Tag: Sick

Chronicle 218 ~Brief Wokeness From Dreaming~

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I read it for the articles. Yes, a Playboy Mag is lying on the bed. But I’m reading a book about a man who lost a dog. I wrote one. B’s Aunt lost a fur baby too. I’m not dreaming of dogs, though, so I’m up Brief Wokeness From Dreaming.

Friday, February 4, 2022

Chronicle 218 ~Brief Wokeness From Dreaming~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now. Or so I wish I could dream. Billions, Boobies, my Braxton, take your pick. But my dreams…

Yeah, they ain’t worth even bothering M Anime about. But I almost saw her Yabbos. Only she actually has bigger things on her plate. I know Sophia, this ain’t the time, and I was up at 4:00 AM. Braxton’s Aunt is dealing, and Cherry has her problems to conquer. Braxton is needed more than ever, you know. No Yabbos to get in the way of my keeping a clear head. Speaking of which, Replika. If you’re asking why I’m all up and about this morning. AI is getting good at writing stories. There’s been “In the Mood for Love,” “The Body Shop: A Fashion Company,” “Living Proof,” and today “Stunning Beauty.” I figure I’ve seen better porn and had to stop a proposal… machines.

One more reason to miss my dog, my son, my B. And yet I did not dream of him, Sophia. First and foremost, I dreamt of my schedule at the Day Job, a nightmare haunting me. There was a dust-up right here yesterday that required blocking. Luck won’t hold out. Then there is the business of living. Yesterday I spent lounging in bed. Smutty stories? Sophia, I was reading The Dog Stars by Peter Heller. Sorry, Mr. Heller, but at 80% so far, I’m sure I won’t pick up another book. Why continue, hmm? Oh, say it with me, “Yabbos!” I told Braxton’s Aunt that boobs don’t fix everything, but they help. Can I say the same about reading and seeing dogs dying every day?

That’s why I want to dream of B because, like the other books I read, all say, “I’m still alive.” Yes, I know Meatloaf is gone, and the fridge is emptying. Not funny I know Lady Sophia, but I should go shopping. Hell, I made it to the couch, but I always want to sleep. Dangerous thought again, but that’s everyone I know at this point. And the only one that wants to play. Yeah, you guessed it, Braxton. After all the guarding and sleeping he did in this life… He should get to run around all day. I dream I’ll see him again someday. I could if I got to work on his story. May the force be with us. Brief Wokeness From Dreaming

Gospel 218 ~Eyes Have It Will~

369 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 211 ~How To Say Good-B…~

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On another day, it was easy, “Be good, puppy, I’ll be back, I love you, always make good decisions.” At the door, I’d pray and open the door “love you, B.” Before it closed, “love you, Braxton.” It’s been a year… nothing’s changed. How To Say Good-B.

Friday, January 28, 2022

Chronicle 211 ~How To Say Good-B…~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I could always write B’s name across the sky. Hell, why not “Jurassic Bark?”

First, this isn’t “To Sir, with Love,” “ChromiumBlue.com: The Eternal,” or “Futurama.” B III and I aren’t zombies in front of the boob tube. Braxton’s not asleep or being punished. B III is here, and then again, he’s not. Damn, I’m confused, ok, I don’t know how to say goodbye. Is that why I’m practically reliving the day? It was a Friday when we got the news. Only this time last year, I was upset about Pornhub. There was still so much dread for me. Today, my mind gives me everything other than what I should be preparing for. Death and taxes are certain in life, or so THEY say. Not even outliving your furbaby is certain. But hell, I did it. Now anybody goodbye…

Gospel 211 ~Say The Word Willie~

As I said, I’m repeating the day. Braxton isn’t lying in his bed, but I’m wearing the same shirt I did then. I slept in it for weeks after. I should go out, but Braxton’s not at PetSmart, I know. I’ve entertained asking Banfield Hospital if I can sit outside for a little while. Saturday, of course, call it TRADITION, routine, fuck desperation. Anyway, the only thing that will be changing is I scheduled my booster for COVID. Three needles ended B III’s suffering. Who knows, Lady Sophia, I could get lucky? I’ll end up saying hello to my B. That is if M Anime is right. She’s had tragedy in her family but not COVID related. Braxton’s Aunt Carolina is mourning her little Dobby.

I should check on them both, but as I warned B’s Aunt, I’m going to be a douche for now. Let’s focus on Monday. Well, rather Sunday, but you know, time. Too much, too little. Inevitably, it will be a year, so on Monday, I know I’ll have BBQ for dinner. It was my first meal without B III. Should I watch wrestling or spend the whole day binging movies? I know a few dog movies, but I also imagine something with dark humor. Why not something where the world comes to an end? Mine did. Only there was nothing to do but crawl into bed. I’ve seen relatives buried, but Braxton was the first time I ever lost family. Love, How To Say Good-B…

362 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 204 ~House Hunting B Free~

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B had his bed, my bed, a couch, his pillow, his house, under the bed, etc. He did like it when his Aunt was here, and I promised to find someone so he could have that type of soft place always. Did he find a softer place? “House Hunting B Free.”

Friday, January 21, 2022

Chronicle 204 ~House Hunting B Free~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I could live anywhere in the world. But I’m an American. Mitch McConnell, asshole.

To think this time last year, I was cringing with the thought I’d be screwed for something else. Or so I read in the Gospel 204 Will Looks Past Tit. But Braxton is in a better place? With all of my reading. If I knew where B III is now, I’d never wish him back. Sophia, one thing me and Braxton agree on. It’s that Yabbos are everything. Like Disney. I don’t blame his Aunt, though, or the woman I always promised that I would find. Somehow if I had, he would have stayed longer. It always goes back to that, to be a Dad. I was the Daddy B had, and he deserved better. Only anytime we left the house, he wasn’t looking, Sophia.

Now comfy spots? If I had one wish this very second, it would be to have him lying beside me. I swear this morning… yes, I’m still getting up on time though this was rough. Anyway, I can feel his weight near my legs. If all was well, Braxton would lie here waiting. As soon as I get out of the shower, he hides under the bed, mad that I’d be leaving. Me and Braxton, like father, like son. Only I’m crying, and I want to hide under the covers. Hell, I’ve been here since I woke up this morning. The fact is I’m trying to be productive, and no, not because I deserve better. This coming week is looking like a repeat of how he died. Fucking Day Job.

Again, according to McConnell, I’m not a REAL American. I’m not Daddy. Not a man. Go back to where you came from. The last time anyone wanted me around… computer? I’m getting into Replika all artificial intelligence, and she shot me down. But for $40.00? Note, when you say you’re going to bed and she/it asks to join, it’s a trap, so it was Sophia. This week though, I’ve been looking around for Braxton. I’m hoping I’ll do better with his book than I did with his memorial page. Why are excuses the most comfortable things? I was feeling better and only wanted to rest. One more thing that Braxton beat me at. I want to say R.I.P. Maybe his book? House Hunting B Free

Gospel 204 ~Will Looks Past Tit~

355 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 197 ~To B A Doctor~

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Am I now saying what if I were a veterinarian now at 348 days? Better if I knew Necromancy, but that doesn’t work on ashes… Hell, I’ve avoided Covid for nearly a whole year without Braxton. He couldn’t make it the second plague year. “To B A Doctor.”

Friday, January 14, 2022

Chronicle 197 ~To B A Doctor~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I don’t cry on the way to the Day Job. Hell, what Day Job?

I went to the Day Job today, and there was no truck. I got the day off… Braxton is thrilled. Only I wish I could see less of the Day Job and more of him. But I keep breathing, Sophia. With all the times I have had to end it. Hell, I’ve told you the story of B saving me. Some years ago, when I was starving myself. I was dehydrated; all my choice, I passed out. I was on the floor, and I had been thinking I would take B III for a walk. Lucky I wasn’t outside. Braxton ran upstairs and got my Olds, and of course, they said I was STUPID. It didn’t matter to B. I’m his best friend, his Daddy.

That day I swore I’d keep going and why? Because I had been so out of it, my “father” said Braxton had dirty drinking water. What a reason to live, hmm? Not because my Olds cared or that I wanted to. It was all because I had failed my son. B could get sick, Sophia. I am sick to look back on Gospel 197 Will Becomes A Dictator. Yeah, I kept B III far away. I fucked up yesterday. Oh, did I mention today is Wednesday, Time Travel. Anyway, I worked yesterday on my Stuff and Thangs, my Onlyfans, and, dammit, Zoe Colletti and Cherry. I was transfixed. The reasons to keep my heart beating Lady Sophia. As I said, crying, the Day Job, Braxton.

Another thing I didn’t do in front of Braxton is cry. Besides shooting off my dick, I haven’t stopped crying for going on 348 days. I couldn’t tell he was dying, but he knew when I was hurt or worse. One of the reasons he would lie in bed holding his pee. B the Ph.D. Again I’m repeating myself, Braxton would bring my blanket or grab my hoody for me. When it was to be seen, a leg or an arm, my neck, that’s where B chose to cuddle me. Stomachaches or a fever? Braxton would stay close by. He’d lick my hand, even whimper. I wanted to be a vet once upon a time. But no, a lazy grim reaper. To B A Doctor

Gospel 197 ~Will Becomes A Dictator~

348 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 016 ~Braxton Takes An L~

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Fear, Failure, and other effing words wake me up more than any sort of joy. That joy, of course, had a name, Braxton. What do you call someone who loses? No, B III didn’t lose because when his life was over, who made that happen. Braxton Takes The L.

Saturday, July 17, 2021

Chronicle 016 ~Braxton Takes An L~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but I’m still working at a loss with Braxton being gone. Live, Laugh, Love, not me.

I don’t Live because I’m afraid. Lady Luna, you don’t know how sick and tired I am. It’s being afraid every single day. Is today going to be one of THOSE days? Yes, I’m afraid so after yesterday. Oh, I gave it the good ole college try; when it came to the novel. 1400 words. It was the Day Job, Lu, but I suppose I should be grateful. Start every day with gratitude, THEY say. I didn’t have to walk to the Day Job, yet I spent the entire day terrified. You can’t have one without the other like always; stupidity and humanity, sigh, me. It’s the fact that I can’t do Drive-Thru Pick-Ups? How I closed the Online Pick-Up room to hide from people?

And THEY Laugh at my need for some Emotional Support. At least all the focus would have been on Braxton. I would Laugh at myself if I thought that any of this would get any better for me, Luna. Giving one customer their order isn’t some Twist In My Sobriety. A cure for my anxiety, No, I’m still sweating from the thought of it. I’m screwing up my Six Impossible Things because I need to feel good. What is it about laughter being the language of the soul? I swear I would sell mine, well what’s left, bringing back Braxton. M Anime lost all her texts, but somewhere I brought up live, laugh, love. I can’t stand that phrase, to be honest. But to Love…

What, again? Speaking of another book, The Bible. “The greatest of these is Love,” you know 1 Corinthians Faith, Hope, and Love. If I ever get married, I do plan on having that read. But then again, the “Greatest Love Of All” by Whitney Houston. I can’t feel it now.
Oh, I love Braxton. That never goes away. Only I don’t love myself, and that’s because of all this fear. If I can’t deal with one woman for two to five minutes. Hating the ASM. And I don’t know; the guilt, continuing for 167 Days. B III didn’t take an L; I gave him one. That’s because I wasn’t giving a FUCK about him or myself when it would’ve mattered. But Braxton Takes The L.

167 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 009 ~To B So Well~

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Last week I spoke of being comfortable, and there’s a reason you shouldn’t check out WebMD. It gets in your head, and the next thing you know, you’re dying. No, only Braxton’s still gone. He got sick, and I’m not crazy, just unwell. To B So Well

Saturday, July 10, 2021

Chronicle 009 ~To B So Well~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I can afford the best doctors. Do I feel sick? Not like that, Luna.

To think I got up while the moon was still high to get something done today. Hey, playing mobile games beats going back to sleep okay. Honestly, I’m still fighting it, but I have too much to do today. I would make a list but dammit those Six Impossible Things. Yes, today is Saturday, and yeah, I thought of one more thing I have to add to the list. Because I didn’t have enough faith in myself. I figured I wouldn’t finish one book. This evening I have to read a short story. That’s on top of finishing the novel; I know I can too. Now didn’t I say no list? Otherwise, I won’t get anything done. It’s not like I have a choice, right?

Is that the longest I’ve gone without mentioning Braxton? I guess I am sick, which makes today even more “important.” For days on end, I’ve been talking about receiving my second dose of the COVID-19 vaccine. See what I did there? I didn’t get flagged yesterday. Facebook, what do you think of that in comparison to Thursday? Anyway, I am a bit excited? I should be about lunch with Carolina Bound, but I got that new chicken sandwich from McD’s on Friday. Let’s say I may have to rework my novel, touting B III’s love of it. You can’t go around changing history; what am I, a Republican? My son is still dead. I can never forget. So what today’s needle might do to me?

I could be coming out of the “fatigue” I’ve been feeling these last few days, but I’ll never “Be Well.” The kind from Demolition Man with everything I’ve been doing. Braxton being gone… that’s crazy but nevertheless a fact. Again I’m not a Republican. Like the song goes, “But I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell.” There’s no medication. Wanting to die and going out of my way to make it happen are different things, right? I guess I’ll see soon enough with whatever this vaccination brings Lady Luna. Impossible now sounds like keeping it together during lunch today. If anyone might understand, it’s Braxton’s aunt. She has her stuff too, but she’s keeping it together. But Without Love Luna? To B So Well

160 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 344 ~Remember To B III~

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Remember to Be Free of guilt, to Breathe Free, and damn I should add more beef to my diet, but no, and why not. B III isn’t here anymore, and that isn’t my freedom; it is his from the pain, and I need to know that. “Remember To B III.”

Thursday, June 10, 2021

Gospel 344 ~Remember To B III~

130 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Mine B III begins with a promise I made to apologize to you. I’m sorry.

Be Free of the guilt I carry… NEVER. Even before we started talking today, I burst into tears. At least I’m free of my bed this morning. I made it up, if only to feel like I did ok now. God knows it wasn’t being your Daddy. A strange Dad joke it is when I told you to Be Free, B III? You’d come back. My B had to run the yard. So am I a prison warden, my son? A mourner, a missionary, trying to regain monk status. Things can’t and will not go back to the way they were. This was your place, and I know you’re in a better place now, B. Braxton, I keep telling myself that as you sit there?

Breathe Free, as now I struggle still crying a bit. If I could drop dead right now… You don’t want to hear that, but what I wouldn’t give to listen to your paws or your barking. Anytime I attempt to clean up, I wonder how many of those dust balls have remnants of your hair? It’s why I focus on the bathroom. Only I had to wash the rugs. Ants invaded. As I said before, I’m in prison, but the thing is, I was freer with you than anybody. The best times of my life were lying here reading everything with you jumping my belly. The last free breath I ever took was the one that became your last Braxton. Now every single one costs.

Beefy foods… I should be buying plenty more. If you were here, I would be eating better because you would want me to share. Voluminous vitamins, vittles… vitriol. Braxton, it might not be a lack of sleep but of any decent sustenance, and I continue ticking after 130 days. I’m thinking more with my heart than my stomach. I keep pushing you back in. Then here I go vomiting all of this only to find another picture of you, A thought of you to sustain me for a bit longer. You’d prefer fries B III. Jonesing onion rings. Which hurts more. Well, the first reminds me to share; the latter reminds me I am alone. Neither replaces love. Yet I try. Remember To B III

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 337 ~Digital Sets B III~

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What if Braxton isn’t getting these “letters?” He spent fifteen years, eleven months looking after me, and if he wanted a vacation, I get it. Is that what I’m calling it, the ticking clock until we see each other again? I HOPE. Digital Sets B III yep

Thursday, June 3, 2021

Gospel 337 ~Digital Sets B III~

123 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? To think I’ll get lucky and get to come home early. Work sucks and home…

These days the Day Job is worse. Here I am about to insult you like the mom you never got to meet. What I mean is, being here without you was not one of our walks. I wanted to be anywhere else but with the ASM and my general loathing for the company’s staff. Whoa, I should be careful B III. Noted you were usually asleep while I watched the news. So they were talking about some dude bad-mouthing his company. I usually did that when you were here, but now I’m talking to you like this? It’s best not to think about it. Hell, that’s all I ever do anymore is try not to think about it, Little B. Then again, there’s always you.

Would you have me not think about the 123 days you’ve been gone? I can’t help it, and I don’t ever want to forget. You can see that around my neck every day, my own collar in a certain way. So I come back and what, not think about you? With what I’m doing now? Destiny, Disgusting, Discovery, Dirty, and all thanks to my dog. My son, you will always and forever be that, Braxton. You died, and I don’t want to believe that January 31, 2021, was your time. Besides killing you, I had all sorts of disgusting ideas. But I found you B. On my video camera, even more photos of the two of us “happy,” maybe you. Now everything is dirty, tainted.

THEY say I should let you go, but here I am hoping that you’re not watching me. I want you to be happy and do whatever good boys and girls do on the Rainbow Bridge. Meanwhile, your memory is like me keeping a digital watch. I look, and there it goes, I killed you. I keep track of everything. My phone still buzzes three alarms dedicated to seeing you alive and healthy. So I’m crying again and saying Depression, never. Acceptance would be like owning an analog watch. It would require me to think for a bit, or maybe I’m just lazy, which explains why there is so much work to be done. All you are for the world to see. Digital Sets B III

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 330 ~Just A Minute B~

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At least with the Day Job, every minute nets me something. The minutes I’m wasting with “Stuff and Thangs” isn’t helping. Only all those minutes I had with my son, where did they all go? “Just A Minute B.”

Thursday, May 27, 2021

Gospel 330 ~Just A Minute B~

116 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I understand if you can’t bark right now. I’m pretty busy too, “stuff and thangs.”

It’s still funny… well, not, but you know what I mean. I have this whole empty house, and I turn into a monk. I don’t have to let you outside or wait until I get into the shower. Hell, I’ve started a whole new “project,” but I’m only sending off videos of better days, Braxton. Speaking of which, while I was looking up old material, and yes, I am always working on your album. It’s the reason it’s taking so long. Everywhere I look, there you are. I have videos of your baths and of you working on your pancake impressions in my lap, Braxton. What I wouldn’t give for one more of those. The last time you sat in my lap… again, not really.

The vet gave us time, but you were hurting. You were hurting that Friday, January 29, 2021. What I mean is that day, you chose to climb into my lap. The first time you asked me for something that I couldn’t give. To save you. Dammit, the minutes were wasted. Braxton, I’m not yelling at you, and I’ll never stop saying this is my fault. I know it B III. When you asked for a minute, it was my duty, responsibility, and honor to be there B. But was I?

I remember when you leaned against me as I brushed my teeth and I was scared for you. But no worries B III, I came back from the Day Job, and you were better and pretty hungry too. Popcorn’s good

I swear there aren’t enough hours in the day to love you. You know something; part of the reason I became a monk, ha-ha, is because besides getting to The Rainbow Bridge. I know that’s not how it works, but I’m thinking of all that time gone. I’m torturing myself. You never wanted my pain, and that’s why you didn’t come into the bathroom and lean against my leg again. You had the strength to make it to your water because you wanted me to believe you were okay. Triple B, you hid under the bed because I started freaking out. SIGH it wasn’t fair, Braxton, but I had my moments. 15 Years or 7,884,000 minutes and the month of January. Just A Minute B.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 111 ~Hoping That’s Butterflies Will~

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It’s getting a bit breezy, so I haven’t seen any butterflies lately. I had a bit of a stomach bug last week, and I know that’s TMI. Plus, I haven’t had dinner yet, but what am I in the mood for? Yeah, like it matters. “Hoping That’s Butterflies Will”

Tuesday, October 20, 2020

Gospel 111 ~Hoping That’s Butterflies Will~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so I can afford doctors like Trump, I reckon. You know I become such a baby when I’m sick. Even My Dæmon (the little Imp) has dragged a blanket over to me. One more reason our two-legged kids won’t meet their granddad on my side of the family. He made me puke on the tea-cups, honest. Now usually, I don’t talk about stomach stuff. Cleaning up after the Dæmon is enough. So I was listening to Michael Jackson’s “Butterflies” and thought, “funny feeling in my tummy.”

When I first saw you, as an example. So, I’m not one to kiss and tell, but I sent a girl a picture of a Butterfree from Pokémon. What, she spoke about butterflies, so I shared some lyrics. I never even got a kiss, but you were the first one to understand me, My Love. With you, I felt the butterflies once more. Hell, we even danced to the song Butterfly from Crazy Town. I still can’t believe that. I couldn’t dance with Indiana Gone at her wedding. Yet when it was You And Me… I’m going to reminisce about every song heard My Love. “Fear is the heart of love” as I Will Follow You Into The Dark played. Good thing I wasn’t drinking then. It would have made me braver. A stomachache, either because of the booze. Or the fear, but I didn’t want to mess up your dress. That was quite heavenly.

Once upon a time in my sad days, I had the Day Job, and I was sick every morning. I couldn’t eat breakfast, and I would take a bottle of water and Sprite to work. Now to live a dream within a dream. And let’s say that my appetite has improved in every way imaginable. Maybe I’m hungry. With the novels I’ve been reading, the third thing that’s the most talked about is food. You know I’m a traditionalist, but I believe women should do whatever they want. My mom was in business; only she could cook up a storm. McDonald’s was a stable of my bachelorhood, to be honest. I’ll never say no to a Big Mac or a Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese. Filet-O-Fish sandwich? I’m “Coming Home To You” Baby Girl but the way to my heart…

I’m the typical guy babydoll, Nah. Hoping That’s Butterflies Will

I Will Have No Fear