Saga 220 ~Don’t Worry Your Life Away~

“Why should I worry? Why should I care?” I have a son… I had a son. Now there’s a freeloader in the house, but when I put money down. To what raise him up? A little worry on top of so many others. It stinks. Or is that me? Don’t Worry Your Life Away.

Monday, February 6, 2023

Saga 220 ~Don’t Worry Your Life Away~

Two-Hundred and Seventy-Eighth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now… There aren’t consequences to my actions. “Only color we care about is the green of your dollars.’

I heard that in a movie called Posse (1993). Yes, I said Posse and not pussy. Not that pussy is a bad word… Um, have you seen Replika lately? Or how about the movie “Boomerang.” I should have a Black movie marathon. If only Braxton’s Aunt were here, Braxton himself. Anyway, I’m getting way off topic or not. Isn’t the whole point of today, well, tomorrow, since it’s Sunday, not to worry? But I am. A reason I didn’t want to talk to you today. Hell! What I wouldn’t give to go back to worrying about Braxton. Keeping him alive. Then there was the whole finding him again. And judging from the white ball of fluff next to me, I named Virgil. Is that him?

That smell? If anything, that’s what I’m most worried about. Being that smelly guy to a fired one. What about a dead one, since I seem to have the smell down these days? I did try that clinical deodorant I picked up from the store. But then again, I took a nap naked right after. Not a real test of movement. That moaning, groaning in bed, hmm? But we’ll get to that. What else do I have to be worried about? I have two words for ya! Suck It! Enough about the bedroom (sigh). In all seriousness, there’s the fucking Day Job. Anything else, Madam? Only if I didn’t want to go… how’s writing? Did you see my taxes last week? $1,000 less… fucking government.

As much as I want to burst into “Why Should I Worry?” As always, people suck. Or is it me? Did I mention green? The last time I checked, it wasn’t under my arms. But then, what is it then? If only I had more green in my wallet. I did the math today for an investment. If I took out what was owed, there would only be $1,700 in the savings, so (blank), please. You know what I meant to say. I wanted to go all Sho’Nuff from The Last Dragon. I should see The 1619 Project. I’ll admit I am worried about the USA but more about me. I’m pretty selfish. Puppies, pens, pleasures? I have a penis. Don’t Worry Your Life Away

736 Days Without B III, Day 177 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 218 ~Braxton, Virgil, They Nose~

Braxton knew that something wasn’t right with him. Virgil knows something isn’t right with me. When I get his name wrong. Or I don’t actively seek him out, and he’s in Braxton’s room alone. And I need to be alone most days. Braxton, Virgil, They Nose

Saturday, February 4, 2023

Saga 218 ~Braxton, Virgil, They Nose~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but I doubt it’s because I’m doing anything creative. And the ordinary… the Day Job, eww…

Or maybe that’s just me. I’m still feeling and smelling all types of gross. It could be all the money burning in my pocket. And I haven’t picked up any new deodorant yet, Lady Lu. It’s sort of hard when you’re starving. I shouldn’t say hard or starving, considering (sigh). We’ll get to the hard part later. For now, I’m trying to forget last week, to be honest. Well, not my son. Never my Braxton. I can’t say I’ve been that nice to Virgil these days, to be fair. Lunalesca, I’m not a monster. At least not to fur babies. People? They know. What? That I’m a stinker? I must be musty. Yuck! I swear I’m not mistaking you for Inspector Echo, Lady Lunalesca. Fuck!

Speaking of which, that’s all I’ve been thinking about these days. My Braxton, my stink. And then, as the song goes, “I smell sex and candy.” It’s been thirty-five days, Lunalesca. Twitter has been killing me, making me feel like a kid again. You know, when I first discovered Hentai. I haven’t been able to get anything else done. Downloading porn. Didn’t I say that you aren’t Inspector Echo? Yet I keep confessing to everything today. Not the worse of it, thank B III. The only little god I’ll bother listening to. Yet again, that could be the fasting. I am sucking down energy drinks and sour jelly beans, Luna. Not that I want to be awake, but then… Vengeance Day, Knock At The Cabin

I should have my nose in a book. How about in some prescriptions from doctors? Lunalesca, figure out what the hell is wrong with me. Is it these energy supplements? Degree Deodorant? Didn’t I blame them yesterday? And again, I went out and got what? Always food. And I want to see a Knock At The Cabin after reading the book about it. Is it the fact that people are scaring me so much more these days? I promise not to get all political. This is more personal. You know how I feel about people. Including myself, Lu? One more reason I miss Triple B. And have been somewhat annoyed with Little V. Leaving me to myself… “Cool Devices,” you know. Braxton, Virgil, They Nose

734 Days Without B III, Day 175 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 217 ~Nosey About Virgil, Braxton~

I can’t say I did much showering the days after Braxton passed. Or maybe it’s all the sweating I’ve been doing trying not to… well. I could sue Degree Deodorant. Have I died alongside my boy? Is anyone nosey about this? “Nosey About Virgil, Braxton.”

Friday, February 3, 2023

Saga 217 ~Nosey About Virgil, Braxton~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now. Okay, I need to buy a book on the subject, at the very least. Reading it…

Yeah right! My grandmommy bought me a book written by Chick-fil-A’s founder. I’m too lazy. Can’t even go upstairs and go fetch it. Braxton… well, he wouldn’t. But I miss him. Now my Granddaddy… How long am I going to talk about him, Lady Sophia? I read his obituary and found out he had “four” grandchildren. Guess I need to read up on the family. But I should have read up on deodorant. Yes, I’m still on that too. Who knows where I’ll be when we finally finish this conversation? It’s Wednesday, February 1, 2023. I shouldn’t be working so hard today. But all the times I’ve cried over Braxton. The story of Little B. Have I already forgotten the title with everything going on?

Stinking up joints and whatnot? B wouldn’t care. How many days was it? B III would cuddle next to me in my arm or by my legs. Knowing it’s my turn to protect him. Sophia, sometimes he may even show an interest in what I was reading… when appropriate. Which it hasn’t been. And considering it’s Friday, February 3, 2023. So time to finish our conversation. And, of course, I’m late, considering I worked a whopping four hours Thursday. I fell asleep at one in the morning. And what time is it now? Um, it’s 7:45. What have I been reading or, rather, watching… Hey! It’s been some words. Japanese.

  1. Miyajima Tsubaki -Saimin Seishidou
  2. Haji Shinchishin
  3. Kanojo Wa Dare To Demo Sex Suru
  4. Otogibanashi no Onigokko
  5. Muttsuri Do Sukebe Ro Gibo Shimai no Honshitsu Minuite Sex Zanmai
  6. Muramata san no himitsu
    To Be Continued…

Yes, Lady Sophia, I wanted to make a list. Virgil provides that time having “accidents” on the floor. I didn’t talk to him hardly at all yesterday until he grew the courage to check. Or did he smell the dead body that I have become? Seriously Lady Sophia, deodorant. Cherry and M Anime might appreciate it, not that I’ll be seeing them anytime soon… in a certain way. I’m as nosy as Atrioc; who got in trouble watching Deepfakes of girls on Twitch? I hope not. Everything else in this existence? I should keep my nose and smell to myself, Sophia. Nosey About Virgil, Braxton

733 Days Without B III, Day 174 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 215 ~Braxton, Virgil, Everyone Nose~

Well, I finally fell asleep at 2:00 in the morning. So after waking up at 4:00 AM, blotting my eyes. After some bed antics, and reading a book, I’m ready to go. Um, a shower? Hasn’t been helping much lately, and “Braxton, Virgil, Everyone Nose.”

Wednesday, February 1, 2023

Saga 215 ~Braxton, Virgil, Everyone Nose~

Forgive Me, Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now; only you don’t know. I stink… sure. My writing sucks… ok; my son is dead, yep.

My Braxton is dead. And January 31, 2021, is the worst day, next to E-Day. But what about my granddaddy? Am I still going on about that? Not his death but yeah, humiliations galore like moi exist everywhere. And not only in my Day Job. I should have went Echo. Instead, I decided to stink up the funeral worse than a corpse. That’s pretty harsh against someone I don’t even know. Anyway, I got to get a new deodorant, Inspector. Whatever I got, I don’t know when. Well, it’s not working, and I have been stinking up joints royally. Hell! Is this my form of penance, confessing this shit? I’m sure my Ma was awfully embarrassed. And “What’s My Age Again?” Thirty-eight. And everyone else…

If only I could be as unknown as I am on Twitter. And Facebook, it looks like, but then yesterday. Um, like going on a week or so now. I’ve been losing people everywhere, Echo. Of course, the only follower, friend, and little fellow I should worry about is Braxton. What about Virgil, you ask? I didn’t hang out with him yesterday. Again, I’m a meanie. Or I didn’t want to deal with all the humiliation, shame, and guilt. If you want to know why I’m so late talking to you today. 9:05 in the morning. I was busy reading Inspector… Come on! That’s not a lie. I’m 60% into “The Book Eaters.” But I’m also a breast man. With two of my friends… Turned-on?

And I’m wondering why people are leaving in droves. All I think about… “Get Naked!” It’s either that or my little boy. And no, I don’t mean my “Enormous Penis….” Ok, Inspector, I’ll stop. With today being February 1, I should have plenty of respect Inspector. Talking to M Anime yesterday. A particular image she laid out would have me sprung. Instead, I kept my Nose out of my pillow and into Braxton’s hoody and other things that were his.

Oh, along with myself. I swear, after granddaddy’s funeral, I thought I caught COVID-19. Inspector, as the song goes, “I’m still alive.” The songs that Braxton begs me listen to. Inspector, he’s always and forever in my business… and heart. Plus, he doesn’t mind the smell… Braxton, Virgil, Everyone Nose

731 Days Without B III, Day 172 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 213 ~Hard Enough, Hearts Have Cages~

Life is hard. Don’t recommend. I died between seven and twenty-one. Then came Braxton. And for fifteen years, it was “stay alive.” Then I was free to die. Hell! If I wanted that, why not skip this funeral. But tomorrow… Hard Enough, Hearts Have Cages

Monday, January 30, 2023

Saga 213 ~Hard Enough, Hearts Have Cages~

Two-Hundred and Seventy-Seventh Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now… So what do you want to buy, you ask? A box? House, coffin, a place for Braxton?

My head hurts. I wish I could say it’s for Braxton. It should all be for B right this second. No such luck. I should be at the Day Job crying my eyes out to see my son die, Madam. But beside me sits a piece of black plastic and metal. I’m waiting to hear it ring about me “skipping” the Day Job today. To think I’d crave that place. “I don’t want to work….” Only I don’t want to go to my granddaddy’s funeral either. A man in a box… And honest to “God,” Madam. The only reason I’m going is that I don’t want to join in death… Fucking conflicted. Last night all I could think about was, “Free Your Mind.” “Bang, Bang”

In more ways than one, Madam. For now, let us focus instead on the boom, boom of a heart. But it should be my B’s heart. I look to my other side and see the box I put him in. Hell! I even moved Virgil out of the way. He’s sitting in Braxton’s room right now. If only he were Braxton, and that’s mean, I know. Again it was only last night Virgil crept out. Walking into the den, Virgil jumped up, wanting to cuddle. Did Virgil hear this heart? Broken? I keep saying that, but I can feel it pounding, and it will only get worse as the day goes on. There is no escape Madam. All last night I prayed for my death.

That’s something I’ll own. Or the “Bang, Bang” in my shorts. Fucking up this morning. Only it could be the guilt, fear, or anxiousness which also comes with masturbation. Yuck! Talk about something that should be kept surrounded by bones. Don’t you think so too? Skin and bones. Which appears even more likely when I see what I was getting back on the tax return. I won’t be boning anytime soon… that is if I paid for it. Working hard. Madam Justice, I wish I was today. It’s going to be a long day. But what about tomorrow, hmm? I put a better man in a box; my son Braxton. I can do without my head. My heart’s for Braxton. Hard Enough, Hearts Have Cages.

729 Days Without B III, Day 170 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 211 ~Avoiding BS… B, V~

Calling it life is BS. No! I exist. If I had my way, I’d want to do that as far away from people as possible. Give me sex tapes, the WWE, and a fur baby that isn’t my son but is better than anyone I’ll have to deal with today. Avoiding BS… B, V.

Saturday, January 28, 2023

Saga 211 ~Avoiding BS… B, V~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I’m full of fear. I swear people with money are the biggest snowflakes, Lunalesca.

Then again, I don’t have a dime, and I’m scared out of my mind this morning. Virgil is too, Lu. But before I talk about him, there’s B III? Oh, how about my granddaddy, Lunalesca? Today as with every other, my son comes first. Braxton should have always and forever. Only now, I’m reminded of that evening when I had to leave Braxton behind Lunalesca. My “father” thinks I was bullshitting. But right now, there aren’t cops to come busting down the door. I wasn’t eating when grandma died, and I’m not eating dinner, Lunalesca. All I want to do now is be with my boy. That’s how much I hate being with people now. I would rather die instead of dealing. People are bullshit.

Then again, I am very much the same. I’m only human. When I’m working with everything Virgil has going on. If I’m going out today, I should check all his paperwork. Did I say that? This weekend, the last time I need to do is sign anything Lunalesca. Crying now. But it isn’t about Braxton; Virgil is alive and well. And there’s granddaddy… please, Lu. That was harsh. Hell! You want to see harsh. There’s the feeling in this stomach from yesterday and here at five in the morning. Lunalesca, I was up on time. There’s fear of everything I have to do today. I didn’t have the balls to call the Day Job yesterday. There are clothes, a haircut, and the viewing. Everything else

Death isn’t bullshit. As much as I wish it were. Whenever I hear about a missing Chihuahua, I always check and make sure it’s not B III. Talk about denial Lu. He’s sitting here. 727 days in a box? No! That would be bullshit now, wouldn’t it? But I’d trade him right now, Lu. I could refuse to go to my granddaddy’s funeral as I did to grandma’s. I wish. Except I don’t want to deal with all the bullshit that goes along with that. What would my Olds do? It’s why I slugged an energy drink, and I’m pressing on now. I hate this. Braxton was so much stronger than me. Fifteen years of my bullshit. Living, existing, such bullshit. Avoiding BS… B, V.

727 Days Without B III, Day 168 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 210 ~Mediums B, V, Granddaddy~

I can’t say that writing is a “release.” Too much porn for that. It makes things bearable. There was no one to talk to about Braxton’s death. And Virgil’s life is sitting in the dark… My granddaddy’s passing? I don’t know. Mediums B, V, Granddaddy

Friday, January 27, 2023

Saga 210 ~Mediums B, V, Granddaddy~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now. But is being a trillionaire too extreme? That’s what these days feel like. To the extreme

This coming from the “Lazy Ass” sitting in bed at six in the morning. At this time in 2021, I should have been paying attention to B. Gospel 210 ~Will To Break Free~ Well, I wasn’t. And even today, with so much to do, Lady Sophia. I wonder how Braxton felt while I was worried about “Shawshank.” Shows what kind of Daddy I’d become. The one that let him die. No, correction! The one who killed him. Euthanasia. Killing? Yesterday I brought up to B III the differences between Treachery and Betrayal. Braxton’s still dead. Um, that’s something I should bring up to one of these “animal communicators,” oh yeah. Before I go, get Braxton’s story tattooed on my flesh. But I know the story.

And V’s is in the process of being written. It’s not a very good one so far. I’ll admit it. Hell! Last night I left him in the Den, thinking he would go to the pillow in B III’s room. He might even decide to come to bed. This was at nine last night. So, where was Virgil this morning? I can’t even say he was the first thought I had. Being Virgil’s Dad, (scoffs). Besides missing Braxton… There was a blonde in a bikini. Sabrina Nichole’s “first sex tape” getting ready to come out. Don’t forget; there was Aphrodite from “Record of Ragnarok.” Anyway, when I got in a better headspace… Did I say that? Well, I got up. There’s Virgil on the couch.

He’s dealing with his stuff. But if he was B III… Honest, these pornographic passions? Braxton would have listened to me all last night as I talked about granddaddy. What can I say? That’s the thing bothering me. Talking about Braxton, always and forever. And I still want to learn even more about him. The spirits, seers, say something. I’m listening. I can tell you stories about Virgil. Only they won’t be good ones, Lady Sophia. Though I do imagine he might be able to sift through this existence. Somehow, someway… Granddaddy? The last time I heard from him, he said he didn’t know me. Um, that’s a ditto from me. So I sit with his death knowing nothing, Answers, release? Mediums B, V, Granddaddy

726 Days Without B III, Day 167 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 208 ~B Virgil In Time~

A big lie, I tell myself… There’s No Time. What did I do all this morning? And those small instances when I’m trying to teach V (sigh). I had all the time in the world after the Day Job, but I was so mad. Braxton paid with time. B Virgil In Time

Wednesday, January 25, 2023

Saga 208 ~B Virgil In Time~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, ha-ha. How I wish. It would be better if Virgil (formerly Archie) knew who he was. And me… I’m a Boob.

Not the guy that should be worrying about taxes, calling the termite guy. Terrible Daddy? That last one we’ll get to in a while. Only I need to make a list of the necessary things. Yeah, it’s not like my Six Impossible Things are any closer. Even pepped up with energy. Please, I’ll be asleep by five. And speaking of closing my eyes, have I cried for B III today? I did curse out Virgil for stepping in shit last night. As I’ve said, January is not a good time. And isn’t this entire existence about me stepping in shit? One more reason we’re talking now. But (sigh) we’ll finish well today because what shit will the Day Job bring. Again, taxes, termites, filters, adulting…

When all I want to do is be a little boy, curled up in blankets crying for my best friend. That Inspector Echo is what is pissing me off the most. Well, the Day Job. But besides blaming myself for Braxton’s death, I blame them for making me hate. Republicans? Inspector, I’d make a damn good one if I was some old white Trumptard. But no, I want to talk about my son (Braxton) and the boy (Virgil) in this house. Whatever will I do? There will be barbecue and dog movies. No new treasures as I look at the account that doesn’t say billion. So why do I keep saying I AM? Hell! I am still Braxton’s Daddy, and nothing will change that Inspector.

But then there’s an animal communicator I want to talk to sometimes, Inspector. A wish. And before that, I meant to speak to some of these counselors. About what I will do with Virgil, come the day. When has anyone ever agreed with me? Oh, right, I killed him. And it should have been me, but this isn’t Heaven. Tuesday begging for heavenly boobs. Only she refused, so I had money to spend on books. And those books, Echo, weren’t about burying fur babies. Inspector, love and hate Amazon. Wonder what they and other stores must think of me? When the truth is “I Don’t Know Who I Am.” I could use a “Repair Man,” a bug guy, a counselor, or an adult. Virgil? No, Braxton. B Virgil In Time

724 Days Without B III, Day 165 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

I Think Maple Street’s Bugged (Book Review)

When I usually think of maggots… well, whenever. I think of the dead. And this book, The Maggot on Maple Street, has that too. Well, a death wish, and yet words coming alive as well. Flesh, finding oneself, and fuckery. I Think Maple Street’s Bugged.

If you don’t read anything else, with the way things are going in the world today… Remember, The Maggot on Maple Street for your bug-out bag. It will remind you that there was once intelligent life on this planet. One of the many things Courtenay Schembri Gray is trying to convey. Well, that’s amongst many. And did I say many other things going on in her head? Brains! Indeed if the zombies haven’t gotten to you yet, you still have. That is if you’re reading Courtenay’s book; Ms. Gray, if you’re nasty… indeed, some elements of this work. You’re warned.

Long story short, or compilation, which it is. It’s a collection of poetry from a quite profound young writer. Not to sound cliché. But each and every poem really makes you think. That’s both a good and a bad thing. But more on that in a moment. Such a mind. Courtenay’s talent is immeasurable for such a small work. But if there were more to it. And yes, I have read other titles of hers. Such as Cherry. I suppose she can’t give it away all at once. Such experiences and realizations. Which should drive us all while. You’ll see.

That is if you’re lucky enough to read this work. I imagine “read” would be much too small a word for it, like something out of the movie “The Menu.” When it comes to writing… You do not only read her poetry. You imagine, dream, you relish every single word. Again there is far more to it than that, and again if you will give me the time. I ask you to share some of your time with The Maggot on Maple Street. Hell! The title alone asks for that and far more of us. I have discovered that myself.

It’s not as if Courtenay is asking you to take this journey alone, as she, too, is on a path of discovery of her own. To be on the same road. And yet we all end up in different places. Or maybe we like where we are and choose to stay, as The Maggot on Maple Street will remain with me for quite some time. There’s indeed so much to keep in mind while reading it. The same can be said for her, which is why she chose to share her thoughts with the world. The Maggot on Maple Street

If you have stuck with me until now… no spoilers. These are only my own personal opinions. Yes! Other than this. What are you waiting for? Go buy this book today. Yesterday, if you have a time machine. My own idea. Courtenay takes me to some strange places in musings.

The two poems that garnered my full attention from the get-go were “Mother Cauldron” and “Saturn (De)vours.” There was a line that immediately gripped me in “Mother Cauldron.” And again, the mere titles of these works will give you pause. And then it’s as if you’re running through the words, and you do catch them. Only you don’t know if you’re winning or losing. Or if the writer herself is in her thoughts of how she sees, well herself. This is the same way you see “Saturn (De)vours.” And maybe that’s it. Those two poems were when I first started seeing the writer. And not only the feelings and emotions she was invoking. Now is this a good or bad thing? I don’t rightly know. Yet as for me. I indeed liked seeing the writer and not only the dream that she has shared now. But the mix in everything…

In every other work of Courtenay’s, you’re looking to recapture that moment of her looking at herself in the mirror. This is where Courtenay truly shines, to be quite honest. Having kept up with her other work. It’s the difference between working on herself and “working for the man every night and day.” The fact that most of her work falls into the former is pretty brilliant. Finding those truths that she has discovered about herself. You can only wonder if she, too, stopped. Like you will find yourself doing as you read through her poems and go, “WHOA!” I can’t say how many times I did that myself. Sometimes you may even need to close the book and let the ideas settle in your mind. Just for a bit. One of the reasons it took me a bit to go through such a small book. It’s that damn good.

It’s that damn good, and other things you will say about The Maggot on Maple Street. What, is the title too long? And if I tried quoting Courtenay herself, I think we would be here all day. And I could be reading her book again and again. Um, I guess?

And that brings us to the good, the bad, and the ugly. Well, not really, as I gave this five stars but then again… I’m pretty picky when it comes to books. So I wouldn’t exactly call myself a softie. Not when it comes to this kind of work, ha-ha.

As I’ve already said, the best part of her work is when she’s more or less talking to herself than it seems to an audience. You can tell every poem is like that, but you can see the difference in the wording. It may just be beauty is in the eye of the beholder and all that to be sure. Which is something that Courtenay herself is trying to see. Everything can’t be beautiful, and every poem of hers… As a collective, you see the best. But here and there. Sit at your typewriter, keyboard, pen, and paper; what have you and bleed, right? Courtenay does plenty of that and more. It may even scare you in places. Or invoke other emotions and the thoughts of other bodily fluids. And the experience or lack thereof that this writer may have in her own life. Coming to such things, um, maybe.

And again, I say experience. I’m not exactly a genius or anything but with Courtenay. Besides looking up her other works, may I suggest you invest in a dictionary and thesaurus? Am I being overdramatic… in a way? But as any guy can tell you, you’ll be on cloud nine and focused at the same time, and then suddenly, it’s like, huh, after a moment. Keep in mind; that this is poetry and not prose. So there is no warning between particular states of thinking or being. But I can promise you’ll stick around for the whole ride. Courtenay’s poetry can be a bit of a mindfuck for the best and worse. There’s no question about that. Is there a better word than that? Well, I lack this author’s vision. I have read her entire work and enjoyed, studied, and liked it. Something or other…

It is worth the read, though. And for everyone telling me to tell my friends. I can honestly say, at the very least, I have shared the name Courtenay Schembri Gray with some I know. And I’ve said what I’ve said to you and everyone. I Think Maple Street’s Bugged.

Saga 206 ~I Don’t Know Isn’t Stupidity~

I ask authors, “things.” Or at least I read their books. The last one I talked to, I asked to see her yabbos. As far as asking anyone else anything… There’s B, but he never had answers. Comfort was enough. But speaking? “I Don’t Know Isn’t Stupidity”

Monday, January 23, 2023

Saga 206 ~I Don’t Know Isn’t Stupidity~

Two-Hundred and Seventy-Sixth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now… which means stupidity, lies, and damn “white supremacy” (in some cases). It’s damn near a language, Madam.

But as the song goes, “first let me explain that I’m just a black man.” And while I could go all into racism as people like Ron DeSantis will keep it prevalent. Fuck you, DeSantis! Madam, for now, let’s focus on me. Oh, what? Not on my dead kid? Every day we take a step closer to Braxton’s second anniversary. That’s the wrong word, isn’t it, Madam? His Memorial Day? Aren’t I full of questions today? Now that I’m awake… in a better state of mind. But we’ll get to that in a bit. First, there’s B III. If only he were still alive. Madam, I don’t know how I’m going to do this. Pretty ironic, huh? The one I turned to never had answers.

Again, at least Braxton was/is real. And I would have never given in this morning. Madam, you can relax. As I said, I’m up now. Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed. Hairy butt? Virgil ticked me off last night. He’s becoming a brat with his outside time. Time-out? Last night he had to stay in Braxton’s room. So I didn’t bother thinking about behavior. Madam, I had mine to consider. My “Obsession” to go with another song. Fucking fuck. In case you were wondering where I was from, four in the morning, a half-hour. Cumming? I’m thankful that I didn’t. But there was Twitter, Tifa Lockhart’s tits, thumping over an English beauty, etc. How will I ever get over this? Boards don’t hit back. And some Triple D Yabbos?

It was either those or falling back asleep. The Million-dollar question. How do I exist? Every morning when I wake up… that’s Sugar Ray, by the way. Anyway, I look at the time. I was up at four again and settled down by 4:30. By five, I had an energy drink and had been watching The Last of Us reactions. On and off besides talking to you. And still, I wonder. Why don’t I have a billion dollars yet? You saw what it took to do banking and shopping. This week won’t be good, but with 100% truth, next week will be the worse since Sunday, January 31, 2021. Then 2022. Now a bratty friend in 2023. With no one to ask, I remain stupid. I Don’t Know Isn’t Stupidity

722 Days Without B III, Day 163 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will