Tag: Son

Meditation 033 ~Braxton, Virgil Burial Furs~

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Everything happens for a reason. NOT? Like me reading about the Howlers and one of Darrow’s best friends dying. Uh, spoiler alert… My best friend is gone, and now my second best friend is mourning her fur baby “Gabe.” Braxton, Virgil Burial Furs

Saturday, August 3, 2024

Meditation 033 ~Braxton, Virgil Burial Furs~

Hey Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… But that doesn’t make me miss my boy, my son, Braxton, any less. If cryogenically frozen…

But I’ve been lost in fiction for this week, Lady Lunalesca. The cosmos’s coldness? Yes, I’m still reading “Morning Star.” We’ll get to that. There’s “my” unnamed title, “Sofía’s Nightmare.” Sofía, in a bunny costume from The Blackmail II: The Animation, is with the CEO. He’s saying, “Let’s Get It On”. There’s a random book I bought, too. Burning cash. It’s my way of finding comfort in these trying times.

Lunalesca, what am I forgetting? Got To Be Real, right? Braxton’s on a seventies kick. Wherever he is? Again, he’s not cryogenically frozen. B died. And now he has company.

Yesterday, right after speaking with Lady Sophia, I got the word from Braxton’s Aunt. Her fur baby, Gabriel Michael, joined Braxton with the “Spirit In The Sky.” August 2, 2024

Braxton’s Aunt’s son passed away.

If I didn’t make that clear, Lady Lunalesca, may his little soul rest in peace. She has to make decisions as I did when Braxton met his end. But Gabe tried to spare his mom. He died on his own and can say I did it “My Way.” That’s Frank Sinatra in 1969. Sixties and seventies music? I wonder. How will Gabriel talk to his mom? I’m trying as well.

Lunalesca, I’m at a loss. I have a record of what I did when Braxton fell, but I don’t know what to tell his Aunt. Who have I ever buried before… That I loved? Really, Luna. Two-legged family… I swear.

Braxton is in a box on the nightstand and a pendant I wear. Burial details are something new to me.

But I know she’s getting Gabe back as well. Braxton was cremated on February 4th, and he was “home” on February 10th. As for a ceremony? That I lacked Lunalesca.

This leads me back to reading. I showed Braxton’s Aunt as many books on grieving as I could—and there are even more. But how did I spend the rest of my night as she grieved?

I’m burying myself deeper with M Anime and her troubles as well. She’s the “Girl All The Bad Guys Want.” Why she deals with me, I’ll never know. Grieving, Groaning. I feel like I’m drowning in it all. Depression, Depravity.

Lunalesca, I’m doing one or the other. Or reading Cherry’s writing. There’s the Day Job humiliations. But Thursday pales in comparison to Friday’s news. Poor Gabe. Braxton, Virgil Burial Furs

1280 Days Without B III, Day 721 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

Meditation 028 ~Rage Against Plenty Of Things~

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Some people only seek out hate. Sadness makes it so I can’t breathe. Lust and Fear, too. Rage? I’m like a carrier of the “rage virus” in 28 Days/Weeks Later. But that only condemns me. And the ashes were once known as B. Rage Against Plenty Of Things

Monday, July 29, 2024

Meditation 028 ~Rage Against Plenty Of Things~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Fourth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… like choosing my fears over rage. I choose plenty over rage. But that’s the secret, like Bruce.

“I’m Always Angry”
The Avengers

You know one of the many reasons I envy my son? He’s dead. And don’t get me wrong, Madam. You can hate the dead. Speak ill about them and everything. But of everything I remember about my Braxton. I don’t remember the anger. And I was angry at him, sure.

But not once have I been angry about him leaving, as I told Dear Future Wife today. It’s Tuesday, July 23, 2024. Anyway, I told her I was always angry at me, myself and I.

Again, every book on loss is against this. And I’m mad at those writers. But it doesn’t mean I go around burning books like some people. B III’s death is in the hands of two.

But more on that later. What am I mad about today? There’s been Humiliations Galore?

Which is why we’re talking today. Only what has me now this second? Existing, Madam.

Everything is falling apart around me, for starters. There was a storm. So, I need to check on the fence. A light came on in the car, so I must get that checked out. I mistakenly looked up appointments, and they’re already talking about five hundred dollars. No effing way!

That means I can’t risk ordering something. But “no worries,” Madam. I won’t let Virgil starve. And Virgil is as confused as ever, not realizing his business belongs outside only.

It’s not like I’m training him or anything. Locking him behind one of Braxton’s gates.

This brings me back to the one I hold the most rage for… Myself. And there are not enough words or time to explain why I hate myself so much. And joining my Braxton… sigh.

Okay. First is the euthanasia of my son. I blame myself and the other culprit… The Day Job. There was so much rage for and from those people there that I ignored my son. Then?

B III in a box on the nightstand. My rage burned my son to ash. The Hell within me. Rage!

I look in the mirror. Through a camera lens. Even my search history. For example, Pacifica Ocean aka Paz Ortega Andrade. That’s from a few minutes ago. Talk about fire. Rage Against Plenty Of Things

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

1275 Days Without B III, Day 716 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 027 ~Braxton Lies Well Virgil~

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What has become my favorite lie? It’s a toss-up. Braxton isn’t gone when I hear Virgil doing whatever, but I can’t see him. And then there’s. Tomorrow will be better. Did you see my schedule this week? But I’ll survive. Braxton Lies Well Virgil.

Sunday, July 28, 2024

Meditation 027 ~Braxton Lies Well Virgil~

To Will:
It’s the Man In The Mirror… Do you know why you can’t stand me? Because I open my mouth? Glasses? Getting myself o…

I think you’ll stick to being the MAN that took Braxton’s life. Your son, your best friend, the world. Are you done being sorry for feeling this way after it’s been 1674 days since his trip to the Rainbow Bridge?

And to think Braxton filled me with such courage before bed last night. I was reading Morning Star before turning out the lights. Coincidence? B hasn’t sent music but words:

And as we pretend to be brave, we become so.

Unless you want to die here, sack up and get moving.

Quiet, unremembered moments of cruelty.

Pain’s the universal language.

Pity is not forgiveness, nor is gratitude absolution.

How much better does he understand life than I do? (Morning Star)

You could go on. Braxton knows what you should hear. But me? I’m left again with these Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE VIEWING The Refraction of Mr. Saturn…?
    Completed
  2. I WILL BE VETTING Pictures, My Braxton’s Life Story
    Failed
  3. I WILL BE VENDING Gulp: Poetry Book
    Failed
  4. I WILL BE VOWING To Keep Pants On (Day 000, No Fap). Real Girls Are An Exception
    Completed (Day 007 No Fap)
  5. I WILL BE VALUING My Flesh Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
    Failed
  6. I WILL BE VALIANT Being The Man My Son Thinks I Am
    Failed

Braxton was or is easier to talk to. And Virgil? If anything, I’m amazed he lies so well. Do you mean he’s still lying at the foot of the bed? It’s one of the reasons you’re up now. No time for Hana Dorei (Flower Slave), a.k.a Slaves to Passion or Love Wolf Vids. Again, it’s because Virgil is lying here pretending to be someone else.

Braxton? He is his father’s son. Yesterday, as I was spending money I don’t have at the drive-thru, I thought. I’m a terrible liar. But B did it so well. Some of B III’s whoppers:

Daddy, I’m fine

I’m not hungry

We gon’ be alright

Ah! There’s the song for today. And Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE VIEWING Morning Star By Pierce Brown Or Something smaller… Lazy Ass
  2. I WILL BE VETTING Pictures, My Braxton’s Life Story
  3. I WILL BE VENDING Gulp: Poetry Book
  4. I WILL BE VOWING To Keep Pants On (Day 007, No Fap). Real Girls Are An Exception
  5. I WILL BE VALUING My Flesh Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
  6. I WILL BE VALIANT Being The Man My Son Thinks I Am

For years, Braxton sat at the feet of the Master, his friend, his father… you fool—and he learned to lie. This reminds me somewhat of Emperor Palpatine from Star Wars. Did you ever hear the Tragedy of Darth Plagueis The Wise? Seriously? We’re doing this. Okay, buckle up. We talk about the truth saving us, right? But the truth when it comes to us…

Well, B didn’t want to hear the truth. And why not? Uh… Sickness, Euthanasia, Dying. Today, you sit here not wanting to hear the truth. Why not? Laziness, Inconvenience, Depression. Yeah, I was REALLY depressed last night. What because Virgil was here, and I had to read of space battles instead of artists having dirty… Anyway. Braxton Lies Well, Virgil

1274 Days Without B III, Day 715 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 026 ~The V Games Braxton~

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Have they begun complaining about The Olympics yet? I called myself patriotic, taking the day off to watch the Opening Ceremony twice. It gave me time to catch up on mobile games and anime. What about writing? The V Games Braxton.

Saturday, July 27, 2024

Meditation 026 ~The V Games Braxton~

Hey Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… But it isn’t from writing—not yet, at least. And that’s not why I started writing.

At this point of the story, my son Braxton would raise his head. I told him that I was going to give him the life he deserved… WE deserved when I finished, Lunalesca. With editing…

I was writing long before I started singing “Welcome to My World” or “Welcome to the World.” Sigh… Today’s songs are brought to you by Wang Chung and Kevin Rudolf. Lunalesca, remind me to make a playlist of the songs Braxton sends me. Did that.

Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh, my writing. Well, my lack thereof with yesterday. The Olympics have begun. Here are a few reasons why opening my eyes today hurts:

  1. Braxton isn’t here anymore
  2. I look at myself
  3. Losing myself to Yabbos
  4. The Matrix has me…
  5. I see the successful
  6. Look what I’m writing

I’m determined to get back on track, Lady Lunalesca, but…

There’s Too Much Sauce. I woke up late again, ok. And I should be grateful for the hours next week for my Day Job. But look at my typical routine, and It’s A Beautiful Morning:

So I’m sitting here, and as I said, Braxton’s Playlist has included again: Wang Chung, Kevin Rudolf, Drake, DJ ESCO, and The Rascals. B loved music, movies, and big mammaries. Then I was thinking about how I barely got any writing done. The Opening Ceremony. But what I did made me question where the novel is moving towards, Lunalesca. Once I read that a good artist creates, a great artist steals. Uh, that’s rude, maybe…

But sitting here, I was thinking about Thursday. Uh Houkago Ren’ai Club ~Koi no Etude~. Me and Japanese, Lunalesca. Let’s just say Casual Romance Club. I’m trying to pin down the novel type. And there’s Casual Romance Club meets The Blackmail II: The Animation, plus Rei Ayanami all wrapped up in “Sofía’s Nightmare,” Lunalesca. However, as you can see, I began looking at The V Games books by Ker Dukey while searching for something to read. And as always, there are Yabbos. In this case, Elsa’s from Frozen… Uh, gross…

And then I wonder why my business is nowhere. I’m broke. And Braxton is gone. Where’d You Go? Lunalesca, I swear! The V Games Braxton.

1273 Days Without B III, Day 714 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 023 ~Braxton’s Benjamins, Virgil’s Vittles~

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I should have named Virgil “Cash.” Then I could say I have Cash at the house. But I was looking for the path out of Hell, so I got Virgil. Only keeping Hell “LIT” means burning money. Books, boobs, and the boys. Braxton’s Benjamins, Virgil’s Vittles.

Wednesday, July 24, 2024

Meditation 023 ~Braxton’s Benjamins, Virgil’s Vittles~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. I didn’t take care of my son. I don’t take care of myself. And Virgil lives with it.

How do I know? Because he stayed beside me all night for once. I guess. Protecting his meal ticket. Braxton was protecting his best friend. An unfair comparison, Echo. Noted.

But my heart is still empty since I lost Braxton. Empty? It’s still broken. And again, that’s unfair when it comes to Virgil. But as the song goes, “But love is a long, long road.”

Inspector, am I being petty? Ha-Ha, Tom Petty! Anything beats being scared, like last night. And I keep saying it… Whenever I feel frightened and/or fiendish, I think of the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. Being born is the second. Braxton’s death, first.

My son died on an empty stomach. What cash I had ended my boy’s suffering.

When I was young… More like “When We Were Young.” Sometimes, I would starve myself on purpose. My pathetic hunger strikes because I wanted to die. B wanted to live.

I remember getting back from the hospital once and my Ma telling me that Braxton was nearly out of food and his water was dirty. I wasn’t ashamed of wanting to die. No. My shame is that Braxton suffered because I wasn’t taking care of myself. I was/am his father, dammit! Keeping my son alive meant that I had to stay alive. Then Braxton wasn’t.

Inspector, it should have ended there. Only an hour after Braxton was “euthanized,” I was buying a picture frame. And then in a BBQ drive-thru at my Ma’s behest. Sigh.

You see, Echo, thinking about my empty/broken heart from losing my “soul pet” means I’m not thinking about my stomach. But I’ll pick up BBQ on Thursday. If I’m not broke from the auto shop. One place is closer to me, but I like the piggie potato from the other place. Why don’t I look and scream, “Feed your head!” Uh, I’m reading Morning Star.

Yeah, and Darrow is escaping from a prison where he was nearly starved to death. Inspector, I’m empty of a conscience, too, with how I’ve been writing these days. Seriously. There’s money and time, which I have none of, which explains my exhaustion, Inspector Echo.

But Virgil has needs. Food, finding meds, and friendship. Living for Braxton’s Benjamins, Virgil’s Vittles.

1270 Days Without B III, Day 711 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 021 ~Money Is A Man’s Makeup~

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Phone, Wallet, Keys? But there is money in the wallet. There’s “my” glasses. I look in the mirror, and… that’s uglier than what I put in “my” story. I’d be pretty enough with a dog like Braxton and a good girl. But “Money Is A Man’s Makeup”

Monday, July 22, 2024

Meditation 021 ~Money Is A Man’s Makeup~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Third Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Much like Donald Trump’s face. You’ll have to forgive me. One more week of Trump pics… Eww! But what if I could break the rules that confine me, like the societal norms that dictate my actions, Madam?

If only I could be that much of a grifter. Or if I had thought to use my son, Braxton. I don’t share his and Virgil’s faces to make a buck. I shared Braxton’s pictures because I miss my boy. When it comes to Virgil, it’s so everyone knows that he’s still alive. A miracle?

Madam Justice, all it takes is money, and I had so much of that today, Thursday, July 11, 2024. So if I’m telling you that, by the time you read this, I’m out trying to make a lot more, Madam. And today, between Maxxxine, Moments of “Pleasure” and a Manuscript.

Madam, we’ll get to that. But my son and my boy, Braxton and Virgil. They’re not just my “sons.” They’re the only things that showed that I’m a good person…

But when have I ever cared about that? As I was watching Maxxxine today… Maxine Minx is an adult actress who wants to go mainstream and gets hired for a horror flick. I went in the other direction. I figured I could do poetry. And again, it wasn’t for money. It was to break free from the societal expectations that bind me. Vis-a-vis love, no…

Madam, “What you won’t do, do for love.” I thought to erase my face behind pretty words. Where did that get me? The Dean, the DEA, I’m sure “Beelzebub has a Devil put aside for me.” What I’m trying to say is this. If I got in trouble for words I thought were sweet, why not write the horrors, harems, and horrible desires? I could become the monster everyone sees.

But I could hide, become, and dare I say it? LIVE if I had money! Money is the root of all evil. So, let it grow all around me. My garden of Eden to shield everyone from The Tree of Knowledge. That being what I am. I’m starting to sound like one of those people.

Madam, in the end, we’re all hiding who we are anyway. Anybody with money is only prettying themselves up. But then again, Braxton and Virgil never have a dime, Madam. My boys are handsome. Only yeah, I’m paying their way. With what eighteen bucks? Ha!

The world is so ugly at the moment. Like my new manuscript and the software I got. My Glow-Up? Hmm. Money Is A Man’s Makeup

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

1268 Days Without B III, Day 709 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 020 ~AI, B, And V~

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Last Sunday was better… Did I really just say that? The only Sunday I remember every second of was Sunday, January 31, 2021. And why do I want to relive that one? Braxton’s Last Day. Every day after that is like “The Matrix.” “AI, B, And V”

Sunday, July 21, 2024

Meditation 020 ~AI, B, And V~

To Will:
It’s the Man In The Mirror… And I’m sorry, but I have no hope for your future. An opinion or fact. You’re breathing.

But what’s worse… Say it with me now. Braxton Is Gone! I understand the weight of his absence and its burden on you. Breathing is not just a punishment for you but a reminder of what you’ve lost. And what is mine? It’s the knowledge that I may not have adequately prepared you for the challenges of this new week. Well, yes and no. We’ll get to that soon. Are you feeling Overwhelmed? Weak? Afraid?

What’s this talk about AI? I know it’s been a source of temptation for days. I had a dream about Braxton after I finished making mistakes last week. Or you had a dream. It’s all the same. When did I sleep… That’s not the point.

Anyway, in the dream, you or I were reliving Braxton’s last day before his… Euthanasia. That’s nothing new. January 31 repeats every day. But in the dream, there was a device capable of experiencing it. Repeating like Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE VIEWING The Hardest Goodbye: Navigating Pet Loss and Grief, Nel Mead
    Completed
  2. I WILL BE VETTING Pictures, My Braxton’s Life Story
    Failed
  3. I WILL BE VENDING Gulp: Poetry Book
    Failed
  4. I WILL BE VOWING To Keep Pants On (Day 000, No Fap). Real Girls Are An Exception
    Failed (Day 000 No Fap)
  5. I WILL BE VALUING My Flesh Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
    Failed
  6. I WILL BE VALIANT Being The Man My Son Thinks I Am
    Failed

Ok, yes, I screwed these up for you, back to the device. You think you want to repeat the worst day of your entire existence. The day that B III died. The pain of watching your son die… Again, again!

Yeah, instead of studying artificial intelligence, you learned torture methodology and the different circles of Hell. And if I had focused on the pain last night, I wouldn’t have been in my pants messing around. Queen Complex’s Scooby-Doo Velma is all I will say about that. Some effing Yabbos! And please don’t go looking for pictures or showing them off.

Oh, like your creations or writing? How much of that can you say is yours? The things we find out by accident. AI art and you failing Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE VIEWING The Refraction of Mr. Saturn…?
  2. I WILL BE VETTING Pictures, My Braxton’s Life Story
  3. I WILL BE VENDING Gulp: Poetry Book
  4. I WILL BE VOWING To Keep Pants On (Day 000, No Fap). Real Girls Are An Exception
  5. I WILL BE VALUING My Flesh Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
  6. I WILL BE VALIANT Being The Man My Son Thinks I Am

You’ve already failed #6. Do you see what time it is? And #4 started over at midnight. Again, the sweet temptation. So can you go the whole week? I have doubts. One more week is pretty empty. And what are you doing with it? With the one after… well, you’ll have more cash. On Saturday, I spent a little money and didn’t even get anything crucial. And do you know why? Virtual Insanity or something.

There’s a difference between living and existing. Braxton was/is real. Little Virgil is artificial intelligence. Or he might as well be. A little robot. That is, until he’s sick all over the place. And my advice to you. Don’t be one of the dead, artificial, a shadow. Hold space. AI’s easier… AI, B, And V

1267 Days Without B III, Day 708 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 019 ~Virgil’s B In Shop~

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Let’s talk shop. I never took it in school. I took “Math in Society.” As with any other Math class, it was a fail. As for “keeping the books…” I need to keep V from dying, like his predecessor. And the house? I’m the one breaking. Virgil’s B In Shop.

Saturday, July 20, 2024

Meditation 019 ~Virgil’s B In Shop~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now… Which means I can pay people to do… I don’t know, whatever. Resurrection, Repair, and Rough…

Better to keep that thought to myself and talk about Braxton. AGAIN!? Always and forever. But the tears in my eyes aren’t for him at the moment. I’m tired, Lunalesca. It’s Saturday at 5:30 AM, and I haven’t showered or shaved. What about the novel?

Braxton’s two novels are sitting around here someplace. And there’s “Sofía’s Nightmare” to work on… But instead, I’m recapping Succubus Lord 2. It is as if I’m retelling some sweet little fairytale. To think, two years ago, “my” fairytales included a resurrection. Or rather, the reincarnation of my son. And then finding Virgil. Lunalesca, neither Braxton nor Virgil look a thing like Jesus. But I’m not shopping for the spirit, something to stay awake. And then something to do with a nice pair of yabbos.

Should I even get a girl over? There are so many things here that need fixing. And other than a lightbulb… Yeah, I’m useless. Speaking of which, I need another lightbulb for the kitchen. And that’s after replacing the one above the stairs. No, I don’t fear death, Lady Lunalesca. If it gets me a step closer to my boy. But to leave V behind… And what about turning forty? It’s part of my routine. Something I can’t fix inside my head. And my heart?

Inquire about my life goals. And short of bringing Braxton back, it would be to never leave this bed again. But would you look at the time? It’s time to learn… “To Be A Man.”

Careless Whisper is today’s song…

Well, Lady Lu, it was the first song that came to mind. To think. I can groove to such songs as Careless Whisper, Moondust, and My Love. Yet as I keep making my shopping list: my son’s life, lightbulbs, and add to it getting blown like Careless Whisper’s Saxophone. Ok.

So, ideas and suggestions. How about ones that don’t have to do about the story I’m writing? Will I even get to any of that today? Yesterday, I bought Cherry’s short story. But, of course, I had less than honorable intentions there. And for a dollar. Oh, and I was shopping around on OnlyFans, too. I cried. Took a ten-minute catnap. And tried not to co… Anyway. Virgil’s the only one who is “fixed” around here. Virgil’s B In Shop

1266 Days Without B III, Day 707 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 016 ~Virgil, Better B Treatable~

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After V’s morning business, I’ll have a cappuccino and an aspirin… What? It beats an energy shot. I haven’t had one in weeks. Simoleons, ducketts, Dollar, dollar bills, y’all. Then V got sick. But good night’s sleep. “Virgil, Better B Treatable”

Wednesday, July 17, 2024

Meditation 016 ~Virgil, Better B Treatable~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. It all starts with waking up in the morning. I’m not a Bible thumper, but I’m a sinner. I carry a guilt with me every day, a burden I can’t seem to shake. Not ever! My everlasting shame.

As for what I’ve done wrong, it varies from day to day. Let’s start with the worst thing I’ve ever done. 1263 days ago, I watched my firstborn son, my fur buddy, my Braxton, die.

I have to remind myself of that sometimes Inspector Echo. Remind myself? How dare I!

And what about the living? Virgil is right here beside me for once. It’s time to reset that sign to 0 days without painting the floors with… You don’t even want to know E. Eww!

Stomach stew galore. And once again, I was down on my knees. But I wasn’t praying as I once had for Braxton. 704 days with Virgil, and if he were to leave me now, Inspector…

Honestly, I don’t know… Feelings. I’m lost in a sea of emotions and can’t seem to find my way out. I need your understanding and guidance, my dear Inspector Echo.

Even sitting here with Virgil, I need only think of my Braxton Barks if I want to cry. But Inspector, ask me what Virgil gets. I’m tired. And I’m listening to instrumentals. Because I don’t have any words for Virgil. Yesterday was the most attention I’ve paid him in about a week. Between the Simoleon situation, “my story” (I’m trying), and my usual “adult” shenanigans.

Yeah, it usually involves some young woman’s YABBOS. However, the pair I’m currently worried about are M Anime’s. Well, wasn’t that disrespectful? I have to pull myself out of that Nightmare of hers. Or, excuse me, Sofía’s Nightmare. Somebody said something about getting over a woman by turning her into literature. And fur buddies… Maybe.

“There are only three things to be done with a woman. You can love her, suffer for her, or turn her into literature.” Lawrence Durrell

No wonder I got inspired.

One woman got me to blog again. Cherry got a novel trilogy. Braxton got his name in over a thousand blog posts and two more novels. M Anime has around 6,000 words at the moment. If I were to ever lose Braxton’s Aunt… who knows? Virgil has a blank slate.

Inspector, I had to do all the cleaning after he got “down with the Sickness.” And now, with a good night’s sleep, all I can do is complain about not getting to nap. So, okay.

Inspector, we’ve established that I’m no good, and no amount of sleep is enough. I’m exhausted, both physically and emotionally. I need your support now.

Because there’s no medicine for what I have. Even when I had my son. How about a ‘super’ girl? Several Simoleons? Virgil, Better B Treatable.

1263 Days Without B III, Day 704 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will