last year. That’s around seventy-six dog years, hmm. And you’ve cried them all from January 31 – NOW. You owe B III your life, but at the very least, you can give him 16 days, ok. Oh yeah, look up the word douche. I was thinking about that while warning Braxton’s Aunt last night. It’s what you called him anytime he pissed you off. To think you’re not mad at him at all. But for him, Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE Finishing Reading Jack McAfghan Reflections of Life With My Master
  2. I WILL BE Building Braxton’s Memorial Page And Waking Up On Time
  3. I WILL BE Editing Braxton’s Book “My Turn To B III.”
  4. I WILL BE Keeping It In My Pants, (Day 003 No Fap) No Exceptions, Mourning Braxton
  5. I WILL BE Purchasing My First Physical Portrait For Braxton’s Frame
  6. I WILL BE Honest With All I Encounter, No Bullshit or Caveman Answers, B Is Honest

You’re going to be giving this same speech next week, I bet. 2 weeks and 2 days, to be specific. That’s more than enough time to figure out what you’ll be doing come the day. Hell, instead, you want to be mad at yourself, the Day Job, your Old Man. Who in their fucking mind 30 minutes after a loss says, “get a new kid?” That’s not being a douche. As I’ve said, taking the soul, the Will, as it were, is the worse crime. Taking a life, B’s life… I wasn’t thinking about that this time last year, Gospel 199 Black And Blue Will. You’ll have these to think on. 16 Days are for Braxton. Your Turn To B III. Don’t B A Douche

Douche
“The second stage of being a dick between asshole and jerk” Urban Dictionary

“A douche is a device used to introduce a stream of water into the body for medical or hygienic reasons, or the stream of water itself. Douche usually refers to vaginal irrigation, the rinsing of the vagina. Still, it can also refer to the rinsing of any body cavity.” ― Wikipedia

  1. I AM Finishing Reading (Whatever Book Comes Along)
  2. I AM Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums (Should Be Done)
  3. I AM Sending Gulp Off To Be Published SIGH
  4. I AM Keeping It In My Pants (Day 000 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
  5. I WILL Work On A Tattoo Of My B III (Soon)
  6. I WILL Be The Man My Son Thinks I Am

350 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 198 ~When B Was 15~

All the things that Braxton taught me and how did I repay him. What lessons did I teach my son? How to use bathroom pad. BOOBS ARE AWESOME. Is there any better pastime than sleep? I didn’t believe I’d make it past 15, but him… oh. When B Was 15.

Saturday, January 15, 2022

Chronicle 198 ~When B Was 15~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, yet I hate Math more than ever. And what about History, sigh. Hell, some computer literacy?

Yeah, because whirly-birding on the Internet isn’t helping. Should we even talk about my “writing career?” That would mean I was trying. Uh, what time did I wake up, Lunalesca? Every day, History repeats itself. Living for the love of saving myself or my son. I’m always a day late and a dollar short. Lunalesca, when it comes to the Day Job killing us? Slavery? Yeah, there goes my Republican ideas once again. I did get a sample of “The 1619 Project” yesterday. But for now or um the rest of this month. It’s the Math that’s chafing me for today. Lunalesca, we could talk some about anatomy. Me sticking my dick in crazy. That’s a confession for Echo. Gospel 198 Will A Medieval Hour…

My word to B, I never thought I’d be a Daddy. “You still haven’t been,” they’ll say. Those same people were all hoping I’d die young. I can’t tell you the first time I attempted dying with sleeping pills. (Dangerous words, Lu.) Oh, last night, I was choking on a jelly bean, or was it fast food? Lunalesca, we’re going over every subject in the books, aren’t we? Computer Science, History, Books, Anatomy. What else is there to know. Oh, I should have taken a Shop class or something with Photography. No, I was much too busy thinking, “I can’t.” You know I’m no motivational speaker, of course. I grew up in a generation of “knowledge is power.” From 15 to now… I FEEL STUPID.

When Braxton was 15, he saw me through the plague year Lunalesca. My heroic ONE. Lunalesca making such a soul like my Braxton, you know I believed. I wanted. TWO. Braxton deserved a mom, and I always said a woman Braxton liked, I’d marry. THREE. First time that happened, Braxton and I were separated. To her wedding, I left “FOUR.” Now I didn’t mean to sound like Yoda. B IS my best friend. Never said; I Got 5 On It. Yet B IS number one in my life. So why did B Die? Luna, Two, three, four, five, is it SIX. DMX said, “Life is a lesson, and I’m gonna teach it.” How? I’m so STUPID. I’m sitting here, thirty-seven, but When B Was 15?

349 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 191 ~B Forgetful This Week~

This marks one more month that I’d rather forget. Hell to forget the 342 Days without B, but what would we have done in all that time? B would make sure I got his grandma a gift. Only, I’m buying another pendant in B’s memory. “B Forgetful This Week”

Saturday, January 8, 2022

Chronicle 191 ~B Forgetful This Week~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now. I wonder, do other billionaires forget how much they have. I continue to remember my loss.

My B, I swear I have ruined the weekend for myself. That was fucked up to say, wasn’t it, Lu? What I mean is, at the moment, I am once again time-traveling, in a rush to not be alone anymore. I believe the adoptions start back up today at PetSmart. Can I shush it? Again, me saying STUPID stuff. It’s been that way since I started reading My Dog Has Died: What Do I Do?” I’m sure I’ve finished it by now, but we’ll get to talking about that. Let’s start with my writing, for example, Gospel 191 ~The Island Will What…~. I mentioned B III had a vet appointment, but it was all about my books. The first one of the new year, Lunalesca.

Instead of B III’s life, I mused about The Island by Gary Paulsen. If I remember, he didn’t make it through 2021 either. I ruined my first song of the year on Spotify talking to Dear Future Wife. It was somewhere between “Hold On Tight” and, um, “It’s Only Love.” Romantic, Paternal, Best Friend? As Halle Berry put it, “What do you know about love?” Hell, being at the Day Job, I have all sorts of thoughts. Besides hating the damn place, I know I don’t want to fall in love. I’m thirty-seven and already sure I’ll die alone. Braxton? I get emails about dogs, but I can never make a move. Another PetSmart Chihuahua? Lunalesca, I fucked that up. What about my Ma’s gift?

Yeah, I forgot about her other gift, and she was ever so grateful for the first one. So, of course, I became an asshole, Lu. Then again, B’s Aunt Indiana Gone is getting her gift. The money Amazon returned Lu, I spent on one more memorial pendant. Never forget B. This is why I’ve read two Wendy Van de Poll books. Started reading Kate McGahan. As the song goes, “Am I A Psycho?” If anything, more Republican than ever honest. Reading about dead children, dead pets. At least, unlike Republicans, there is no fix here. Braxton died almost a year ago. 342 days ago, to be exact. A bad week, try a terrible month, Lady Lu. He’s My Son, never forget. B Forgetful This Week

342 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will