Saga 092 ~Mr. Braxton, Virgil, Lonely~

No attempt to monologue. I could write something else after the writing I did for the horrible week ahead. Not like B III is here. V’s in B’s room. And while you can be scared when you’re sleeping, I’m not “lonely.” Then “Mr. Braxton, Virgil, Lonely”

Saturday, October 1, 2022

Saga 092 ~Mr. Braxton, Virgil, Lonely~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, or I believe I would be if I woke up on time. Even my bladder waited.

TMI? Or would you rather hear me cry about Braxton some more? I even had my morning tear fest, but I couldn’t tell you about what. That’s how zoned out I’ve been; you know Lu. To think I was burning; what was it a couple of weeks ago? And now I’m freezing and not in a “this is the police” sort of way. And I’m not touching the thermostat, Lunalesca. Honestly, I’m not touching anything nowadays. It’s all like ice and glass, so you know. And, “Ah shit, here we go again.” I tell you, it’s like “Inception”… sexual thoughts. Then I’m all about the nerdy girls again. Perhaps, I should see a professional… whatever. Lunalesca, we’re supposed to be talking about my son, sigh.

But what about the other little doggie sleeping in his own room? Hell! It was a Saturday like this. What 49 days ago? I was about to say; I’m fucking up as a… what? I’m not his father or friend, and I don’t want to be his foe. I don’t know who I am, Lunalesca, right? I’ve been saying it for days. That my faith in Virgil being the reincarnation of my “Lost Boy” is dwindling. They say it can take up to 3 months or more… I was nowhere near my best when I first met Braxton. I even look at V’s name now. He was dead, leading Dante. And the only reason I’m not dead now is that Virgil needs things. Takes money

Which is one more reason I’m late talking to you. Besides the porno break, I did check my bank account. How pathetic is it that I debated getting a chicken bucket all last night? Not even for a family. Lady Lunalesca, I could drive down the street and get it myself, but, oh no. I ate a plate of pizza rolls and a bunch of peanuts. So what about going out today? It’s strange not heading out to Petsmart every Saturday looking for B III. And now? Sooner or later, I will have to make that walk for Virgil and me. That aisle, groomers, Banfield. Well, I worked so hard yesterday to buy time today. Finished what I was reading for Mr. Braxton, Virgil, Lonely.

608 Days Without B III, Day 049 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 085 ~B’s Life, V, Pizza…~

I’m not Ben Affleck, Stephen Colbert, or Mia Goth, AKA “Pearl.” But can you guess which one I feel like presently? I wish I could write monologues like that. Or at least speak them out loud. Should I be grateful for this existence? B’s Life, V, Pizza

Saturday, September 24, 2022

Saga 085 ~B’s Life, V, Pizza…~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now. So why wouldn’t I want to live? With that kind of money, Life Is Good, Lunalesca…

I said last week I went to see the movie “Pearl.” That’s how I feel right now. But no ax. It’s the hopelessness Pearl felt when she gave that monologue to Mitsy. That’s writing. Fuck, that’s living… or maybe not. It’s existing… um, Lady Lu, there’s clarity. It’s knowing. And I wake up every day with this knowledge. My son is dead. For the past 42 days, I know a little fur baby I named Virgil has been sitting here wanting something. I don’t know. Love? Hell! I wish I could remember how Pearl said it. Much too early for that. And I’m still debating whether I’ll even go out today. Ha, with what money? While I’m not eloquent, to the Man In The Mirror…

Do you know how much I hate you? I swear, every night you close your eyes, that’s the best part of my day. I imagine that maybe, just maybe, you’ll never open them ever again. Second, to Braxton living, I pray for you dying. It wouldn’t even matter if everything came out as long as you didn’t have to hear about it. Being special, a star, some dom, a sadist. No, you’re just a depraved, disgusting, dirty old man. Wasting your time with delusions of grandeur. And every day, you say in your existence that things will get better. You’ll try again tomorrow. But you never do. Not on any E-Day. Not since Sunday, January 31, 2021. Or Tuesday, January 11, 2022. You should die.

Yeah, Lady Lunalesca, something like that will never make the movies. And again, I thought about going out, but there’s still pizza. Sigh, with what money? And the Day Job? Something else to look forward to? The fact that somebody might take that shoe shift? One more miracle that’s not happening. But the things I consider miracles, dear Lady Lu. Didn’t Pearl learn to be “happy” with what you have? I’m never happy with anything. The idea of “Another Day.” I said I would stop saying that because that indifference killed my best friend. Yes, bring on the waterworks for today. At least I’m not sweating from the heat. The A/C’s fixed, but I’m going to Hell for my betrayal, Treachery. B’s Life, V, Pizza…

601 Days Without B III, Day 042 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will