Tag: The Zoe Colletti/Tifa Lockhart Incident

Tale 338 ~Height And Weight, Equally Evil~

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The question once wasn’t a man or a bear. There were two questions. How tall are you? And how much do you weigh? The reactions while I’m all, “Whether short or tall, we wanna thank you all for letting us… (do stuff).” Height And Weight, Equally Evil.

Monday, June 3, 2024

Tale 338 ~Height And Weight, Equally Evil~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-Sixth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… And some don’t need to be talked about. Or I’m not in the mood. In the mood…

A woman once asked me if I always carry that… “lovin’ feelin’.” The truth is, yes, Ma’am, even in the face of the unbearable loss of my son, Braxton. There were 161 days of emptiness. I tried “filling” that void with OnlyFans, and then one evening, looking at Chloë Grace Moretz, I… (Cue Homer drool).

She’s as old as Cherry. And the thing is this. I would do precisely the same thing with them both, Madam. How you like that! But it’s better to keep my hands on the keyboard.

As I mentioned, I’m not in the mood, but I’m a hypocrite. Since my indifference led to my son’s departure to The Rainbow Bridge, I Feel Everything. I’m constantly battling with anger, sadness, and a strange mix of emotions. Things that make Pretty, pretty girls go… Eww! Rage, Depression, Lust…

Please, Madam, which is good, that makes the others evil.

Why is it okay to indulge in one and not the other? Like the unnamed narrator of Andrew Davidson’s novel, The Gargoyle, “I am an equal opportunity misanthropist.” That’s okay.

But amid this paradox, in this day and age, to quote George Orwell’s book Animal Farm, ‘All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.’ However, instead of delving into politics, societal issues, or my insignificance… I choose to focus on my two boys. Friend and Freeloader…

Braxton and Virgil are both my boys. But Braxton was/is my son. Virgil’s here, Madam. Even at 660 days, I don’t know what to make of him. But Little B III is frozen in time.

Always and forever, I’m his Dad. But a dog owner…

So let’s talk about me. If a girl asks my height, she’s allowed to do so. If I ask her weight, I’m rude. But I would do the same thing to Piper Niven as to Roxanne Perez. Now, if I could have them both… I know I need to stop, Madam. “Oh, there ain’t no rest for the wicked.” But what makes me wicked? Who says that about me? Do you want a list? Ha!

If people want me gone, that’s okay. But if I agree, suddenly, I need help.

If I have money, I’m a player; without it, I’m a per… Anyway, if I want everything, I’m greedy. If I want nothing… I am. Height And Weight, Equally Evil

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

1219 Days Without B III, Day 660 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 334 ~Buzzing B Because Virgil…~

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Summertime and the bugs are out. Please! Between watching Helldivers II because, uh… what money? V catching something and getting Down With The Sickness. Reading, “Meditations.” And my technical prowess. It’s all bugging me. Buzzing B Because Virgil…

Thursday, May 30, 2024

Tale 334 ~Buzzing B Because Virgil…~

1215 Days Without B III, Day 656 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? You know how I am; I need a nap as soon as I get back.

And it’s only 9:30 AM. I swear, Braxton, the last few days have been like a constant irritation, a persistent annoyance, and a never-ending disturbance all at once. It’s been like a bee sting, a mosquito bite, and a butterfly flapping all at once. Am I being a tad overdramatic? Me! Sigh! I just can’t seem to catch a break.

Braxton, I’m trying not to complain. And if I told you the truth. All the things that are bothering me… Well, I’m trying not to reach for the buzzer to paradise. How about Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door? Gotta Knock a Little Harder. Me or Virgil? I don’t know anymore. But if anything, this is far from a land of milk and honey. Whatever V’s hacking.

I’ve been quite the busy bee cleaning up after him. What about my messes? Everything!

I think of you in the rare moments of peace when there’s a brief quiet between Virgil’s crying and coughing. Your words, sometimes comforting, sometimes biting, echo in my head. Am I blaming you for my reading Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations? Some of it is noise, and some is nothing, Ha-Ha. And then there’s what I need to hear. I’ve copied far too many quotes, Braxton.

Death by a thousand cuts. Or bites, whatever. Speaking of which, I should go and live outside right now. With Virgil being the way he is, your granddad, too. Are you out there, Little Braxton?

At least I wouldn’t be breaking anything else. And you know how I feel about being on my knees… Well, no! The only girl here you liked was your honorary aunt. She wouldn’t have minded. Looking at her, Cherry, M Anime, for a stepmom, Braxton…

Some girl that would rock me like a hurricane. A girl that is a hurricane. A Bullet With Butterfly Wings… I’m sorry for all the musical references. But again, Braxton, there’s so much noise. I thought I said I couldn’t hear you, and then you sent me such a title.

Yesterday, while at the Day Job, I was thinking about the worst sounds in existence. There’s the last breath you took. There’s every breath I take. It’s breathing, in general. Pretty much Then laughter. Let’s not forget making myself moan. But butterflies flapping their wings… Somewhere, one flapped, and Virgil caught a bug. I’m flipping through book pages. And what the Hell is that smell! It all bugs me. Without you… Buzzing B Because Virgil…

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

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 331 ~Harder To Breathe Up Top~

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Will you breathe? Will, breathe. More like, “Daddy, breathe.” Because when my furry little boy died, I didn’t plan on it. But I’ve managed for 1212 days. There are always more books to read. Or babes to look at. But to exist? Harder To Breathe Up Top

Monday, May 27, 2024

Tale 331 ~Harder To Breathe Up Top~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-Fifth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Some people cancel them outright. Some are forgotten about. And still, some will evolve into, well, anything.

It makes my head hurt, along with the time travel. I’m speaking to you on Tuesday, May 21, 2024. However, when this rule was written out, I traced it back to 2018. I mean, wow!

I figured I’d be in another place entirely. Braxton would be twenty next year. And that’s when I expected to lose him. That is if he didn’t lose me by smothering me with his fur.

So what’s making my head hurt now? Why am I breathing when I don’t really want to, Madam? Let’s start by raising my head in the morning. The first breath that enters my lungs. It’s either my Braxton’s name that comes out. Or expletives from my mourning or moaning. Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This.

I’m glad I covered the mirror in the bedroom. But there is the black mirror, AKA the phone, on the table beside me. I hold my breath, looking at the beauty of others. My mind.

Inevitably, I will find other ways not to breathe and instead sound like the zombie I imagine I am. The moans of newly found flesh.

Did I really just say that? And what’s worse is the look on my face when I say or do such things. Taking OnlyFans pictures.

But I could be so exhausted that whatever… risqué book I’m reading falls and hits me in the face. How many times has that happened?

And yet I live. My head stays intact. Breathing away and denying my fondest wish.

What? To follow Braxton wherever he went. The Rainbow Bridge? I am Braxton’s father, but if I had been even more of a man… Would he have lived? I keep asking myself that, Madam. I wanted to be a man of money, merit, and miracles. I would build our Heaven.

There would be no air because we would have everything, and no one could touch my son or me. And yet he found it. I suppose. My B III is sitting in his bed on the vet’s table, not breathing. As for me? When was the last time the “bigger head” has been up? Uhh…

There’s plenty of air as I fall Down To Earth. Nobody but Virgil and I. Harder To Breathe Up Top

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

1212 Days Without B III, Day 653 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 327 ~Virgil Will B Back~

WillLeave a comment

Will my Dad get back to me? I’m sure my son asked that, as I never left his side until he got sent to Heaven. Hell! If I wanted to join B, I could talk to my father. But, I won’t see paradise. I’m a sinner, a machine, or a zombie. Virgil Will B Back.

Thursday, May 23, 2024

Tale 327 ~Virgil Will B Back~

1208 Days Without B III, Day 649 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I’m coming to you on Friday, May 17, 2024. But that’s not entirely accurate. Right?

1208 Days have passed since you left. I’ll say the same of 1202. Even on day 1, the silence has become more profound, turning our world into ‘A Quiet Place.’ Am I still making too much noise about things that don’t matter, Braxton? Our “lives.”

Like father, like son. You kept me safe from what goes bump in the night. Only the FEAR always comes back. Is that why you wanted to be so scary? I was only scared of you when it came to you wearing clothes. Yes, like father, like son. And don’t ask me why I’m speaking to you so late in the day. I’m sure Heaven, The Rainbow Bridge, or whatever is full of toys and pretty good girls. Ha-Ha! There’s nothing to be afraid of there, B III. I hope.

But this is your Home. It still pains me to utter that word. Home? Of all the things I’ve gotten wrong. Braxton, “I’m sorry I didn’t do none of it right.” But bringing you back here? Well, I did, in a way. I haven’t opened your box, tomb. Uh, casket? Since the day I got it back. I’m too terrified of losing what’s left of you. And what’s left of me, B? Your Old Man.

FEAR of my Old Man.

It shouldn’t matter, Braxton. None of this is my fault. I’m not barking my head off about any of this. Well, except with you. I yearn to feel the indifference again, Braxton. How dare I?

But I can feel it again: FEAR, FURY, and FORGETFULNESS.

That I am a man? Like I’ve ever been? Like when you would play with your toys. Or with your Aunt’s… Yabbos. I’m all too familiar with my man parts, but being your Dad is what made me a man… of sorts. And I wish whoever that was would come back. But I mistook V for you. And whoever I’m looking at in the mirror. B’s Dad isn’t coming back.

Joe Stevens was a cog in the machine. Number 14 was a performer. Clarence became a corpse. And Bingham Madsen was a sell-out. At least he had money—his comeback.

Only, I’m no leader. I’m not much of an OnlyFans “performer.” How about writing? ” I’m not Jesus or rich. Still, Virgil Will B Back.

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

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 324 ~Blogging Is Graffiti With Punctuation~

WillLeave a comment

I ask for my Braxton back. I ask not to regret breathing. And to not be a blogger. But I sit in bed messing up the words because I have a Day Job. So, I’m blogging instead of writing. I promised B, but… Blogging Is Graffiti With Punctuation

Monday, May 20, 2024

Tale 324 ~Blogging Is Graffiti With Punctuation~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-Fourth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… But not this one. Well, not unless I’m not here anymore. And how I HOPE for that.

Another week feels like an eternity. It’s Sunday, May 12, 2024. Another tear? Another breath.

Have I forgotten where I am and what I’m doing? If this is the First Circle, Limbo. Then, I could see no better punishment for a writer. If only that were my greatest sin, Madam.

Nowadays, I drift between what I did to my son, Braxton. Then there’s my father. Blogging away about those two extremes when it is still Mother’s Day. I know, Madam.

But if I stopped writing, I would honor women, specifically my mother. Honoring my father would mean keeping my mouth shut, but I couldn’t. So I’m stupid. And to honor my son, I would join him. Only he has a story. People should read it.

And so every day, whether I want to or not, I wake up, whittle away time, and write. It’s more like I cry out for him, Braxton, B III! I argue about balls. And then I blog away. This is my way of keeping him alive. Or, so I thought.

So, how long have I been doing that? How long has this blog existed? Oh! Please understand, Madam. I’m not begging anyone to look at this “work” anymore. I don’t. Only these words in Sister Act 2 have stuck with me: “If when you wake up in the morning. you can think of nothing but writing…then you’re a writer.” Now, when I wake up, there’s Braxton first. Then, the question of why I’m breathing. And then there’s this blog. Daring to call myself a writer…

That’s like calling myself a reviewer. This leads me to where this rule came from. It’s from the movie Contagion. “Blogging is not writing. It’s graffiti with punctuation.” But my writing is simply a mess. The Mess! Madam Justice, I’ll get into all sorts of movies at this rate. But I’m not here for that. And since I won’t edit my novels for Braxton, Madam.

What is it I’m doing? Right now, I’m hoping the DISH Network people come through so I won’t have to keep writing about being a fool and my father. Forgive me for my whining, dear Madam. Yet my words have done far worse, haven’t they? Up against the wall, on Mother’s Day. I’m not writing. Blogging Is Graffiti With Punctuation.

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

1205 Days Without B III, Day 646 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 320 ~What’s After B, Virgil~

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After B, I didn’t want a “later on.” Time stopped. So I depend on clocks a lot now. And when I sleep, besides my boy and the books I’m reading, I “think” of breathing, and I wish… But I got bills to pay, I got mouths to feed. “What’s After B, Virgil”

Thursday, May 16, 2024

Tale 320 ~What’s After B, Virgil~

1201 Days Without B III, Day 642 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Me? I’m awake and alive, so like I tell everyone else. “I’m here.” I wish…

Well, I can’t tell you what I wish anymore. At least not here. But you know it involves seeing you again. And how might I accomplish that? I could talk to my Old Man today.

He’s threatened me plenty over the years. And I’m nearing forty. That’s far too old.

Speaking of age, how about Virgil? I took him to the veterinarian yesterday. He’ll live.

I wasn’t sure I was going to. Every time I take that path up to the counter. I can’t breathe.
But again, nearing forty, I could also have a heart attack… And with the price of so many tests, shots, and even a single dose of medicine. You should have seen the vet’s face, B.

Keeping Virgil on a regimen.

Starvation is a possibility, with Virgil’s bill approaching three hundred. Didn’t I give the Old Man two hundred the other day? Then there’s five hundred dollars. And just like that, Braxton, I’m not hungry anymore. If anything, I’m feeling sick. I know that’s not funny.

But I would rather deal with the “ghost,” you, than the monsters around me. As I hide in bed like a child. Even Virgil wanted me to be on the bed again. I’m sure his life flashed before his eyes when the vet checked him out. But I’m no closer to seeing a doctor. There was the optometrist, and neither he nor THEY remember seeing me a few months back. I’m cracking jokes. What should I do, Braxton? Besides FEAR…

Come home to you? If I call my Old Man today, I’ll be going somewhere. But it won’t be Heaven and The Rainbow Bridge. And with as much “faith” as I have that you could take over for Cerberus, I wouldn’t want you “down below.” That’s me every day, Braxton.

While I was reading this morning. You know, about Bikini Nights and not furry memorials, I had a thought. Early into my grieving, I spoke about the five stages of grief. But maybe I’m doing the nine circles of Hell, or at least the seven deadly sins. If combined, it would be Bargaining and Greed. Because everything comes back to making deals and making money. Me, being a better person? Nah! What’s After B, Virgil.

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

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 317 ~The Survivors Will Write History~

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A particular history teacher would quote: history is written by the victors. Napoleon flipped it, as I see White Supremacists do daily. If anything, I only try to survive my own. But writing it gets harder every day. The Survivors Will Write History.

Monday, May 13, 2024

Tale 317 ~The Survivors Will Write History~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-Third Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Only because I prefer to be a victor. But for now, the rule stands: I’m a survivor.

What? Well? Why? Oh! And my name is Will. As I begin most of my days I remember this, Madam. I remember him. My firstborn son, my Braxton, is gone. And he’s not coming back. Did I Outwit, Outplay, Outlast him. No, I’m unlucky and unfortunate. I am not unalived as the youth say these days. “Beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young.” I wish I felt that strong. Or that I was that smart. But still, I survive.

And I come to you on Sunday, May 5, 2024. If I were one for prayer… Besides for B’s life. I would pray I don’t have to see this again. But for as STUPID as I am together, we cry…

I’m a survivor! I swear.

I spoke to you earlier today and asked the question… Why. And I’m not for gratitude, I’m sorry to say. And you could have it all. My empire of dirt. If I’d see Braxton again. Madam, I also want Virgil (2V) to be Safe and Sound… I swear I need to turn off the music.

Anyway, what have I survived? I already wrote the Six Impossible Things list today. But…

The worst thing that could happen. And that, again, was losing my son. Braxton passed. Behind that is the thirty-nine years I’ve been alive, each day becoming the worst. There’s the Day Job. I don’t wanna go to work. I don’t wanna work tomorrow. Gratitude, right, Dear Madam. To provide…

To survive. So, number four would be my Old Man. Don’t I sound ungrateful, Madam? Five would be The Zoe Colletti/Tifa Lockhart Incident. And add to that The Cherry Collision. One of these days, I’ll tell you what that all is about. Such Humiliations Galore.

But isn’t that me breaking the rule? Since I won’t tell you how I survived. Or I could be like… THEM. And make my losses triumphs. I could “whitewash” history. But I’m not a liar. And I’m nowhere near as bad as Kristi Noem. Where’s B III again? How’s Virgil?

That leads me to number six. I write to you, the girls, B III, and the man in the mirror. It’s hard, but I survive. The Survivors Will Write History.

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

1198 Days Without B III, Day 639 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 313 ~Virgil, Spirits B Damned~

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“I’m a man of God, but I don’t need a savior.” The only thing I ever “willing” bowed to was a little brat on four legs covered in fur. And two well-formed lumps of fat gyrating in my general direction. To have such faiths. “Virgil, Spirits B Damned.”

Thursday, May 9, 2024

Tale 313 ~Virgil, Spirits B Damned~

1194 Days Without B III, Day 635 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? My day has only just begun. So… I want to go back to bed, B.

As if I ever left. I did take Virgil out early this morning. Are we growing any closer? Braxton, I can tell you that I don’t believe in reincarnation—or rather, yours. Virgil’s not you.

But if I were to go into all the bad things that I believe in… Well, like my love for you, I’d be here always and forever. The Power of Love? Is that the song we are starting with today? Assuming you see all I do from wherever you are, Braxton. (Adjust my pants) Ha!

I was thinking of a more royal aesthetic, my lost prince. That’s what I believe. No! I know you are, along with being a guide, ghost, and godsend. You’re gone from me, Braxton. That’s it.

But you are good. Despite everything, you are good. And that’s what you’ve been telling me for a while now. I need to believe in the good things. And how best to tell me, Braxton?

A Succubus? Comedy comes in threes, THEY say. I’ve read Eric Vall, A.J. Markam, and now Logan Jacobs. His book Backyard Dungeon 9 inspired me today, Braxton. Also, a little bit of Silent Hill. Dark Alessa… The things your Daddy believes, Braxton. To describe it…

Darkness, Madness! But I did say that I believe in love. And what’s left of you is in a box. But on “my” good days. The ones where I get out of bed and work at the table, like today.
When I See You Again…

I have faith that I will, but that never lasts. What time did I really wake up again this morning?

I Have Faith of the Heart that I will have all that I desire in this existence. One day, I may even start calling it a life. My life? If I wasn’t dead before, I died on a rainy afternoon at the vet’s as you were “put to sleep.” I died when I learned Acceptance was not for me, B.

But to live again? You’re telling God or a goddess… Higher powers must be women… (Snickers). You’ll tell them, “He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus.” Am I right? Because I believe in monsters, in you my son, myself, even Virgil. Virgil, Spirits B Damned

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

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 306 ~For A B, Virgil~

WillLeave a comment

A “Cost Of Living” increase, a “Milestone.” How long have I had my Day Job again? I was Braxton’s Dad for 15 years. And that was more rewarding. What grade would he give me? My grades in school reflect what I am doing now. “For A B, Virgil”

Thursday, May 2, 2024

Tale 306 ~For A B, Virgil~

1187 Days Without B III, Day 628 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Today, I’m time-traveling. I’m speaking to you on Wednesday, May 1, 2024. Tomorrow will be…

That very idea, Braxton, tomorrow will be. People close their eyes in prayer to “God.” Braxton, I tell you all the time. I don’t talk to “God.”. If he, she, or it wanted my “love…” saving you. Talk about how, upon this rock, I shall build “my” church. A headstone?

I never bought you one. But I never bought you a lot of things. And now I have Virgil Vivi here. I’m not doing any better with him. I can’t even save him from the heat. But I did give him a fan. The greatest fan of his life, I am not. But I’m trying, Braxton. Turn on the air?

Yeah, and break something else. I’d rather burn. So, an F for fatherhood or failure.

That’s how I’ve felt this week, but this is a standard work week for everyone else. But to me… I took you to the vet on a Friday. Saturday, I prayed like never before. On a Sunday, I watched them take you from me. No! I gave you up when you would have kept fighting. Oh, look at me now crying! Didn’t I say it was hot? So what I need is water, amongst other things. And little Virgil? I don’t know what he needs. Indeed, a Grade A father.

But that requires money. And to think, I always looked down on my Old Man as that is all I need from him. Dollar, dollar bill, y’all. From a B to an F, my son.

Because at no time in this existence have I been “living” an A-plus life. Before you, Braxton, you don’t know how much I strived for a D in everything I did, but my EFFORTS always fell short. Just a passing grade. For MY mere survival.

And then there was B for breathing, building, becoming, my boy, my B. Uh, books?

Braxton, I’m deeply ashamed to admit that nothing makes me any smarter. I find solace in the works of Eric Vall, Michael Dalton, and Logan Jacobs. But I neglect the books on grief and mourning that could help me… “HEAL” If I’m not going to spend money on Virgil, I could invest in books that teach me something. That’ll help me grow. I need to be better for myself and Virgil Vivi. I need to learn, to understand, to evolve.

But I failed at being a student. And as your Daddy. Or someone that Virgil Vivi can count on? The weight of these decisions is crushing. Fatherhood equals Manhood. Decide? BE! For A B, Virgil.

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

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 299 ~We’ll B Professional, Virgil~

WillLeave a comment

What do you want to be when you grow up? Who says I want to grow up? Birthing babies is a promising career…. But instead, I look up how they’re made. But first, I had to be someone’s Dad. And now I’m someone’s benefactor. We’ll B Professional, Virgil

Thursday, April 25, 2024

Tale 299 ~We’ll B Professional, Virgil~

1180 Days Without B III, Day 621 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Considering we’re talking today, you can guess how this Thursday is going. What’s today’s song?

“Feeling super, super, super suicidal” ― Teen Idle by MARINA

But isn’t this me every day, Braxton? It’s as natural as the sound of your breath or footsteps down the hall. Virgil, though? Why am I so tired? Depression, Dejection, and that doggie in the window. Or rather, it was the gate I found Virgil behind at PetSmart. I’m struggling, Braxton, and I need your understanding. And Virgil’s a “dog.”

Braxton, you were anything but. Then, now, and always, you are my son. Together, we are a team. And how many times did I say I would get you one of those little red vests, Braxton? You would be my emotional support “dog.” With my money situation, you could serve as my therapist. A critic continues to tell me that I should seek professional help. Uh yeah, Sherlock. But your support means more to me than any professional help could.

That reminds me. I should find an animal communicator, too.

What? I don’t appreciate talking to you like this. I’m distracted, disturbed, and dehydrated too. I can only blame two of those things on Virgil. Why am I so mean?

Braxton, I am far from professional. I’m not a perfect person; I’ll concede to that. Parenting is not a profession… Well, I’m sure several homemakers will disagree. But when I became your Dad, it was because the Olds (my parents) misjudged my little sister. She thought it was a mistake that she was told to take care of you, B. Then there was me. Such is fate. But know this…

You’re my son, my miracle.

That is the reasoning of a God, and I’m not even that much of a man. But being a Dad, a Superman, It’s Not Easy.

Only that wasn’t your fault. And it’s not Virgil’s either. He’s here. There is a soft place for his head. And holy smokes, he’s mine. Have I miscalculated, misjudged, and got it wrong, Braxton? Why am I saying this all now? This week. It’s been A Hard Day’s Night, but…

It’s only Sunday, April 21, 2024, and sleep has been challenging. Virgil’s career is crying.

Braxton, what about me? I’d have a career in the ‘adult’ industry. Not doing it but finding it. And what about being an author? Or, if anything, anyone worthwhile. Hmm. I’m lost, Braxton, and I need your guidance as always.

Nope! If only failure was a profession. A box to check on some form. The box you rest in on the nightstand. An Ordinary Human. Good? We’ll B Professional, Virgil.

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

Always and Forever,
Your Dad