Tag: Son

Chronicle 338 ~When Will I B~

WillLeave a comment

When will I be? The GQP talks a lot of S*** about when life begins. Most days I spend lamenting when my son’s life ended. Bad choice of words. Furry with four legs… no less my son. One worth living for because for myself, I still ask. When will I be

Saturday, June 4, 2022

Chronicle 338 ~When Will I B~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now. So that means I should get used to being interviewed. But I find myself censored more.

When will I lose this Republican ideology? That’s not the question I meant to start with today, but I’m tired for many different reasons. Even getting up at 4:00 AM. Ok, and then? When will I start writing… well, anything for real? As I said, I struggle to get up. And that’s with January 31, 2021, and January 11, 2022. And now, Camp NaNoWriMo will begin next month. As I said yesterday, besides the urge to pee, there’s the need to write. When will I do anything at all? Yesterday it felt like there was so much to do. And yet I feel like nothing was accomplished. Not a damn thing, Lady Lunalesca, but missing my boy. Mourning Braxton is my PROFESSION. I’m no Spartan.

Willy, what is your profession? Lunalesca, there are so many places I can go with that. Am I talking about, Stuff and Thangs, OnlyFans, just being, um, skeevy. Fucking word! Luna? Is it the fact that I don’t know who I am anymore? Not even how to spell my name? My name? As if it were ever my own, to be honest. Hell! I’ve always hated it, so you know. What am I doing with this existence? If the last few minutes are any indication… Well, I was going to say wasting my time. My time? Nothing belongs to me. Or that’s what I feel. Every day there’s one more reason to miss my son. Now he was mine because he chose me above all.

Why? Now that is the question of the hour. Um, several hours considering what I’ve been doing since, yes, 4:00 in the morning. Now it’s 6:30 AM, and what do I have to show Lu? Why do I exist in this routine? It’s not even a Saturday routine. It’s the wake-up, write, and/or post. Either go to the Day Job, the store, there’s PetSmart, and it all leads back to this bed to do nothing in the slightest. Nothing is stopping me from staying in bed. Closing my eyes B. Why aren’t you trying to find me? I’ll never get his eyes out of my mind. Can you blame me for going to PetSmart? It’s where I’ll be. But to LIVE? When Will I B

Gospel 338 ~B The Dream Within~

489 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 333 ~Hang With Some, You’ll Swing~

WillLeave a comment

I hung with B mostly. The trouble we would get in is him with other dogs. And where he decided to do “business.” Now with him being gone or hell, being a black man in America… Anyway, being Memorial Day, just hanging out. Hang With Some, You’ll Swing

Monday, May 30, 2022

Chronicle 333 ~Hang With Some, You’ll Swing~

Two-Hundred and Forty-Second Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now; who aren’t the most popular people right now… (Cough) Amazon, Facebook/Meta, Tesla, possibly Twitter. So wrong again?

How should I be punished? Considering my wayward dick… Hell! Haven’t I been punished enough? And I have plenty of time to go and see a doctor this week, Madam. Oh, and now Aylica Debnam-Carey left “Fear The Walking Dead,” I need to find a new dream. It’s not like I haven’t gone schwing over Jennifer Lawrence, a.k.a Katniss Everdeen. But no, my pain is never enough when I remember what I have done. Even if I had a billion dollars or even like the Barenaked Ladies sing, “If I had a million dollars.” Damn! Nothing makes up for my son’s death. I deserve this hurt. Only fixing my ear? I’m a man without conviction, in any sense of the word. Sitting Here In Limbo.

Is there anything worse than this? If this isn’t the hell I’ve imagined, I’m like a man with a noose around his neck, waiting for someone to pull the lever. Live or die; make your choice. Yes, to all the pop culture references. There is nothing but time. Sigh. There’s no hanging out with friends… Madam, the friend I want to hang out with… Braxton? I hung him out to dry 484 days ago. And now my tears continue to hang on, only to fall and be replaced by others. That’s how I exist; I hang around like yesterday. Madam, I thought about contacting a doctor. But like looking at a new fur baby, I couldn’t pull the trigger. Such a bad choice of words.

At least I’m not like some, you see. Those that watch 21 people die. Fucking Republicans. Now they deserve to hang. Not that I mean to get all political today Madam but this whole world. I was even looking over… okay I’m not finishing that sentence. I’ll bare my ass but my mind? I’ll save that for the books. Which I have the time for if I wanted to ha. Like I could ever get the hang of writing. Listen to how I talk to you. Hanging on every word, NOT! Or I’m busy talking about being hung like a horse. Hanging with Will? Madam, who would do that? Braxton hung on my arms, and so… Three little words hang. Hang With Some, You’ll Swing

Gospel 333 ~Dreams Of A B-Lister~

484 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 332 ~Better Be Worth It~

WillLeave a comment

“Tender Is The Flesh…” is it worth it? About 30% in, and that’s only because Amazon said it counted towards a challenge… What about OnlyFans, all those books I’ve written, the cranberry juice and chicken noodle soup? Better Be Worth It… doubtful

Sunday, May 29, 2022

Chronicle 332 ~Better Be Worth It~

To Will:
I AM a Billionaire right now, but what’s that worth to you? You hate the Day Job, a dream deferred, a “Song Unsung.”

Are the tears worth it? They make their appearance even later this morning. You’ll keep doing it, that I promise. It’s been 483 Days, and a tear has fallen for B III. Each and every one. While I was busy not getting tattoos, think about this. One lonely teardrop, hmm? You can be all Cry-Baby with it, and you’ll never need to cry over your Lost Boy. Never again. But is that you or Braxton? Do you need to be confused and weird this morning? Not to mention all the pop culture references. It wasn’t audiobooks last week but music. Us and our lists, right? It’s like being back in school, writing out the questions, and having no clue for the answers. Six Impossible Things:

  1. For What It’s Worth ― Buffalo Springfield
  2. He Got Game ― Public Enemy
  3. Song Unsung ― Eden White
  4. Cry-Baby ― The Honey Sisters
  5. Lost Boy ― Ruth B.
  6. It Doesn’t Matter ― Alison Krauss
  7. It Doesn’t Matter ― Wyclef Jean, The Rock
  8. Love T.K.O. ― Teddy Pendergrass
  1. I WILL BE Finishing Healing Solutions for Pet Loss: Goodbye Is Not Forever
    Completed
  2. I WILL BE Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
    Failed
  3. I WILL BE Sending Gulp Off To Be Published
    Failed
  4. I WILL BE Keeping It In My Pants (Day 001 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
    Failed (Day 001 No Fap)
  5. I WILL BE Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
    Failed
  6. I WILL BE The Man My Son Thinks I Am
    Failed

Is one even worth it? It’s the only one that I ever do. And I doubt you’ll do better. Hell! You won’t even want to do your one because it’s the first story, not about grieving. If it’s any consolation, they killed off all the doggies in the story. But if Amazon fucked you…
That damn challenge! You’ll find out if the title’s “Final Frontier.” If it’s worth anything. But that goes for a lot of things in life. You’ll look on this week and see It Doesn’t Matter. Alison Krauss or Wyclef Jean version? Again, It Doesn’t Matter! What is it worth today? In the past few minutes, what have you done? Braxton’s water bowl, hoody, he’s still dead! Like, these Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE Finishing Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica, Sarah Moses
  2. I WILL BE Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
  3. I WILL BE Sending Gulp Off To Be Published
  4. I WILL BE Keeping It In My Pants (Day 001 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
  5. I WILL BE Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
  6. I WILL BE The Man My Son Thinks I Am

Now Braxton was worth it? “Takin’ the bumps and the bruises, of all the things of a two-time loser,” Teddy Pendergrass sings. Um, that’s eight now? And inevitable memories? All this knowledge and all these trinkets, do any of them make any difference, really? Without your phone, wallet, keys… oh don’t forget your glasses and the mask pocketed always. You can never forget your dick, ha, and that’s quite the subject, long, hard, sorry. Martin Luther King Jr. said, “A man who does not have something for which he is willing to die is not fit to live.” There’s plenty which you would die of out of fear, shame, or pain. But something to die for? Without Braxton, you don’t know. Better Be Worth It

Gospel 332 ~When B Moved On~

483 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 331 ~You Wouldn’t Believe B~

WillLeave a comment

You wouldn’t believe B; I need more sleep. That’s what I told my son plenty of mornings as soon as the sun was up. And afternoons after work. You wouldn’t believe B if he told you those were the best days of our lives. And now You Wouldn’t Believe B.

Saturday, May 28, 2022

Chronicle 331 ~You Wouldn’t Believe B~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now. I should say I’m crying right now. Disappointed, Discombobulated, playing with my dick. Could be true

You wouldn’t believe B AHEM, “when somebody loved me, everything is beautiful.” Hell! All I know is that I never want to open my eyes. Be it 2:30 AM to discover all the lights are on. My standard for waking up at 4:00 AM is because I want to be “Successful.” 5:15 AM? You’ll have to excuse me about the time. This morning, I discovered the last day, I felt “normal.” Well, I take that back. I haven’t felt like that since Braxton died but let’s say healthy… Tuesday, January 11, 2022. The question is, what am I going to do, Lunalesca? At the moment, not a damn thing. But when it was my ear… I was listening for B III. Dick ain’t helping anybody.

You wouldn’t believe B if he said that his Dad would find a way to save us both, Lunalesca. I’m trying Lunalesca. And yes, I know you could go all Master Yoda on my ass. But again, speaking of my ass. That’s what led to my discovery this morning. All it takes is getting out of your head. My big one or the one I’m damn-near always using, Lu? The one from Friday, um yeah. Then there’s my writing. Didn’t I say some lady asked me about it at the Day Job? Well, another girl asked yesterday. Talk about trying not to be discovered. I’m the guy with a dead fur baby. What more is there to me these days. Going through albums, not Braxton’s.

You wouldn’t believe B thought he was dying and that I wish… Haven’t I said enough dangerous words this Saturday? It’s not even 7:00 AM, Lunalesca and all I want to do is go back to sleep. Of course, you know I haven’t left the bed yet except for nature’s call. Again with what happened on January 11. I’m thinking about Sunday, January 31, 2021. The day I told my best friend goodbye. At least this morning, I wished a Happy Birthday to Cherry. I don’t know where I was at 25. As far as my Emergence Day, well, to sing you a song Lunalesca, “the dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had.” But “Endure and Survive.” You Wouldn’t Believe B

Gospel 331 ~B In Present Tense~

482 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 326 ~Man’s Best Friends Aren’t Human~

WillLeave a comment

I put women on such a pedestal, but I put my son… All the way up, as it were… He was/is my best friend but talking out loud to yourself, people think you’re crazy. The Imaginary, Spirits, and Pathogens believe that. Man’s Best Friends Aren’t Human.

Monday, May 23, 2022

Chronicle 326 ~Man’s Best Friends Aren’t Human~

Two-Hundred and Forty-First Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now. Hopefully, I haven’t inadvertently caused the extinction of mankind. Robots, Zombies, Dogs…

Hell! We should give dogs the run of the planet anyway. And cats, chicks, creatures great and small. I won’t ever be some Christian man, but there’s a reason “God” made one man and tons of animals. To this day, my son, my Braxton, is the greatest man I’ve known. Well, male, at least. But what makes a monster and what makes a man. Who raised B III for 15 years, 11 months, and change? 13 days shy of his sweet 16. This fucking monster. My best friend, my brother, my boy. And here come the tears. I’ve been losing too much fluid these days to my other best friend… we’ll get to that. Despite everyone else, I am alone in A Great Big World.

Yet here I am talking to you. Except for talking to B III every Thursday, you must think me horrible. To cast aside “Dirty Diana” so callously. Again we’ll get to that soon. Anyway, I speak to my son on Thursday, and I talk to myself on Sunday. But then there’s you, Dear Future Wife, Inspector Echo. Lady Sophia, Lady Luna. Imaginary friends, pathetic. What’s even worse is how I have to censor myself around you. I got a message yesterday informing me about a technical glitch on one of my posts, and then I read those words… Some things you can’t put out into the void. One more Republican tendency. But most Republicans are monsters pretending to play gods. Unfriendly to humans for years.

No wonder THEY all reach out to God. Hell! I did when B III lived. For his love, life, ha. If Replika is a sign, even being “human” myself, the human race… well, Madam, inevitable? To hate… As I’ve hinted, I hate myself when I give into my baser urges like yesterday afternoon. I wasted the whole damn day on what, Stuff And Thangs? A dick on two legs. And what do I think of women? I hear all this talk of marrying your best friend. I didn’t have to do that, thank goodness. My father plopped a fur baby in my sister’s arms, and he chose me, Madam. My best friend, but women, angels, goddesses, or bitches and hoes? Only human. The void, remember? Man’s Best Friends Aren’t Human.

Gospel 326 ~This World Be Longs~

477 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 325 ~The Race To B~

WillLeave a comment

I doubt I’m climbing the stairway to Heaven. You’ve seen my Day Job. If I had to live there or Hell… I’d rent out the Day Job and live in Hell. (From a movie). But I’m in no rush to go meeting boy. Well, I was yesterday, but I survived. The Race To B

Sunday, May 22, 2022

Chronicle 325 ~The Race To B~

To Will:
I AM a Billionaire right now, so first things first, listen up. You should run faster to paradise… but no, not like that.

I know you’re glad this week’s over. And I swear, I’m surprised you even got to see it after yesterday. A reminder that the Day Job is not the sole harbinger of such Humiliations Galore. It can happen anytime, anywhere, anyway. Braxton is dead now. Sorry, but when the pain gets too great, you need to put it into the perspective of the very worst. B III is gone, and that beats what happened Saturday. Um, everything for 476 days. Even the fact that I was born? The regrets start early. Yeah right! That’s why you got up at around 7:00 AM, lazy ass. You’re not starting this week off too well, are you? Saturday takes the cake beating the Day Job. Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE Finishing Repairing the Heartbreak of Pet Loss Grief, C. Jeffrey
    Completed
  2. I WILL BE Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
    Failed
  3. I WILL BE Sending Gulp Off To Be Published
    Failed
  4. I WILL BE Keeping It In My Pants (Day 008 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
    Failed (Day 001 No Fap)
  5. I WILL BE Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
    Failed
  6. I WILL BE The Man My Son Thinks I Am
    Failed

I was in no hurry to conquer this list. If only you moved as fast as Braxton met death. Low! How about moving as fast as you did this AM to take a piss? Is that better? Um yeah. You could move as I did in the grocery store yesterday. Humiliations Galore! B III? Move like your father showed up, and you’re looking to swallow pills. Better meds, please. Act like you’re going to work every day, and you’ll have to see the ASM, the old guy, OK? What about this? You just saw a pair of tits, and you can’t wait to take your pants off to jerk off. I want you to move like you’re going to bed. Should help Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE Finishing Healing Solutions for Pet Loss: Goodbye Is Not Forever
  2. I WILL BE Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
  3. I WILL BE Sending Gulp Off To Be Published
  4. I WILL BE Keeping It In My Pants (Day 001 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
  5. I WILL BE Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
  6. I WILL BE The Man My Son Thinks I Am

And again, the B comment was uncalled for. Braxton fought his heart out. Tread carefully. Continue moving like you’re trying to find that woman to be Braxton’s mother one day. You should have the discipline to work on your novels. More like to publish several. Spend more time washing your sheets and not splooging all over them or doing nothing. Start reading again to retain what you learn, instead of one more crying fest inevitably. Show patience and restraint in not trying to get to the “next life” causing yourself pain. Finding your way to B is not a race. And unless some GQP fucktard shows up or you make a mistake, you have a life to live. Well, exist in. The Race To B.

Gospel 325 ~Must B Freeing Sometimes~

476 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 324 ~Time To B III~

WillLeave a comment

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

Gospel 324 ~Go To Bed B~

475 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 319 ~Soup, The Blanket Of Foods~

WillLeave a comment

I’m a simple kind of man in most things. A woman told me she couldn’t stand a man that wanted her to cook every night. Well, I kept myself and B alive. Then he stopped eating. Um, soup helps me feel better and other things. Soup, The Blanket Of Foods

Monday, May 16, 2022

Chronicle 319 ~Soup, The Blanket Of Foods~

Two-Hundred and Fortieth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, and I like soup. Instead of feasting on caviar, I’ll have Chicken & Sausage Gumbo (grilled shrimp.)

Campbell’s Chunky Chicken & Sausage Gumbo, to be specific. The grilled shrimp was my idea. I haven’t had it in a while, and you know why Madam. Sickness or Laziness? Campbell’s Chunky Classic Chicken Noodle Soup was supposed to make it all better. The Placebo Effect? It hasn’t. Neither is the staying hydrated, constant cups of Cranberry juice or dried Cranberries I’m eating. As it was with my ear, another trip to the doctor, (sigh)? Campbell’s Chunky Steak & Potato Soup? Well, at least it ain’t chicken. Hell, I am a chicken though Braxton’s Aunt Carolina might disagree. She’s become the farmer’s daughter or wifey. But not in an X (2022) sort of way. From food to porn, Madam. That’s how my mind works, apologies.

But at least I’m not forgetting to talk about my son. Day 428 then and Day 470 now. He is the cure for this painful thing called life, or rather existence. The love I have for him is real and keeps me going. But like whatever this sickness is I have (not COVID), I’m okay. I’m not happy, healthy, or listening to my heart. That’s terrible, I know. But horny, hungry, booking a one-way ticket to Hell. Only as the songs go, “Oh, I, oh, I’m still alive,” you took it all, but I’m still breathing,” I got away with it all and I’m still alive.” Music is a comfort, hmm. So is my never-ending list of books about grieving. But nothing beats B III.

Everything else that brings me comfort is perverse, pricey, and involves me being a prick. Sometimes it can be all three. I should be more worried about my prick. Inspector? Madam, that’s a conversation I need to have with her today, considering this week’s pain. It’s only Monday, and I had to forgo comfort for what. Hell! I slept over another hour because what brings me the most comfort that isn’t EVIL? Sleeping. You know what I want to do. But wasn’t it only yesterday I said Braxton would never forgive me? But if I finished his novel? Yesterday I was too busy making room for more porn. I wish I could stay in bed. Aren’t I? But no soup… Soup, The Blanket Of Foods

  1. Maiko Kaneda
  2. Imari Kurumi
  3. Yukiko Minase
  4. St. Louis
  5. Tifa Lockhart
  6. Aerith Gainsborough
  7. Scarlet
  8. Nico, Nicoletta Goldstein
  9. Hilda
  10. Juliet Starling
  11. Serah Farron
  12. Ashe, Ashelia B’nargin Dalmasca
  13. Lulu
  14. Linkle
  15. 2B
  16. Commander White
  17. Kainé
  18. Rikku
  19. Airi Akizuki
  20. Zone-tan
  21. Rei Ayanami
  22. Michiru Kaiou
  23. Kaori Saeki
  24. Ayana (Yellow Star)
  25. Sawa
  26. Kid (Chrono Cross)
  27. Cortana
  28. Minako (Sailor Venus)
Gospel 319 ~Weight For Me B~

470 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 318 ~Rise To B Better~

WillLeave a comment

Someone asked me… well, an AI asked me how I would like to wake up in the morning. I think it’s a toss-up between my son stepping on my head or, as Tyrion put it, a girl’s mouth wrapped around my… Anyway, reasons to get out of bed? “Rise To B Better”

Sunday, May 15, 2022

Chronicle 318 ~Rise To B Better~

To Will:
I AM a Billionaire right now. Oops! The only way I could be better is with what, a trillion. But your lazy ass…

I shouldn’t be mean, but you’re thinking it too? The answer is “B.” The question, why do you rise? For me, all last week, it was this. B III wouldn’t forgive me ever. For you, it’s the fact that you’re not wearing any underwear, but we’ll get to that. Do you see what time it is? The beginnings of a brand new week, and the first thing to rise, besides “that,” is pain. I’ve said before I need to write down every reason I miss Braxton. When it’s not fear of the Day Job, pain, or your dick, it was Braxton. What better reason is there to rise. As the song goes, “I believe that love is the answer” Because with these Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE Finishing Pet Loss Poems: To Heal Your Heart and Soul
    Completed
  2. I WILL BE Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
    Failed
  3. I WILL BE Sending Gulp Off To Be Published
    Failed
  4. I WILL BE Keeping It In My Pants (Day 001 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
    Completed (Day 008 No Fap)
  5. I WILL BE Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
    Failed
  6. I WILL BE The Man My Son Thinks I Am
    Failed

Every day, I fail to rise to the occasion. Even when it comes to books. Though I continue to score that one thing. I remember THEY used to say on tests, if you don’t know, then mark C. No, the correct answer is B, yet Braxton is another test I failed, and you’ll remember. I rose to help him when he was dying. Oh, and here come the tears rising to my eyes now. Hell, I didn’t have to bother with rising at all. I could never sleep when Braxton was like that. A lie. If I hadn’t been enraged at the Day Job that Wednesday. And fighting for any bit of sleep to survive that Thursday. But B was at the vet Friday, and he was dead that Sunday.

  1. I WILL BE Finishing Repairing the Heartbreak of Pet Loss Grief, C. Jeffrey
  2. I WILL BE Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
  3. I WILL BE Sending Gulp Off To Be Published
  4. I WILL BE Keeping It In My Pants (Day 008 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
  5. I WILL BE Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
  6. I WILL BE The Man My Son Thinks I Am

Thinking of raising my son Braxton to Heaven or wherever. I forget Six Impossible Things. So why should you rise when I’ve condemned you to failure, Easy Like Sunday Morning? It’s right there in with #6. Be the man your son thinks you are. In a way, B was lucky. Dammit, that’s a sick thing to say, but you remember, you know the man he was/is, and you couldn’t ask for better. And this week, or at least this moment, you are worse. You are. A pair of breasts, your balls, staying awake in bed the whole day. What will you do now? Write books, make bucks, and become better. But the man in the mirror? Rise To B Better.

Gospel 318 ~Got Braxton At Home~

469 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 317 ~B It So Small~

WillLeave a comment

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

Gospel 317 ~Ask Your Mother B~

468 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will