Tag: Mourning

Meditation 082 ~Braxton’s Sound Advice, Virgil~

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Advice to listen to… a great man said, “Make Your Bed.” When was the last time I did that? If I had, I wouldn’t be cleaning vomit off the bedroom floor from V. B knew better, even on his last days. Ahem, Emergence Day. Braxton’s Sound Advice, Virgil.

Saturday, September 21, 2024

Meditation 082 ~Braxton’s Sound Advice, Virgil~

Hey Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… And “This Is America.” Money talks. But do I? To my sons, or “pretty, pretty girls.”

My longing to talk about my Braxton is like a broken record, especially after Emergence Day. It feels like an eternity since then. If only I had the means, Lady Lunalesca, ‘Every Day Will Be Like a Holiday.’ The music would drown out these thoughts.

But if I’m not listening to Childish Gambino or William Bell, how about Bobby Byrd… “Try It Again.” I broke my abstinence streak again, rattlingly off dirty, depraved, disgusting thoughts on a brunette. She can’t hear me. And neither can my pillow, Lady Lunalesca. But aren’t I the one that needs to listen… listen, hear, and understand? I do try.

But to who, what, and why? “It’s a wicked world that we live in.” Lunalesca?

Am I done with the radio yet? And there are only so many times I can listen to Succubus Lord, Satan’s Sorority Girls, or the Bikini Days series. And if it isn’t some work about girls sans clothes. Then I’m getting angry. For now, Lunalesca, all I can hear is the sound of my breathing.

Please! How is that different from any other day? When Virgil has me stressing out. Lunalesca, Virgil broke his streak of not getting sick on the carpet. He couldn’t warn me he was ill when we were outside mere minutes ago. I’m not a mind reader or a prophet, Lunalesca.

But according to a particular program, I could be a robot. It said “AI Generated Text.” Should I be flattered? I feel dead, not electronic.

I’d be lying if I said I haven’t had AI help when it comes to, let’s say, Sofía’s Nightmare. Not that I’ve been working on that these past few days. I’ve been listening to the demands of my Day Job. I swear, Lunalesca, we need a new plague. I listen to the absolute worst people.

I find myself among the worst people. And then there’s Ma. When I’m not succumbing to my body’s worst inclinations, I fall ill like Virgil. The thought of texting Ma about a bill ties my stomach in knots. Today is the day, isn’t it, Lunalesca? The day I prove to be her failure son… Again.

Lunalesca, as a forty-year-old, I have no wise words. Advice for my past or future self…
Braxton’s Sound Advice, Virgil

1329 Days Without B III, Day 770 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 077 ~Silence Is Scarier Than Screams~

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Silence can be monstrous. I made it so. “Yes, I can be very cruel. I have been taught by masters.” As in people’s words. The silence left by my son. The act of blowing out candles. Candles? And after being pervy. Silence Is Scarier Than Screams.

Monday, September 16, 2024

Meditation 077 ~Silence Is Scarier Than Screams~

Three-Hundredth And Sixty-First Rule

Madam Justice,
Rules are made to be broken… Like me, not talking about my son this month with Emergence Day. It has come and gone.

I’m forty. And still, nothing is worse than the silence that came with my son’s last breath in this world. But the silence shattered when I first cried out in this universe. A victory? I suppose I could talk about Virgil, but there are two things. One, Virgil is usually silent anyway. Other than when I leave or the noises he makes showing I’m not being a good “Dad.” Virgil’s nails click on the floor. His belly when I need to get food. His sicknesses.

Two, as I’ve been singing repeatedly this month, “Today is all about you.” This song.

Madam, next to “All About You.” Today, I’m listening to Faith’s Outpost Ambiance… (Cult Music). “It’s a Five O’clock World.”

I don’t want to talk about my Day Job either, Madam. There is silence since they banned earphones/air pods. What I think about when I’m in that place. My STUPIDITY

There’s the silence when I wake up every morning and find out I’m not in Heaven or Hell. Can I call where I’m sitting right now purgatory? Three years without… well, you know who. No! He deserves better. Braxton, Braxton, BRAXTON! My sweet buttery Madam.

There’s the silence that comes with each Emergence Day. But that is my doing. People…

I could get all political today with everyone screaming, what dog, what cat, war, and women? And yet, the worries of my existence trump all that. See what I did there? Some should be silent.

But much like I said, I can’t get through a conversation without mentioning my B. How about me coming back to the house without a burger and fries? Didn’t I say I was broke? Um, I have two days to choose. I got breakfast and dinner. Bacon? Speaking of meat… women. Am I as bad as those other guys? I say things about women, but at least I leave those to the confines of “adult relations media.” That’s a polite way of saying adult films…

I swear the silence that comes after all my muscle contractions and moaning over mammaries. A moment of bliss that calls to me within the silence. Whatever could fill it?

Yet I choose the silence. Because hearing some Beautiful Freak… Silence Is Scarier Than Screams

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

1324 Days Without B III, Day 765 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 075 ~We’ll B Great Again~

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A Better World? Not a happy one. Nowhere near great or great again. Back when it was Good Night. Now, like the game Dying Light, it’s Good Night and Good Luck… I might not wake up. I miss such games, my son, my honorary sister. “We’ll B Great Again.”

Saturday, September 14, 2024

Meditation 075 ~We’ll B Great Again~

Hey Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… If I were… I’m sure I could figure out better things to do in the morning and at night… in bed.

Oh! I mean… besides saying goodnight to B III and then checking whether he’s around. Don’t I mean Virgil? Just when I thought we were getting a handle on his bathroom shenanigans, here comes the storm. And with it, more worries. No worries indeed, Luna.

Has there been a moment recently where I haven’t been horrified, hungry, or a horndog? And what was it I was doing this morning? A week after Emergence Day, Lunalesca. I found myself lost in thoughts about the past, present, and future. Stuff & Thangs.

Didn’t I tell M Anime once upon a time? I only want some beautiful girl in my arms as I just lay here and listen to 50s/60s Apocalyptic Pop Rock? Lunalesca, today it’s Far Cry 5 cult music. Scary huh?

Seriously! It beats my moaning. And what would I consider a great morning anyway, Lu?

When was I ever great? Now, I’ve been watching plenty of political theater these days. You know how I love music. It’s a dog-eat-dog world. Or dog eat cat. I swear from the presidential debate.

What I wouldn’t give to be a child again? Did I really just say that out loud. Don’t I remember my childhood? I wish I didn’t have to. Lunalesca, the English language, would be a lot more interesting. Words like Stupid, Happy, Home, Fear, and I could go on Lu.

Forty years old, and I’m still a child. And that kid was never great, either. But sometimes rare and few…

There was that time during my senior year of high school. There were five minutes. Lunalesca, I lay there on a bench… Alive and Happy. It was a rare moment of pure joy and contentment.

(GASP)

Indeed, that gasp, like the first few seconds after I finally… Uh? Have adult relations, experience manhood, make a mess, etc. For those few seconds, Lu before the depression.

And yet, I yearn to go back to a time when Tenchi Muyo was only an anime show on Toonami, and I wasn’t looking to see Ayeka and Ryoko sans their clothes. Oh Lady Lu… I miss the innocence and simplicity of those days. Sigh

Can I just go back to the days when my ‘adult collection’ was just a binder I hid from my Parents and not the ‘craziest’ stuff ever? It was such a simpler time, Lady Lunalesca.

Remember those days when I used to play video games with my sister or Braxton and watch movies with Braxton’s Aunt all the time? It was before the era of ‘Good Night, Good Luck. ‘ But just imagine Lunalesca. Somehow, someway. We’ll B Great Again

1322 Days Without B III, Day 763 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 070 ~Kisses Show A Working Tongue~

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It’s in his kiss. No! But B would love up his aunt. And V… I’ve cleaned up what has come out of his mouth many times. And as for me. I don’t remember what I said to that first girl. I can’t even order chicken at forty. “Kisses Show A Working Tongue.”

Monday, September 9, 2024

Meditation 070 ~Kisses Show A Working Tongue~

Three-Hundredth And Sixtieth Rule

Madam Justice,
Rules are made to be broken… Like me breathing after Emergence Day. Hell! I shouldn’t be after Braxton. Or Emergence Day Numero Cero.

I would rather kiss my furry son’s head one more time than draw my first breath. One necessitated the other, Madam. But at least I would have something to do with my mouth other than bawl about my boy, blame myself for everything, or BE STUPID. Madam, next to being Braxton’s end and my birth, I can’t stand being STUPID. It never ends, I’m afraid.

Even at forty? Well, I’m not quite there yet. I’m speaking to you on Tuesday, September 3, 2024. So, Emergence Day has yet to happen. Like I said, by the time you read this, I might not be breathing. I’d blame my Olds. But this is my existence. My existence…

Madam, I never asked for this life. I’d trade it all for a simple kiss.

Is that an Emergence Day wish? Last Monday night, I made a wish to avoid humiliation. I texted that because speaking… Anything that isn’t about my Braxton’s life… passing.

Anything that’s about something other than broads. Or anything that doesn’t involve me sounding STUPID. It’s not my strong suit. To open my mouth has never been a good thing, Madam.

How hard is it to say, “Yes, I would like the eight-piece fried chicken and a three-piece chicken fingers snack, please?” My mouth has much better uses, Madam. But saying Happy B-Word Day/Emergence Day… is not among them, Madam. Nope!

But again, a kiss… Do you want to know a secret, Madam? My first kiss? I got that. But I didn’t get a kiss during my “first time.” Well, uh…

I’m not The 40-Year-Old-Virgin, thankfully. I swear, sometimes I wonder who knows more about me. My lost boy or the Internet. The movie popped up, so I could watch that for Emergence Day and be thankful for the second-greatest miracle during my existence. A woman…

Madam, I was/am a father, and a girl made the mistake of thinking I was a man of worth for a night. And a few other girls here or there over forty years. But almost none when I had to look after Braxton. When was the last time I had a kiss, a kind hug that got kinda dirty… Back when I was a Smooth Operator. I feel stupid-er at forty. I’ll shut up because Kisses Show A Working Tongue.

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

1317 Days Without B III, Day 758 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 068 ~Braxton, Virgil, Emergence Day~

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Honestly, I thought I would go nuts with fiction… I could share what I’m working on. But M Anime and Cherry would probably “unalive” me. And my Olds? So far, so good. By the time you see this, I’ll be Level 40. Sadly, “Braxton, Virgil, Emergence Day”

Saturday, September 7, 2024

Meditation 068 ~Braxton, Virgil, Emergence Day~

Hey Lady Lu,
Here’s your first and only WARNING! I did a somewhat family-friendly version of Emergence Day on Thursday, September 5, 2024. Meditation 066 ~Will, B, Happy? Virgil~. Today, Friday, September 6, 2024, won’t be that. A world without my boys. Am I happy at Level Forty? Let’s Go!

All in the family. Sisters? I’m more Christian Grey than Ethan. Brunettes or Blondes. Well… I’m equal opportunity when it comes to women. Near or far, whether short or tall, skinny Minnie or BBW. I want to thank them all. It’s good to know that I’m alive, even at forty.

Emergence Day. Is it Emergence Day? How better to wake up this morning? Day 14610.
Didn’t Tyrion Lannister talk about a girl’s mouth wrapped around his cock. And I’m not dead yet. But two, three, how many girls are in my bed. One’s beneath the covers, which is good enough. “If I just lay here. Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Only “There’s a lot of pretty girls in this city.” Only I’m not supposed to be working today. Or this week? That’s the dream. isn’t it? To have a profession, you don’t need a vacation from. Something you would do for free. Even on Emergence Day. Yet here I am.

Here they are. I need to eat to sleep. And I have hobbies. Reading, writing, and a few games that I like. I’m a man of many hats: writer, director, actor, producer, photographer, talent scout. I should also take up art before AI takes those jobs. But enough about work…

What do I want to eat? Yes, I mean food. If we’re talking about women…

Well, I would be here forever to value each breath, beat… blowjob. Living, not existing.

What makes me happy? I can speak about Fifty Shades of Grey and Michael Dalton’s Bikini Days, Nights, and Dawn. But I can also talk about the first three of the Red Rising Series. To live for more. Books? I want to see more days where something gets blown. Boobs.

Better believe me when I say it’s breasts! Anything in the bedroom for sure, Lunalesca.

Better yet, the balls to say it out loud. I figured our chat would be far more sexual. I know. Hell! Emergence Day is a celebration of life I wish for billions and babes. Bedrest… Honesty? Braxton, Virgil, Emergence Day.

1315 Days Without B III, Day 756 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 063 ~ Don’t Hate Meeting, Fear Knowing~

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With all I do, I can close my eyes and sleep. Not rest but sleep. It’s facing myself in the morning, which is the hardest part. Almost… Eww? To meet new people with such thoughts. And I fear I’ll never be one for JOY. Don’t Hate Meeting, Fear Knowing

Monday, September 2, 2024

Meditation 063 ~ Don’t Hate Meeting, Fear Knowing~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Ninth Rule

Madam Justice,
Rules are made to be broken… Like seeing who I am in Virgil’s eyes every morning. Or looking in the mirror. Braxton’s eyes…

I thought “we” agreed not to talk about him this week. Besides this week’s battle cry of STAY ALIVE! I should begin the day with the song “All About You.” Because for the next six days… Hell! I should be thrilled. With my Olds, I could be seeing Braxton again…

Please! It’s not easy attending a funeral every day. I mean mine and not… Anyway… Madam, let me avoid politics. Hint: Arlington National Cemetery. But to count myself among the ranks of the dead. Not the honored dead but the undead. And to see so many people happy. So what’s wrong with being happy? It pays better than Fear. Depression.

But there is still time to be thinking about getting paid. But should I survive…

I don’t hate being a writer, but I fear what I’ll write. Literally, the story of my existence, Madam. People don’t hate meeting me? But they fear knowing that this is who I am, sigh.

Fearful, Freaky, Fiendish, and effed up by my grief. Uh, Forlorn? Forgetful? How I wish.

I wish I could forget Emergence Day (E-Day). If my Olds didn’t hate meeting me. Madam, they surely fear the monster they made. I hate meeting their expectations and fear knowing what they intend to do about it. I’ll be forty on Emergence Day, Madam.

Today, I don’t Fear knowing Fear. But I hate to meet it everywhere, and so does everyone else. So why bother getting to know me at all? I’m always depressed.

I’m not successful because I’m not happy. Could I be happy? If I were successful and had simoleons raining down. Or several million fans. That’s what set me off last night. There’s a decent young brother with four million fans.

I wish I could be so silly or smart. There’s the mom that plays music with baby toys. Or the one that takes music and movies and makes skits. There are reactors, comedians… OnlyFans girls I’d like to meet and know in a biblical way

Sans clothing… The man that I meet every morning. Can I be a father again? A good friend. A fool who believes that I have a future. Yes, I can’t help but hate myself and fear what I’ll become soon. With Yabbos or yowling grief? Don’t Hate Meeting, Fear Knowing.

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

1310 Days Without B III, Day 751 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 061 ~Soon, Virgil, Imma B~

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Will I be busy today? I should have been busy for forty years. I never wanted to see twenty-one. But then, for fifteen years, I was Braxton’s father… Can I not talk about my son? Anything beats worrying about the next seven days. Soon, Virgil, Imma B

Saturday, August 31, 2024

Meditation 061 ~Soon, Virgil, Imma B~

Hey Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… Or I’m gonna be. Now… I’ve been saying that (ish) going on thirty-nine years, Lady Lunalesca.

But in seven days, I’ll be going through a transitional period. I’ll be evolving, Lunalesca.

I’ll be leveling up. I’ll be better when I’m older… No. I won’t be the greatest fan of my son’s life. Not today, sorry, Braxton. And not for the rest of the week, Dear Lunalesca.

Because, come this time next week… I’ll be forty. Lunalesca, I shouldn’t be forty. Or? To be honest with myself, I shouldn’t be awake and alive. But Luna, I’m a be existing. How terribly sad.

The second worst decision I ever made. The first is B’s Euthanasia. Was that bad? Again, this isn’t about my son this week. I can’t help myself. I miss B, and for some inane reason, I keep breathing. Forty years of breaths. What a waste!

Since I was thirty-six, most of them have been with the thought,… I’ll join Braxton. Lunalesca, can I not keep my son’s name out of my mouth? And what about Virgil? I swear I got into an argument with the veterinarian the other day. When it came to ordering Virgil’s medication, I asked for Braxton’s first. Uh! Not that he needs meds. My Ma, though.

She could have popped some pills, and I wouldn’t be here. But as I blame myself for Braxton’s “passing.” I blame myself for my existence. I’m a be here Lunalesca.

Inevitably? Immortality? Insanity? Maybe I’ll tell you how I would spend the perfect E-Day this time next week. Um, Lu, it would, of course, be bathed in all my Immorality.

Am I still going on about Madoka Araki’s “Maid Scene?” And thinking about an incredible set of “Melons” from across the pond. I’ll be making a mess at this rate.

Lunalesca, you have to know I hate talking about myself… Did I really say that? Lunalesca, it’s only that I’m an old man. It’s too late to say or ask what I will be someday.

Please, no motivational speeches today, Lady Lunalesca. What am I going to be this coming week if my Olds don’t call and I don’t go to join Braxton, Lunalesca? Waiting…

Sunday, I should talk about endings. What will be my “last” rule on Monday? Tuesday and Wednesday are done. Thursday is for Braxton. Friday, books. Busy? Soon, Virgil, Imma B

1308 Days Without B III, Day 749 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 056 ~Listen To The Silent Man~

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How do you make me shut up? You can sign my checks, have Yabbos, or be a ten lb. ball of fluff that watches me sleep and guards the door. What do I listen to? Anime vixens, the man in the mirror, and my son who loves me. Oh? Listen To The Silent Man.

Monday, August 26, 2024

Meditation 056 ~Listen To The Silent Man~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Eighth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Or maybe I’m too noisy these days. I’m talking to myself. I’m moaning out, “Madoka Araki!” E-Day…

STAY ALIVE! That should be my battle cry for the next two weeks. But considering I’m a black man and “This Is America,” I should exercise my right to remain silent. My lost boy, little love, my Braxton would have made a great lawyer. And I should listen to him, wherever he is now. Uh…

My “Spirit In The Sky.” My son Braxton. What? Other people have God. So don’t you dare tell me I can’t talk to a dog that had me kneel more than “my sweet buttery Jesus.”

However, one thing they had in common is that I didn’t listen to either… eventually. Madam, I didn’t hear when my Braxton was sick. And I haven’t bothered talking to God since Braxton passed away. I keep repeating that, Madam.

Braxton would tell me to rest now without a word. He would look after me. But looking over myself these past few days… I’m a deviant, disgusted, depraved, and dumb.

This is “good,” considering how I speak about myself and my greatest worry. Waking up this morning, I turn again to Madoka Araki. What is it about that woman that’s getting to me? I can’t get crazy because Virgil has been so cuddly lately. Again, I didn’t hear Braxton, and I’m not listening to Virgil.

Animation… Hentai, in particular… “surprise, surprise” keeps my mind silent… Or at least busy, which I can “live” with. Idle hands are the devil’s playthings, so they say, Madam. If I can’t do one thing with my hands… I can learn about Madoka Araki (Discipline), Netorare, Natsuno, Saimin Seishidou… etc.

Please, BE SILENT! Well, I was crying last night, hoping that I wouldn’t wake up. It was a quiet night between watching WWE wrestling and “adult” wrestling, switching everything off, and then being left alone with my thoughts. Listening to myself, Madam, is the most dangerous thing. Being right here today, I realize I don’t like myself. Not ever. And yet, in these moments, I crave solitude, a break from the world’s noise. I’m old…

I’m almost forty, Madam, and don’t want to hear a word from that old man. What about my Old Man? Every time the phone makes a noise, I get scared. Cutting it off requires willpower.

My Braxton had plenty. I still miss his eyes on me, saying, “Go to sleep. You’re safe and sound.” E-Day brings the noise. I Can’t Listen To The Silent Man.

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

1303 Days Without B III, Day 744 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 054 ~Good Night, B, V~

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A Nightmare On Elm Street, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, and Captiva… Uh… Don’t look up Captiva. But, the idea is not to sleep. I think about B III all day, and if I sleep, I have nightmares and then wake up to another day. “Good Night, B, V.”

Saturday, August 24, 2024

Meditation 054 ~Good Night, B, V~

Hey Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… And what do billionaires dream about? Instead, what resides in their nightmares? Losing, Less, Level money…

We don’t all lose Ducketts the same way Lady Luna. We don’t all give “The D” to the same woman… (Snickers). I still have my thing for brunettes and dark-haired ladies. And you remember there was a time when I was really into Asian women. There’s this one nowadays… Okay, I need to shut up. I’m well aware we don’t all dream the same way.

Lunalesca, we don’t all lose a dog the same way. My son Braxton. His Aunt is mourning her son Gabe. For her, the nightmare has just begun. But for me? I live my Braxton’s loss.

So last night, Braxton did not appear in “my” nightmares. The worst day in existence.

Dear Lunalesca, instead, I dreamed of “The Horror, The Horror.”

What “My” Mind Finds Scary:

First, there were the sirens somewhere in the night. I dreamt the police were looking for me. Or rather, a podcast that must have had all my confessions of evil. If you want to see what a sinner I am, how skeevy and sick, check my X/Twitter page. Which leads me to my second nightmare. Looking up “stuff & thangs at the Day Job. I’ve never done that, Lunalesca. But I did get my Ma in trouble once at her job… Third, was losing ladies…

https://twitter.com/@WillsWants

There was losing Special K, “The Maid.” And there was this mom who once modeled for me. But of course, she’s a “good woman.” My last nightmare was about secrets. So many in forty years…

And that’s the thing, Lady Lunalesca. I’m turning forty soon. The thought of it now brings tears to my eyes. I could be crying over my Braxton. Can I spare a tear for Virgil? Hmm.

Braxton’s Aunt lost her furry son. But no. I’m selfish, scared, and slumming my existence. And as I told Braxton’s Aunt last night. I’m either up all night zoned out. And then I find out it’s 1:30 AM. So when I cut out the lights, I sleep. But I don’t rest, Lunalesca. I can’t, Lu. To put it simply, I’m consumed by fear and anxiety.

And I wish that, at the very least, next week would be a time of rest and relaxation. Rutting? Lunalesca.

I won’t be. Fear over the phone. My Olds. Other things… Good Night, B, V.

1301 Days Without B III, Day 742 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 049 ~Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys~

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A question for today. The 12th or 19th? What is peace? It was sitting with Braxton and his Aunt watching movies. It was M Anime hinting we’ll “Marvin Gaye and get it on.” Cherry’s naughty pictures. Reading with Braxton. “Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys”

Monday, August 19, 2024

Meditation 049 ~Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Seventh Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… And questions are meant to be raised… And finally, answered? My Old Man beating me about Math…

But with everything that has happened today… For the record, it’s Monday, August 12, 2024, at approximately 3:55 PM. Anyway, today was horrible. But I’ve survived worse. So, I want to talk about my son who was Euthanized. My B. Is there peace with Acceptance?

That’s today’s question. As the rule states, Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys. Hell! I’m broke.

But when it came to releasing my son Braxton from his pain. Price was no object. I could find the paperwork. But I must have spent over $1,000.00 over that weekend. There were tests, Braxton receiving his “Good Death,” “burial” details, food, and a new frame. All for his peace.

Only Braxton would have never bought it, either. He wanted to stay? But I’m Dad.

A Dad does what is right for his son? So what should my Old Man do as I approach forty?

That has been disturbing me this week and the next when you read this. I’m afraid, Madam. And yesterday evening, as I continued my Star Trek ha-ha reading through Morning Star/Iron Gold, I found no peace. No worries? Please! I worry constantly, Madam. I cannot. My mind is a battlefield of emotions. And I’m losing.

This brings me to today. Because of worrying, I could barely answer the manager. But then I had to worry about what she was “scheming.” Dear Madam, I’m told I wasted my “life.” It was my 13th Anniversary at the Day Job. I blame that place for my Braxton’s loss.

My hand and my rage. I want to join Braxton.

Would that bring me peace? Do you notice I’m not answering any of these questions? What? Am I too busy thinking about that hot redhead? Did she think I was calling her cupcake when I approached her as I left? Braxton, help me! I was holding a tray of them.

That could have gone a completely different direction… cue “Girl All the Bad Guys Want.” Ha! And what about the “Visual Chick?” All roads lead to Yabbos, bringing me peace.

Except, No! Every time I turn my hand into a Jackson Pollock painting… It’s so white that I’m singing “I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday.” Afterward, I’m only disgusted.

Peace? Can’t find it, afford it, or ignore it… Forever? But I continue to search for it amidst the chaos and pain. The everything… Madam. Peace Sells, But Nobody Buys.

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

1296 Days Without B III, Day 737 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will