Chronicle 324 ~Time To B III~

Well, it’s time, but the only thing I’m sure of is that I’ll be crying at some point. I wish it was always at 4, be it AM or PM. I don’t feel like getting up, and my son is gone. Like love and grieving, my stupidity has plenty of time. Time To B III.

Saturday, May 21, 2022

Chronicle 324 ~Time To B III~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now. But of course, you expect me to say that. It’s routine, it’s regular, it’s all ruined.

That was 4:00 PM yesterday, to be specific. Do you remember that episode of How I Met Your Mother? (1×18) “Nothing Good Happens After 2AM.” Amend that to 4:00 PM? Lunalesca, I splooged all over Friday, which I deserve, for working on my Stuff & Thangs. At least I should have filmed it. But of course, you know who I talked to at the time. Speaking of BAD memories, I remember when my father kicked the shit out of me for not doing my Math homework. Luna, such dreaded memories pop up? IBC Root Beer? The worse thing is that my son died around 4:00 PM. No, I left after the fact and never saw him again. And yes, the tears are to be expected.

Lunalesca, you wonder why I start crying at 4:00 AM. Well, this morning, it was 1:45 AM. The lamp was still blazing, the TV was on, and I was surrounded by the messes I had made. Wow, I didn’t expect this conversation to go this way. Mind you. 4:00 AM thoughts? More like 6:30 AM. And that’s because I went back to sleep. I’m in no damn hurry. Seize The Day? Hell! Yesterday, I realized STUPID mistakes on top of the humiliations I suffered. For example, why I’m not feeling better “The Placebo Effect?” And why my Cranberry juice tasted “funky.” I grabbed the Cranberry-Raspberry instead. Stuff makes me feel sick. Stupidity in and of itself tells me I don’t belong here. Such dangerous words…

Now that’s nothing new, Lu. Going back to high school days, junior college Group #4 and She Who Won’t Be Named. So grateful to forget the dick-teasers, skeezers, and weirdos. The last time I could say I “Got 5 On It.” Yet another reason to miss Triple B. No fives… And 4:00 AM was a goal instead of a burden. 4:00 PM, he would be at his post for me. But “comedy comes in threes,” THEY say. And my son being gone… the comedian’s dead. Two against the world, that was us. Lunalesca. Where will I be Saturday 4:00 PM? Horrifying to imagine it. The wrong time but the right man, ha, always in the wrong place. That was my B. Time To B III

475 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 317 ~B It So Small~

All The Small Things, The Little Things, Pretty Young Thing. And Little B was the cure for them all. I would tell B that he would be as tall as a king. I go back and forth between him being so high in heaven or heavy in a box. My life, B It So Small.

Saturday, May 14, 2022

Chronicle 317 ~B It So Small~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now. It’s like saying my penis is small… An outright lie. Sorry for dick jokes or title.

Hell, if I were to write a poetry book for B III or any book period. Words are such little things, Lady Lunalesca. Yeah, that’s another lie, considering how tired they make me. Or I’m weak, whatever. My Lady, I’m late getting up and still sitting in bed this second. Who was it that said this? “You don’t want a girlfriend. You want a therapist who’s good in bed. Is that why I often converse with you and the girls from the bed? It’s inevitable. Lunalesca, of course, you don’t see a (P.Y.T.) Pretty Young Thing, walking out the door. Yes, lay off anything related to my penis. I’m not forgetting about my furry boy again, to be sure. I meant Braxton, and speaking of…

One more reason to miss the little guy. A humongous reason, being able to talk to him, Should I stick with a “happy” medium? I still hate that word too. Things that I miss Lu. Okay, so I miss those walks B, and I would take. Can’t say my health is looking any better for it. Having to stretch out to give him bites of food or find his furry little head to pet every day. He was never more than ten pounds, but are you gonna carry that weight? Always. Better him than anything at the Day Job. That’s something I should remember. The Day Job is one of the medium, middle, motherfucking circles of Hell. Greed, Anger, Hersey. My biggest sin is Treachery.

I know Lady Lunalesca. I finished listening to the Succubus Lord series some time ago. Remind me to yell at Eric Vall about his book deliveries. Braxton’s Aunt’s birthday gift. That’s a big thing, disappointing my friends. Then again, dear Braxton is my best friend. And yet I made every cent such a big deal. There was never any until it came to his end. I didn’t mean to make sadness the gigantic talking point here, but as the song goes. I’m just a sucker for pain. Or, with my ear no longer being the main problem, I can switch back to why I’m sucking up dried cranberries again. Something so small that’s not helping, unlike B III or another furry… B It So Small

468 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will