Tag: Rules

Tale 324 ~Blogging Is Graffiti With Punctuation~

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I ask for my Braxton back. I ask not to regret breathing. And to not be a blogger. But I sit in bed messing up the words because I have a Day Job. So, I’m blogging instead of writing. I promised B, but… Blogging Is Graffiti With Punctuation

Monday, May 20, 2024

Tale 324 ~Blogging Is Graffiti With Punctuation~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-Fourth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… But not this one. Well, not unless I’m not here anymore. And how I HOPE for that.

Another week feels like an eternity. It’s Sunday, May 12, 2024. Another tear? Another breath.

Have I forgotten where I am and what I’m doing? If this is the First Circle, Limbo. Then, I could see no better punishment for a writer. If only that were my greatest sin, Madam.

Nowadays, I drift between what I did to my son, Braxton. Then there’s my father. Blogging away about those two extremes when it is still Mother’s Day. I know, Madam.

But if I stopped writing, I would honor women, specifically my mother. Honoring my father would mean keeping my mouth shut, but I couldn’t. So I’m stupid. And to honor my son, I would join him. Only he has a story. People should read it.

And so every day, whether I want to or not, I wake up, whittle away time, and write. It’s more like I cry out for him, Braxton, B III! I argue about balls. And then I blog away. This is my way of keeping him alive. Or, so I thought.

So, how long have I been doing that? How long has this blog existed? Oh! Please understand, Madam. I’m not begging anyone to look at this “work” anymore. I don’t. Only these words in Sister Act 2 have stuck with me: “If when you wake up in the morning. you can think of nothing but writing…then you’re a writer.” Now, when I wake up, there’s Braxton first. Then, the question of why I’m breathing. And then there’s this blog. Daring to call myself a writer…

That’s like calling myself a reviewer. This leads me to where this rule came from. It’s from the movie Contagion. “Blogging is not writing. It’s graffiti with punctuation.” But my writing is simply a mess. The Mess! Madam Justice, I’ll get into all sorts of movies at this rate. But I’m not here for that. And since I won’t edit my novels for Braxton, Madam.

What is it I’m doing? Right now, I’m hoping the DISH Network people come through so I won’t have to keep writing about being a fool and my father. Forgive me for my whining, dear Madam. Yet my words have done far worse, haven’t they? Up against the wall, on Mother’s Day. I’m not writing. Blogging Is Graffiti With Punctuation.

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

1205 Days Without B III, Day 646 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 320 ~What’s After B, Virgil~

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After B, I didn’t want a “later on.” Time stopped. So I depend on clocks a lot now. And when I sleep, besides my boy and the books I’m reading, I “think” of breathing, and I wish… But I got bills to pay, I got mouths to feed. “What’s After B, Virgil”

Thursday, May 16, 2024

Tale 320 ~What’s After B, Virgil~

1201 Days Without B III, Day 642 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Me? I’m awake and alive, so like I tell everyone else. “I’m here.” I wish…

Well, I can’t tell you what I wish anymore. At least not here. But you know it involves seeing you again. And how might I accomplish that? I could talk to my Old Man today.

He’s threatened me plenty over the years. And I’m nearing forty. That’s far too old.

Speaking of age, how about Virgil? I took him to the veterinarian yesterday. He’ll live.

I wasn’t sure I was going to. Every time I take that path up to the counter. I can’t breathe.
But again, nearing forty, I could also have a heart attack… And with the price of so many tests, shots, and even a single dose of medicine. You should have seen the vet’s face, B.

Keeping Virgil on a regimen.

Starvation is a possibility, with Virgil’s bill approaching three hundred. Didn’t I give the Old Man two hundred the other day? Then there’s five hundred dollars. And just like that, Braxton, I’m not hungry anymore. If anything, I’m feeling sick. I know that’s not funny.

But I would rather deal with the “ghost,” you, than the monsters around me. As I hide in bed like a child. Even Virgil wanted me to be on the bed again. I’m sure his life flashed before his eyes when the vet checked him out. But I’m no closer to seeing a doctor. There was the optometrist, and neither he nor THEY remember seeing me a few months back. I’m cracking jokes. What should I do, Braxton? Besides FEAR…

Come home to you? If I call my Old Man today, I’ll be going somewhere. But it won’t be Heaven and The Rainbow Bridge. And with as much “faith” as I have that you could take over for Cerberus, I wouldn’t want you “down below.” That’s me every day, Braxton.

While I was reading this morning. You know, about Bikini Nights and not furry memorials, I had a thought. Early into my grieving, I spoke about the five stages of grief. But maybe I’m doing the nine circles of Hell, or at least the seven deadly sins. If combined, it would be Bargaining and Greed. Because everything comes back to making deals and making money. Me, being a better person? Nah! What’s After B, Virgil.

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

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 317 ~The Survivors Will Write History~

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A particular history teacher would quote: history is written by the victors. Napoleon flipped it, as I see White Supremacists do daily. If anything, I only try to survive my own. But writing it gets harder every day. The Survivors Will Write History.

Monday, May 13, 2024

Tale 317 ~The Survivors Will Write History~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-Third Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Only because I prefer to be a victor. But for now, the rule stands: I’m a survivor.

What? Well? Why? Oh! And my name is Will. As I begin most of my days I remember this, Madam. I remember him. My firstborn son, my Braxton, is gone. And he’s not coming back. Did I Outwit, Outplay, Outlast him. No, I’m unlucky and unfortunate. I am not unalived as the youth say these days. “Beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young.” I wish I felt that strong. Or that I was that smart. But still, I survive.

And I come to you on Sunday, May 5, 2024. If I were one for prayer… Besides for B’s life. I would pray I don’t have to see this again. But for as STUPID as I am together, we cry…

I’m a survivor! I swear.

I spoke to you earlier today and asked the question… Why. And I’m not for gratitude, I’m sorry to say. And you could have it all. My empire of dirt. If I’d see Braxton again. Madam, I also want Virgil (2V) to be Safe and Sound… I swear I need to turn off the music.

Anyway, what have I survived? I already wrote the Six Impossible Things list today. But…

The worst thing that could happen. And that, again, was losing my son. Braxton passed. Behind that is the thirty-nine years I’ve been alive, each day becoming the worst. There’s the Day Job. I don’t wanna go to work. I don’t wanna work tomorrow. Gratitude, right, Dear Madam. To provide…

To survive. So, number four would be my Old Man. Don’t I sound ungrateful, Madam? Five would be The Zoe Colletti/Tifa Lockhart Incident. And add to that The Cherry Collision. One of these days, I’ll tell you what that all is about. Such Humiliations Galore.

But isn’t that me breaking the rule? Since I won’t tell you how I survived. Or I could be like… THEM. And make my losses triumphs. I could “whitewash” history. But I’m not a liar. And I’m nowhere near as bad as Kristi Noem. Where’s B III again? How’s Virgil?

That leads me to number six. I write to you, the girls, B III, and the man in the mirror. It’s hard, but I survive. The Survivors Will Write History.

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

1198 Days Without B III, Day 639 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 313 ~Virgil, Spirits B Damned~

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“I’m a man of God, but I don’t need a savior.” The only thing I ever “willing” bowed to was a little brat on four legs covered in fur. And two well-formed lumps of fat gyrating in my general direction. To have such faiths. “Virgil, Spirits B Damned.”

Thursday, May 9, 2024

Tale 313 ~Virgil, Spirits B Damned~

1194 Days Without B III, Day 635 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? My day has only just begun. So… I want to go back to bed, B.

As if I ever left. I did take Virgil out early this morning. Are we growing any closer? Braxton, I can tell you that I don’t believe in reincarnation—or rather, yours. Virgil’s not you.

But if I were to go into all the bad things that I believe in… Well, like my love for you, I’d be here always and forever. The Power of Love? Is that the song we are starting with today? Assuming you see all I do from wherever you are, Braxton. (Adjust my pants) Ha!

I was thinking of a more royal aesthetic, my lost prince. That’s what I believe. No! I know you are, along with being a guide, ghost, and godsend. You’re gone from me, Braxton. That’s it.

But you are good. Despite everything, you are good. And that’s what you’ve been telling me for a while now. I need to believe in the good things. And how best to tell me, Braxton?

A Succubus? Comedy comes in threes, THEY say. I’ve read Eric Vall, A.J. Markam, and now Logan Jacobs. His book Backyard Dungeon 9 inspired me today, Braxton. Also, a little bit of Silent Hill. Dark Alessa… The things your Daddy believes, Braxton. To describe it…

Darkness, Madness! But I did say that I believe in love. And what’s left of you is in a box. But on “my” good days. The ones where I get out of bed and work at the table, like today.
When I See You Again…

I have faith that I will, but that never lasts. What time did I really wake up again this morning?

I Have Faith of the Heart that I will have all that I desire in this existence. One day, I may even start calling it a life. My life? If I wasn’t dead before, I died on a rainy afternoon at the vet’s as you were “put to sleep.” I died when I learned Acceptance was not for me, B.

But to live again? You’re telling God or a goddess… Higher powers must be women… (Snickers). You’ll tell them, “He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus.” Am I right? Because I believe in monsters, in you my son, myself, even Virgil. Virgil, Spirits B Damned

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

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 310 ~Heart, Soul, Trump Blood, Guts~

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I wish I had any of these things. There’s a reason I’m drawn to Hulu’s “The Mill” and Tubi’s “Share?” The Book of Clarence and Fifteen Million Merits, etc. These Black men lose all to gain or lose again. I’m a man… Heart, Soul, Trump Blood, Guts

Monday, May 6, 2024

Tale 310 ~Heart, Soul, Trump Blood, Guts~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-Second Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… So, if you’ll allow me, I’ll share a confession with you today. Mentally, Spiritually, and Physically Unwell.

“I’m not crazy; I’m just a little Unwell.” That’s the Understatement of the century right there, Madam. That’s not my confession. I have my son on my mind. Today is Sunday, May 5, 2024. And tomorrow, when you see this. As unbearable as B’s passing has been, I wish that were all there was, and then again… There’s a reason I said, heart and soul. Uh, Brains? How about flesh?

I’m not the Scarecrow. “Just stop it! Everybody knows (I’m a bleeping monster)!” A zombie. I’m looking for a brain. I lost my guts a long time ago. The only red I see is on my hands, Madam. And who does it belong to? Hmm? Say his name! Braxton. And now Virgil is here, too. Virgil’s joy, love, and happiness?

Doesn’t the Bible say something about this? Specifically, Mathew 10:28. Life and soul. I keep V alive, as my father does for me. But as far as the spirit of Life goes, both Virgil and I go without it. We wake up asking why. Breaths are taken, and hearts are beating. But my Little Braxton.

He was my heart that I left in a vet’s office on Sunday, January 31, 2021. Or it got mixed in with his ashes. Picking up another one isn’t as easy as walking into Petsmart.

So again, Madam, what am I left with? Heart and Soul, Blood and Guts. I’m not a fan of The Wizard of Oz, and this place is far from Wonderland. Dorothy, Alice, Holli Wood, Jessica.

Are you confused about where my mind has gone? So am I, but allow me to explain for the critic and anyone else… (Hears Crickets Chirping.) Dear Madam, I’d rather hear Cricket barking, Kristi Noem.

Anyway, here is a quick rundown, Madam:
The Wizard of Oz ― Dorothy
Alice In Wonderland ― Alice
Cool World ― Holli Wood
Who Framed Roger Rabbit ― Jessica Rabbit

Okay, Madam. I’m trying to say this: I can no longer answer the question or obey the Heart, Soul, Blood, and Guts rule because I’m hollow—an open book without any lines—make-believe, a machine, a monster, a mutation. And my confession? My Apologies, Madam.

I have no need, time, or will to say anything. Or do I prefer emptiness within? Because when I try filling or feeling it, Madam… Heart, Soul, Trump Blood, Guts.

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

1191 Days Without B III, Day 632 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

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 303 ~Define Hell, Distance Between Lovers~

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Trying to find love… I’d have finished “my” poetry books. A few of the dirty ones. I’d have made money. And I would have saved B. But I gave my heart more like I owe my soul to the company store. And women? Ha! “Define Hell, Distance Between Lovers.”

Monday, April 29, 2024

Tale 303 ~Define Hell, Distance Between Lovers~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-First Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken or believed in, at the very least, belted out in all manner of things. I love you.

When was the last time I said those three little words? Have I told Braxton when I speak to him on Thursdays? Time and distance have been messed up. Welcome to Existence… Enjoy your stay…

Love, the essence of life, is a question that haunts me. Can one truly live without it? The answer is no, yet here I am, still breathing. And what about positivity? That’s a question I should be able to answer, but not today. Time Travel, it’s Monday, April 22, 2024.

So, a whole week. That’s an immense expanse, isn’t it? Further or Farther? Whatever, Sigh.

But where am I heading, really? It’s not towards anyone who cherishes me. Gazing at my reflection in the mirror feels like a journey to the hangman’s noose. But Madam…

Aren’t I in love with dying? Love Is A Long Road. And isn’t that the point of today’s rule, Madam? THEY say that if you’re going through Hell… keep going. But I’m a zombie at this point. Braxton’s a ghost. And Virgil is a werewolf. As in Where Wolf? Funny?

Madam, I’m so Far Away from the things I love. First is always my firstborn child, Braxton. Why don’t you tell me how long the Rainbow Bridge is? How high do I have to jump to get to Heaven? What is the acreage of the Elysian Fields? Anything dear Madam?

Approaching forty, I find myself in a peculiar situation. My parents, my Olds, still love me enough to shoulder most of my bills. It’s a daily walk of shame, Madam.

Do I love them enough to stop them? Do I love Braxton enough to let him go for a third time? Do I love Virgil enough to be the Dad I once was to his big brother? I’m not Alright.

So I don’t even imagine that there is some woman out there anymore, Madam. Thoughts?

You want to say, “She’s getting here as fast as she can.” But as I was working my dead-end Day Job—as I will be doing when you read this—I gave up. Not in the way I hoped because, again, I’m still breathing. But I’m walking through this Hell of unknown origin and distance. Only God Knows Why. Will some lover ever Find Me? Define Hell, Distance Between Lovers.

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

1184 Days Without B III, Day 625 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

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

Tale 296 ~Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire~

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I don’t smoke… anything anymore. But now people are banning and/or burning books. There are plenty of hot bodies. And it’s been around 1177 days since my boy was burned. That was Thursday, February 4, 2021. Troubled? Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire

Monday, April 22, 2024

Tale 296 ~Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire~

Three-Hundredth And Fortieth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken, but how do I even see them? And no, I have not aligned with the book burners—never! But how do I even perceive these rules, these societal norms that seem to guide our every step? But…

Never say never, right? As far as I was concerned, Braxton, my beloved son, would live forever. And Virgil? I should pick up a book on dog training. I’ve said the same about a cookbook.

That brings me back to cooking. What did I consume that’s causing this unsettling feeling? If I still do, Justice. It’s Sunday, April 14, 2024, and as I converse with you today, you know your Monday is a source of dread for me. I anticipate this entire week will be much the same thing. Sigh.

I see the bad moon a-risin’. Is that another way of saying, I see smoke?

When it came to my son, I pretended not to. And again, there’s Virgil. There’s this house. My entire existence…

But let’s start with something smaller… something bigger. I am equal opportunity when it comes to the female form. I shouldn’t make jokes if I don’t want to be a comedian. Only, I’m not a fireman, either. When things get hot… For example, Sylvia Van Hossen and Saya Otonashi. What is it with me? A few weeks ago, my thing was older women in formal attire. Today, it’s girls with swords. It doesn’t take anything to get me hot and bothered. Heavenly Sword’s, Nariko. Ha-Ha.

Inevitable, like my thirst, terror, or tonight, tomorrow, and the next day wishing I was…

Anyway, I wish I knew what it was that gets me to, “fire away.” Is it the stress of seeing everything getting burned all around me? But again, I pretend.

Only I know I must light a fire under myself to get moving. The fact remains. I got this week’s schedule and know I’ll be burning with my humiliations galore, like the Fourth of July.

Only I know I can’t escape the fires that await me. If I do right by Virgil Vivi, will I have the chance to see my son again? Even before I knew my little Braxton, I was set to burn.

There is smoke everywhere, and I don’t know if I’m cold, cruel, or cowardly anymore. The one thing nobody says about me is, “Let him cook.” No, I’m not that special, my lady. I know.

But I am troubled. There’s smoke and darkness. Lighten up? Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire

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

1177 Days Without B III, Day 618 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 292 ~B By Later, Virgil~

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Two well-formed lumps of fat gyrating in my general direction… Ladies and gentlemen, why I’m not Gay or Bi. But I was a Dad once. I’m a Dad now… V. But the last girls V saw were family. But with grief, gyration, and me being a guy. B By Later, Virgil

Thursday, April 18, 2024

Tale 292 ~B By Later, Virgil~

1173 Days Without B III, Day 614 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Mine’s only just begun, and it’s terrible. Could it be worse? Skip a few pages…

I wouldn’t read you any of Eric Vall’s novels. Though… I’m sure you would appreciate all the “relations” regarding food, which reminds me. I need to check and see if I’ll get to eat next week. Trust me, B, I should enjoy our time together because next week will be… Well, I won’t care for it. But the same goes for today. I have already failed! Sigh. Such is existence.

But even if I went back to sleep. B III I would wake up and see you sitting at the foot of the bed in the corner, protecting me. Those were better days, Little B. Do I need to talk about grief, graves, or goodbyes today? I remember these moments, B, and they comfort me in this sea of sorrow.

It’s seven in the morning. And already, I want this day to end. Myself included.

But there’s no ending to my grieving, B. It’s a constant ache that won’t go away. And that will not make me any cash, but for you… My little Endling. You’ve been gone 1173 days, and I’m still looking up names to call you. At least I’m getting Virgil’s name right. These days. He deserves that, Braxton. Don’t you agree?

You will have to wait for the chance to talk, B. And it’s not because I have a dream, again…

I’ve continued to think about that movie I saw with Virgil the other day. 2003’s “Share?” I’m sure you led me to that one, too. Hulu’s “The Mill.” And Fifteen Million Merits as well, B.

I exist in life like Daniel Kaluuya, who plays Bingham Madsen. You wouldn’t believe what Cherry thought about that mention.

Rumor Has It… I like guys, or I’m Bi, at least. (Shakes head and smiles with a tear) My B.

I trust two men in this world, and you were one of them. But I have only loved one man in this world, and that is the son I raised. I swear, B III, girls sometimes can be just… (huffs). It’s a rollercoaster of emotions, and I’m just trying to hold on. Like Hell, huh?

As far as finding you, or I should say, Virgil, a momma… Love died in bed in the vet’s office. So while I’m all about Girls, Girls, Girls… I’ll Never Fall In Love Again, Braxton.

The End? Never say never, but I can’t just turn a page and see what happens unless I start publishing books and cut out my self-fulfillment. B By Later, Virgil.

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

Always and Forever,
Your Dad