Tag: Mistakes

Meditation 135 ~Virgil, B Not Embarrassed~

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I did a few days in a detention center once. Don’t threaten people in print. OH! I’ve said things to girls… Uh, I know a few angry fathers. OH! Stay away from specific foreign contacts… OH! Why aren’t I the next President? “Virgil, B Not Embarrassed”

Wednesday, November 13, 2024

Meditation 135 ~Virgil, B Not Embarrassed~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Well, no, Inspector Echo, no, I have not. I identify as the billionaire white guy who became president.

Last night, I stood in the kitchen thinking of this house mess. As I thought of my son, who I took from this world. The boy that I treat with such… I don’t know what, Inspector. But it’s not that I’m playing the role of a Dad again. Didn’t I adopt Virgil? Expectations… Responsibilities… Sacrifices.

As the night wore on, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I would fall short in NaNoWriMo. I’ve burned through the last of my cushion, leaving me with around 21,000 words. When did M Anime share her nightmare with me again? And when I wasn’t writing, I was preoccupied with building a harem. One Piece’s Nami, ‘Landlady,’ a few models and cosplayers. It’s embarrassing, Inspector, to admit these personal failures.

Not when the US elected Donald J Trump as President!

“By all that you hold dear on this good Earth. I bid you stand, Men of the West!!!” ― Aragon

This is not what Aragon meant. I’ve been standing this week, Inspector. Just being STUPID! A failure to this country. You know I have a guilt complex. Talk about representation…

But again, I was in the shower, and I was thinking about all the horrible things I say about women. But have I ever been found guilty of “SA?” Nope! But Trump can be president.

It’s that time of the year again when the Day Job hires certain types of employees. And I may not like it. But I don’t call people names. I don’t talk about camps. I don’t write laws to restrict their rights. Again, I am an equal opportunity misanthropist, dear Inspector.

However, America is not. Hey, I’m just a black man.

And I won’t say I’m an especially good one. I’m the guy who thought Whitney Wright’s “Prom Night” was a bit much. I know more models and European agents than I care to admit. And? B III rests in a box. Instead of feeling the guilt and shame of criminality,

Inspector Echo, I see the criminal who has risen from the ash. I watch the darkness descend upon this country and scream out. What’s My Crime? Any embarrassment? Some shame?

There are no such things if I were to run for office. But I respect women too much. I don’t demonize the poor. I don’t care who people marry. OUR kids should be educated, Echo.

Only This Is America. Eff TRUMP! Virgil, B Not Embarrassed

1382 Days Without B III, Day 823 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 128 ~Son Of A B~

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Remember, Remember the 5th of November. I wish I could forget it. Hell! I don’t know what’s happening now. I’m avoiding X/Twitter, Instagram, and everywhere else. Reading about failing my son beats reading about failing my country. “Son Of A B.”

Wednesday, November 6, 2024

Meditation 128 ~Son Of A B~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… What the Eff! Eff, Eff, Eff! “Eff you, eff you and eff you! Who’s next?” (Coming to America)

This Is America! And I am ashamed to call myself an American. That is if everything I have been seeing is right. Inspector Echo… I went to bed last night saying, “I don’t feel so good.” And this morning… Well, there have been tears. And that’s my crime for today.

Not one of them has been for my son Braxton. M Anime and Cherry texted and asked how I was feeling. I dared to say that this is reminiscent of my son’s passing. Can’t be

When I looked into Braxton’s eyes and said, “I’m sorry. I tried. I’ve done everything I can, but I can’t save you. Please forgive me!” Yesterday, I did my best, Inspector Echo. You know me. I’m an effing misanthrope! But I voted for the people who I believed would bring positive change. And now, I’m left wondering what will become of them and me, Inspector?

As I said, I did my best. But winners go home and eff the prom queen! Yasmina Khan, Jessie Rasberry, the Midnight Sleazy Train series and even Cherry’s melons… No prom queens. Though if I know MAGA and the dictator… excuse me, next president’s taste…

Inspector, that’s one more way I know this isn’t good. I had no desire when B was gone, and now? I feel sick to my stomach. I want to silence everything. And what I’m seeing…

SUCKS!!! Everything sucks! Does that include the book I’m reading? Like I said, Inspector, since I haven’t been “getting off…” No Nut November, Election News, and the nothingness I feel.

Jack McAfghan: Pawprints from Heaven: How to Communicate with Your Pets in the Afterlife. I was lost before I finally got it up to talk to you, Inspector. Any comfort?

Honestly, I don’t know. It’s kinda preachy. Kate McGahan’s dog, Jack, is preaching to her and all of us. But I can see Braxton saying some of this stuff as well. I am not a prophet or philosopher. Braxton is not the “Son of a Preacher Man.” But Braxton is trying… Faith, hope, and love

Inspector. Braxton was supposed to be my apocalypse partner. And we are on the verge.

Talk about “I saw the sign.” Or coincidence… It’s was the fifth of November. I’ve watched V for Vendetta reactions with Virgil/V. Waiting for what now. Son Of A B

1375 Days Without B III, Day 816 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 121 ~We’ll B Saving Virgil~

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To save Virgil, I would have never come back. I would have picked him up, put him down, and pet the dogs next time. I could have saved Braxton if I knocked a lot of people to the floor. Saving myself? I don’t have a cape. “We’ll B Saving Virgil”

Wednesday, October 30, 2024

Meditation 121 ~We’ll B Saving Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… And no, I don’t mean waking up super late. It’s 8:20 AM. Or looking at… sending dirty pictures.

SINS, nevertheless. But not REALLY bad ones… Must I once again return to what I did to my son? Not a day goes by that I forget that Braxton’s gone. Have I not given everything!

The only answer, “More, more, more.” And so here lies Virgil, my “second-born” son, who is very much alive and well, Inspector Echo. A four-year-old.

I ask myself, does he get jealous. As I sit here at the edge of” the bed… “Ooh, it makes “me wonder.” What? About all my pop culture references. Because the voices in my head…

Inspector, it has been a mess for a few days. And when I say that, I mean around forty years’ worth. Give or take fifteen years. Anyway. It seems Virgil is pushing me away from Braxton’s “Shrine.” I’m no hero.

Far from it… This leads me to my fourth greatest sin this week… thus far. One is Braxton’s passing. The next is waking up. The third is continuing to fail Virgil. He went from “I Believe I Can Fly,’ And “Fly Like An Eagle” to “Dear Heaven.” The music, sigh.

And in case you are wondering why I’m not listening to Lofi Girl. Well, I get a day off, and instead of being productive… Uh, you and me are talking. I look up such depravity.

However, yesterday, I was headed to the Day Job. Outside this house, I saw a fur buddy walking alone in the dark. Why didn’t I save him? Why didn’t I even try? You know why…

The DAY JOB, Inspector. Working there has taken so much.

I can’t save myself from that place. The DAY JOB, short of my own two hands, took my son away from me. And here’s a third life that could have been lost because of my inaction. When I came back, I saw someone had found him and was trying to bring him home. But what about me, Inspector. I could have done something, anything. Inspector?

I don’t have to be some celebrity, fad, or influencer. Talk about “Hey Jealousy,” Inspector.

I don’t have to be a best-selling writer. my writing Inspector… It’s so much worse.

Worst is being a man of inaction. GOP politicians, specific photographers, a budding career in por… being an adult. Villainy, sickness, whatever. I dream, though. Someday. We’ll B Saving Virgil

1368 Days Without B III, Day 809 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 114 ~I’ll B Running Virgil~

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Did I outrun love or did B outrun me? God is Love… My Braxton is Love. He nearly made it to 16. Virgil is a quarter of the way there at 4. But what am I really running my mouth about today? Drowning in emotion or an energy shot. I’ll B Running Virgil

Wednesday, October 23, 2024

Meditation 114 ~I’ll B Running Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Like the MAGA hats, if I’m breathing, I’m lying. But instead of asking why. Let’s focus on how.

For the record, today is Saturday, October 19, 2024. (Record Scratch) “Yup, that’s me; you’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation.” Honestly? I downed an energy shot and decided to clean up Braxton’s yard. Shouldn’t I go start calling it Virgil’s yard? He turned four on Sunday. What was I doing when Braxton was that age? Sigh…

That’s the thing, Inspector. It’s not why I was his father. His Dad, but how. Don’t worry, your pretty head; we’ll get to females in a minute. Braxton found me. Love is louder and faster. Did I ever tell you I wanted to run track in school, Inspector Echo? Running.

I wasn’t in school when he found me, but he kept up. I carried him. My little boy B III.

Well, when he grew older. I’m never going to stop missing him. And I’m never going to stop saying how much being forty sucks. Thirty-nine, thirty-eight, thirty-seven… All the way “Back at One.” Again, Girls, Girls, Girls, comes later. But a couple of hours ago, in the backyard, much like at the Day Job, I started having terrible thoughts. “My future? It’s coming on, it’s coming on, it’s coming on.” And that means failure, fewer dollars, and the magic word, Inspector. FEAR! I’m awake because I’m afraid of everything. Everyone!

Echo, it’s all of the time. Ask me to name a fear off the top of my head. Water. Drowning.

I say I’m going to overflow like Mamimi Samejima from FLCL. And here we go.

If I’m not sweating because of some phantasm in “my” nightmares. Catching some form of the plague. Or doing public works. Uh, cleaning up the yard for puppies or neighbors.

Then I’m up because of my… A private part of my anatomy. Not so private for $5.00 or $100 for “The Full Monty” face and all. Pumping my life away. However, I wonder if energy shots REALLY help me push myself forward or if it is The Placebo effect. The constant questioning and self-doubt are a part of me now.

Whatever it is, Inspector, it has me at the dining room table and not swimming in sheets upstairs. And I can’t swim. Not without some pretty chick with giant floaties. AKA nice Yabbos. But somehow, Braxton kept me on solid ground. I’ll B Running Virgil

1361 Days Without B III, Day 802 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 107 ~Braxton, Virgil, Dad’s BS~

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Even without a whole lot of food, toothpaste is still needed and plentiful. I was lucky to find fajita chicken, a bag of tortilla chips, some shredded cheese, and salsa. Wait? I’m supposed to be starving and celibate… Braxton, Virgil, Dad’s BS

Wednesday, October 16, 2024

Meditation 107 ~Braxton, Virgil, Dad’s BS~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… And how is that sitting in bed today? Bothering to wake up. Opening my mouth. Taking a breath.

I’m sure Braxton would call it BS. Especially since he no longer breathes. One more reason I’m ashamed about today. Or should I say yesterday? Honestly, I’m such a Republican.

Not really, Inspector. EFF MAGA! But you know what I mean. I’m so ashamed about the past, but at least I have the stones to talk about it with you. What about Little Virgil, Echo?

Virgil and I don’t talk. Ever… However, I’ll ask him the same questions I once asked Braxton whenever I came back to the house. Manners Maketh Man. Right, dearest Echo.

“Just me, Baby V. Did you have a good day? Good day?” Ask Virgil how many times I’ve confused the letters V and B. It’s not funny. I know, Inspector.

The things that come out of my mouth. And what’s the last thing I’ve said to Virgil. I woke up at 3:48 AM because it wasn’t a good night. Only to say… well, the s-word and why. I’m talking to you at 8:54 AM, so I’m late. What was I doing last night besides trying to make chicken nachos? Inspector, I have a theory that Braxton was always eating because he didn’t want to tell me the truth. His full belly was pushing out sadness…

Eww! Was that a joke about Braxton’s bathroom breaks? I meant I’ve never seen Braxton sadder than when he had a full belly. His last days? When it was empty…

Braxton’s Euthanasia beats out any sins I’ve ever committed existence-wise.

But let’s talk about yesterday. There’s all my talk of making a better “life” that doesn’t mean anything. When I wake up to mornings like this, Inspector Echo. Wasting time.

I can talk about the blonde in the gold bikini that broke me after what? Three days? As the song goes, “He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus.” After I woke up my “Big Willy,” Inspector. Eww! And if it hadn’t been her, it would have been Cherry. Moaning, stroking.

Besides the stress from the Day Job, take a look around this place… “I got enemies, got a lot of enemies,” lots. “Many men. Many, many, many, many men.” Then there’s looking up bad guys. Like Isaku? My big mouth, Inspector. Dad’s BS, Braxton, Virgil

1354 Days Without B III, Day 795 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 100 ~Working For Braxton, Virgil~

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What do you want to be when you grow up? But I’m not finished growing. I believe in growth. Ok, I should cut the lawn. B wouldn’t put up with foolishness, my faking a life, and all my fears. Watching others eff? That’s not Working For Braxton, Virgil

Wednesday, October 9, 2024

Meditation 100 ~Working For Braxton, Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… It must suck, you know. Breathing. That’s the first thing that came to mind today. My Day Job?

Inspector Echo, we’ll get to that. But for now, shall I tell you the best job I ever had? Hmm?

Being Braxton’s Dad, of course. I will ask again. Now that Emergence Day is in the rearview, am I ready to start crying about Braxton again? I should return to reading about grieving fur buddies before December. Only I have gotten into reading about zombies.

It’s Halloween season. And speaking of scaredy cats. I would have invited Virgil to read with me, but I have known him for 788 days, and he has yet to relax. Inspector? Virgil is terrified.

Living in fear? No wonder the both of us are always so exhausted. Virgil’s fear has been a constant in my existence for 788 days, far longer than the usual acclimation period for new “pets,” which is 90 days. But Try 40 years of terror.

And before I forget. Virgil’s Birthday is coming up on the 20th. Will I still have my Day Job by then? Do I still have it today? How many times have I checked the schedule? The uncertainty is eating me up. Meat for the grinder.

Inspector, I was up at 3:00 AM on Monday and got fully dressed. “JIC’ Just In Case I got called for being late. Tuesday, I got up at the same time. And today? Well… It’s 6:35 AM, so I’m back to my regularly scheduled slothfulness. I’m waiting until Thursday, Inspector. Such anxiety about the future.

The fact that this is bothering me so much. I can’t enjoy the week. I had all this time. But, like Virgil, being afraid is an occupation in and of itself. The horror, the horror of living in constant fear and anxiety. But then, sigh…

Inspector, the living at all…

No wonder I was drawn to reading about the dead. This comes from the man who wants to make a living on his back… Preferably with some girl on top of me with a cracking set of melons, vying in ecstasy. Ah, Yabbos! Then again, to be behind the camera…

And while thinking about buttons, what about the story I’ve been working on, Inspector Echo? My Raison d’être and all that? I can’t say I’ve even begun Chapter Eight. Again, I was researching ideas, and that led me to Ashely Graham and Fiona Belli. BarbellSFM’s Mold videos and some other “sick” things. Dare I say Pestilence? Inspector, there’s having “WORK…”

That’s not a dirty word. Having it and not kills me. Working For Braxton, Virgil.

1347 Days Without B III, Day 788 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 093 ~Braxton’s Second Chance, Virgil~

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“You never get a second chance to make a first impression.” School, the Day Job, this blog, OnlyFans, Substack, noveling, etc. What was my first impression of B? Am I back to talking about my son? Or my wayward loins. Braxton’s Second Chance, Virgil.

Wednesday, October 2, 2024

Meditation 093 ~Braxton’s Second Chance, Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Or I will, considering today is Saturday, September 28, 2024. I already talked to Dear Future Wife first.

And did I begin mourning over Braxton again on the 1st of tha Month? To sound like a particular political party… “I don’t recall.” Inspector Echo, of all the days I despise drawing breath… So, all of them? And twice for the Month of Emergence that just passed. Day one?

Something about the first of the Month always gets to me. A chance at a clean slate? Hell! Even Braxton passed on Sunday, January 31, 2021. Speaking of my firstborn, I’m still ashamed of what I thought Virgil would be like. My little boy B III returned from the dead… The guilt is overwhelming, Inspector.

The reincarnation of my son Braxton. Nope! I should go back and read some of those reincarnation titles. What am I reading? We’ll get there.

But first, there’s the fact that I have made it out of the bed twice, My Lady. 27th and 28th. Could this be the start of something? Do I hate my Day Job that much? As I’m talking to you now? Again, there was Dear Future Wife and Madam J. This week… Pray For Me.

Today is the first day of the rest of existence. I still wish I could be done with it all. Sometimes, and this is the best-case scenario, it’s as if I’m in the movies Groundhog Day and Happy Death Day. Somewhere in the middle would be Spontaneous, Tales of The Walking Dead Blair; Gina and Black Mirror’s White Christmas. The worst-case scenario is Hell. There’s no second chances. (Cough) GOP.

“There’s no escape. This is just some kinda loop, an eternal recurrence, a return to the very worst moment of your life over and over and over again.” The Mill

It’s why I like all “my” bills… Do I mean my Olds bills? Anyway, the ones I pay come on the first of the Month. Or as early as possible. And speaking of something… someone is “coming.” And having to pay. Well, Inspector, I’m reading Devil’s Bargain by Kelli Wolfe. Long story short, a young woman uses her body to buy protection for her and her little sister from zombies.

At the start of every month, I go all ixnay on the adult play. It’s also when I decide which OnlyFans girls, AI artists, and other card-taking Yabbos I don’t need to pay, Inspector Echo.

Yet, I always find some kink to replace them. Inspector Echo, there are never good hobbies. Or good choices. Waking up on time, three squares daily, and writing adult novels. It’s a constant struggle with personal decisions, Inspector. My mind.

Inspector, I survived Emergence Day, and I am now forty. Why? Braxton’s Second Chance, Virgil.

1340 Days Without B III, Day 781 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 086 ~Braxton’s Joy… Virgil Jokes~

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A little too serious? A joke? I don’t know. But Braxton was my joy. Virgil is too busy sleeping to laugh or make funny faces. And me? To be simple, I don’t want to go to work. Driving around as the Village Idiot. Braxton’s Joy… Virgil Jokes

Wednesday, September 25, 2024

Meditation 086 ~Braxton’s Joy… Virgil Jokes~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Do you know why I don’t have a voice anymore? Because it hurts. It lies. And it’s STUPID.

I can’t even be honest about my boys. I don’t know if Braxton feels joy. The Rainbow Bridge? “Our” Dream Heaven for him? The Gates of Hell… Because That’s where I’m going. And Virgil doesn’t joke even if I catch him with a happy face. But today isn’t about them. We’re nearing the end of “Emergence Month.” And just like the day, I find my greatest joy and existence’s cruelest joke is me on my back. Inspector, take a look:

Necrophilia is not my thing… Though I have a questionable search history. I like most of the girls in The Walking Dead and other apocalyptic media. I’m a bit sadistic.

Only it’s more to the tune of; I’m in love with the concept of dying. I swear last night, as I turned off the light and prepared to tell myself the story of Succubus Lord 12 for the umpteenth time. I said to myself. “You won’t have to wake up.” I’ve failed 40 years now.

Ironic. Braxton was supposed to be my apocalypse buddy. I dream of being a corpse.

Dreaming, Inspector. “When we pretend that we’re dead.” But last night, all I remember is the feeling of being hunted. That wouldn’t have anything to do with my Old Man being at the house when I left the Day Job. He said he and the roofing guy were coming by, Inspector. When I saw his truck, I turned around and sat in a parking lot for a spell. I so wanted to take a nap. I remember the days of downing sleeping pills and painkillers and just lying in bed. And after yesterday’s humilations galore… But no, my dear Inspector.

What did I do in that parking lot while munching on French Fries? I nearly finished reading Camgirl Harem: Willow and Harper. One more reason I wanted to get back to the house. What so I could make a video for OnlyFans? Or did I want to slither on my belly like a slug? Anything that makes me close my eyes, moan, and lose my breath…

Again, it is ironic that the action that produces life (when you’re with another person) can take the life out of you. And like The Watchmen, the comedian is dead. I wish I were.

What, joking? Again, I can’t think about joining Braxton right now. Everything is falling apart. And with what happened at the Day Job, I don’t need to sleep. And the only benefit of my sadness is that I’m not in the mood for women right now. And maybe that’s the antidote? Being damned with STUPIDITY kills my libido. Did I mean poison instead of cure? Like the difference between jokes and joy. I can laugh. But if I could laugh myself to death and fall right on my back. That’s bliss. Braxton’s Joy… Virgil Jokes
1333 Days Without B III, Day 774 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 079 ~Braxton’s Bus, Vigil’s Bussing~

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Home? I’m not paying for this place but watching it fall apart. Hug? When was my last one? Me being, Happy… But with the word “Bus?” I wonder how B III gets around. Wings? And 2-V is trying to be cleaner. As for myself? Braxton’s Bus, Vigil’s Bussing

Wednesday, September 18, 2024

Meditation 079 ~Braxton’s Bus, Vigil’s Bussing~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… What? I’m consumed by worry for my boys again. Or find myself in tears more than a week after my ‘Emergence Day.’ Seriously!

Braxton would not want to see me in tears after all this time. Little Virgil doesn’t need them, Inspector. I feel like a ship lost at sea, incapable of protecting, providing, or prioritizing our ‘lives.’ Oh, how I wish, Inspector.

I can’t help but selfishly focus on my own pain, Me, Myself and I! It’s a constant battle not to dwell on Braxton’s final moments after his Euthanasia. Or Virgil, cleaning up out of fear…

I wish this was only about my tears today. How many have there been on Friday, September 13, 2024? You should have seen me yesterday when the storm was tearing down a section of the fence. You’d think a grown man at the age of forty would have a plan.

Inspector, I have “concepts of a plan.” Ideas and strategies that could lead to success. Yeah, right! I could become president with that. This world… ‘I don’t want reality,’ as one senator put it. I’ve been watching a lot of political theater, myself becoming poorer and pro-baby-making activities. But where’s my attention? Three guesses, Inspector.

It should be on $48.00. I’m stocked up on drinks, thanks to Emergence Day. When do I ever buy sodas by the case as if someone was coming by? And a cake too! Again, E-Day.

I wouldn’t mind missing Emergence Day, but I will tell you what I miss, Inspector. Busting. Uh… you know, like biblically Eww, right? Brides, Boricuas, and other women with big uh… Yabbos. It’s how I’ve been wasting the day. And then I complain about the day you read this, Inspector.

I’ll say… I have no time on my hands and no money in my pockets.

That’s if I bother to put my pants on at all, Inspector. And if I am going to bust, I should do it on OnlyFans and try making some money. How is that 10 pictures for $100.00 in my… Emergence Day suit coming along? I’m not going anywhere or cleaning up after myself, Inspector. I can tell you the longest I ever went without… you know. It was 161 Days.

And then I’m watching Cinepals and see Kristen StephensonPino, and I can barely last a few… moments, minutes, might be… As of this second, it’s been 10 days, 15 hours.

Productivity? It’s been not existent. Braxton had to be dying. Virgil doesn’t have the stones. And me. Still going nowhere. Lazy. Braxton’s Bus, Vigil’s Bussing

1326 Days Without B III, Day 767 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 072 ~Virgil Ate. Braxton’s Fate~

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I’ve got steak in the fridge. A baked potato. Even a lobster tail. Was anything else missing… Ma’am. I hate going out for food, but I can waste big bucks buying it online. On big boobs. And do I need books on Cannibalism? “Virgil Ate. Braxton’s Fate”

Wednesday, September 11, 2024

Meditation 072 ~Virgil Ate. Braxton’s Fate~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Yes, Inspector, I see what day it is. But I’m no terrorist. And I’m not into Cannibalism either…

Tell that to the search bar. I’ve looked up terrorism. And earlier today, it was MEAT by Joseph D’Lacey. Hell! Seeing as how it’s Sunday, September 8, 2024. Why not preach, this is my body, this my blood or something. Why not remember Braxton passed on a Sunday afternoon like this? Am I ready to get back into mourning and grieving my little boy B.

Or am I a woman turning this into my “Emergence Month”? That was wrong, Inspector.

If anything, I’m not here to talk about 1/31, Emergence Day, or 9/11, Inspector Echo.

Today, if I’m lucky, I am on the eighth day of… denying myself self-fulfillment. Hmm.
I’m not messing with “my meat” despite the pictures I’ve been taking lately. I’m gross…

Thinking about more meat on the bone. Again, Eww! But if you want something humiliating, let’s talk about how I get food. I keep going back to Emergence Day 2024.

Echo, it was nothing special. I only had to see people twice. And the only one that really heard my voice was my Ma. If only it wasn’t so expensive because getting some fast food.

How many times have I been referred to as Ma’am? It’s one of the few things that make me feel like less of a man. I don’t pay all my bills. When’s the last time I showed any balls… other than “OF.” And I watched B III waste away. I feel so inadequate, Inspector. I hate talking about myself, really.

Now that ain’t true, Inspector. But who am I kidding? I’m filled with self-doubt. Always

But what else can I say? It’s either my boys, big Yabbos, or the bad things that come around one way or the other. And that’s what I’ve been thinking about as I waste today.

As I, too, waste away. I look at myself, and while I’m particularly proud of one part of my anatomy, it’s everything else. I don’t have a spine; I stick my foot in my mouth and as far as eating my heart out. You know what became of my heart. I’ll give myself a hand.

One is busy talking to you, and the other is usually down my pants, should I care to wear any. Things have to get done. But am I empty or full? Virgil Ate. Braxton’s Fate.

1319 Days Without B III, Day 760 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will