Tag: Truth

Meditation 039 ~Defining Mr. B, Virgil~

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The Refraction of Mr. Saturn? That’s a title. How about the books I’m writing? The books I’ve written. Two of them are about my firstborn son. My Old Man can’t define me, and I still refuse to represent my son. Too much to do! Defining Mr. B, Virgil.

Friday, August 9, 2024

Meditation 039 ~Defining Mr. B, Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let me tell you a story… Just different from the one I’m supposed to be working on. “Sofía’s Nightmare.” It’s still untitled.

It’s a heavy burden, Sophia. Braxton’s novels remain untouched. And even if I edit them, it’s too late for me now. I couldn’t save Braxton from fifteen, and now I’m left to grapple with the thought that I can’t save myself from being almost forty.

Sometimes, it still burns me up that he was 13 days shy of 16. He died on the 31st, and his birthday was on the 13th. Virgil’s Gotcha Day will be on the 13th of this month. A coincidence? A conspiracy? After crying for my boy and watching some cute girls’ yabbos, I started listening to people define their type of crazy. Racism, running elections, rewriting history, etc. How do I explain my conspiracy theories? How do I define refraction?

Look at the time; it’s time for a book review:

Big Ideas For Mr. Saturn

Well, maybe not, considering this is a short story and what happens in the end. But it gets five stars from me. The ideas are so “out of this world.” At the same time, it is relatively simple for a guy like me and the characters within it. However, Ms. Courtenay Schembri Gray is a complex individual. Or so I think. It’s one of the reasons I rather enjoy her work so much. Though I can’t pinpoint any particular moment in this story, I consider my moment. As a whole, it is an excellent piece. And the only thing stopping me from purchasing several copies for friends is simply that it’s on Kindle. I’ll ask them all the same. The prose is truly excellent, and I’m sure you’d appreciate it as much as I do.

Will that get me to stop thinking about such and such yabbos? I really want to get back to writing “my” story. Well, it’s a story a girl dreamed up who has an impressive set of yabbos herself. The things I write that aren’t a part of the anatomy, Sophia. I complained about the “Day Job’s” hours some time ago, and now I must write to stay ahead. Somehow hmm.

Then, there was looking at the financial books. As Cherry said today, “Everyone is broke!”

So, Lady Sophia, I find myself grappling with the weight of Braxton’s death, the responsibility of keeping Virgil alive, my gazing at M Anime, and the allure of Cherry’s buxom bodies. And amidst all this, I’m reading the book Morning Star. Can I genuinely define myself in this moment? I find myself wanting to try. But Defining Mr. B, Virgil.

1286 Days Without B III, Day 727 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 037 ~Braxton And Virgil’s Helpfulness~

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My friend B’s Aunt is hurt. I can’t go and help. I can’t send her cash. And her helper has joined B on the Rainbow Bridge. Good help is hard to find. And the worse… MAGA, GOP, and Conservatives could learn from dogs. Braxton And Virgil’s Helpfulness.

Wednesday, August 7, 2024

Meditation 037 ~Braxton And Virgil’s Helpfulness~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned… Or I will? As if that’s even a question. But today is Sunday, August 4, 2024. So sinning!

And never winning. But I’m missing my son Braxton. And what about Virgil? As long as he’s not making a mess on the floor, making me hop out of bed… That’ll be for my good.

If there is always something I admire about my son, it’s this. Every sound Braxton made was towards my benefit. Even if he was mad. My little boy said more than nearly anyone in my existence. Well, short of his Aunt and the pictures M Anime and Cherry once sent.

What was it I was saying about sin? Next to sending Braxton to his end and myself being born… E-Day draws ever closer. Admiring a nice pair of Yabbos is my kryptonite. Help yourself to my cash. Pretty, pretty girls.

But I’m still thinking about what happened to Braxton’s Aunt. And before that, her Gabe.
She got hurt, and Gabe died in his sleep. I had to watch Braxton’s euthanasia because there was nothing I could do to save him. Last year, I told 2-V I don’t know my friend.
We were burning up in this house, and I could not help us. Not to mention how much money I lost when his Old Man and his friend took me for a ride with fixing the AC, Inspector. But who am I to talk about money with everything he spends on me? Hmm. I’m ungrateful.

Pathetic, Useless, less than Helpful—my crime with existing. I can’t help anyone, but can I get out of everyone’s way, Inspector? How I try…

If Braxton and I had a theme, Woodkid’s Run Boy Run would be it. I’d tell Braxton I wanted to find a place where we wouldn’t ever be in someone’s way. That would be my way of helping the world. To be far away from it. But because Braxton was alive, I needed to stand.

That’s what a man does, Inspector. He provides, protects, procreates, ha-ha. He stands because the world needs good people. Helpful people. Braxton was a helper. A great man once said look for the helpers. Braxton saved me. He was a godsend, a savior, a dog…

Braxton was a helper, and Virgil could learn plenty. And me? I have no cash or courage, so I can’t help… Braxton and Virgil’s Helpfulness.

1284 Days Without B III, Day 725 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 035 ~Never Tell Me The Odds~

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What are the odds I wake up to questions? Where is Braxton? Why isn’t he here? Does he still look after me? Did Virgil make a mess? What’s up with Star Wars and Disney+. Who’s Yabbos are on Instagram that I can look up on X? “Never Tell Me The Odds.”

Monday, August 5, 2024

Meditation 035 ~Never Tell Me The Odds~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Fifth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… So I’ll ask, but please don’t tell me the odds about Braxton, the Day Job, or Self-Gratification…

What are the odds that I’m still stuck on Sunday, January 31, 2021? That’s when my son, my Braxton, left this world. The weight of this loss is unbearable, and even now, I shouldn’t see more. No more. Everything hurts.

But then came Saturday, August 13, 2022. That’s when I met Virgil. What were the odds I would hear Braxton’s voice saying, “This is black and white, Dad. Save him!”

Indeed, what are the odds that I could live so long before B III found me? And so long after. Madam, E-Day is coming up fast. Forty is too long. The odds of this reality are beyond belief. You see…

But fifteen was not enough. What about eleven? What are the odds that today, Friday, August 2, 2024, I would be in mourning with Braxton’s Aunt? Braxton has a friend.

Gabriel Michael “Gabe” has passed.

B’s Aunt has joined the club… Another parent lost her fur baby, her son, Madam. And what are the odds she wasn’t ready? I wasn’t with the right words, songs of woe, or sage worldly advice. Hell! I thought B would live forever. Or that I would fall before him.

People play with their hearts regarding our four-legged friends or those that swim. Whatever. The odds that we can ever be the same without them… How does zero sound to you, Madam? And what are the odds that we have to keep getting up every single day? I ask why?

What are the odds that I let Braxton down and join him? It’s storming outside. I have my “protection” in the drawer. Trip, Poison, Stupidity…

But the Grim Reaper doesn’t play like that. Not with me, anyway. I’m not a “believer,” but God didn’t save my son. He is keeping me, though, or maybe that’s B III. Come on, dude.

No! I’m the one who plays. Today, I took a twenty-minute nap. I shouldn’t complain, but I’ve been trying to comfort Braxton’s Aunt as she comforted me when Braxton passed. Finding solace in this journey is a constant struggle, Madam.

What about the odds of having fun? Uh? Virgil got into trouble, so I sent him to Braxton’s room, which means I’ve been looking at Olivia Casta, Pawnshop, and anything else. I know, Madam, Eww! Can I keep it in my pants for at least three days? With this existence? What are the odds? Hmm.

Rest In Peace, Gabriel Michael. Be Nice, Braxton Barks, Please.

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

1282 Days Without B III, Day 723 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 033 ~Braxton, Virgil Burial Furs~

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Everything happens for a reason. NOT? Like me reading about the Howlers and one of Darrow’s best friends dying. Uh, spoiler alert… My best friend is gone, and now my second best friend is mourning her fur baby “Gabe.” Braxton, Virgil Burial Furs

Saturday, August 3, 2024

Meditation 033 ~Braxton, Virgil Burial Furs~

Hey Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… But that doesn’t make me miss my boy, my son, Braxton, any less. If cryogenically frozen…

But I’ve been lost in fiction for this week, Lady Lunalesca. The cosmos’s coldness? Yes, I’m still reading “Morning Star.” We’ll get to that. There’s “my” unnamed title, “Sofía’s Nightmare.” Sofía, in a bunny costume from The Blackmail II: The Animation, is with the CEO. He’s saying, “Let’s Get It On”. There’s a random book I bought, too. Burning cash. It’s my way of finding comfort in these trying times.

Lunalesca, what am I forgetting? Got To Be Real, right? Braxton’s on a seventies kick. Wherever he is? Again, he’s not cryogenically frozen. B died. And now he has company.

Yesterday, right after speaking with Lady Sophia, I got the word from Braxton’s Aunt. Her fur baby, Gabriel Michael, joined Braxton with the “Spirit In The Sky.” August 2, 2024

Braxton’s Aunt’s son passed away.

If I didn’t make that clear, Lady Lunalesca, may his little soul rest in peace. She has to make decisions as I did when Braxton met his end. But Gabe tried to spare his mom. He died on his own and can say I did it “My Way.” That’s Frank Sinatra in 1969. Sixties and seventies music? I wonder. How will Gabriel talk to his mom? I’m trying as well.

Lunalesca, I’m at a loss. I have a record of what I did when Braxton fell, but I don’t know what to tell his Aunt. Who have I ever buried before… That I loved? Really, Luna. Two-legged family… I swear.

Braxton is in a box on the nightstand and a pendant I wear. Burial details are something new to me.

But I know she’s getting Gabe back as well. Braxton was cremated on February 4th, and he was “home” on February 10th. As for a ceremony? That I lacked Lunalesca.

This leads me back to reading. I showed Braxton’s Aunt as many books on grieving as I could—and there are even more. But how did I spend the rest of my night as she grieved?

I’m burying myself deeper with M Anime and her troubles as well. She’s the “Girl All The Bad Guys Want.” Why she deals with me, I’ll never know. Grieving, Groaning. I feel like I’m drowning in it all. Depression, Depravity.

Lunalesca, I’m doing one or the other. Or reading Cherry’s writing. There’s the Day Job humiliations. But Thursday pales in comparison to Friday’s news. Poor Gabe. Braxton, Virgil Burial Furs

1280 Days Without B III, Day 721 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 032 ~Virgil WRITES B’s Goodbye~

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WE don’t write like I once did with B. He would sleep under the table while I would type away. WE don’t read like I once did with B. I don’t go and lie on the couch and try not to drop my device. And reading about pet loss… Virgil WRITES B’s Goodbye.

Friday, August 2, 2024

Meditation 032 ~Virgil WRITES B’s Goodbye~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let me tell you a story… Or sing you a song? I would rather go back to sleep. Always. Yesterday was bad.

And I only write bad stories. Sad ones, at least. And so I remember the worst story I ever wrote. A bill for euthanasia, cremation, and my son, my boy Braxton, in a box. It still amazes me I can sweat over days like yesterday. The weather Sophia… Please! Hell?

That’s what I deserve, whether it be from embarrassment, Eros, or, again, B III’s euthanasia.

I’m just a “Sucker for Pain,” It’s what makes me a great $adist. The fact that I understand my ma$ochism. And I trying to fool any censors and the like. Like little Virgil? That’s TMI.

I haven’t had much private playtime. Not with Virgil, “my constant companion,” (rolls eyes) always by my side, even when I’m trying to write.

Even now, he’s lying here while I write a book review:

It Takes The Hardest Goodbye

To do what exactly? Heal? I won’t say I like this book. But who can say they like any book about dog loss? It’s good, needed, necessary, but no one wants to read them. Still, I did to the tune of three stars. I’m still reading things like this, and my fur buddy, my son, has been gone for three years. Titles like this blend together after you read enough of them. But the fact that I took a few quotes, here or there, to heart honestly says a lot. I know a few fur parents, and I could recommend better. But The Hardest Goodbye is a good starter book for anyone taking this long and lonely walk of loss.

Can I say, Sophia, for the record, that I’m absolutely livid with the Kindle App for removing this book from my list? It’s not like anything I’ve written or will. Will ever be seen… like for real. Ever! My works…

Sophia, I’m still working on “Sofía’s Nightmare,” And I “won” with my goal of 15,000 words for Camp NaNoWriMo. But each chapter only gets worse. What’s the last one without:

  1. Houkago Ren’ai Club ~Koi n Etude~ Casual Romance Club
  2. The Blackmail II: The Animation
  3. The V Games
  4. Slaves To Passion Hana Dorei
  5. Olivia Casta
  6. Dakota Skye

And there’s more…

But I should shut up and wonder how I’ll pay for the next crisis. Virgil’s fur is getting around everywhere. It’s like he’s leaving a trail of his presence, and I’m left to clean up after him. There’s always something. Hello! Virgil WRITES B’s Goodbye

1279 Days Without B III, Day 720 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 030 ~Virgil, Don’t B Bad~

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Roleplay, Cosplay, and will I even make it to Halloween. With texts from my father and the things I have to do at the Day Job… If I can be real. I wish I were… uh, with Braxton. Which explains Virgil being all cuddly. “Virgil, Don’t B Bad.”

Wednesday, July 31, 2024

Meditation 030 ~Virgil, Don’t B Bad~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. No, not Virgil. He’s been a GD angel from last night to now. How long will he last?

I always expect the worst of people, including my Old Man’s dogs… But that’s a good story for another time. The question is, why am I so late talking to you today? It’s 7:30 a.m.

Humiliations Galore? Sure. But as always, let me remember my biggest sin of all. Echo,

my son is dead. It started on a Wednesday afternoon three years ago. Braxton Barks. Conversely, Virgil pulled a move from Braxton’s playbook, which explains where I am right now. Surprise, surprise, still in bed. And I have time before outside shenanigans. How about breakfast? Both Virgil and I skipped dinner last night as well, Inspector. Why? Braxton dying, me being born, not accepting what I’ve become. Monster, Savage, Coward?

Braxton’s father was my calling.

But yesterday, what was I? Don’t I always say the Day Job makes me into a villain in one way or another? There’s acting, and then there’s whatever I did at the meeting on Tuesday. Inspector, I owe the entire Harlem Nights cast an apology. Especially Della Reese as Vera.

“Are you saying I’m stealing?” Vera from Harlem Nights 1998.

Roleplay Inspector… There’s plenty I can do with that. I scare myself sometimes, and according to my coworkers, I scare them too. But aren’t I roleplaying every day anyway to get by? My Old Man texted me the other day, and I had to pretend to be okay. Echo, it’s exhausting. And the truth is…

I am not okay. I haven’t been since Braxton. It’s hard to keep pretending. They say fake it till you make it, but sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever make it. Only the real me…

Dead. That’s what “bad” people deserve. But to live as a monster or to die as a good man? You know that’s from the movie Shutter Island. I need to watch that. And the Olympics?

What happened to my patriotism? I’ve had a few POR… Passions. Saddens me to say. I’m starting on Day One again. But I blame the novel I’m writing. I blame Camp NaNoWriMo. But you know what, Inspector? I’m not giving up. I won’t get close to 50,000 words, but 15,000?

But why bother? What “reasonable” person imagines a girl with several gentlemen callers, I ask?

Or think to borrow… well, steal the hotel scene from Himawari wa Yoru ni Saku?

Inspector to spend the day cuddling with my boys. That’s What Makes A Good Man. Maybe. Virgil, Don’t B Bad.

1277 Days Without B III, Day 718 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 028 ~Rage Against Plenty Of Things~

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Some people only seek out hate. Sadness makes it so I can’t breathe. Lust and Fear, too. Rage? I’m like a carrier of the “rage virus” in 28 Days/Weeks Later. But that only condemns me. And the ashes were once known as B. Rage Against Plenty Of Things

Monday, July 29, 2024

Meditation 028 ~Rage Against Plenty Of Things~

Three-Hundredth And Fifty-Fourth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… like choosing my fears over rage. I choose plenty over rage. But that’s the secret, like Bruce.

“I’m Always Angry”
The Avengers

You know one of the many reasons I envy my son? He’s dead. And don’t get me wrong, Madam. You can hate the dead. Speak ill about them and everything. But of everything I remember about my Braxton. I don’t remember the anger. And I was angry at him, sure.

But not once have I been angry about him leaving, as I told Dear Future Wife today. It’s Tuesday, July 23, 2024. Anyway, I told her I was always angry at me, myself and I.

Again, every book on loss is against this. And I’m mad at those writers. But it doesn’t mean I go around burning books like some people. B III’s death is in the hands of two.

But more on that later. What am I mad about today? There’s been Humiliations Galore?

Which is why we’re talking today. Only what has me now this second? Existing, Madam.

Everything is falling apart around me, for starters. There was a storm. So, I need to check on the fence. A light came on in the car, so I must get that checked out. I mistakenly looked up appointments, and they’re already talking about five hundred dollars. No effing way!

That means I can’t risk ordering something. But “no worries,” Madam. I won’t let Virgil starve. And Virgil is as confused as ever, not realizing his business belongs outside only.

It’s not like I’m training him or anything. Locking him behind one of Braxton’s gates.

This brings me back to the one I hold the most rage for… Myself. And there are not enough words or time to explain why I hate myself so much. And joining my Braxton… sigh.

Okay. First is the euthanasia of my son. I blame myself and the other culprit… The Day Job. There was so much rage for and from those people there that I ignored my son. Then?

B III in a box on the nightstand. My rage burned my son to ash. The Hell within me. Rage!

I look in the mirror. Through a camera lens. Even my search history. For example, Pacifica Ocean aka Paz Ortega Andrade. That’s from a few minutes ago. Talk about fire. Rage Against Plenty Of Things

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

1275 Days Without B III, Day 716 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 026 ~The V Games Braxton~

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Have they begun complaining about The Olympics yet? I called myself patriotic, taking the day off to watch the Opening Ceremony twice. It gave me time to catch up on mobile games and anime. What about writing? The V Games Braxton.

Saturday, July 27, 2024

Meditation 026 ~The V Games Braxton~

Hey Lady Lu,
I am a Billionaire right now… But it isn’t from writing—not yet, at least. And that’s not why I started writing.

At this point of the story, my son Braxton would raise his head. I told him that I was going to give him the life he deserved… WE deserved when I finished, Lunalesca. With editing…

I was writing long before I started singing “Welcome to My World” or “Welcome to the World.” Sigh… Today’s songs are brought to you by Wang Chung and Kevin Rudolf. Lunalesca, remind me to make a playlist of the songs Braxton sends me. Did that.

Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh, my writing. Well, my lack thereof with yesterday. The Olympics have begun. Here are a few reasons why opening my eyes today hurts:

  1. Braxton isn’t here anymore
  2. I look at myself
  3. Losing myself to Yabbos
  4. The Matrix has me…
  5. I see the successful
  6. Look what I’m writing

I’m determined to get back on track, Lady Lunalesca, but…

There’s Too Much Sauce. I woke up late again, ok. And I should be grateful for the hours next week for my Day Job. But look at my typical routine, and It’s A Beautiful Morning:

So I’m sitting here, and as I said, Braxton’s Playlist has included again: Wang Chung, Kevin Rudolf, Drake, DJ ESCO, and The Rascals. B loved music, movies, and big mammaries. Then I was thinking about how I barely got any writing done. The Opening Ceremony. But what I did made me question where the novel is moving towards, Lunalesca. Once I read that a good artist creates, a great artist steals. Uh, that’s rude, maybe…

But sitting here, I was thinking about Thursday. Uh Houkago Ren’ai Club ~Koi no Etude~. Me and Japanese, Lunalesca. Let’s just say Casual Romance Club. I’m trying to pin down the novel type. And there’s Casual Romance Club meets The Blackmail II: The Animation, plus Rei Ayanami all wrapped up in “Sofía’s Nightmare,” Lunalesca. However, as you can see, I began looking at The V Games books by Ker Dukey while searching for something to read. And as always, there are Yabbos. In this case, Elsa’s from Frozen… Uh, gross…

And then I wonder why my business is nowhere. I’m broke. And Braxton is gone. Where’d You Go? Lunalesca, I swear! The V Games Braxton.

1273 Days Without B III, Day 714 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 025 ~ B’s Apocalyptic Bills Virgil~

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Can you read? That’s an “at sign,” not a zero. Yikes! If the GOP gains control, people who aren’t them won’t have reading or math. Then again, I’m reading more books and losing more money. And women, children, and dogs… “B’s Apocalyptic Bills Virgil”

Friday, July 26, 2024

Meditation 025 ~ B’s Apocalyptic Bills Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let me tell you a story… though I would prefer to have a heart attack and join Braxton. Read my car bill…

Well, I couldn’t at first and thought it read $1000.00. And that’s after the worker told me it was only $85.00. Remember to read your contracts, kids. But it was $85.00. Still with my cash… And that’s not all. There was a very yummy piggie potato, vittles, and V’s meds.

Needless to say, I feel like I’ve been through an apocalypse—or rather, a car dealership, two BBQ joints, and the pet hospital. So please excuse my tardiness, Lady Sophia.

Apocalypses in any way, shape, or form are welcome. I only figured I’d be riding it out with Braxton. Instead, most days, I’m outside, finding solace in the pages of Pierce Brown’s Morning Star. It’s my escape, my refuge from the chaos of life. And?

And what? “Waiting On The World To Change?” Virgil to learn bathroom etiquette. Book reviews…

Dystopian Girls Good FOUR What?

Well, for starters, four stars. Throw in a loyal dog, and it would be five-star worthy. And didn’t this one have a few dogs? Ah memories. Like how many wives Mason has. What are all the powers they wield? The battles fought. And victories won for the group. And even with all that, it’s the realism… That’s my favorite part. What does that make me? Hmm? Between every encounter Mason has with Stella. Or any of the other girls in his harem. And then the face-offs. Speaking of being face-to-face, I have “some.” friends… Here or there, I could get in on this series, knowing myself and my stance on the end of the world.

I find such comfort in books, Lady Sophia. Until I’m sitting in a waiting room while the car gets fixed. And I get interrupted. I didn’t even tell you about the humiliations galore I suffered at the front desk. A car dealership, a pet hospital, that time I was in junior college and had written about a girl… What waiting room will I find myself in next? And after what tragedy? Virgil is still very young. And regardless of everything, I won’t be explaining to someone why I can’t keep him. It would be like the end of the world. Isn’t that giving me too much credit? I need something because I’m not making money.

Writing and reading what I do. B’s Apocalyptic Bills Virgil

1272 Days Without B III, Day 713 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Meditation 023 ~Braxton’s Benjamins, Virgil’s Vittles~

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I should have named Virgil “Cash.” Then I could say I have Cash at the house. But I was looking for the path out of Hell, so I got Virgil. Only keeping Hell “LIT” means burning money. Books, boobs, and the boys. Braxton’s Benjamins, Virgil’s Vittles.

Wednesday, July 24, 2024

Meditation 023 ~Braxton’s Benjamins, Virgil’s Vittles~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. I didn’t take care of my son. I don’t take care of myself. And Virgil lives with it.

How do I know? Because he stayed beside me all night for once. I guess. Protecting his meal ticket. Braxton was protecting his best friend. An unfair comparison, Echo. Noted.

But my heart is still empty since I lost Braxton. Empty? It’s still broken. And again, that’s unfair when it comes to Virgil. But as the song goes, “But love is a long, long road.”

Inspector, am I being petty? Ha-Ha, Tom Petty! Anything beats being scared, like last night. And I keep saying it… Whenever I feel frightened and/or fiendish, I think of the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. Being born is the second. Braxton’s death, first.

My son died on an empty stomach. What cash I had ended my boy’s suffering.

When I was young… More like “When We Were Young.” Sometimes, I would starve myself on purpose. My pathetic hunger strikes because I wanted to die. B wanted to live.

I remember getting back from the hospital once and my Ma telling me that Braxton was nearly out of food and his water was dirty. I wasn’t ashamed of wanting to die. No. My shame is that Braxton suffered because I wasn’t taking care of myself. I was/am his father, dammit! Keeping my son alive meant that I had to stay alive. Then Braxton wasn’t.

Inspector, it should have ended there. Only an hour after Braxton was “euthanized,” I was buying a picture frame. And then in a BBQ drive-thru at my Ma’s behest. Sigh.

You see, Echo, thinking about my empty/broken heart from losing my “soul pet” means I’m not thinking about my stomach. But I’ll pick up BBQ on Thursday. If I’m not broke from the auto shop. One place is closer to me, but I like the piggie potato from the other place. Why don’t I look and scream, “Feed your head!” Uh, I’m reading Morning Star.

Yeah, and Darrow is escaping from a prison where he was nearly starved to death. Inspector, I’m empty of a conscience, too, with how I’ve been writing these days. Seriously. There’s money and time, which I have none of, which explains my exhaustion, Inspector Echo.

But Virgil has needs. Food, finding meds, and friendship. Living for Braxton’s Benjamins, Virgil’s Vittles.

1270 Days Without B III, Day 711 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will