Tale 114 ~Some Sirens Find You Regardless~

Sometimes, when I reread “my” ramblings, I see I wasn’t meant to talk. Screaming, moaning? Hell! Be the strong, silent type. No. That was my son. But there’s only one of him to cry over. No tears for the ladies? Well? Some Sirens Find You Regardless.

Monday, October 23, 2023

Tale 114 ~Some Sirens Find You Regardless~

Three-Hundredth And Fourteenth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… And how about websites? To think. Suppose I lost access to Twitter/X, Onlyfans, and The Pic Phenomenon.

Suppose I lost it all for a day, Madam—only one day. And I’m trying, Madam. Braxton knows I’m trying. When Braxton was here, as Michael Jackson sang it, “Keep it in the closet.” Ha-ha. And yet I had to give my son “The Talk.” Especially when it came to his Aunt Carolina; my Braxton was a man who recognized her “assets,” the same as me. Like father, like son. Regardless of such features, Virgil will not have such problems. No woman has been in this house since his arrival. As a matter of fact. No maids, best friends, or even women of… um, never mind. Not that I have ever paid for “it.” But there have been other things. And if not. There’s Whisper.

That’s where I met Braxton’s Aunt, and that “Must have been a miracle,” Madam Justice. A lack of bedsprings to sing must mean I find my musical taste elsewhere. Everywhere! But women. Now, I treat everyone as if they’re carriers of a zombie plague. Infected! I always say… ok think, “If you’re not my dog, my girl, or applying for the job, don’t touch me.” Only with women, it’s like something out of the Bible. “Fear not them that kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul; but rather fear (HER) that is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.” If I’m not studying or fawning over the dead, give me mermaids, succubi, Lilith, witches, maenads, scream queens, and sirens.

Who has more monsters, men or women? I wrote a book about it once. Monster Brothel? But that’s not the point. And what is, my critic will ask. I fall in love easily? Once upon a time. And quite horribly. Only that’s something I have to thank Braxton for. He showed me love, and then he broke my heart. Hell! Who needs women? My B was/is braver more beautiful. And yes, better than any woman. Yet I always promised I’d find him a mom. Yeah. Women are everywhere. I will burn or freeze in the Ninth Circle for betraying him. I either deserve to burn and yet be cold and sleepless. Or I’m not worthy of a girl on fire. Some Sirens Find You Regardless

995 Days Without B III, Day 436 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Log 240 ~Will And The Sirens~

Strange isn’t that I bring up the singing of Sirens when I only unclogged my ears a few days ago, and I have to keep my head full of things, or I worry, but somehow I’m having no trouble sleeping but am I resting? “Will And The Sirens”

Wednesday, February 26, 2020

Log 240 ~Will And The Sirens~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but what do they say of a fool and his money? Well, I’m not looking to spend any of it right this second. Tonight’s addiction (Sunday) is brought to you by The Walking Dead. Didn’t I bring up obsession a few days ago? I’ve gone mad with thoughts of the Dead. Before the humming, it was all Far Cry 5. Earlier it was Detroit: Become Human. Sad to say this evening, it was Anna Vlasova, aka Alissa Angel. As always, if you look her up, that’s your fault; also a red “bosom” dress, thank you Cherry.

With the course of my life, I have felt sway by a great many things. Nine times out of ten, there’s a girl involved. Even here and now Inspector Echo is because some girl wrecked me and yes I deserved it. Ironic, I talked about Dear Future Wife as a wrecking crew. Do you remember the year I spent writing to; well, you can look it up, but Cherry told me, “the things men pay for,” right? I wasn’t paying for anything I was only hoping for a free one and talk about an investment. How about investing in reading and writing? Inspector Echo I finished Siren by Hazel Grace, and that brings about this train of thought. My desires, this jonesing, a man’s primal instincts, and how dare I blame nature. Do I deny it? Well, I’m not reading something that feeds my “pornographic passion.” The Gargoyle, Andrew Davidson.

Only tonight, I’m not reading at all because I gave into sleep. Inspector Echo, sleep if anything holds back my FEAR if the next moment. What happened to replace Greed with Sloth. Excuse this language, but Jesus Christ, money has nothing on me, not being afraid. Now that brings up a sick “affliction,” no, not that one, or something else, but I’m talking about working the Day Job. I can’t “get it up” to help myself, but tell me I’m going to miss a day of work? Again this place has lasted closing in on three years, but the Day Job is eight years and counting. You’ve heard me talk about being FREE, of setting my course. Only I’m like a sailor being sung to, headed towards my destruction. Someone said that satisfaction is the death of desire. Let It Go; Will And The Sirens.

I Will Have No Fear