Tag: The Zoe Colletti/Tifa Lockhart Incident

Meditation 185 ~Braxton’s Promising Rhymes Virgil~

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“This isn’t too bad…” I’d tell B after anything I wrote. B couldn’t read, or could he if his looking down on my t-shirts was a sign. But he’s not looking down on me now… He wants me to follow through with writing. “Braxton’s Promising Rhymes Virgil.”

Thursday, January 2, 2025

Meditation 185 ~Braxton’s Promising Rhymes Virgil~

1432 Days Without B III, Day 873 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I promise to be positive, I promise to be positive, I promise to be positive!

Yes, those are tears in my eyes, B. I’m only tired… mostly. And the day hasn’t even begun yet. Does it start from my first breath at midnight? Does it begin with eyes wide open?

You know we’re coming back to that. The first song you sent this morning, Braxton. Creed’s, With Arms Wide Open. But anyway, we’re talking about how the day begins, B.

Is it when I do something like go to the Day Job? Again, I promise you, little B III, positivity. It could be the day’s beginning, which is actually my DECOMPRESSION. When I give myself fifteen minutes rushing back to bed after I return and Make The World Go Away.

Obviously, with your musical selections today. Tupac, though, “rapped” this. However, with you B:

I feel his (paw) on my brain. When I write rhymes, I go blind and let (my son) do his thang

And speaking of all the music. There are so many things I need to do at the beginning of the year. For example, what will be the first song I play on Spotify? Something positive…

How about something promising? That’s Creed for ya. But you were a “happy” accident when you became my son. I’m sure you knew about your brother before I ever did.

And with Virgil’s Gotcha Day, I need to take off from the Day Job at the end of the month. A day to honor you, my son. And that leads me to what I’ve been thinking of a bit, B.

“What can I do to get me to you?” I swear you know your music as much as I sang. Obviously, that’s Steve Conte’s “Call Me Call Me.” Anything but positive. But I am trying.

And in my quest to make our future bright, I made a promise to you. I promised to become an author, to buy a big house with a massive yard for you to guard. And in this house, we would be so far from the hustle and bustle of the world, except for your honorary aunt. And of course, I promised you two-legged siblings too.

You’d be an Old Man saying, I’m getting too old for this (stuff). Promises, Resolutions. Like Master Yoda, “Do or do not. There is no try.” If… when I succeed in building you Heaven, Paradise, and Elysium, you will return. But positivity… You never left me. Braxton’s Promising Rhymes Virgil

“It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared all the time.” ― Mara, Spontaneous (2020)

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Meditation 184 ~Virgil, Don’t B Negative~

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I’ve tried before. To not complain, be negative, or be pretty darn gross. Good luck with the third. But if I’m not posting, seeing a priority, or paid message, I’m not talking to OF. But how about myself, my son, or Virgil? “Virgil, Don’t B Negative”

Wednesday, January 1, 2025

Meditation 184 ~Virgil, Don’t B Negative~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Oh! And Happy New Year!!! My sin today, Inspector. I won’t be myself. I’ll be someone brand new…

Because I escaped the holiday season without hearing “All I Want for Christmas Is You” in its entirety. Mind you, the first song that came to mind was “The Hardest Button to Button,” Which, as I read now, is about a child in a dysfunctional family with a new baby.

And here I thought it was a message from my Braxton to button up negativity. Or keeping my pants buttoned… I’m glad I didn’t give in last night, Dearest Inspector. It’s been a constant battle, but I’m holding on today.

Speaking of which, the first b$$bs, Yabbos, Copious Cleavage, Titanic Tatas, Supersized Slobberknockers, Majestic Mammaries, and Humongous Headlights! I saw this morning… More like imagined were Cherry’s. And I didn’t break. But this morning’s blessing…

I was able to get out of bed to talk.

But I’m talking to you, give or take a few whispered epitaphs after picking Cherry. Inspector, I couldn’t do anything since New Year’s Eve isn’t too kind on fur buddies. Virgil spent the night pacing before he lay beside me. Can’t say something nice… Right?

But books can. They fill the silence with their stories and characters. And to fill the silence, I’ve tuned into Succubus Lord 3, my friend. I’ll admit it’s a lot more difficult not to say anything sarcastic, saddening, or spicy. Didn’t I talk about Cherry as she told me about the essay she’s written? As I thought of her lovely…

Books? Right? “It Can’t Happen Here” will be my first read of the new year. Plus, I’ve been moving even more into the dystopian genre, dearest Inspector. Laws beating libido…

Because of Trump on Monday, January 20, 2025. Again, today is not one for negativity. So what about Friday, January 31, 2025? A day to honor and remember my Braxton.

Blessed are those who mourn… More like, blessed are those that don’t need the big bucks because I will not be going to the day job then or the next. Oh, Braxton, Lift Me Up…

But I should be doing that for him. I should be doing it for myself. I did it today. That is why we’re talking across the table. And what happens afterward? Braxton and his music.

“You’ve got to put one foot in front of the other. Put your other foot down, down, down.” And not worry… Virgil, Don’t B Negative

1431 Days Without B III, Day 872 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 178 ~B’s Bad Day, Virgil~

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It’s sad to say I had better days when B III was sitting on my head, and I couldn’t breathe. Now I hit the snooze button and hope I’m not breathing in 15. Christmas spirit indeed… Don’t check my “OF.” Such are the times, the days. B’s Bad Day, Virgil

Thursday, December 26, 2024

Meditation 178 ~B’s Bad Day, Virgil~

1425 Days Without B III, Day 866 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? It is 4:10 PM. So my day… Well, I didn’t share it with your brother.

Though Virgil is asleep at the foot of the bed. He still stays off your corner. And your bed, B? I don’t even worry about it. Your scent lingers, Braxton. If Life Finds A Way…

However, there’ll be more on that later. How was my day? It was a bit of a rollercoaster, B. Some parts were horrible, some were terrible, and some were just plain stupid. But I’m here, and I’m thinking of you.

Let’s start with standing in the Walmart parking lot in the rain and thinking weirdly. Usually, they start at the Day Job and come out fully cooked coming back. And speaking of fully cooked, we need to talk about Christmas too. Seeing your grandparents, B.

Anyway. Here is the thought: I’ve never had three good days in a row. Before. With. And even after you. Comedy comes in threes, right? But evil is infinite B…

And you, my son, were my Langolier. Where do I keep getting these nicknames I never called you in life? I swear I should read a Stephen King novel. Not that I regret reading Brave New World, 1984, and apparently the appendix edition of Fahrenheit 451. And I want to waste more money on Satan’s Sorority Girls 8, Ryan and His Beauties 2, and Bikini Sunset. And I still have to read, It Can’t Happen Here” What, a good day?

Again, three good ones in a row. But what counts as a good day in my eyes? One, where I don’t mind opening them. Even if you were sitting on my head. No homo, as Todd would say. One where dropping dead is No Bueno.

But let’s sum up yesterday… I visited your grandparents for Christmas and sat with your great-grandma. I didn’t talk much and let your little brother take the heat. I filled up two to-go boxes… three if you were here and left. Then I took Christmasy pictures, you shouldn’t see. Eww.

And today? I went to the Day Job and had to lead a guy around as we made Christmas disappear and got doused in green glitter. I got hit in the face, my leg is hurting again, and of course, Humiliations Galore. Humiliated at Walmart, robbed, and a nap later…

And here we are. Needless to say, I don’t wanna go to work. Friday is gonna be effed. There’ve been worse. B’s Bad Day, Virgil.

“It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared all the time.” ― Mara, Spontaneous (2020)

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Meditation 177 ~We’ll B Merry Virgil~

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I know how to ruin a holiday. I am my father’s son. And all it took was a message to come *home*. Like my son B, we have peculiar ideas about home. Safe in our warm beds not somewhere over the rainbow or a white Christmas. “We’ll B Merry Virgil”

Wednesday, December 25, 2024

Meditation 177 ~We’ll B Merry Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Oh! And Merry Christmas… But what do I know, seeing as today is the 23rd… 24th, Inspector Echo?

But Gee Whiz, It’s Christmas. So why am I like this today? It’s like I’m my Old Man having to apologize for yelling on Christmas Day. One of the few times he ever did, Echo.

Usually, he would get my Ma to do it. And speaking of my Olds, that’s part of the reason we’re talking this evening. I don’t know what I dread more: getting a call to come home or not. As I lack any other opportunities, I would rather stay here starving.

Inspector, sigh, bed is where I want to be. And you know I can go without food for a bit. And while I won’t discuss what I got for Christmas, there are always my comparisons. Wednesday’s Family vs. Thursday’s Hell.

Better known as having a Day Job. Hey, sometimes I get paid early. As if it matters. Do you see a tree or stockings here? I didn’t even spring for one of those candles that smells like cookies. My Ma regretted that decision one Christmas Eve, my dear Inspector Echo.

The Olds will provide… If I’m not becoming my Old Man. Then you can call me Scrooge, Inspector. And yes, I know this is sad for me and for what Braxton wants for me and his little brother. Braxton’s Aunt, M Anime, Cherry, my Ma, my younger sister, and even my nephews. His heart grew three sizes that day, THEY say. This Grinch, Santa Claus…

Inspector, I didn’t ask Santa to mend my broken heart, the one that shattered when I lost my little Braxton.

I didn’t ask for a lot of things. And if you asked me yesterday… The 23rd. What did I want most of all? I’ll admit I would have been at a loss. But Thursday, December 24, 2024, at 2:44 PM, well… I want to join my son, as I told Dear Future Wife. Braxton’s Life… Inspector, the desire to have my son back never goes away. Then there’s the people!

Inspector, I swear I only wanted to go to the bank, pet store, and, sadly, the gas station so I might acquiesce to my father’s wishes. Unless Santa takes me in my sleep. The North Pole, Ninth Circle, Home… Same difference. Because being merry this week… Christmas Day. Not very bright… We’ll B Merry Virgil

1424 Days Without B III, Day 865 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 171 ~Virgil’s Booking Pain Braxton~

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I haven’t read the books I wrote for or with my son in ages. And the book I’m reading now… It’s going to hurt. I’m preparing for the U.S.A. next year. Remember, Winston was thirty-nine, and I’m forty. No B III, no Julia. Virgil’s Booking Pain Braxton

Thursday, December 19, 2024

Meditation 171 ~Virgil’s Booking Pain Braxton~

1418 Days Without B III, Day 859 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Seeing as how I’m sitting in bed on Wednesday evening. And I’m still counting scars…

Well, different forms of PAIN anyway. Earlier this week, I discussed having a headache, bum ear, and aching leg. You can add a stomachache to the mix. Whether that’s from letting you down, thinking about tomorrow/today, or 1984… It’s all a mess, Braxton. The usual.

But it sucks even more when you know what’s going to happen. Only packing the car with your things hurts more than Winston and Julia being arrested by the Thought Police. That scene… I’m getting into George Orwell’s novel, huh? If I were, I wouldn’t be tearing up today. As always, Braxton, whenever something gets me upset, I think of the worst day of our “lives,” and here I am, still alive. But who knows what horrors tomorrow will bring.

If I were smart, I’d get the Winston and Julia arrest out of the way and focus on the Ministry of Love. It would prepare me for the Day Job. And if only I would publish one of our novels already. Tuesday, M Anime messaged me about, Nightmare At The Meat Market. I was so dedicated to it back in November. And how many stories did you watch me write that amounted to nothing? I last sat at the Dining Room table a few weeks ago. Or even sitting in the recliner reading while listening to some 1984 Ambience, B III. Again, I’ve been reading worse things. The bank account, pill bottles, and a grocery list. I swear that scares me more than my writing.

But what about Virgil’s story. Talk about the Ministry of Love. He comes scrambling out of your room like he’s seen a ghost… Did I say that, Braxton? You haven’t been haunting him as he’s desperate to get in here with me. If he knew how to use training pads.

You’ve seen that he does, but he won’t step into your spot, which brings us back to money and what I should be buying. No, not more dystopian books. Christmas, Harems, Pet Loss, Training, everything under the sun. Like me sleeping at noon every day? What about how to be a better parent? And you’re a Big Brother, aren’t you? But we are the dead.

Not me, but being so brokenhearted. Virgil’s Booking Pain Braxton

“It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared all the time.” ― Mara, Spontaneous (2020)

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Meditation 170 ~There’ll B Suffering B~

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I don’t think I ever told Braxton he was dying. Just that I love him. I never promised Virgil a happy life. And how many women have I ghosted on OnlyFans? What? I ain’t got no money! Only hurting myself or somebody’s pockets. “There’ll B Suffering B”

Wednesday, December 18, 2024

Meditation 170 ~There’ll B Suffering B~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… And no, I’m not talking about sending explicit pics on OnlyFans. Eww! But we’ll get to that soon.

Today, you know what grinds my gears? PAIN. I’m in a little less PAIN than I was yesterday. And tomorrow? You know me, Inspector. Every time I fall asleep, my Christmas wish is I don’t have to wake up. I should work on my Christmas List on Saturday or Tuesday. If I can remember to do so. All I’m trying to remember now are the days without PAIN. And in Part II, Chapter IX, the place where Winston Smith and Julia are finally captured? Eff!

Gird Your Loins! Better yet, keep them in your pants. These days will be painful.

Inspector, nothing is as painful as losing Braxton. Or leaving Virgil alone wherever he is. Braxton’s gone, and I’m sure Virgil has his own aches and pains. I apologize, Inspector.

Only I’ll be doing that always and forever. When it comes to my boys. Sons? “As long as I’m alive, I’ll be carrying your name,” Braxton. That makes me more of a jerk, doesn’t it?

The whole “I don’t want to wake up on my own anymore.” But who could ever love me, Inspector? Well, besides Braxton. Inspector, I’m not going down the loneliness track.

Today, I was only thinking about men being alone… Not like that Echo. There’s Yabbos

Do you remember, girl? Michael Jackson, ha-ha! Anyway, I was compiling a list of men who were all imprisoned and ended up alone from different movies and shows, my dear.

  1. Joe Stevens
  2. Bingham Madsen
  3. #000000014
  4. Clarence
  5. Bernard Marx
  6. Savage a.k.a. John
  7. Winston Smith
  8. Jeffrey (A Different Alchemy)

All these men had families or at least women they left alone. They were all imprisoned in one way or another. Three of them passed… Crucifixion, Hanging, Gunshot. You get bonus points if you can tell me who. Anyway, I thought of what I said to Dear Future Wife yesterday about how I’m a sadist. And yet, in the end, I admire the masochist Echo.

I’m a mothereffin’ starboy. I’m more like a Switch. Happy Go Lucky Me. I’ll get off on people’s PAIN easily, but then there’s my PAIN. B III and 2 V are too much. And after…

I should add my voice to the choir. Sins, Screams, Silence… There’ll B Suffering B

1417 Days Without B III, Day 858 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 164 ~Braxton, Try WARMING Virgil~

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Global Warming, Climate Change… I haven’t worn a coat because I’m always angry at people. Or I’m humiliated. I should erase my browser history, etc.… I’m always taking the heat. And with what happened to my son. Braxton, Try WARMING Virgil.

Thursday, December 12, 2024

Meditation 164 ~Braxton, Try WARMING Virgil~

1411 Days Without B III, Day 852 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? How many days did I come back burning up? Angry? Humiliated? Sick? Far too many…

And today? Well, your Dad’s no chef. I’m still burning money, paper, and sheets, Braxton.

I hope you weren’t watching that. And what about Virgil? He’s trying to get warm. All by his lonesome. And I’m crying, so I best not go outside lest my tears freeze. It’d be practice.

Do you know which is the coldest Circle in Hell? The Ninth Circle. That’s Treachery. Again, my boy, anytime I’m having a hard time, I remember what I have survived… I lost you, Braxton. It makes everything else pale in comparison. So because the Day Job burned me up, I could go for some tears. But what brought them on. A Dog’s Purpose, B III. Braxton, I’m not reading it… Again, I mean. Or watching.

At least if you were here, I wouldn’t feel as bad about burning daylight. Wasting my time. It’s so much better writing a novel about four individuals trying to set the world on fire. That’s one thing about never getting published. I won’t allow someone to burn my book. I should be so lucky. To earn a paycheck for doing something that I… Love, Braxton.

That’s one more thing that burns me up. My jealousy while watching all these dog channels. And watching these families become rich and famous. I hid you from the world.

However, I take a picture of Virgil every day. He feels the sunshine, sleeps in soft sheets, and stays warm… for now. Yet he wonders why I’m always so cold.

When I’m getting hot over every woman who’s not even close to being your stepmother. When I’m stewing over every mistake. When I know I’m cooked. And I can’t do anything to save myself or Virgil. I told myself at the Day Job that I thought your purpose was to get me into Heaven. If God smiled down on me for anything, it would be because I was your Daddy. Heaven’s Light in comparison to Hellfire. Yet, Virgil’s thriving, somehow.

He has to guide me through the Inferno. But where am I now? In some story awaiting the fire? Melting away on the floor? Sweating over some girl’s picture? Daylight is a wastin’ Braxton. And when the sun rises once more… Braxton, Try WARMING Virgil.

“It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared all the time.” ― Mara, Spontaneous (2020)

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Meditation 163 ~Braxton’s No Chef Virgil~

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I’ve led Virgil to food and water, but he’s not sick… Um, maybe in the head because he wants to eat on a pillow. And where do I take my meals? In bed? But the last good one was on the couch eating Chinese with Braxton’s Aunt. Braxton’s No Chef Virgil

Wednesday, December 11, 2024

Meditation 163 ~Braxton’s No Chef Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… I am currently starring in Mommie Dearest or Daddy Dude. Not that I’ve published a book, Inspector Echo.

I’m writing again on a drizzly Monday afternoon from bed. I can’t afford laziness.

The Day Job is calling this week. Aren’t I blessed? Shouldn’t I show some GRATITUDE?

When was it again that those two young brothers got fired? A week or so ago. How could I forget? I’ll tell you how. I’m reeling over the five dollars I paid on Onlyfans. Wasted!

Inspector Echo, I have to say so. Considering that I’ve now failed five out of six Impossible Things. And yes, it’s only Monday, December 9, 2024. Um, Brave New World?

I’m still reading Aldous Huxley’s novel. If memory serves, SPOILER ALERT: we’re getting to that part where Bernard Marx introduces John to his father. It saves Bernard from the DHC.

Yes, Inspector, I’ve read the story before. When my father turned me on to Animal Farm and 1984. And I wish I could say that I’m spending all my cash on books and that’s why…

GASP! I’m not eating. Feed your head, as the song goes. And before “your” madness… I’ve got around five thousand in the bank. I got another grand over PayPal way…

President EWW Donald Trump won’t be helping me. But let’s talk about here and now. As always, I want my son back. Money won’t bring Braxton back from the dead. I’d like a medium-rare steak for dinner tonight. But Hank Hill don’t pay my bills, Inspector. I want Satan’s Sorority Girls 8. But what’s most important. Virgil is not eating!

I’ve been here before, haven’t I? Inspector, if I went to Braxton’s Room/My Library/Virgil’s Room and pushed his pillow in front of the food and water… Yes, Virgil would eat. And I don’t know why. But I refuse. Virgil’s been in the room all day, Inspector.

Several times, I have guided him to the bowls, and what’s that saying… You can lead a horse to water or a dog. Do I need to be paying his vet bills when, again, I have nothing but a boy with a full bowl while I subsist on sixty-second pasta and shredded chicken for fajitas?

Virgil will eat his treats, and I swear Braxton was spoiled until the very end. What will it take, Daddy Dude? Braxton’s No Chef Virgil

“You pays your money and you takes your choice” ― Brave New World, Aldous Huxley

1410 Days Without B III, Day 851 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 157 ~B’s Are Unfortunate Virgil~

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How can one be so unfortunate? The death of a child. Wow! That’s dark. And Braxton was grown… in dog years. But I’m forty, scared to death (I wish) that my father is going to beat my ass for failing math. Am I out of bucks? B’s Are Unfortunate Virgil

Thursday, December 5, 2024

Meditation 157 ~B’s Are Unfortunate Virgil~

1404 Days Without B III, Day 845 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Judging by how late I am today… Even on a relatively good day. Three hours?

Only if I had used those hours on… I don’t know. One of “my” novels that doesn’t offend everyone. Or doing something on camera that offends everyone, and I hope you didn’t see. Yeah. And I could have stuck around at the Day Job to make more money. Virgil, B.

He’s not going to save himself. But then again, I couldn’t save you either. And most days, I don’t even want to save myself. For what? The highlights of my day were only having three hours at the Day Job. There was the McRib sandwich. And that was only because I couldn’t afford a Big Mac Meal. And then there was the nap I took that brings us to now.

How long is a nap?

Well, you’ve gone for The Big Sleep, took The Long Walk, went on The Last Ride. And as usual, I wish I could be right there with you. What? Did I wake up on the wrong side of the bed? It’s the fact that I woke up yet again. Unfortunate, isn’t it Braxton for Virgil?

Positivity. That Braxton, I leave to you. At present, I feel like that D student I was in summer school, knowing that it was enough to not have your grandpa beating my behind yet again. At worst, I’m Winston Smith from 1984, facing the mirror and being told I’m the last man. But as always, I remain your daddy. So how dare I dream of harming myself, hatred, and horniness…

That reminds me of when I was coming back. I was listening to my Spotify Wrapped 2024. And of all the songs that made this list, this is how I know you’re talking to me, B. Suddenly, I thought about It’s My Turn To Fly by The Urge. And call it coincidence (the urge). Ha-ha, I hear that song, Fat Bottomed Girls. I’m more for Yabbos… But Baby Got Back

It’s my turn to fly
I’m proving ground tonight
Try to be the best that I can
Grown to be a man
Only human can understand
I fill my lungs with fear and I Exhale!
It’s My Turn To Fly

Hey, listen here
Now, I got mortgages on homes
I got stiffness in my bones
Ain’t no beauty queens in this locality, I tell you
Oh, but I still get my pleasure
Still got my greatest treasure
Hey, big woman, you gonna make a big man of me
Now get this
Fat Bottomed Girls, Queen

Anyway, my point is I need a reason to… exist. And again, getting up on the wrong side of the bed. On one side, there’s your grave, B. On the other, the business of existence.

Braxton, I’d have more bucks, babes, and beds if only I had done better. And you… B’s Are Unfortunate Virgil.

“It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared all the time.” ― Mara, Spontaneous (2020)

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Meditation 156 ~Let’s B Edgy Virgil~

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Livin’ on the Edge, Livin’ on a Prayer, living for the love of you. I feel like I’m toppling over. “NaNoWriMo” ended, and I barely won that. Everything feels like it’s overflowing. And all that edging before breaking on the 1st. “Let’s B Edgy Virgil”

Wednesday, December 4, 2024

Meditation 156 ~Let’s B Edgy Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… What else is new? Um, pushing Virgil to the edge of the bed. That’s the big one. Right?

Considering how cold it’s been. Then, one of the neighbor’s kids said they were worried about Virgil. And did I forget to buy another dose of medication? Uh, the money…

That was never a question when Braxton was around. I still remember when Braxton got sick. And the one vet at Banfield I openly “disliked” saved him. And the way the guy looked at me… When I tried to take my own life by starvation and dehydration, my Old Man didn’t want to pay my medical bills either. But Braxton is innocent. So is Virgil.

And while I wouldn’t give Virgil up for anything, the thought of what if I had left him on the other side of that fence? The edge of freedom or what, Inspector Echo? It’s a fear that haunts me now.

When Virgil has tried to cuddle these past few mornings, I’ve pushed him away. Really! I’ve gone so far as to move a pillow between him and me as I read or waste time, Inspector.

Virgil hasn’t fallen. And the drop wouldn’t hurt him. Contrary to popular belief. Virgil runs around here. He jumps up and down. V can climb stairs. He barks, cries, dreams…

Probably about someone much better than me. I know. I wish I had fallen into a grave when my feet hit the floor. Didn’t I talk about having a dream about dead men last week? Maybe. All I know is today, I woke up to the sound of Johnny Cash’s Ain’t No Grave. My Braxton.

What you needed to hear…

“Do you wish to be the son who gives his father what he asks for or what he needs?” Legion

When did I get all religious? It’s that time of the year. Or am I upset that some blonde temptress broke me the day after No Nut November? Inspector, I’ve gone from nurses to dancers and gymnasts. I gave $10.00 to a “secretary” on Onlyfans. And now nuns and angels. Talk about being on the edge. Or flashing my “package,” and why. The edge, huh.

Willy’s Wanton Writings And Whacking

Madness. I’m on the edge of finishing “my” novel. I give myself far too much credit with NaNoWriMo being over. But I won for the first time in years. I’m on the edge of finishing another book. I’m upset that I’ve broken my Christmas tradition. You see today’s date, Echo. I’m existing on the edge. Still, Let’s B Edgy Virgil.

1403 Days Without B III, Day 844 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will