Tag: Silent

Meditation 163 ~Braxton’s No Chef Virgil~

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I’ve led Virgil to food and water, but he’s not sick… Um, maybe in the head because he wants to eat on a pillow. And where do I take my meals? In bed? But the last good one was on the couch eating Chinese with Braxton’s Aunt. Braxton’s No Chef Virgil

Wednesday, December 11, 2024

Meditation 163 ~Braxton’s No Chef Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… I am currently starring in Mommie Dearest or Daddy Dude. Not that I’ve published a book, Inspector Echo.

I’m writing again on a drizzly Monday afternoon from bed. I can’t afford laziness.

The Day Job is calling this week. Aren’t I blessed? Shouldn’t I show some GRATITUDE?

When was it again that those two young brothers got fired? A week or so ago. How could I forget? I’ll tell you how. I’m reeling over the five dollars I paid on Onlyfans. Wasted!

Inspector Echo, I have to say so. Considering that I’ve now failed five out of six Impossible Things. And yes, it’s only Monday, December 9, 2024. Um, Brave New World?

I’m still reading Aldous Huxley’s novel. If memory serves, SPOILER ALERT: we’re getting to that part where Bernard Marx introduces John to his father. It saves Bernard from the DHC.

Yes, Inspector, I’ve read the story before. When my father turned me on to Animal Farm and 1984. And I wish I could say that I’m spending all my cash on books and that’s why…

GASP! I’m not eating. Feed your head, as the song goes. And before “your” madness… I’ve got around five thousand in the bank. I got another grand over PayPal way…

President EWW Donald Trump won’t be helping me. But let’s talk about here and now. As always, I want my son back. Money won’t bring Braxton back from the dead. I’d like a medium-rare steak for dinner tonight. But Hank Hill don’t pay my bills, Inspector. I want Satan’s Sorority Girls 8. But what’s most important. Virgil is not eating!

I’ve been here before, haven’t I? Inspector, if I went to Braxton’s Room/My Library/Virgil’s Room and pushed his pillow in front of the food and water… Yes, Virgil would eat. And I don’t know why. But I refuse. Virgil’s been in the room all day, Inspector.

Several times, I have guided him to the bowls, and what’s that saying… You can lead a horse to water or a dog. Do I need to be paying his vet bills when, again, I have nothing but a boy with a full bowl while I subsist on sixty-second pasta and shredded chicken for fajitas?

Virgil will eat his treats, and I swear Braxton was spoiled until the very end. What will it take, Daddy Dude? Braxton’s No Chef Virgil

“You pays your money and you takes your choice” ― Brave New World, Aldous Huxley

1410 Days Without B III, Day 851 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 156 ~Let’s B Edgy Virgil~

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Livin’ on the Edge, Livin’ on a Prayer, living for the love of you. I feel like I’m toppling over. “NaNoWriMo” ended, and I barely won that. Everything feels like it’s overflowing. And all that edging before breaking on the 1st. “Let’s B Edgy Virgil”

Wednesday, December 4, 2024

Meditation 156 ~Let’s B Edgy Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… What else is new? Um, pushing Virgil to the edge of the bed. That’s the big one. Right?

Considering how cold it’s been. Then, one of the neighbor’s kids said they were worried about Virgil. And did I forget to buy another dose of medication? Uh, the money…

That was never a question when Braxton was around. I still remember when Braxton got sick. And the one vet at Banfield I openly “disliked” saved him. And the way the guy looked at me… When I tried to take my own life by starvation and dehydration, my Old Man didn’t want to pay my medical bills either. But Braxton is innocent. So is Virgil.

And while I wouldn’t give Virgil up for anything, the thought of what if I had left him on the other side of that fence? The edge of freedom or what, Inspector Echo? It’s a fear that haunts me now.

When Virgil has tried to cuddle these past few mornings, I’ve pushed him away. Really! I’ve gone so far as to move a pillow between him and me as I read or waste time, Inspector.

Virgil hasn’t fallen. And the drop wouldn’t hurt him. Contrary to popular belief. Virgil runs around here. He jumps up and down. V can climb stairs. He barks, cries, dreams…

Probably about someone much better than me. I know. I wish I had fallen into a grave when my feet hit the floor. Didn’t I talk about having a dream about dead men last week? Maybe. All I know is today, I woke up to the sound of Johnny Cash’s Ain’t No Grave. My Braxton.

What you needed to hear…

“Do you wish to be the son who gives his father what he asks for or what he needs?” Legion

When did I get all religious? It’s that time of the year. Or am I upset that some blonde temptress broke me the day after No Nut November? Inspector, I’ve gone from nurses to dancers and gymnasts. I gave $10.00 to a “secretary” on Onlyfans. And now nuns and angels. Talk about being on the edge. Or flashing my “package,” and why. The edge, huh.

Willy’s Wanton Writings And Whacking

Madness. I’m on the edge of finishing “my” novel. I give myself far too much credit with NaNoWriMo being over. But I won for the first time in years. I’m on the edge of finishing another book. I’m upset that I’ve broken my Christmas tradition. You see today’s date, Echo. I’m existing on the edge. Still, Let’s B Edgy Virgil.

1403 Days Without B III, Day 844 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 149 ~Breathe Virgil. Don’t B~

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When my other boy wakes up… V? He must ask himself, what fresh Hell is this? I’m much the same when I head out to the Day Job… When I’m out anywhere. I’m afraid of the skin I’m in, the steps I take, and a sigh while breathing. Breathe Virgil. Don’t B

Wednesday, November 27, 2024

Meditation 149 ~Breathe Virgil. Don’t B~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… By being me? Yes, we can talk about what time it is. 6:21 PM, WTF! But to live…

Is that what I’m calling the next five hours? How about the six when I was at the Day Job? We can even go back, checks notes 1396 days. You know AB, as in After Braxton. Two things. One, I didn’t want to live before I even met Braxton. Two, I shouldn’t be taking any notes. The way I’ve been writing this month. But we’ll get to that Inspector Echo.

Why? Because this body I wield doesn’t know how to stop breathing. That’s the sin I’ve been recovering from. I’ve been brushing up on the STATE RELIGION coming next year. However, Dear Inspector Echo, Sia said it best. And no, Not Succubus Lord’s Madam Sia…

“I’m still breathing, I’m still breathing
I’m alive.”
Alive, Sia

For the wages of sin is death? Don’t I wish.

The things I contemplate while tears blur my vision at the Day Job. Have I truly mourned for my firstborn son today? If I did, it was more a result of exhaustion than genuine grief. Despite the poignant words I read this morning. What’s one more book on pet loss…

Anyway, at the Day Job, I started thinking about three things. All about FEAR, Inspector. The first was the simple fact that I hate the skin I’m in. And not because MAGA says I should. The second was that I didn’t want to breathe. Fearing your own next breath… No one knows what it’s like. This leads to number three: I have to show why I’m not worthy of it, which leads to my writing.

Inspector, I wrote two whole novels about the loss of my son. But what did I write about last night? I stole an SFM Anime about a girl and three soldiers. Then I took a scene from Bible Black New Testament, Episode 4 Recollection. Add to that a mass… whatever.

But I don’t dare ask where everyone is going. Bingo? No! I breathe, and thus, I’m guilty, or so I’ve been told. But I don’t believe in God. I believe “There is another world. There is a better world. Well, there must be.” Because my son is there and I’m not worthy of it, Echo.

Because I am consumed by fear. And with what this world is… Why not write about worse places and evil men? Breathe Virgil. Don’t B.

1396 Days Without B III, Day 837 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 142 ~Need More B’s Virgil~

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WARNING: 18+ For elements of the novel I’m writing. Or am I being lazy for writing 405 words instead of (checks notes) 725? I’m here; I’m writing. I need some sleep, as the song goes. I need more Z’s. More like A, B, C, D, etc. “Need More B’s Virgil”

Wednesday, November 20, 2024

Meditation 142 ~Need More B’s Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… And I’m probably gon’ do some mo’, you shouldn’t hold that against me though. Meaning? I’m being lazy.

Yesterday was humiliating… Witches, man. Now, swap the B with a W. Some girls, Inspector.

And I’m worried I didn’t do good work at the Day Job. And what about my chosen vocation? Writing, Inspector Echo? I’m ignoring my editing like I once ignored Braxton. And Virgil? He’s okay… I’m writing. Or so I hope.

Chapter Thirteen: Forgetting The Terms And Conditions
Sofía confronts William, The Director, about working in Richard Thornfield’s sex trafficking. William promises protection while enjoying benefits.

  1. From William’s POV. Begin in William’s house. Sofía rages at William about what she went through at the hotel with Richard Thornfield and others.
  2. William’s other house guest explains that William is only another victim, as they all are. But William can warn Sofía of Richard Thornfield’s plans.
  3. Sofía angrily decides to give herself to William. William warns Sofía that touching isn’t allowed. Sofía then touches the other woman as William watches.
  4. The woman then quietly departs as William and Sofía enjoy each other as they watch one another bring themselves to orgasm. Sofía then leaves.
  5. William reports to Richard Thornfield, who then praises him on his work, Sofía. But demands that William direct a ruthless hardcore scene for Sofía.
  6. William then visits Sofía, telling her of the scene but not revealing his total involvement in its creation. Sofía asks, can William do anything?
  7. Cherry shows up to Sofía and threatens William. Cherry says she’ll reveal everything to Sofía if William refuses her. Sofía watches William and Cherry.
  8. William returns to his house and again calls for company from two girls. Afterward, he lies in bed contemplating the price of Sofía’s freedom.
  9. William discusses with Richard Thornfield the price of Sofía. And offers to continue his work. Richard Thornfield scoffs at the idea. William threatens him.
  10. Sofía begins her scene with several gentlemen, but she now recognizes William there. Despite the rough sex, she is comforted by his presence watching.
  11. William apologizes to Sofía as he sits beside the bed. Cherry comes in trying to concoct her plan to make Sofía undesirable to Richard.
  12. Sofía says that she can’t take more scenes like the one she endured. William decides he must use his funds in more criminal ways.

Need More B’s Virgil

1389 Days Without B III, Day 830 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 135 ~Virgil, B Not Embarrassed~

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I did a few days in a detention center once. Don’t threaten people in print. OH! I’ve said things to girls… Uh, I know a few angry fathers. OH! Stay away from specific foreign contacts… OH! Why aren’t I the next President? “Virgil, B Not Embarrassed”

Wednesday, November 13, 2024

Meditation 135 ~Virgil, B Not Embarrassed~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Well, no, Inspector Echo, no, I have not. I identify as the billionaire white guy who became president.

Last night, I stood in the kitchen thinking of this house mess. As I thought of my son, who I took from this world. The boy that I treat with such… I don’t know what, Inspector. But it’s not that I’m playing the role of a Dad again. Didn’t I adopt Virgil? Expectations… Responsibilities… Sacrifices.

As the night wore on, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I would fall short in NaNoWriMo. I’ve burned through the last of my cushion, leaving me with around 21,000 words. When did M Anime share her nightmare with me again? And when I wasn’t writing, I was preoccupied with building a harem. One Piece’s Nami, ‘Landlady,’ a few models and cosplayers. It’s embarrassing, Inspector, to admit these personal failures.

Not when the US elected Donald J Trump as President!

“By all that you hold dear on this good Earth. I bid you stand, Men of the West!!!” ― Aragon

This is not what Aragon meant. I’ve been standing this week, Inspector. Just being STUPID! A failure to this country. You know I have a guilt complex. Talk about representation…

But again, I was in the shower, and I was thinking about all the horrible things I say about women. But have I ever been found guilty of “SA?” Nope! But Trump can be president.

It’s that time of the year again when the Day Job hires certain types of employees. And I may not like it. But I don’t call people names. I don’t talk about camps. I don’t write laws to restrict their rights. Again, I am an equal opportunity misanthropist, dear Inspector.

However, America is not. Hey, I’m just a black man.

And I won’t say I’m an especially good one. I’m the guy who thought Whitney Wright’s “Prom Night” was a bit much. I know more models and European agents than I care to admit. And? B III rests in a box. Instead of feeling the guilt and shame of criminality,

Inspector Echo, I see the criminal who has risen from the ash. I watch the darkness descend upon this country and scream out. What’s My Crime? Any embarrassment? Some shame?

There are no such things if I were to run for office. But I respect women too much. I don’t demonize the poor. I don’t care who people marry. OUR kids should be educated, Echo.

Only This Is America. Eff TRUMP! Virgil, B Not Embarrassed

1382 Days Without B III, Day 823 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 128 ~Son Of A B~

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Remember, Remember the 5th of November. I wish I could forget it. Hell! I don’t know what’s happening now. I’m avoiding X/Twitter, Instagram, and everywhere else. Reading about failing my son beats reading about failing my country. “Son Of A B.”

Wednesday, November 6, 2024

Meditation 128 ~Son Of A B~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… What the Eff! Eff, Eff, Eff! “Eff you, eff you and eff you! Who’s next?” (Coming to America)

This Is America! And I am ashamed to call myself an American. That is if everything I have been seeing is right. Inspector Echo… I went to bed last night saying, “I don’t feel so good.” And this morning… Well, there have been tears. And that’s my crime for today.

Not one of them has been for my son Braxton. M Anime and Cherry texted and asked how I was feeling. I dared to say that this is reminiscent of my son’s passing. Can’t be

When I looked into Braxton’s eyes and said, “I’m sorry. I tried. I’ve done everything I can, but I can’t save you. Please forgive me!” Yesterday, I did my best, Inspector Echo. You know me. I’m an effing misanthrope! But I voted for the people who I believed would bring positive change. And now, I’m left wondering what will become of them and me, Inspector?

As I said, I did my best. But winners go home and eff the prom queen! Yasmina Khan, Jessie Rasberry, the Midnight Sleazy Train series and even Cherry’s melons… No prom queens. Though if I know MAGA and the dictator… excuse me, next president’s taste…

Inspector, that’s one more way I know this isn’t good. I had no desire when B was gone, and now? I feel sick to my stomach. I want to silence everything. And what I’m seeing…

SUCKS!!! Everything sucks! Does that include the book I’m reading? Like I said, Inspector, since I haven’t been “getting off…” No Nut November, Election News, and the nothingness I feel.

Jack McAfghan: Pawprints from Heaven: How to Communicate with Your Pets in the Afterlife. I was lost before I finally got it up to talk to you, Inspector. Any comfort?

Honestly, I don’t know. It’s kinda preachy. Kate McGahan’s dog, Jack, is preaching to her and all of us. But I can see Braxton saying some of this stuff as well. I am not a prophet or philosopher. Braxton is not the “Son of a Preacher Man.” But Braxton is trying… Faith, hope, and love

Inspector. Braxton was supposed to be my apocalypse partner. And we are on the verge.

Talk about “I saw the sign.” Or coincidence… It’s was the fifth of November. I’ve watched V for Vendetta reactions with Virgil/V. Waiting for what now. Son Of A B

1375 Days Without B III, Day 816 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 126 ~The Will To Vote B~

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Who will the president be Tuesday… Uh, a few weeks from now. Kamala Harris. But who will I become this Monday before the Election? And every Monday after. A lawgiver. My son’s voice. Someone better. A dirty old man. The Will To Vote B.

Monday, November 4, 2024

Meditation 126 ~The Will To Vote B~

Lame Duck Session Madam

Madam Justice,
Rules are made to be broken… Goodbyes must be spoken. Elections held. And Sloth paid for. But here’s an easy decision. Kamala Harris.

Madam Justice:
Now, you are a much harder decision. I haven’t even decided on your Form. Final Form, right? We have gone through all the rules and then some. But knowing how I break laws… Yet, I believe in Dale Carnegie’s words in “How to Stop Worrying and Start Living.”

“Order Is Heaven’s First Law”

Why should I mess up the universe I have created here with you? Plus, I’m lazy. And while this isn’t Heaven. I can spell out why I’m going to Hell. Because of Braxton, I know. But wait, there’s more, Madam.

Braxton:
My son says there is. Braxton would speak for me sometimes. And I for him. If I ever needed someone in my corner, the time is now. Only I would never do my little boy justice. I have yet to publish the book he and I wrote together. And letting a woman down is one thing. Not Kamala! Again, I’m voting for her. She needs to win. Braxton Barks?

Madam, it would be kismet. Braxton passed on a Sunday. So, to hear from his “spirit” on a Monday, considering…

The Substance:
Sunday, I’m ALWAYS so down on myself. I’m effing up my marriage to Dear Future Wife on Tuesdays. And while I know Braxton would be encouraging, there’s myself.

Madam, I’ve come to realize that I need to learn to be more positive and show more gratitude. Do you remember when I could watch the WWE? I thought Saturday, I can’t stand a whiny Superstar. And that’s all I do. Rant, rave, and complain. I was lying in bed, knowing I’d wasted forty years.

“This is simply a better version of yourself…” I wish.

Dirty Diana:
Now, she accepted me for who I am. And maybe I would be a lot more subdued if I wasn’t bothering all the others with my… longings… But I left her to talk to my son. And wouldn’t I be abandoning you because I want to be dirty? I’ll take an intelligent woman over one who is only beautiful. Uh, don’t I know women who are both? Braxton’s Aunt, M Anime, Cherry. Still, it’s like something out of “Camp Hell” that “Demon Repression.”

Talk about “Sick Fux,” hmm.

But a voter. Kamala’s an easy choice. But being me… The Will To Vote B

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

1373 Days Without B III, Day 814 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 121 ~We’ll B Saving Virgil~

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To save Virgil, I would have never come back. I would have picked him up, put him down, and pet the dogs next time. I could have saved Braxton if I knocked a lot of people to the floor. Saving myself? I don’t have a cape. “We’ll B Saving Virgil”

Wednesday, October 30, 2024

Meditation 121 ~We’ll B Saving Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… And no, I don’t mean waking up super late. It’s 8:20 AM. Or looking at… sending dirty pictures.

SINS, nevertheless. But not REALLY bad ones… Must I once again return to what I did to my son? Not a day goes by that I forget that Braxton’s gone. Have I not given everything!

The only answer, “More, more, more.” And so here lies Virgil, my “second-born” son, who is very much alive and well, Inspector Echo. A four-year-old.

I ask myself, does he get jealous. As I sit here at the edge of” the bed… “Ooh, it makes “me wonder.” What? About all my pop culture references. Because the voices in my head…

Inspector, it has been a mess for a few days. And when I say that, I mean around forty years’ worth. Give or take fifteen years. Anyway. It seems Virgil is pushing me away from Braxton’s “Shrine.” I’m no hero.

Far from it… This leads me to my fourth greatest sin this week… thus far. One is Braxton’s passing. The next is waking up. The third is continuing to fail Virgil. He went from “I Believe I Can Fly,’ And “Fly Like An Eagle” to “Dear Heaven.” The music, sigh.

And in case you are wondering why I’m not listening to Lofi Girl. Well, I get a day off, and instead of being productive… Uh, you and me are talking. I look up such depravity.

However, yesterday, I was headed to the Day Job. Outside this house, I saw a fur buddy walking alone in the dark. Why didn’t I save him? Why didn’t I even try? You know why…

The DAY JOB, Inspector. Working there has taken so much.

I can’t save myself from that place. The DAY JOB, short of my own two hands, took my son away from me. And here’s a third life that could have been lost because of my inaction. When I came back, I saw someone had found him and was trying to bring him home. But what about me, Inspector. I could have done something, anything. Inspector?

I don’t have to be some celebrity, fad, or influencer. Talk about “Hey Jealousy,” Inspector.

I don’t have to be a best-selling writer. my writing Inspector… It’s so much worse.

Worst is being a man of inaction. GOP politicians, specific photographers, a budding career in por… being an adult. Villainy, sickness, whatever. I dream, though. Someday. We’ll B Saving Virgil

1368 Days Without B III, Day 809 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 119 ~It’s Purge Night, Willie B~

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This isn’t a rule or goodbye. It almost reminds me of when my son died… almost. I didn’t command him to stay. And I told him it was ok. The game of life. What are the rules? To love. But after Braxton passed… My Existence… It’s Purge Night, Willie B.

Monday, October 28, 2024

Meditation 119 ~It’s Purge Night, Willie B~

There Are No Rules

Madam Justice,
Rules are made to be broken… And when there are no rules? I’ve worked through 365 or so. This is our last conversation?

We’ll get to that, Madam. Or I don’t want to… But I have a question. If you had one superpower, what would it be? Is it safe to deal with hypotheticals? Yeah, right, Madam J.

My favorite type of magic is Necromancy. But off the top of my head, I want to bring back my best friend, my son Braxton. If there are no rules, why not, Madam? Pretty macabre…

Okay, if I got to be me, why not X-ray vision? Women, sans clothing… It always comes back to that. And while I have yet to meet Jesus, I know plenty of AI programmers. But…

I’m no Smooth Criminal, so what about time travel? I’d take away Braxton’s old age. Make sure I wasn’t born…

How does it feel to write that down and say it out loud? I’ve never been one for “Ending” letters. My existence isn’t worth that much. The most I could ask is to erase my browser history and delete and/or burn all I’ve ever written, Madam Justice. The God-honest truth.

That’s why I won’t say what I’d do if there were a real Purge. Leave it to Trump, and it could happen. My RAGE at existing… Would know no bounds.

Honestly, the only “life” I have ever succeeded in taking is that of my Braxton. Euthanasia? What about other crimes?

You mean those of the Marquis de Sade, variety. Give me one word… AHEM, Sadism. Madam, I would need more than 12 hours. And I could even go all The Forever Purge with it. But we have one more word we must discuss as time grows short. This final hour.

Goodbye? I’m always learning something new every week. So why must this be the end?

I don’t think I even gave Dirty Diana that courtesy after Braxton passed. I needed to talk to my son. And she was the most expendable. Am I saying you are? It would be nice to have someone to talk to so every conversation doesn’t sound like effing wet dreams.

However, why talk at all? I could see if B would speak somehow, someway, someday.

If this is goodbye, Madam Justice, Let It B. Let It Go? Anything could happen. There Are No Rules. Goodbye. It’s Purge Night, Willie B

May God Be With You All. (Purge Siren Begins Blaring)

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

1366 Days Without B III, Day 807 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 114 ~I’ll B Running Virgil~

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Did I outrun love or did B outrun me? God is Love… My Braxton is Love. He nearly made it to 16. Virgil is a quarter of the way there at 4. But what am I really running my mouth about today? Drowning in emotion or an energy shot. I’ll B Running Virgil

Wednesday, October 23, 2024

Meditation 114 ~I’ll B Running Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Like the MAGA hats, if I’m breathing, I’m lying. But instead of asking why. Let’s focus on how.

For the record, today is Saturday, October 19, 2024. (Record Scratch) “Yup, that’s me; you’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation.” Honestly? I downed an energy shot and decided to clean up Braxton’s yard. Shouldn’t I go start calling it Virgil’s yard? He turned four on Sunday. What was I doing when Braxton was that age? Sigh…

That’s the thing, Inspector. It’s not why I was his father. His Dad, but how. Don’t worry, your pretty head; we’ll get to females in a minute. Braxton found me. Love is louder and faster. Did I ever tell you I wanted to run track in school, Inspector Echo? Running.

I wasn’t in school when he found me, but he kept up. I carried him. My little boy B III.

Well, when he grew older. I’m never going to stop missing him. And I’m never going to stop saying how much being forty sucks. Thirty-nine, thirty-eight, thirty-seven… All the way “Back at One.” Again, Girls, Girls, Girls, comes later. But a couple of hours ago, in the backyard, much like at the Day Job, I started having terrible thoughts. “My future? It’s coming on, it’s coming on, it’s coming on.” And that means failure, fewer dollars, and the magic word, Inspector. FEAR! I’m awake because I’m afraid of everything. Everyone!

Echo, it’s all of the time. Ask me to name a fear off the top of my head. Water. Drowning.

I say I’m going to overflow like Mamimi Samejima from FLCL. And here we go.

If I’m not sweating because of some phantasm in “my” nightmares. Catching some form of the plague. Or doing public works. Uh, cleaning up the yard for puppies or neighbors.

Then I’m up because of my… A private part of my anatomy. Not so private for $5.00 or $100 for “The Full Monty” face and all. Pumping my life away. However, I wonder if energy shots REALLY help me push myself forward or if it is The Placebo effect. The constant questioning and self-doubt are a part of me now.

Whatever it is, Inspector, it has me at the dining room table and not swimming in sheets upstairs. And I can’t swim. Not without some pretty chick with giant floaties. AKA nice Yabbos. But somehow, Braxton kept me on solid ground. I’ll B Running Virgil

1361 Days Without B III, Day 802 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will