Tag: Silent

Meditation 072 ~Virgil Ate. Braxton’s Fate~

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I’ve got steak in the fridge. A baked potato. Even a lobster tail. Was anything else missing… Ma’am. I hate going out for food, but I can waste big bucks buying it online. On big boobs. And do I need books on Cannibalism? “Virgil Ate. Braxton’s Fate”

Wednesday, September 11, 2024

Meditation 072 ~Virgil Ate. Braxton’s Fate~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Yes, Inspector, I see what day it is. But I’m no terrorist. And I’m not into Cannibalism either…

Tell that to the search bar. I’ve looked up terrorism. And earlier today, it was MEAT by Joseph D’Lacey. Hell! Seeing as how it’s Sunday, September 8, 2024. Why not preach, this is my body, this my blood or something. Why not remember Braxton passed on a Sunday afternoon like this? Am I ready to get back into mourning and grieving my little boy B.

Or am I a woman turning this into my “Emergence Month”? That was wrong, Inspector.

If anything, I’m not here to talk about 1/31, Emergence Day, or 9/11, Inspector Echo.

Today, if I’m lucky, I am on the eighth day of… denying myself self-fulfillment. Hmm.
I’m not messing with “my meat” despite the pictures I’ve been taking lately. I’m gross…

Thinking about more meat on the bone. Again, Eww! But if you want something humiliating, let’s talk about how I get food. I keep going back to Emergence Day 2024.

Echo, it was nothing special. I only had to see people twice. And the only one that really heard my voice was my Ma. If only it wasn’t so expensive because getting some fast food.

How many times have I been referred to as Ma’am? It’s one of the few things that make me feel like less of a man. I don’t pay all my bills. When’s the last time I showed any balls… other than “OF.” And I watched B III waste away. I feel so inadequate, Inspector. I hate talking about myself, really.

Now that ain’t true, Inspector. But who am I kidding? I’m filled with self-doubt. Always

But what else can I say? It’s either my boys, big Yabbos, or the bad things that come around one way or the other. And that’s what I’ve been thinking about as I waste today.

As I, too, waste away. I look at myself, and while I’m particularly proud of one part of my anatomy, it’s everything else. I don’t have a spine; I stick my foot in my mouth and as far as eating my heart out. You know what became of my heart. I’ll give myself a hand.

One is busy talking to you, and the other is usually down my pants, should I care to wear any. Things have to get done. But am I empty or full? Virgil Ate. Braxton’s Fate.

1319 Days Without B III, Day 760 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 065 ~Eff E-Day! Braxton, Virgil…~

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Eff E-Day… I started this Monday, August 26, 2024. Now it’s Tuesday, and… Is this week getting any better? I feel sick. Is that the sensation of getting older? An energy shot? Being skeevy? I’m not sleeping, so I can shout Eff E-Day! Braxton, Virgil…

Wednesday, September 4, 2024

Meditation 065 ~Eff E-Day! Braxton, Virgil…~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… I love my boy, my son, my Braxton. I am trying with Virgil. Honest, Inspector. But today, friend…

It’s Monday, August 26, 2024. And I can’t remember; have I cried for Braxton, Inspector? I’ve been saying for these two weeks, besides, STAY ALIVE! I’m going to be selfish.

Inspector? Today, I am AFRAID. Not of forgetting my boy or finding Virgil making messes. Today, I FEAR E-Day. E-Day stands for Emergence, Existence, and Extinction, Echo. Ha-Ha! You think the Locusts from Gears of War were bad. Wait until you get a load of me. I tell myself this when I see my face in the mirror, dear Inspector.

The horror, the horror of this almost forty-year-old man, Echo. I effing hate myself today. Every day, really. But I wish I’d never emerged. I can’t stand existence. And extinction…

If Virgil wasn’t here today…

I’d be effing the bedsheets. But E-Day’s arrival demands I clean. Crispy, not crusty sheets.

Eww! What? Do you find the mention of some “romantic” stories gross? For two weeks…

Backyard Dungeon 13 has its moments. But you know that’s not what I’m talking about.

Inspector, if I haven’t been fighting everything about E-Day, you know what I’ve been watching. And the more I’ve been figuring out, the more I’ve found each day. I’d be driving Dirty Diana crazy. You remember her before my son passed, then… Uh, I couldn’t.

There’s Braxton’s spirit, specter… I don’t know. But now you all share in my skeeviness. When I’m not effing myself over E-Day, I want something, someone pretty to look at.

Being forty… plenty of effing.

Almost. But I hated thirty-nine, seventeen, and even seven. But here and now, there’s uh?

  1. Madoka Araki
  2. Tsubaki and Sakura Miyajima
  3. Reika and Reina Kurashiki
  4. Ayana Fujisawa
  5. Mikura Suzuki
  6. Asumi Hisato
  7. Sawa
  8. Tomoko
  9. Natsuno
  10. NETORARE

I thought that I would make one of those 64-brackets or something. And then I saw my Day Job schedule… Anything to keep my greatest FEAR at bay. My father is the originator of E-Day Day One. It’s good that I’m learning so much Japanese because what will my old man say to his bum of a son? I got lucky. I love Braxton. I don’t hate Virgil, Inspector. E-Day… Fearing my father, future, finding more… Eff E-Day! Braxton, Virgil…

1312 Days Without B III, Day 753 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 058 ~Braxton And Virgil Call~

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What’s My Age Again? Thirty-Nine until E-Day. I wouldn’t have made it past seven if I had my way. A time way before the smartphones… Speaking of which, how old is my phone. It’s not like I get anything but bad news. I’d rather Braxton And Virgil Call

Wednesday, August 28, 2024

Meditation 058 ~Braxton And Virgil Call~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… According to “my” phone, at least. Who pays the bill? I restarted the timer of me “getting off…”

What? Yesterday, I was busy writing/stealing that scene from Episode Five of the series Discipline -The record of a Crusade- You know, the one of Madoka Araki. Why was that?

I’m staying alive!!! STAY ALIVE!!! My battle cry? The clarion call? A mandate from Heaven? Or wherever my Braxton resides after his passing. My son is asking me to wait to join him. And where’s Virgil? Well, he’s at the foot of the bed for now. This isn’t about him. But then again, yes, it is. Just because my boys don’t use phones doesn’t mean I don’t hear their voices. Yesterday, I got a call about Virgil. What about the call I’ve been dreading? I got a text from my Olds. It wasn’t about E-Day.

But E-Day, the day of my Emergence, Existence, and Extinction, is coming. It remains the second most horrific day in “my life.” But not yet…

My Olds informed me of some vote that was happening. And while I’m all for civic duty and whatnot, I want to hide out for the next two weeks. Even better, I wish I could just sleep through it all, like the song says, ‘Wake Me Up When September Ends.’ But no, I’m ‘awake and alive’ at this moment, sadly.

I wish I wasn’t, Inspector, my hand to God or Braxton. I would “happily” join the ranks of the dead rather than grow another year older. But haven’t I Echo? I’ve been saying for days now what rests in my head. It ain’t a brain. E-Day worries, women sans clothing.

Inspector? A silver lining? “Today is all about you.” Me…

By that I mean me. And who am I without a phone? Who are any of us, for that matter? I’m someone to Virgil because I got a call about picking up his medication yesterday. Inspector, I’m sitting here hoping “my” paycheck hits early so I can fetch those meds. Echo, it wouldn’t matter anyway because I won’t let Virgil follow Braxton… Not my call? I have to pick up food, so I already made myself sick with an energy shot, but the Day Job? Yeah, I got my schedule. My entire existence is run by the beeps and boops of the screen, Inspector. And if I wanted something for E-Day… Braxton returning… Joining him. Inspector “my” phone should Evolve. But, Braxton And Virgil Call.

1305 Days Without B III, Day 746 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 051 ~When B Provides, Virgil~

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Providing a peaceful sleep. A reason to be a Dad. Having two sons. A chance to not be skeevy. Not when Braxton was following me. And what did I provide, Braxton? A box… A room to stay in. Pretty girls. The one with his name. “When B Provides, Virgil”

Wednesday, August 21, 2024

Meditation 051 ~When B Provides, Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Now… I am not a believer. I’ve traversed the spectrum of faith, from ‘professed’ Christian to agnostic, to atheist, and now, to a father. A daddy, my dear.

And ain’t nobody going to tell me that the soul of my son disappeared into the existence of nothingness. I may not talk to ‘God’ anymore since Braxton’s passing. But my boy is out there somewhere, and he’s not Virgil. I’m sorry. This is one more sin that I have been committing. I’m reading quotes from Pet Loss books. I’m reaching out to B’s Aunt.

Anyway, that means reviewing some titles on reincarnation and the like. I failed. Braxton? I survived fifteen years past my “due time,” proving my son never failed me. Braxton always provided for me. But that’s not the way of things.

Especially not now as I approach my fortieth E-Day. I should be ashamed. I AM.

But that shame comes in waves. However, it hit me harder yesterday evening, Dear Echo.

Was it looking at the last cupcakes I got from the Day Job? Free food is free food, Inspector Echo.

It could have been as I finished reading Bikini Dawn. I believe Ethan can finally say that he has a harem… Olivia, Lexie, and now Meredith. I thought Meredith would end up with Maddie, “Ethan’s Daughter.” There’s still 10% left Inspector Echo. Anything could happen.

How about when I was playing The Walking Dead: No Man’s Land. And I was looking at all my resources, which meant absolutely nothing. Not with me sitting here, Inspector.

Wasn’t it last year, the year before, I was telling Virgil I couldn’t save us…

Being a hero is one thing. But being a nearly forty-year-old man with nothing, Inspector. Being a provider is the bare minimum, and I can’t even do that. A strong survivor, a real provider, a Tru Rider… That’s me. Please! V has a comfy spot and a full bowl. I can cut up some rotisserie chicken and make a salad with a head of lettuce. More books. There’s always more.

What? I need another one about Yabbos. I’m writing one about Yabbos. Or at least looking up pictures, which is why I was looking up Mezzo Forte instead of writing something, Inspector. Braxton provided me inspiration to write about “better worlds.” Even if I sent him to his room Inspector.

Providing? That’s what men do. Myself? When B Provides, Virgil

1298 Days Without B III, Day 739 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 044 ~Virgil, Go Cover Braxton~

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One more reason to feel shame about writing. When I write, and I don’t have to. Uh, isn’t that all of “my” novels? Book Reviews? Blogging daily? And the last thing I want to do after a grueling day at the Day Job is to write. Virgil, Go Cover Braxton

Wednesday, August 14, 2024

Meditation 044 ~Virgil, Go Cover Braxton~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Time Travel can be a pain. Recently? I had a conversation with Dear Future Wife on Gotcha Day.

That would be when I met Virgil. Two years ago yesterday, Saturday, August 13, 2022.

Only somehow did Virgil get lucky or unlucky, considering I didn’t have to go to the Day Job. Inspector, I spent a few hours writing to a girl I might never meet. And it was all about a fur buddy who isn’t my son Braxton. And yet, here I am saying I can read anything.

Echo, if I am to read anything, it should be this. Be nice to yourself and Virgil Vivi, too. I would rather read Braxton’s last bill for his euthanasia than that of Virgil’s adoption. Madness.

Braxton’s things cover the coffee table, nightstand, and desk. I’ll look for Virgil’s stuff. Inspector, I’d run to my covers.

That is if I wasn’t comfortable under the covers right now. And yes, pretty embarrassed.

More like tired. Because to this day, I continue to live in the day I lost my little B III. Inspector, today I live with this question. In two years, what have I done for Virgil? Right this second Friday, August 9, 2024. I did go out for Virgil’s food. Oh, I’m a good man…

Of course, I got myself a burger. I’m always finding ways to waste money, Inspector. Finding food for myself is wasting money? It’s not like I have a future. The fortieth E-Day is approaching, and how many “holidays” are there before that? As I said, I traveled to Gotcha Day when I didn’t have to. So what’s next for me?

Uh, yes, Yabbos. M Anime’s birthday is on the 18th. The day after, I should change the air filter like a responsible “homeowner?” This isn’t mine. My Olds are paying for a bum. Their son?

Inspector, they’re covering for a nearly forty-year-old bum. I need alcohol or a drug habit.

But my drug of choice… Yabbos. The story I’m not working on because of the Day Job schedule. It’s something that I can’t read. That’s what you do, Inspector half-asleep. “Throw The Covers” over me.

There’s also looking up “artwork” for the story I want to write. Again, I spent time writing to someone on my day off. Dear Future Wife? Please! I’ll have better luck being covered in dog hair than any woman’s lady parts. Virgil, Go Cover Braxton

1291 Days Without B III, Day 732 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 037 ~Braxton And Virgil’s Helpfulness~

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My friend B’s Aunt is hurt. I can’t go and help. I can’t send her cash. And her helper has joined B on the Rainbow Bridge. Good help is hard to find. And the worse… MAGA, GOP, and Conservatives could learn from dogs. Braxton And Virgil’s Helpfulness.

Wednesday, August 7, 2024

Meditation 037 ~Braxton And Virgil’s Helpfulness~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Or I will? As if that’s even a question. But today is Sunday, August 4, 2024. So sinning!

And never winning. But I’m missing my son Braxton. And what about Virgil? As long as he’s not making a mess on the floor, making me hop out of bed… That’ll be for my good.

If there is always something I admire about my son, it’s this. Every sound Braxton made was towards my benefit. Even if he was mad. My little boy said more than nearly anyone in my existence. Well, short of his Aunt and the pictures M Anime and Cherry once sent.

What was it I was saying about sin? Next to sending Braxton to his end and myself being born… E-Day draws ever closer. Admiring a nice pair of Yabbos is my kryptonite. Help yourself to my cash. Pretty, pretty girls.

But I’m still thinking about what happened to Braxton’s Aunt. And before that, her Gabe.
She got hurt, and Gabe died in his sleep. I had to watch Braxton’s euthanasia because there was nothing I could do to save him. Last year, I told 2-V I don’t know my friend.
We were burning up in this house, and I could not help us. Not to mention how much money I lost when his Old Man and his friend took me for a ride with fixing the AC, Inspector. But who am I to talk about money with everything he spends on me? Hmm. I’m ungrateful.

Pathetic, Useless, less than Helpful—my crime with existing. I can’t help anyone, but can I get out of everyone’s way, Inspector? How I try…

If Braxton and I had a theme, Woodkid’s Run Boy Run would be it. I’d tell Braxton I wanted to find a place where we wouldn’t ever be in someone’s way. That would be my way of helping the world. To be far away from it. But because Braxton was alive, I needed to stand.

That’s what a man does, Inspector. He provides, protects, procreates, ha-ha. He stands because the world needs good people. Helpful people. Braxton was a helper. A great man once said look for the helpers. Braxton saved me. He was a godsend, a savior, a dog…

Braxton was a helper, and Virgil could learn plenty. And me? I have no cash or courage, so I can’t help… Braxton and Virgil’s Helpfulness.

1284 Days Without B III, Day 725 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 030 ~Virgil, Don’t B Bad~

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Roleplay, Cosplay, and will I even make it to Halloween. With texts from my father and the things I have to do at the Day Job… If I can be real. I wish I were… uh, with Braxton. Which explains Virgil being all cuddly. “Virgil, Don’t B Bad.”

Wednesday, July 31, 2024

Meditation 030 ~Virgil, Don’t B Bad~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. No, not Virgil. He’s been a GD angel from last night to now. How long will he last?

I always expect the worst of people, including my Old Man’s dogs… But that’s a good story for another time. The question is, why am I so late talking to you today? It’s 7:30 a.m.

Humiliations Galore? Sure. But as always, let me remember my biggest sin of all. Echo,

my son is dead. It started on a Wednesday afternoon three years ago. Braxton Barks. Conversely, Virgil pulled a move from Braxton’s playbook, which explains where I am right now. Surprise, surprise, still in bed. And I have time before outside shenanigans. How about breakfast? Both Virgil and I skipped dinner last night as well, Inspector. Why? Braxton dying, me being born, not accepting what I’ve become. Monster, Savage, Coward?

Braxton’s father was my calling.

But yesterday, what was I? Don’t I always say the Day Job makes me into a villain in one way or another? There’s acting, and then there’s whatever I did at the meeting on Tuesday. Inspector, I owe the entire Harlem Nights cast an apology. Especially Della Reese as Vera.

“Are you saying I’m stealing?” Vera from Harlem Nights 1998.

Roleplay Inspector… There’s plenty I can do with that. I scare myself sometimes, and according to my coworkers, I scare them too. But aren’t I roleplaying every day anyway to get by? My Old Man texted me the other day, and I had to pretend to be okay. Echo, it’s exhausting. And the truth is…

I am not okay. I haven’t been since Braxton. It’s hard to keep pretending. They say fake it till you make it, but sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever make it. Only the real me…

Dead. That’s what “bad” people deserve. But to live as a monster or to die as a good man? You know that’s from the movie Shutter Island. I need to watch that. And the Olympics?

What happened to my patriotism? I’ve had a few POR… Passions. Saddens me to say. I’m starting on Day One again. But I blame the novel I’m writing. I blame Camp NaNoWriMo. But you know what, Inspector? I’m not giving up. I won’t get close to 50,000 words, but 15,000?

But why bother? What “reasonable” person imagines a girl with several gentlemen callers, I ask?

Or think to borrow… well, steal the hotel scene from Himawari wa Yoru ni Saku?

Inspector to spend the day cuddling with my boys. That’s What Makes A Good Man. Maybe. Virgil, Don’t B Bad.

1277 Days Without B III, Day 718 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will