Tag: Profession

Tale 306 ~For A B, Virgil~

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A “Cost Of Living” increase, a “Milestone.” How long have I had my Day Job again? I was Braxton’s Dad for 15 years. And that was more rewarding. What grade would he give me? My grades in school reflect what I am doing now. “For A B, Virgil”

Thursday, May 2, 2024

Tale 306 ~For A B, Virgil~

1187 Days Without B III, Day 628 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Today, I’m time-traveling. I’m speaking to you on Wednesday, May 1, 2024. Tomorrow will be…

That very idea, Braxton, tomorrow will be. People close their eyes in prayer to “God.” Braxton, I tell you all the time. I don’t talk to “God.”. If he, she, or it wanted my “love…” saving you. Talk about how, upon this rock, I shall build “my” church. A headstone?

I never bought you one. But I never bought you a lot of things. And now I have Virgil Vivi here. I’m not doing any better with him. I can’t even save him from the heat. But I did give him a fan. The greatest fan of his life, I am not. But I’m trying, Braxton. Turn on the air?

Yeah, and break something else. I’d rather burn. So, an F for fatherhood or failure.

That’s how I’ve felt this week, but this is a standard work week for everyone else. But to me… I took you to the vet on a Friday. Saturday, I prayed like never before. On a Sunday, I watched them take you from me. No! I gave you up when you would have kept fighting. Oh, look at me now crying! Didn’t I say it was hot? So what I need is water, amongst other things. And little Virgil? I don’t know what he needs. Indeed, a Grade A father.

But that requires money. And to think, I always looked down on my Old Man as that is all I need from him. Dollar, dollar bill, y’all. From a B to an F, my son.

Because at no time in this existence have I been “living” an A-plus life. Before you, Braxton, you don’t know how much I strived for a D in everything I did, but my EFFORTS always fell short. Just a passing grade. For MY mere survival.

And then there was B for breathing, building, becoming, my boy, my B. Uh, books?

Braxton, I’m deeply ashamed to admit that nothing makes me any smarter. I find solace in the works of Eric Vall, Michael Dalton, and Logan Jacobs. But I neglect the books on grief and mourning that could help me… “HEAL” If I’m not going to spend money on Virgil, I could invest in books that teach me something. That’ll help me grow. I need to be better for myself and Virgil Vivi. I need to learn, to understand, to evolve.

But I failed at being a student. And as your Daddy. Or someone that Virgil Vivi can count on? The weight of these decisions is crushing. Fatherhood equals Manhood. Decide? BE! For A B, Virgil.

“It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared all the time.” ― Mara, Spontaneous (2020)

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 299 ~We’ll B Professional, Virgil~

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What do you want to be when you grow up? Who says I want to grow up? Birthing babies is a promising career…. But instead, I look up how they’re made. But first, I had to be someone’s Dad. And now I’m someone’s benefactor. We’ll B Professional, Virgil

Thursday, April 25, 2024

Tale 299 ~We’ll B Professional, Virgil~

1180 Days Without B III, Day 621 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Considering we’re talking today, you can guess how this Thursday is going. What’s today’s song?

“Feeling super, super, super suicidal” ― Teen Idle by MARINA

But isn’t this me every day, Braxton? It’s as natural as the sound of your breath or footsteps down the hall. Virgil, though? Why am I so tired? Depression, Dejection, and that doggie in the window. Or rather, it was the gate I found Virgil behind at PetSmart. I’m struggling, Braxton, and I need your understanding. And Virgil’s a “dog.”

Braxton, you were anything but. Then, now, and always, you are my son. Together, we are a team. And how many times did I say I would get you one of those little red vests, Braxton? You would be my emotional support “dog.” With my money situation, you could serve as my therapist. A critic continues to tell me that I should seek professional help. Uh yeah, Sherlock. But your support means more to me than any professional help could.

That reminds me. I should find an animal communicator, too.

What? I don’t appreciate talking to you like this. I’m distracted, disturbed, and dehydrated too. I can only blame two of those things on Virgil. Why am I so mean?

Braxton, I am far from professional. I’m not a perfect person; I’ll concede to that. Parenting is not a profession… Well, I’m sure several homemakers will disagree. But when I became your Dad, it was because the Olds (my parents) misjudged my little sister. She thought it was a mistake that she was told to take care of you, B. Then there was me. Such is fate. But know this…

You’re my son, my miracle.

That is the reasoning of a God, and I’m not even that much of a man. But being a Dad, a Superman, It’s Not Easy.

Only that wasn’t your fault. And it’s not Virgil’s either. He’s here. There is a soft place for his head. And holy smokes, he’s mine. Have I miscalculated, misjudged, and got it wrong, Braxton? Why am I saying this all now? This week. It’s been A Hard Day’s Night, but…

It’s only Sunday, April 21, 2024, and sleep has been challenging. Virgil’s career is crying.

Braxton, what about me? I’d have a career in the ‘adult’ industry. Not doing it but finding it. And what about being an author? Or, if anything, anyone worthwhile. Hmm. I’m lost, Braxton, and I need your guidance as always.

Nope! If only failure was a profession. A box to check on some form. The box you rest in on the nightstand. An Ordinary Human. Good? We’ll B Professional, Virgil.

“It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared all the time.” ― Mara, Spontaneous (2020)

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

High Off Confession

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Gripes are supposed to go up, not down, so why do people get low, why do people get high, strangely enough, I was neither writing this, angels aren’t real right but people have airplanes. High Off Confession, would I really need a priest for this one

What goes good with confession?

Perhaps a side of God?
If my words could reach so high…
But would I rather keep my secrets,
to make my regrets the sod
freshened

with so many tear stained letters
that I ask, can you stop the rain
cause I’m leaving on a jet plane?
Only you’re the jet setter
A new profession;

and with my warmest regards
or sincerely
However, may I say it clearly?
Louder as my heart breaks apart
the question

can you, will you, will she?
No erase
backspace
when she pressed delete
That’s my prerogative but her discretion

Not the wind, the speed, the sky’s color or hue
even the air to breathe
someone get me a priest
for if I am to drown on a word or two
this concession

To live loud, slamming doors,
fist, the beating of my heart
Maybe a confession is not so smart
selfless, brave, honest or kind, anymore,
better my impression

of the sound of silence
Regain the spirit of the caveman
wondering not how any man
learned to fly, speak, or become giants
Yes, my regression

Because with my confession
would come another transgression

Copyright © 2017, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.