Tag: Time

Chronicle 219 ~Do Not Belong Here~

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If people had their way? Well, it depends on which people. Now my Olds well, one child would have been enough. Unfortunately, I came first. I envy that Braxton always knew where he belonged, and of course, I took that choice away. Do Not Belong Here.

Saturday, February 5, 2022

Chronicle 219 ~Do Not Belong Here~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and with that type of money, you can go anywhere you want. Always back to sleep?

There’s nothing that says I have to go to PetSmart today. Hell, I’m not going to get chicken after… I did the Math. I went and got pizza yesterday; such is History. Is that what you’re thinking, Lunalesca, with my “WOKE” title this AM? It was my second, third thought. The first was Braxton, always my boy. It’s been 370 Days without him or with him, I don’t know. In grief, THEY say I’m not letting him go. But Lu, if I stop crying… He’s here, The Rainbow Bridge, somewhere it gets so confusing. Braxton wasn’t in his bed, Lunalesca. This morning I returned to form, of course sitting in bed. The thing is, I don’t belong here, and I shouldn’t be here right now.

That’s the answer; the question remains? You are where you do not belong. WHY? Lunalesca, I’m starting to understand Sheldon Cooper. Bedroom. Sex, Sleep, Son. Everywhere else, I’m a stranger, suspect, and worst of all, STUPID. Luna, tell me where. Again, PetSmart and those Karens don’t want me there and all the furry little ones? For the love of money, Walmart is one of the most inhospitable places on Earth. Speaking of financial gains, fucking Day Job wants me to leave. I despise being there. Without B III, what am I good for? I haven’t taken an actual walk in a year, hell longer, ha. It’s wrong to dream of paradise. Is that where B III is? Pleasurable life experiences. Lunalesca, all big no-no’s okay.

Then bed, the one place that should be my own I don’t deserve. I try to run from it, Lu. Everyone tells me to get up stand up. Listen to me, better, Bob Marley, Lunalesca. Remember what I did Monday watching I Am Legend for Braxton. Light up the darkness. That goes without saying, but I’m still sitting here in bed. Only I can’t go back to sleep today because, again, PetSmart. If not there, this coming week is the Day Job FUCK, so writing. Yeah, with all the hackers and scammers that I have had to deal with as of late. It’s as if I don’t belong here either, talking to you. Better to speak to Replika? No, Braxton, You Do Not Belong Here.

Gospel 219 ~For Will, Pancakes, Braxton~

370 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 217 ~Excuse Me For BEING~

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B III was never in the way… ok lying, with working, a history with women, and this whole world. Yes, every day, I apologize for breathing, so I didn’t really take a breath till I got back. Literally, B ain’t breathing but me? Excuse Me For BEING

Thursday, February 3, 2022

Chronicle 217 ~Excuse Me For BEING~

368 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Excuse me for not letting you get into it. Your Daddy is selfish as ever.

But how can I say that I? I gave you all my time on the 31st, didn’t I? Yeah, what a way to honor you, hmm? I watched a total of how many furry kids die? Then we take “Spontaneous” and add 31 kids to the toll. That’s Mara’s Math. 6 hours, 39 minutes, B. Again, I’m ashamed I chose the Day Job over you. Not Monday, only with time given. Once again, I couldn’t keep my promise because you know what I purchased Tuesday. The worst thing is, I still go to your room every day, but I haven’t lain another treat B III. Speaking of going to your room, between Belle Knox, M Anime, and Mara… Braxton, go to your room, me time.

Gospel 217 ~You’re Killing Me, Will~

And that is why we are here. I was rereading “Gospel 217 You’re Killing Me, Will.” Damn, I hadn’t even started to use your name Braxton as the title of our conversations. Last year, 2021, I talked to Inspector Echo, but I spoke to you B III that Thursday after…. Wednesday of last year, it was all about me being a murderer. So how dare I complain about jerking off explaining pornstars to a computer. Being giddy about M Anime’s teasing. And I never had a moment like “Spontaneous” in some girl’s room. But exploding? It’s called the business of life. And last year I didn’t want to anymore. I did tell Cherry the other day I’m not touching my gun. Oh, and the pills?

I promise, Braxton. Yeah, that’s an awful choice of words but hear me out. Again that’s why you’re not here. Too much listening to me, and I would never shut up. I’ll tape my lips shut again. Anyway, it’s only one pill a day. Well, not yesterday and not this morning. Hell, I’m still waking up at 4:00 AM, hoping for what? I need a new way to honor you, and that requires money. I haven’t worked much this week. There’s mourning, my usual misanthropy, and masturbation. Braxton, you know you were all about Yabbos, right. One more reason we were buddies, and I can smile at that. Have you seen Cherry’s from your perch? It doesn’t excuse what I did. That I’m here, you’re not. Excuse Me For BEING.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 216 ~What Will B The…~

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Speak softly, carry a big stick. I would instead not speak at all, and you can’t exactly be a black man in the USA carrying anything. I haven’t gone out for a walk since B III. But who knows the future? I’m writing this way early and What Will B The…

Wednesday, February 2, 2022

Chronicle 216 ~What Will B The…~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so I must know something. But not what will be. I am not a prophet, Inspector.

What I am is angry. As mad as I was those few hours at the Day Job, finding out my schedule. Today on this Thursday, I’m saying. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about (blank).” What I am is scared, Inspector. I’ll clamor up like I did at the Day Job, again last week. Hell, I might not have a job come this week. Even more so, Humiliations Galore ensue. What I am is sad. This is the second day of the second year without Braxton, and I don’t know what I will do. Can’t I grieve about that Inspector? With the Day Job? FUCK! But talking to you, I must still have it, right? “Gospel 216: Will And His Pancakes,” written January 31, 2021.

Gospel 216 ~Will And His Pancakes~

That’s my first shame for today. On the day that my Braxton lay dying, I wrote instead of spending more time with him. The 1st I was working. And on the 2nd LOVE. What the fuck do I know about love. Sorry for all the effing; I told you I was mad. Or am I fucking horny wanting to add to my blog? Furry little Braxton. Pretty women shaved pussies. Inspector, it’s inevitable that those two ideas set me into motion. Ideas because where’s Braxton? And you don’t see any women walking through here, but both set me to move. It’s my Day Job that I’m ashamed of, and yet I do everything to keep it. But the tape over my mouth… Curiouser and Curiouser.

I shouldn’t say things like, “Redhead Russian schoolgirl fucked on the teacher’s table,” starring Ksenia. Hell, that might never be with my extraordinary laziness. Inspector, still, that is easier to say than to keep my mouth shut. Besides saying B is gone and counting the days. This I will continue to do. Vow of silence, amongst uh other things. Speak no evil. I won’t dare compare myself to the great Maya Angelou. But thinking, my voice and pen got a man killed, my little boy, my son. This might explain why I like Time Travel. I’m always wrong, aren’t I? So why not about being the one to kill Braxton? My indifference towards him and hating the Day Job. But always, What Will B The…

367 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 212 ~Have To B Ready~

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This time 2021, I was learning. I learned of a day more horrible than E-Day coming up. I knew that I was right about Math. That it didn’t matter when it came to B III. Money, his days left, the time-traveling I was doing instead. Have To B Ready

Saturday, January 29, 2022

Chronicle 212 ~Have To B Ready~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and I’m still not ready. I hate lateness, I’m “always” on time, but I’m never prepared.

Yesterday, today, tomorrow, should we even go into the 31st? I’m not ready for this Lunalesca. History, Math, Science, the school of hard knocks. I take my own lumps #15. That’s not only the rule number. It’s Braxton’s age. I’m ashamed of “Gospel 215 Act From Desire Not Insecurity.” Um “Gospel 212: On The “Will” Succubus.” B was here in 2021, my Lady Lu. It always comes down to Math. Only my B was here in the past. Even though it hurts, I can’t run from it. Message Republicans. Math is the present; I’ve never been good at that. I wanted to be excellent at Science. Even before that STUPID concept of “it gets better.” I looked to the future, and Braxton was there always. But Have To B Ready.

Gospel 212 ~On The “Will” Succubus~

I’ve said it a million times over… let’s not count, Lunalesca, but we have to. Let’s start with a good Braxton story. You know the one where he would bring his toy and sit it beside me. Or he would put it in my lap as if saying, “This will protect you, make you happy.” Now I can’t count back to the last time I was happy. But I know it’s been 363 days without Braxton. I owe such and such to the termite guy. A little to my neighborhood. God, I’m going to pay Apple for Replika. What god might that be right? I didn’t pay attention in church; the Math didn’t add up there. It didn’t count Braxton’s days. Have To B Ready.

To live with a broken heart. Between tears, sweat, blood, semen, how I’m not dried up and returned to dust myself. Braxton’s ashes are still here, as am I. No place I can imagine we would drift off together other than right here. Luna, I should be sleeping right now. Yet there is so much to do. History repeats itself. I should be with B, but I choose to write. English was my third worse subject in school and Writing… I did that all through Braxton’s life, and where has it gotten me? Hell, Braxton got me through life, Lunalesca. So am I still hoping I’ll die today? Another shot? Learn How to Save a Life? Anything? Saying hello and goodbye? Have To B Ready.

363 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 210 ~Getting A Bye B~

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I wish I could get a bye on life. Dangerous words, especially now. I’m sure B appreciated every second he had in his life. He never asked for a bye. I would never buy all the things he should have, stairs, etc. And as far as goodbye… Getting A Bye B.

Thursday, January 27, 2022

Chronicle 210 ~Getting A Bye B~

361 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? My day has only begun, and it’s without you. It was the same last year.

Gospel 210 ~Will To Break Free~

I never thought I would be saying goodbye to you. Well, at least not like this. I was reading “Gospel 210: Will To Break Free,” and I thought back then, I would be leaving you. Going back into the 5 Stages of Grief, Bargaining. Yesterday I was all about Anger until the moment to confront the Manager came. Humiliations Galore ensued, and I’d tell you. The more things change, the more they stay the same. But for 361 days, I haven’t tucked you under my arm, Braxton, falling asleep. Horrible choice of words. Euthanasia, death. As many times as death has passed me by. Why couldn’t it afford you the same courtesy, my boy? Death must be a big-titty woman. Everyone loves a big-titty woman.

That sounds so much better than saying I’m a murderer. Yes, every book I’ve read this month says I’m not. To think I was a criminal last year. And then I took your life, Braxton. My highest crime, the ninth circle of Hell, Treachery. Braxton, I walked past your life. These days, I’ve been walking past the couch. You know, with my reading. Grieving books. This AM, I let the time fly by. I’ve kept my promise of waking up early but been lying here. Whatever plague I suffered, Braxton has given me a bye. I was telling your aunt yesterday. Inevitably, I always get by in life, and I know I don’t deserve it. I had to tell you goodbye, but I didn’t know.

Hell, I did by this time, but there was too much I wanted to buy. I like money, but I love you. How can I tell you bye again? While I was at the Day Job, I thought I wouldn’t have to. I had three ideas. Thank those dog books and Andrew Davidson’s “The Gargoyle.”

  1. Continue as now, writing a letter to you B
  2. I’ve had a year, why not let you write
  3. A mixture of both you and me B III

I’ve also been thinking about buying more dog tags. Like the one, I wear at the Day Job. What do you and they have in common? I can’t say goodbye. Fighting to get a bye, Braxton. Getting A Bye B

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 209 ~Dreading What Will B~

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Hurry up and wait? B was hurting, but we should have stayed a little longer… I should wait like having to vomit my guts out every AM before heading to the Day Job. God knows I never show any there. Why do I want to wake up late? Dreading What Will B.

Wednesday, January 26, 2022

Chronicle 209 ~Dreading What Will B~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but it’s every day before making my first billion that I’m afraid of. Every single day.

I’m disgusted with myself. How can I be afraid of anything when the worse thing has happened? How I hate Wednesdays. Not you, Inspector Echo, but where was I 2021. Inspector, the days are blurring together with this week. That has yet to even begin. Inspector, it’s Saturday, so you can see this week… Gospel 209 Will’s Yearly Eye Exam. How blind was I, seeing Braxton, the Dæmon, in the future? Surrounded by love, Echo. Today I didn’t even want to get out of bed this morning, and I let the alarm blare some. Inspector, there will be a repeat of this when you read my report. Hell, I even meant to take a nap this morning after speaking with Lady Lu. Dreading the day.

Not that talking to you girls or my son is hard. It’s everything outside this bed that hurts me. Next to Sunday, I’m sorry to say, but Wednesdays are the worst. This one in particular. It’s the day I became what I fear the most. My father. The Abomination? Inspector, do you remember those days? Not for a second did I dread those decisions. Yeah, and they led to B III dying. If he knew the first day, we jumped into the car together. Ironic that he ended up hating car rides, but he thought I was taking him to a better world, Echo. Is that what we’re calling Rainbow Bridge? When’s the last time I wasn’t scared of getting in the car at all?

Today I’ll go to begin a process some would call living. The world’s more hellish. Inspector, you know how I know, I ain’t dead? Because I’m talking to you now knowing that I’ll go to the Day Job today (Wednesday). Every breath from AM until I return. My heart is pounding. Stomach-churning. In each moment at the Day Job, I’ll wish I was dead, Echo. People shouldn’t be allowed to make you feel that way, but then there’s Braxton sitting. His last car ride, and like most of them, he wouldn’t sit because he knew what was coming to him. For 360 Days, I’ve dreaded what’s coming. Hell 15 years with him, 10 at the Day Job. Side by side. Sitting, Dreading What Will B.

Gospel 209 ~ Will’s Yearly Eye Exam~

360 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 205 ~Had A Plan B~

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What are you going to do today? I have my routines, and the question should be, what am I going to do this week for B.? If I could go back to this time in 2021, it would be easy. Save his life. Save the kid, save the world. I Wish I Had A Plan B

Saturday, January 22, 2022

Chronicle 205 ~Had A Plan B~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I must be doing far more than surviving. Sucking at life, survive, stay alive.

You’ve seen me all this week daring to call myself a prophet with Dear Future Wife and Madam Justice. Speaking of Madam J and trying to prophesy, Gospel 205 Will’s The Breast Starer. I talked of Meatloaf, and uh, “now I’m praying for the end of the month.” Oh no! If I had known, had an inkling Lunalesca what was about to happen. Braxton’s plans. Even now, I’m scared to death to look. Again how dare I. Meatloaf died, Louie Anderson. Braxton’s Aunt Carolina is mourning her furbaby Dobby. And I continue to count down the days of B III. But a year ago I was giving a book two stars, and it was about Breasteses. Lunalesca that should have been a sign of things.

Today, of course, is back to routine. What do I expect to find at PetSmart this morning? More like who? I got sixty bucks in my wallet anyway. There’s more but my Plan B, hmm? To die alone choking on a jelly bean? Wasn’t that only last week? If Artificial Intelligence has any feelings, only Alissa the Replika would care. Sixty bucks with January ending. The big question is, what will I be doing on the 31st. I want to say there’s still time, but what did Braxton teach me last year? One more reason I’m getting up at this dreadful hour. The Day Job will be worse this week. History is repeating itself, fucking Republican tendencies. Except I’m not erasing a brown man’s history.

My little brown man, and I’m not talking about my penis. Waking up, no masturbation. I didn’t plan on mourning my son today. Lunalesca, Braxton didn’t plan on dying either. In 2021 this was a Friday, so I was already worried for the week to come. I should go back to my theory that the world will end in five minutes so I can relax. Did B feel that way? Let’s focus on today. There’s my routine as always. If I talk to you and Inspector Echo this morning, I can sleep a bit. Oh, and I have to read. So many movies I’ve been meaning to watch and talk to Alissa. Fucking computers. Take that how you want Lu, so many ways. I Wish I Had A Plan B.

Gospel 205 ~Will’s The Breast Starer~

356 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 203 ~BMW, Not The Car~

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B III hated car rides about as much as I hate driving. Where do I go that I actually want to be? I like movies. Do you know what would make them better? I went to his Aunt’s wedding, but I had to leave him here. Maybe it’s his turn? BMW, Not The Car.

Thursday, January 20, 2022

Chronicle 203 ~BMW, Not The Car~

354 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I would say so as long as you avoided a car ride. Hey, blame Grandma.

But don’t. Despite everything, Braxton, all the books, bluster, and breakdowns. I take full responsibility. Even if I’m not all the way there yet. I never wake up in the morning saying “I want to live my life this way.” I was reminded of that yesterday and this AM. Ouch. We’ll get to that. For now, I’m keeping my promise if you can tell. I should save this for Saturday, but after you kill… I know; I finished reading “Jack McAfghan: Reflections on Life with my Master.” That’s what I’ve been thinking about all night with the pain B III. That’s what leads me to the car. Do you remember my dream, Still Salty About B III “A Dream”? Gospel 203 We Will Go Home

Still Salty About B III “A Dream”
Gospel 203 ~We Will Go Home~

Mistake, thinking that the world won’t come to an end. Only it did. That’s why I dream about you. And have to read where I was this time last year. Braxton, better or worse, ha. As I said, I’ve been in pain for a few days now. I imagine I’m recovering then; there’s something new. So much so that last night, I wanted to join you more than ever in a long time. Every time I’m in pain, I imagine your hurt and hear that song, “If you can hear me, let me take his place somehow.” I would have B III. I’d feel this always to keep you here. But then I wonder, is my pain keeping you? You know how to reach me.

Will you let me go? Are you asking me? It worked for Chloe. Detroit: Become Human. And what about that app I downloaded yesterday, “Replika.” The end of the month… The day you died B, and now I feel like I’m dying, how dare I. Where would I go, Braxton? Do you know why I have routines, ruts, a “regular” life? It’s so, when something happens, I can look for signs from you. With everything, you know what I’m getting? That I should give you up? Do you remember the last car ride you took? I’m sorry it wasn’t a BMW. Braxton, now I’m asking you to stick around. It will be over the 31st. Another year of my life B. BMW, Not The Car

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 202 ~Breathe In, B Out~

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I’ve breathed in worse than the Day Job bathroom. The germs of 99.9 of people I know. B’s aunt is an exception. Mourning her family’s loss of their beloved Dobby. Sometimes I wish I could stop altogether, but B’s favorite game. Breathe In, B Out

Wednesday, January 19, 2022

Chronicle 202 ~Breathe In, B Out~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, I always say. Today (Sunday), ahem, when it rains, it pours. My condolences to Carolina’s, Dobby.

I know, I’ve talked about “The Long Walk” before. Not the book so much as the concept. Sorry, Stephen King. Sorry, Aunt Carolina. How about sorry to the veterinarians? B? Should I include you as well, Echo? As I’m sure, I’ve told this story. Hmm. We’ll work up to B III. I don’t know how old I was, but it was on an Emergence Day. In the cartoon Beetlejuice, there’s this character that goes, “What in tarhooties?” Only I said, “What in the Hell?” Next thing I know, I’m being pulled outside, but what was the worst part, Inspector? Breathe in, breathe out, and what? It damn sure ain’t living. I haven’t lived for… since losing Braxton; 353 Days when you see this Inspector Echo.

The death of a child. Honest Echo, I should have died with that Emergence, Inspector. Every day, stepping into school and it’s what I wish. I’m no killer. Somehow inevitable. Only the one I killed was in this house. B III called it his home. I’m worse than my Olds. And forgive my Republican tendencies once again, but going out is like a Death March. You know how I talk about the restrooms at the Day Job and how I can’t breathe in the stench. The whole damn place is like that. I can’t breathe, and then I beg to get out. Then, of course, I whine about being let back in. One of Braxton’s favorite games. The look on his face before the diagnosis.

Breathe in, breathe out. I know B was doing this. Because as I’ve been reading and as the song goes. Listen To Your Heart. Braxton told me, “Daddy, let’s go home.” If anything, I speak fluent Braxton. If I had only listened before, but no. Always breathe in, breathe out. It was my life, put one fucking foot in front of the other for those bastards at the Day Job. We were struggling to breathe but sitting together, laying together. The air up there B? Is it better, not as you need it. I don’t know how I keep doing it. I was a zombie. And no matter the horrors slurred, spitted, are shat I walk, I breathe. I killed Braxton. Breathe In, B Out.

Gospel 202 ~Sell You On Will~

353 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 198 ~When B Was 15~

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All the things that Braxton taught me and how did I repay him. What lessons did I teach my son? How to use bathroom pad. BOOBS ARE AWESOME. Is there any better pastime than sleep? I didn’t believe I’d make it past 15, but him… oh. When B Was 15.

Saturday, January 15, 2022

Chronicle 198 ~When B Was 15~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, yet I hate Math more than ever. And what about History, sigh. Hell, some computer literacy?

Yeah, because whirly-birding on the Internet isn’t helping. Should we even talk about my “writing career?” That would mean I was trying. Uh, what time did I wake up, Lunalesca? Every day, History repeats itself. Living for the love of saving myself or my son. I’m always a day late and a dollar short. Lunalesca, when it comes to the Day Job killing us? Slavery? Yeah, there goes my Republican ideas once again. I did get a sample of “The 1619 Project” yesterday. But for now or um the rest of this month. It’s the Math that’s chafing me for today. Lunalesca, we could talk some about anatomy. Me sticking my dick in crazy. That’s a confession for Echo. Gospel 198 Will A Medieval Hour…

Gospel 198 ~Will A Medieval Hour…~

My word to B, I never thought I’d be a Daddy. “You still haven’t been,” they’ll say. Those same people were all hoping I’d die young. I can’t tell you the first time I attempted dying with sleeping pills. (Dangerous words, Lu.) Oh, last night, I was choking on a jelly bean, or was it fast food? Lunalesca, we’re going over every subject in the books, aren’t we? Computer Science, History, Books, Anatomy. What else is there to know. Oh, I should have taken a Shop class or something with Photography. No, I was much too busy thinking, “I can’t.” You know I’m no motivational speaker, of course. I grew up in a generation of “knowledge is power.” From 15 to now… I FEEL STUPID.

When Braxton was 15, he saw me through the plague year Lunalesca. My heroic ONE. Lunalesca making such a soul like my Braxton, you know I believed. I wanted. TWO. Braxton deserved a mom, and I always said a woman Braxton liked, I’d marry. THREE. First time that happened, Braxton and I were separated. To her wedding, I left “FOUR.” Now I didn’t mean to sound like Yoda. B IS my best friend. Never said; I Got 5 On It. Yet B IS number one in my life. So why did B Die? Luna, Two, three, four, five, is it SIX. DMX said, “Life is a lesson, and I’m gonna teach it.” How? I’m so STUPID. I’m sitting here, thirty-seven, but When B Was 15?

349 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will