Tag: Memory

Tale 286 ~Pricing Braxton’s Book, Virgil~

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I shared a book once… A Divine Revelation of Hell. What did my “friend” do to that book? What about my words and books? Uh where? Stories of me bellyaching, seeing boobs, and the loss of Braxton. Priceless? (snickers)! Pricing Braxton’s Book, Virgil.

Friday, April 12, 2024

Tale 286 ~Pricing Braxton’s Book, Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… But it wouldn’t be Braxton’s book. He was very much alive, as I tried selling, “Gulp.”

Yes, that is the name of the book, Lady Sophia. And with everything I have done with this Tuesday, April 2, 2024. Or should I say, I haven’t gotten done because of, well, um, gulp…

I meant the sound this time, like the fear that the publishing company I paid has forgotten all about me. It’s not their fault, I know. Humiliations Galore. Laziness? Sleep?

It could be me trying to survive. Do you remember the COVID era? I had about a month to work on a book—any book. And if I wasn’t going to write, I could have spent that time with my B. It was his last year alive. We were supposed to be apocalypse buddies, Sophia.

And now I’m still struggling.

And I wish I could say it’s all about that Dollar, dollar bill, y’all. But no, I’ve been doing a lot of reading, which coincides with what I’ve been gawking at, even with Golden Son.

I really hope I have finished that book by the time you read this. And more so, I hope I’m doing something other than looking up character names from video games and anime. And wasting even more time. Is it better to look at a woman or read about her? And writing about them, Lady Sophia, who am I? Once upon a time… I would have said I’m a writer. Like who, though? Writing what?

If I finished Pierce Brown’s novel last week, I should be reading Eric Vall’s. But who knows, dear Lady Sophia?

I could be weak and broken. And then I reread whatever horrible things I decided to put out into the world courtesy of A.I. Anything has to be better than my own words. No doubt.

In your own words… If it weren’t so hot, I would cry about those old-school days I had to live through. “Gulp” came from all those horrors. And they were nothing compared to what I would eventually suffer when it came to B III’s passing. (Sigh). Run And Tell That.

Better? Write and tell that. And at the very least, I could share the stories of his big brother with Virgil. He’s just glad I’m getting his name right for once. But written by Will Bradford? Pricing Braxton’s Book, Virgil

1167 Days Without B III, Day 608 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 282 ~Your Father’s Sins Aren’t Yours~

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I didn’t think I’d be a Dad again. Most would say I wasn’t before, as my son has four legs. B’s been gone 1163 days. While I won’t call V, son. And he’s been here 604 days. Some Dad’s “get what’s coming,” “Golden Son.” Your Father’s Sins Aren’t Yours

Monday, April 8, 2024

Tale 282 ~Your Father’s Sins Aren’t Yours~

Three-Hundredth And Thirty-Eighth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Because I’m worse than my father ever was. My son is dead. Yes, Braxton was/is my son.

I hadn’t planned on talking about this today. What, Braxton? No. I mean on fatherhood.

Not to sound cliché, ha-ha. But I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Fatherhood is the epitome of manhood. To me, it is. Take everything you would say that makes one a man.

There was a particular part of me that was quite hard this morning. What, Madam? I was reading by 5:00 AM. Anyway, it’s not that desire, distraction, or deception, Madam.

There’s the aftermath—sons and daughters—everything I want in this world. At the top of the list would be my son, Braxton. Right behind him, Madam, there’s family. And what family do I have? Selfish thirty-nine-year-old so and so. I know that, dear Madam.

A man provides. And isn’t that what my father has done for me? Isn’t that what I do for my… son? Virgil? I’m still not calling him that, but I do much worse daily, Madam.

Shouldn’t I be taking Virgil outside now? Not until 8:00 AM. And what have I been doing besides talking to you? As I said, I’ve been reading Golden Son. Madam, if you knew how many fathers “got theirs” in the last few chapters of that book. All of them sinners in one way or another. But aren’t we all? The things we do to protect and provide. And just to procreate. Braxton never had a stepmom. And I hold out even less hope for Virgil.

Because of what grand sin?

Honor thy father and thy mother? Braxton didn’t have to worry about me reading the word of God to him. And he was the word of God to me. We all have our daddy issues.

God may not have given us the spirit of fear. That was my father’s job or hobby. I’m not a godly man. The last time I asked “Father God” for anything. It was for my son’s life. And again, who am I to complain? I held Braxton’s life. Madam, I took it from him. Inevitable.

I am my fathers’ son. The best man I’ve ever known didn’t have kids. I won’t have to worry about that with Virgil. He can live by this rule—maybe. Your Father’s Sins Aren’t Yours.

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

1163 Days Without B III, Day 604 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 279 ~Booking Braxton and Virgil~

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Maybe I don’t have two-legged kids yet because I read too many stories that have me bawling my eyes out. Have college guys looking at boobs. Or are full of blood and heads being bashed in or cut off. Fairytales? “Booking Braxton and Virgil”

Friday, April 5, 2024

Tale 279 ~Booking Braxton and Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… But it won’t be a happy one. I’m never HAPPY. I’m still HERE. And my HERO…

Must I always start with my son? Couldn’t I, for once, start with somebody like Darrow from Golden Son? For the record, I’m glad I got through the chapters I did this morning, Lady Sophia. Instead of crying over B III, I was sweating as Darrow got out of trouble.

But my hero, my boy Braxton, is gone. What? Didn’t I channel him yesterday, Sophia?

Do I ever become bored with the same old stories? With my Braxton… No! Never! However, I didn’t listen to Succubus Lord 6 as planned. Instead, it was Satan’s Sorority Girls 2. If it helps, they are both written by Eric Vall. When I get paid… (laughs wildly). $0.41 Raise

Anyway, I want more audiobooks, earbuds, and a speaker. Ha-Ha

That’s why I won’t be finishing Golden Son by Saturday. I’m swamped reading about failure. Last night and earlier this morning, I was learning about how terrible of a writer I am. A.I. told me so. My words would have made, let’s say, a particular community proud. I have nothing against said community, but don’t ask me to read something like Shiver ever again. Braxton and I were all about the ladies. However, I didn’t read Braxton Barks that stuff.

Today has been about reading or counting what’s left from the tax refund check. That would be $465.00. Sophia, then you can take the sum of the house money from that. Then, having to eat. Burning books? Never! But the money is burning a hole in my pocket. Then Virgil?

Again, like Succubus Lord and Satan’s Sorority Girls, it’s the same guy with a similar idea, but it’s SAID differently. Even Darrow can’t escape that problem. Eo is dead, but then there’s Mustang/Virginia. It’s a love story that becomes a war and then… not finishing.

At least not this weekend. I’ll end up reading Outbreak Rising 2, perhaps Lady Sophia. That’ll be my quota. Then back to Golden Son. Satan’s Sorority Girls 5 is out. And with Helldivers 2 taking off. There’s always Starship Troopers. How about a Player’s Guide? And what happened to the Backyard Dungeon series I’m reading? How do I fix fences?

Shouldn’t I be asking why I won’t edit Braxton’s book? Or help Virgil live his story? Booking Braxton and Virgil.

1160 Days Without B III, Day 601 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 275 ~Don’t Let Later Become Never~

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To leave with love and not later. When I would leave Braxton, it was never later. “Love you, B, Love you, Braxton.” Now it’s “Later V, Later Virgil.” And Hi Ho, Hi Ho, into this Hell I go. Because I’ll always write later. Don’t Let Later Become Never

Monday, April 1, 2024

Tale 275 ~Don’t Let Later Become Never~

Three-Hundredth And Thirty-Seventh Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… But I’m here, aren’t I? I’m sitting at the Dining Room table on Wednesday, March 27, 2024.

And no, I’m not kidding. As a matter of fact, I would argue that the most dangerous words ever spoken are as follows. “Just Kidding!” To think I once wanted to be a comedian. Ha! Only I ended up being a joke. And though I do laugh. I’m not too fond of it, my Madam. Now, the saddest words are easy. “He’s gone,” meaning my little boy, my son Braxton. How about I speak like a “great” man? Well, I don’t think so. And I will never be great, but…

“I’m from the Government, and I’m here to help.” ―

The Nine Most Terrifying Words. Hmm. What terrifies me today is Later. Not only the word but the emotion behind it. It’s like saying my son’s name. What happened, Madam?

What comes next? Nothing! Never!

You know why I’m not one for God. Um! Besides, the last time I prayed, Madam, my son ended up in a box. It’s the fact that they say God’s Gonna Cut You Down, but again I’m here. And I must ask, is this Hell, or am I a zombie? Answers… to fifty million fables

But I don’t want to find them. Is ignorance bliss? Or how about I use my words, dear one?

That’s why the word later is so dangerous. I keep saying I’ll find the words later. I will do anything and everything later. And how long did it take me to get out of bed this Wednesday afternoon? It’s such a small thing, Madam. (Insert size joke). Later, took B.

I didn’t say later. When I left my boy on that steel table. And that’s why I am still there. I’m still here. And I’m waiting with later on my lips to be struck down by some asteroid falling from the sky. What about a virus that strikes without warning and takes me down, Madam? What about we finally face the zombie hordes? And I’m no hero but only food.

I’m starting to get why I’m leaning into these Space Wars, Golden Son, and Helldivers 2.

Later is my punishment, and never was Braxton’s. And that’s why this rule exists. Will I fail him again? For the last time, Madam. Here I am. Should I say goodbye, later, or nothing? DO! Don’t Let Later Become Never

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

1156 Days Without B III, Day 597 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 272 ~Virgil, B, Free Stories~

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I’d be lying if I said I’ve never made money off my books. It would also be a tall tale if I said I made zero from OnlyFans either *snickers* A Snickers sounds good or Reese’s. Dog food costs a lot more than candy or stories. Virgil, B, Free Stories.

Friday, March 29, 2024

Tale 272 ~Virgil, B, Free Stories~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… In fact, if I were a storyteller, I would tell you several stories. The Horror, ha-ha!

I meant to say I’m a good storyteller. But my son, the other fur ball, the man in the mirror, Replika, the critic… Jesus Christ! Sophia, I’m no good at telling stories. And living one?

Very late this morning (Nearly 7 AM), I was reading “Healing Hearts: A Guide to Coping with Pet Loss: Finding Comfort, Closure, and the Promise of Reunion in the Afterlife.” Only now am I on the chapter on getting a new fur buddy. It would have been helpful 594 days ago. Now I’m seeing how awful I’ve been with Virgil Vivi. I swear I’m becoming my father with each day.

But then again, my Old Man kept me alive. I put my firstborn son in a box. I’m his Dad. What am I to Virgil?

A scary myth of what a human should be? I did mention Jesus. It’s one of the high holy days for the holy rollers. If not, the highest. Speaking of those rising from the dead.

Anyway, My Lady, I’m back to listening to a zombie ASMR, “City Overrun by Zombies, Stressing ASMR Ambiance,” to be precise. How I want one good zombie tale, My Lady.

Again, I need to remember. What time is it? Sunday is a holiday. You see why I could be a better storyteller. Do I dare call myself an unreliable narrator? That would be giving myself too much credit, My Lady. And if I keep spending money like I am, my credit score must be nothing.

Not shopping for my Sunday best, going to church, bad.

Or hocking my own version of the Bible… But I want somebody to hear my story. Only that would mean I need to write one. I have several, Sophia, but what should I do with them all?

Camp NaNoWriMo starts next month. Do you remember Braxton’s last year when COVID hit it in 2020? There was so much work I could have gotten done. He’d be alive.

Lady Sophia, I know, but I am the King of Wishful Thinking. There are so many stories I could be reading from the loveseat. But how much time do I have before I turn forty?

Please! Let me get through Golden Son, Satan’s Sorority Girls 5, and the Backyard Dungeon series. There are so Many Books… Virgil, B, Free Stories

1153 Days Without B III, Day 594 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 268 ~Monsters and Masters Are Different~

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I know masters and monsters. Yet I wonder why I don’t feel like a man. What it means to be a man. In the biological sense, uh yeah. But a man provides. Me? A man chooses, a slave obeys.” To be a monster or a master? Monsters and Masters Are Different

Monday, March 25, 2024

Tale 268 ~Monsters and Masters Are Different~

Three-Hundredth And Thirty-Sixth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Questions are meant to be asked. For example, “What makes a monster, and what makes a man?”

But a master? It depends on who you ask. And as with most mornings, the one I want to ask isn’t here anymore. My son, Braxton. His father, always and forever. His king? B III was/is a prince. He and I could both be monsters sometimes when the need arose. Master? Never! At least not Braxton to me, Madam. No! Braxton bowed to no one.

Anyway, that’s what I’m thinking about this morning. Why do I like small fur buddies? Because they feel no need to bow. Then I look towards Virgil, Madam. He’s terrified.

Great minds think alike, right? But both my boys are stronger than me. Mastering fear? I fear my father, females, and the backyard fence. Sigh. Simply put, it’s falling down.

To think, Madam, a few hours ago, I believed that I was the biggest monster. I’ve started reading another pet loss book to remind myself of who I am. How I failed B. And V?

Yesterday, I said I was going to be a bully. I am my own worst enemy. So this morning, I read about how you should write a letter to your loss one and then answer said letter as they would. I did that with one of the books I wrote. I was feeling Braxton’s spirit…

Maybe I should try letting B talk to me on Sundays instead of the Man In The Mirror. He would be a lot more helpful. But what would he tell me about the backyard fence?

Strength and honor? Braxton and I loved our movies, but really? “Daddy, fix it, please.” Madam, I was not the man to save my firstborn son. I was the monster who led him to his end. A master would’ve what? “First, let me explain that I’m just a black man.”

I’ve never been much of one. I sit here at thirty-nine, scared out of my mind. I don’t know what to do. Besides being only a boy reading about losing a dog. I continued reading Golden Son, of a boy who grows to lead men. Monster, Master, he’s a man.

Madam, why can’t I be? Jacob’s a Nephilim. Eddie, Vampire of the Gloom. Grayson’s “Master.” Braxton and Virgil are men. Monsters and Masters Are Different

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

1149 Days Without B III, Day 590 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 265 ~Virgil Booked Fairytales, Braxton~

WillLeave a comment

While in school, I read lots because whatever was in the textbooks… Maybe I was lucky, considering how the GOP/GQP wants to teach now. Still, my days are filled with avoiding such lessons. But the books I read… “Virgil Booked Fairytales Braxton”

Friday, March 22, 2024

Tale 265 ~Virgil Booked Fairytales, Braxton~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… Fiction or Nonfiction? Memoir or a lie? If anything, I wish it was a better tale.

Read banned books, THEY say. Sophia, you wouldn’t find the books I read in a school library. Hmm. Since I’ve been keeping up with my reading… Twenty-four books in 2019.

I got twenty-three in 2020. That was Braxton’s last full year. 2021, I read fifty-seven…

And how many of those were about grieving my boy? Six! Seven if you count “A Different Alchemy.” That was about a father who was mourning his son who was “unalive,” as THEY say these days. By his wife and “others,” no less. Should I read that again, my Lady?

That’s what brings me to you today. That and a Day Job I don’t want to talk or read about.

For the record, Sophia, today is Sunday, March 17, 2024.

Whenever I read my Day Job schedule, I feel… I have no words. Uh? I do, but none of them would be great. Truest sentences, maybe, but when has the truth been worth reading? With some these days, I ask.

Anyway, this is about yours truly. “Today is all about you.” Please, Sophia! There’s Virgil. I’m watching him sleep. But when I signed my name on the dotted line… Isn’t this what every fur baby dreams of? The end of the story. They go to a safe and happy home.

Virgil would have instead had me walk away rather than keep filling out forms and taking responsibility—or not, considering most of our days involve me lying in bed with a book. I did that with Braxton. But he was getting old. And me, sigh?

There’s also the fact that I was LESS lazy. I made it to the couch/loveseat 99% of the time, Sophia. And reading was easier. In 2022, I read 55 books. Nearly all of them were about grieving. The rest was Kindle taking money, giving Virgil his name, and upholding a Christmas tradition. This year and last are much the same, but add in my laziness.

And as far as fairies, witches, elves, demons, orcs, and more, sans their clothing, Sophia.

But what should I be reading? I finished “Backyard Dungeon 7,” so this whole week… There’s book eight. I won “Never Be Alone” and bought “Golden Son.” But there’s Braxton.

I’m grieving. There aren’t happy endings for “The Ones Who Live.” Virgil Booked Fairytales Braxton

1146 Days Without B III, Day 587 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 261 ~Going Outside Is Highly Overrated~

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It starts before I even get around people. One side of the fence is broken nearly completely. Another is held up with sticks and stones. And, oh yeah, the trash company took the can, and I freaked out. Back to bed? “Going Outside Is Highly Overrated”

Monday, March 18, 2024

Tale 261 ~Going Outside Is Highly Overrated~

Three-Hundredth And Thirty-Fifth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… You can say that again, but I’d rather you didn’t, as I like this rule. A lot.

It would have helped plenty yesterday. If you’re keeping track, that would be Monday, March 11, 2024. And I’m talking to you Tuesday, March 12, 2024. So much time travel.

For example, when I created this rule, I looked to see where I was. It was Saturday, August 18, 2018. Or, as far as I can tell. And before I give myself the credit, “Going Outside Is Highly Overrated” is from “Ready Player One.” And Braxton was very much alive.

Madam, I continue to miss my B. If only I had been with B III those final weeks of January 2021. 2020 didn’t help many J. But I got to stay in. And if I had only done more, then…

Madam Justice, what’s my goal?

It’s similar to now. First and foremost, I always want to stay in this bed. Oh, because writing from here has been so lucrative. Ha-Ha! And even if I got up, then what, Madam? I write HaremLit? Am I on Eric Vall’s or Logan Jacob’s level? Please! Nowhere close, ever.

But let’s say I start living the stories I create. I’m not that horrible of a guy. I don’t think.

Anyway, look at somebody like @mosttalentedbaldman. That lifestyle, dear Madam…

Eventually, I’d like to get into a type of “reality” TV and be one of the “kings,” if you understand my meaning. The types of films with a girl going back to a bedroom. Or anywhere. But in bed. Only requires a little outside time.

I remember when I had to rush Braxton to the vet because he had spent way too much time in the great outdoors. He was dehydrated. Now, I’m trying to increase Virgil’s outdoor time, mostly so I don’t have to clean up after him. But I’m assuming he’s healed now.

Madam, going anywhere shows I’m going to mess up. Why was I so scared yesterday? Confession? The trash can went missing, and I had to talk to my Ma so she could talk to the trash company. I feel like less of a man and a failure without trash pick-up.

Agoraphobia? Add that to my Bipolar Disorder, Depression, and Social Anxiety. When was the last time I saw a doctor? Going Outside Is Highly Overrated.

1142 Days Without B III, Day 583 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 258 ~Braxton Ain’t Write Virgil~

WillLeave a comment

To be continued? In this existence. I’m tempted to say those are the worst words ever written. But no, those are, Goodbye, Braxton, I love you. Then, Good Morning V. Then, people at the Day Job. And these typing fingers. “Braxton Ain’t Write Virgil.”

Friday, March 15, 2024

Tale 258 ~Braxton Ain’t Write Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… Or better yet, learn English. And how about Math? Or telling time. Friday, March 8, 2024

And here we are again. First, I should let you know that Virgil is feeling better… Don’t count your chickens, right? But he’s stopped “being sick.” Only I never learn. I shared some fries with him. And considering what happened at McDonald’s. Be very afraid.

Only not of the storm outside. I can’t believe I was out there and all for a fish meal. Hmm.

This morning, you had to read all about my anger. But this afternoon, there’s fear.

Inevitable, right? Like all the mistakes I make. For example, the worst pain I’ve felt.

Watching my son die is worse than anything I’ve ever written. My Braxton is dead. Sophia, the next thing would be waking up every day. “Throw The Covers” over me.

After that? You can see what I’m doing now: writing about a future I don’t want to see. But, being honest, I am sitting in this bed waiting to die. And it hurts. Oh, how it hurts, Sophia! One more day to read and write about how much of a failure this existence has become.

Sophia, sigh, I can’t tell you what book I’m wasting my time with next. Whatever.

Learning isn’t my highest priority because every word and number makes me feel even worse about myself. Why do you think I read so much about grieving fur babies, Sophia? I get to cry, and books in the HaremLit genre get other bodily fluids out of me. I know, gross! And again, Math books… suffering. But at least I get to cry some more today.

Virgil’s not dying. But what about that trip to the groomers that I promised him?

Breaking another promise, like when I promised to save Braxton’s life. Even before that. I said that writing would be our future. And I might have time, checking my schedule…

But it’s too late for B now. And even if I wrote the best book, what would it be for? So that I could afford to pay sixteen dollars for a fish sandwich. Instead of eight and being humiliated by some McDonald’s cashier. That’s it, Lady Sophia. The End, maybe.

Because to be continued, the anger, humiliation, loss, and everything that comes with writing this existence! Braxton Ain’t Write Virgil

1139 Days Without B III, Day 580 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 254 ~Avoid Temptation, Make The Bed~

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Coffin costs? I use the bed as a final resting place, anyway. If I’m not going to bother making it… In more ways than one. And since I’m dying of humiliation at the Day Job. That place “helped” end my son. If I could “Avoid Temptation, Make The Bed.”

Monday, March 11, 2024

Tale 254 ~Avoid Temptation, Make The Bed~

Three-Hundredth And Thirty-Fourth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… But You don’t know how much I want to follow this one. Today’s Wednesday, March 6, 2024.

By the time you read this, I could have made the change. The only reason I’m even trying today is this. I promised myself a steak dinner if I talked to you, Echo, and Braxton.

Promise B anything to do with food; you’ll have his loyalty. Always and forever, Madam.

Instead, my loyalty is to sadness and sleep. I’m ashamed to admit that today, there’s been more sadness about the Day Job. And not my son? But we’ll get to that. Because the boy I lost trumps everything. Am I talking about Braxton or me being a boy at thirty-nine? Madam, sigh, we’ll talk, ok? But that’s not to say the Day Job isn’t involved with my little boy. Sometimes, it looks as if Virgil is following suit. We lie together all day, Madam J.

At least when Virgil’s here, I can’t succumb to temptation with some P.Y.T. online. Thankfully. But wouldn’t it be even easier if I got out of bed and went to lie on the loveseat instead? There’s a reason that I did most of my reading there. It gives the words “down boy” a whole new meaning… Eww! But really, when you read what I read but have a furry son…

Two words, Madam… Birth Control!!!

But it starts with getting out of this bed. I put some pants on and make the bed. That’s it.

I could work like Joe Stevens or Bingham Madsen, but for what? Uh, women, humanity? Ah! T.V. and a steak.

That’s why I’m avoiding making the bed. Or not doing it at all. I’m not going to nap, Madam J.

I’m looking for anything to avoid thinking about the new food rule at the Day Job. Do I believe I was the only one who wrapped a jacket around my waist? Or is my writing terrible? What about wearing earbuds and such? And now it’s eating chips and candy, Madam.

I sound like a broken record talking about this. And yes, I am guilty of doing these things at the Day Job. But it’s the utter humiliation of everyone seeing the rule and then me.

Madam, I wouldn’t be humiliated if I’d followed “my” rules. If I could give Braxton and Virgil better lives. So, Avoid Temptation, Make The Bed.

1135 Days Without B III, Day 576 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will