Saga 262 ~Your Punchline Means My Punches~

I’m going to break a hand someday. Will it be on the shower tile, a Day Job locker, or will I finally go all out? Everything happens for a reason. When my ears were stopped up, and I couldn’t hear people’s jokes? Your Punchline Means My Punches.

Monday, March 20, 2023

Saga 262 ~Your Punchline Means My Punches~

Two-Hundred and Eighty-Forth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now. And hopefully, I don’t get as raw-dogged as all the others. Always practice safe sex, guys ha-ha.

Why am I laughing? For all the people that make fun of me, you know who’s the worst. I think Taylor Swift had it right “It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me.” Braxton’s knowledge. That’s why he would stomp on my head every morning. Oh, look, here’s my tears for this morning. All I have to do is remember that his purpose was to protect, save, and love. And if punching me in the face with those little legs did the trick. Well, then do it. My Braxton. While I’m all in a musical mood, “It’s no surprise to me, I am my own worst enemy.” Braxton protected me from bullies. The two biggest being my old man and me.” The mirror Madam… SIGH

Nah! “I’ll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror.” Hah! Do I not want to eff Taylor Swift anymore? Trust me, Madam. We’ll get to that. Trump was staring at the sun. He’s one sad joke. But I’m usually up before the sun. Even if it’s not at 4AM as I planned. Now if I were a better man, I would change “sun” to “son.” Braxton’s eyes served as a mirror. Only within them, I saw a much better man. Somebody I wanted to be. Not now. Every day if I don’t start the day thinking, “my son is dead,” it’s, “I’ll join him, my B III.” It wouldn’t be a punch in the gut to anyone. Then again, no more jokes.

Punchlines! And here’s another one, Madam. The phone has become the sun. Oh, the light. And I spend at least a half hour punching at the bedsheets. Wayward dick Madam. Staring at orbs, I want more than any sun. Those are called breasts, tits, yabbos, fun bags, dirty pillows, etc. To think of such a release Madam. But instead, I get so angry. Please! Not at women. It’s the fact that I have to punch into the Day Job, and for what now, hmm? It was wanting to throw punches in that Hell. Even after saying the comedian is dead. Myself. But no! I let those bastards’ punchlines go unpunched, and Braxton paid the price. Virgil’s no joke, me neither. Your Punchline Means My Punches

778 Days Without B III, Day 219 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,

Log 157 ~Will’s Rey Of Sunshine~

I swear I was all over the place today, still getting high off of Cherry Blossom fumes, the only thing Star Wars has ever done wrong by me, have me daydreaming about Rey instead of paying attention to anything else. “Will’s Rey Of Sunshine”

Thursday, December 5, 2019

Log 157 ~Will’s Rey Of Sunshine~


Come In Dirty Diana,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but that’s still not enough to build a Death Star for myself. FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, yes, I fully intend to live up to that warning today. Thursday is supposed to be a good day, but please allow me to get some things off my chest. First, someone honked at me this morning, no big deal, right? Well, I gave the driver the finger for starters. Of course, as I was going up the hill, I saw the sun and from one wrong moment to the next SIGH. I thought of the Basic Bitch, oh I dropped some Cherry Blossom candle mess at the Day Job. Finally, I again sucked, being the boss, but okay enough.

If you’re a Star Wars Fan as you know, I am, well Rey is hot as Hell. I could also tell you a few stories about Rei Hino from Sailor Moon (Homer Drool). You know, should I blame Rey for dropping that Cherry Blossom stuff today? Yes, I’m trying to be positive, but that’s yet another thing. For example, I said hi to a girl, and she said I scared her; I mean, it was only the surprise of it all. I should let this stuff go, I know, and it sounds easy enough to do Dirty Diana. Still, I’m damned either way, so why bother? Is that what today’s about, comparison, something like Kaori Saeki vs. Maejima Kaori. Now that takes me back, remember my Girls of the Week. Only I’ve stuck with this blog two years longer, something to be proud of some.

For the record, though, I’m still a brunette fan. I even told Brook Logan that. “Adult Supervision Required – Scene 2” yep that broke my NO FAP streak. Which I honestly must get back to somehow. Complaints never stop, do they? I read somewhere when you quit; your voice gets deeper. Dammit if I go to McDonald’s one more time, and someone calls me Ma’am again? It’s also not helping that I got that Hot For The Holidays novel. I’m not even close to finishing the book I have. How can I justify going to see the new Star Wars movie with sexy Rey at all? Looking for the sunshine, hell look at what time it is; Day Job’s killing me.

Other than FUCK, well Diana, where’s Will’s Rey Of Sunshine?

I Will Have No Fear

Lesson 181 ~Read Me, Read You~

Sometimes we get to read and sometimes we are the ones whose words do something, anything, not that I have been doing much of either; yeah what else would I call 26 books and a 50,000-word novel right? Read Me, Read You.

Friday, December 29, 2017

Lesson 181 ~Read Me, Read You~

Hey Lady Sophia,
No Fear because you will know exactly where to find me, or at least where I wish you would see me because I can be a pretty scary guy and not just in fiction strangely enough. As the saying goes, sticks and stones will break my bones but words, well don’t get me started on words, according to the date I found myself writing July 3rd again.

That’s where you’ll find me getting upset with “her” words after leaving my own, and then writing more, baring myself and simultaneously burying myself deeper and deeper. Just one more girl who hates me and I’m sure I’ll find another one next year, my fingers much like my tongue need only focus on survival and nothing else, like saying what I feel because that’s usually wrong. One of the mysteries of life perhaps, if you put your foot in your mouth what do you do with your fingers, oh yeah maybe I should stop that.

Speaking of which, according to Goodreads you’ll find me in the erotica section, fourteen out of twenty-five and that’s from my reading group, and I don’t even talk to those people, to be honest, Lady Sophia. Of the people I do talk to, seven more are some authors that only wanted a review; sometimes I get the feeling that I’m just some tool, again these fingers of mine I should be doing anything else to keep busy isn’t that right? Which leaves four, two trying to make something of myself, one was a reread, and another I read for the joy of reading, and people wonder why we don’t read anymore, the pleasure, the rapture.

Sometimes I find that in my writing and when is the last time I focused on that; not since Nanowrimo, so January is going to be one hell of a month isn’t it, I barely survived November, and I had to pound a 5-hour ENERGY to be here with you today. I honestly need to do more writing, and I would call that a new year’s resolution but also a simple statement of fact truthfully.

Last but not least I hope you’ll find me there unafraid, of censorship, of knowing myself, and maybe not alone… “hope” like “love” is another word I should know how to define; a girl that can Read Me, Read You.

I Will Have No Fear

Lesson 174 ~My Name In Lights~

I just don’t want my story used in some horrific real-life tale… ok who am I trying to kid, I want the infamy of the Marquis de Sade but Christmas, it’s just another day and making a wish list *sigh*. “My Name In Lights”

Friday, December 22, 2017

Lesson 174 ~My Name In Lights~

Hey Lady Sophia
No Fear, my name isn’t Rudolph, Santa Claus, or even Jack Skellington, it’s Will; don’t worry it’s also hard for me to remember sometimes or not to be ashamed of it. Being ashamed though would explain a lot, why I haven’t been working on two of the books I’ve done, be it the content, the potential of success or failure, or just particular people knowing, maybe, possibly.

Anyway, oh right, it’s nearly Christmas, and I haven’t made an Impossible, Immoral, Illegal, Insane list, so my Christmas wishes:

1. I want my name lit up it book signings, I mean years living under fluorescents, people asking for signatures.

2. The light in my girlfriend/wife/submissive’s when I come home; I don’t want to say bitch but dog level excitement.

3. Speaking of someone to come home to, a place I genuinely consider home and not just some housesitting honestly.

4. Candlelit dinners and bedrooms, and not just a bedside lamp or a TV, moments I can’t wait to see.

5. A morning I where I want to be awake but still not leave my bed because I got love.

6. Never thought of myself as a pornstar, but yeah I want to make a sex tape a life goal.

7. Gunfire, though that sort of death is too easy for some people, so torturing some people and filming it.

8. I want to be full of creativity always, bright lightbulbs in my mind; I need the darkness and light.

9. I want my name in the whispers, moans, screams of Jennifer Lawrence, Shailene Woodley, and Chloë Grace Moretz simultaneous.

10. The day I burn this motherfucker to the ground and have enough money to buy… damn my censorship sadly.

Maybe that’s something else I should ask for, the courage to say what I want in the light of my blog, MINE but hell I would settle for one solid day of work in the light of day. Isn’t that what I always do, which is a reason why I’m not too impressed with the colors of Christmas, not anyone.

The spotlight though is no guarantee, I’ve seen the brightest stars begin to flicker with one misspoken word, they can be even worse than a sex scandal, right? Does anyone need to hear my story, see My Name In Lights?

I Will Have No Fear

Lesson 167 ~Can Robots Write Stories~

Robots telling my stories might be a million times better than not finishing and letting people get a hold of it, hell people might never get a hold of it in the traditional sense, since I’m so lazy in writing these days. Can Robots Tell Stories

Friday, December 15, 2017

Lesson 167 ~Can Robots Write Stories~

Hey Lady Sophia,
No Fear, I bleed plenty both on the page and the real deal, and before coming to meet you something else was as hard as steel though I kept the logic not to do anything… okay, so I could be a robot. A pervert, a depraved lunatic, a porn snob but I don’t feel like a robot because I would honestly be on time for something other than The Last Jedi movie.

How much time it must have taken to write such a tale, not to mention the similar histories, theories, what if motifs, I could go on and on and then again maybe not because I have been asleep most of the day. How about the fact that my brand of storytelling or perhaps my inspiration is going to be a high price to pay, considering all this Net Neutrality foolishness that has become so suffused with everyday life. Can I be blamed for not taking my work to print at this time as this Lady Sophia, another excuse I think?

Just like my lack of energy, if only I could run off sunlight. I sleep so many days away without a second thought or a third, not even a fourth. Still, I hear my story echoing in my mind like some incredible “Force.” If I hadn’t mentioned it before, like all this week I went to see Star Wars: The Last Jedi, spoiler alert, can you say love triangle? Not me, I’m too busy building brothels in my dreams, and I thought this whole, “kick” that I’m on was supposed to give a person more energy, at this rate why am I saving that last 5-hour ENERGY, I need help.

No, I need to stop claiming myself to be this Marquis de Sade aficionado, concerned citizen of the world, how about lazy as and just write. Even at work when I told my boss I couldn’t stay later I did so, and for what, I remembered “you put your hand on the plow, you finish the row” but what the hell does that mean to my ambitions and my dreams?

How about the tales dead men tell or don’t for that matter and neither do sleepy, lazy ones, flesh and bone should beat metal, but by the time I ever finish, Can Robots Tell Stories.

I Will Have No Fear