Tag: Truth

Chronicle 158 ~Wars Aren’t Fair; They’re Won~

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Pick up your cross peace is found at the lance’s point. Pens are mightier than swords. All I want is to carry my son. A season of peace, but I hate Christmas, like the dude in Succubus Christmas Special. I’ll behave, but Wars Aren’t Fair; They’re Won

Monday, December 6, 2021

Chronicle 158 ~Wars Aren’t Fair; They’re Won~

Two-Hundred and Seventeenth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, and that counts as winning. You don’t get “better” than that, as far as I can see.

To be honest, today, I don’t feel like fighting anymore. One more reason I had Braxton. A son shouldn’t fight his father’s battles, but how often will I say this? I’m out for the count, and there he is, watching over me. Braxton’s protection. A toy dog? Toy Soldier. Madam, I’m not wise. So they say, um, grief is love with no place to go. Oh, ok, true enough. The same can be said with rage. My rage is justice that can never be served, but it stays, Madam. I feel like fucking Oceania. That might be a decent stripper name, but I don’t mean it like that. It’s more like George Orwell’s “1984.” The war inside myself is continuous, and I didn’t even start this shit. It’s not fair.

All’s fair in love and war, and I don’t want either. At least I don’t want to be alone, J. As the song goes, “before you start a war, you better know what you’re fighting for.” Again “don’t put your blame on me.” I’m sick of it, and yet I stay. There’s nothing else, Madam. So why not try winning? If anything, why not try fighting at all? Today’s example… Madam, when I was “young,” and of course you know this tale, but I was in the navy a bit. I thought I would find my manhood somehow with serving. Three weeks later… Sigh. Anyway, today, a coworker busted her lip after slipping on the floor. And me being a gentleman… Gotcha, I stayed put.

A good man would have helped her. A brave man wouldn’t have spent all day hiding as the womenfolk went rushing into the rain. After a decade of wasting his life, a real man would be running that place. Yes, I’m fighting a war, Madam, against grief, rage, and fear. Going all Yoda on your ass? Ass, I’ll behave, Madam, Nineteen Days, Cherry, Carolina Bound might be pissed. So here I am, my enemies are known, in a war I never asked for. And if you told me I could stop fighting? Thirty-seven years and at least I ain’t dead. 309 Days without my son, brother-in-arms, and tireless defender. To accept that I can win this without Braxton… UNACCEPTABLE. But Wars Aren’t Fair; They’re Won.

309 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 156 ~B Feet Gives Paws~

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Like father like son, Me and B III like and get annoyed with the same things. We both like boobs and hate feet. Then it came to his paws, and I did everything in my power to protect his and stay on my feet with my horrific Day Job. B Feet Gives Paws.

Saturday, December 4, 2021

Chronicle 156 ~B Feet Gives Paws~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so when I say stuff like that title. No matter what, I’m still pretty damn funny.

Didn’t I say sometime this week I hate being funny? I also hate where my feet lead me somedays. Pretty much my Day Job, PetSmart, and preparing to live my life as such. In other words, errands. So, of course, that’s what I was doing today. Um, after PetSmart Lu. We’ll get to that. But first, a confession. Hell, not even that. A simple fact. I HATE FEET. It’s just the way I am, Lunalesca. Call it a personal preference like having a thing for brunettes, before them Asian women. Or being a breast man. All women have breasts, Lu. Okay, to some degree, at least. Women have feet too. Yet I adore one and hate the other, I swear. Reasons women don’t like me…

So what does this have to do with my son as everything does? Going on 307 days. How about his 15 years of life? Well, this morning, I’m going into PetSmart, and I see this familiar van that carries some of the dogs, I believe. I walk in, but they aren’t at their usual spot. Needless to say, I was pissed, which is my standard mood. But since I look at the kitties too, I keep going. And I hear the dogs barking in the distance. They moved their cages. Anyway, I started my window shopping and then it hit me looking at the smallest. Cinderella, I swear that’s where I heard this Lady Lu but “Your Feet’s Too Big.” Or paws in this instance.

Yes, I can be a fucking snob, shallow, or some sort of messed-up guy. But I looked at those furries, and the moment I saw their paws, it was an instant “NO” from me. One of the ladies said they would have different dogs tomorrow. Recovering Lunalesca, but trying. I do mean from the Day Job. I didn’t have it in me to try and change my shifts today. That’s gross, my weakness, but what isn’t gross are Braxton’s paws. My B’s toesy wosies. He hated me touching them or rushing him to the vet when they said he stepped on a pine cone wrong. I love Chihuahuas, nice Yabbos and B’s nails clicking on hardwood floors. But Feet, no thanks? B Feet Gives Paws.

307 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 155 ~To B Humiliated Soon~

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Coming soon… yeah, I should shut up now, but I would talk about “adult situations” much easier than the effing Day Job. And the fact that I will go back next week and the week after. Aren’t I ashamed… of what happened to B III? “To B Humiliated Soon”

Friday, December 3, 2021

Chronicle 155 ~To B Humiliated Soon~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but I have yet to tell a comeback story. Now the humiliating ones. Oh, every day.

Will it feel like a holiday? Did I get a holiday after the past 2 days? Considering I’m counting 3 things instead of 10. My words are still a rush of nonsense but a minimum today. The General Manager, Boss Lady, is still a… I think I told you about people making rules addressing everybody but meaning you. The same comes for giving out orders, fucking truck. And in the end, you know how much I hate to be touched, Lady Sophia. Do I look like a bitch? Don’t answer that, but a fist bump? Lady Sophia, can’t people respect, hands-off? Braxton helped me come up with my rule. If you ain’t my dog, my girl, or applying? Hands-off me. Should tell that to me.

As you know, I’m a fan of a particular pornographic actress, a pretty poet. And plenty of pinup playable characters made porn by certain artists. Anyway, where is all my money going again? Only I haven’t seen a plump yabbos in weeks. Monk status regained? Yeah, Lady Sophia, when I’m not being a “holy roller,” it’s like I’m one of the dead or the Reaper himself. Tomorrow as routine, I’m heading to PetSmart again. Now, this isn’t the point, but my shame when I left without Braxton and then with him in a doggie bag. That was not funny, I know, my Lady, but I’m all cried out for now. Hell, I’m somewhat surprised steam isn’t coming from my eyes in all my rage, geez.

Rage leaves you nowhere to hide. Can’t see the forest for the trees? All that is left is me. If Stuff & Thangs taught me anything. It’s that I’m not scared necessarily, Sophia. Dammit, next week with all my clothes on is much worse. Than writing, wanking, and working out how to keep my head above water. The idea of drowning in reality, creepy. Take that how you will. I even worry about the dumb stuff, like someone asking me what book I’m reading. Well, ‘tis the season, so Sophia, witness, Succubus Christmas Special. Lady Sophia, it’s something to do while I wait for next week and more of my Humiliations Galore. The comedian is dead, but the laughs keep coming. To B Humiliated Soon

306 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 153 ~About Last Lie Braxton~

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I told B the truth most of his days. Ringing a doorbell, or you’re not in trouble, B; there’s no pill in the peanut butter, cheese, or hot dog. Then a Wednesday like this one, I told the truth when his truth was he was dying. “About Last Lie Braxton”

Wednesday, December 1, 2021

Chronicle 153 ~About Last Lie Braxton~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now so that I by no means have to relive this day. I told Braxton, “Shush It.”

“Merciful Father, I have squandered my days with plans of many things. This was not among them. But at this moment, I beg only to live the next few minutes well.” ― The 13th Warrior

I want to talk about and yet don’t want to talk about his death. The last lies I told Braxton. But again, it was a day like today when he was crying, and I grabbed him up. I cuddled him and slept like the dead. I, of course, found him on guard duty. Humiliations Galore… I told Braxton all of them that day, as I’ll share these with you. What B III died listening to.

One. The floor pads/rugs, whatever were replaced at the Day Job because I was STUPID. Two, getting ragged on by two bitches in the stockroom. There were two different supervisors.

Three, standing there like a fucking idiot just laughing and smiling like a damn clown. Four, you know how I despise those cowards that can’t call a person out. So they make arbitrary rules to be a bigot, a racist, a zealot, an asshole, or again fucking STUPID. How I hate that word. Anyway, the manager goes all-in on “air pods” and phones Inspector. Did I mention who bought a new pair of headphones and uses them pretty religiously?

Five, someone tried to steal my work cart while I was working, making me look stupider. Six, this associate asked me for help, and I did after my babbling, mumbling bumbling. Seven, to further point out my ineptitude, I get undue praise from a manager. Dumbass. Eight, I failed in helping a customer and got embarrassed in front of “Customer Service.” Nine, I ignore another customer who eventually tracks me down for help with the kiosk. Ten, being called out in front of people for my air pods. I fear to touch my phone at all.

I had to keep a list Inspector, and even now, I’m sure I’m missing a few. What about my shame outside of the Day Job? Well, as you can see, I gained every NaNoWriMo badge. Did I write 50,000 words? YES, 50,200 almost. Did I write every day for NaNoWriMo? Hell no! I didn’t get 1,667 words each day. I didn’t write for so many days in a row. On the 30th, I checked to see I “got” every badge. It hurts less to lie to them than to my son. I was honest; I tried. About Last Lie Braxton

304 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 151 ~Obsessed Men Are Dangerous Men~

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Docs have diagnosed me with plenty over 37 years. Social Anxiety, Bipolar Depression, Astigmatism (eyes in my head). Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder sigh. The Day Job takes advantage and how I keep a specific collection. Obsessed Men Are Dangerous Men

Monday, November 29, 2021

Chronicle 151 ~Obsessed Men Are Dangerous Men~

Two-Hundred And Sixteenth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, but as the song goes, “He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus.” But today, “It Is Finished.”

Can I be any more profane, offensive, or STUPID? That’s how I feel about today, J. Can’t I be positive for one whole minute? If I weren’t suffering from a massive case of blue balls at the moment but we’ll get to that. First things first, I’m not lying to NaNoWriMo. That’s right, Madam, for the fifth time, according to the good people at NaNoWriMo, I have completed my 50,000 words. This is the part of the story where I would pick Braxton up and dance. Of course, we’ll get to that too. Right now, my legs are twisted pretzel-like. So I finished “Behave In A Cherry Patch,” so as NaNoWriMo says, Now What? I want all the fucking badges. I can’t stand it, Madam.

Apologies for the language, but I was obsessed with writing my novel and every badge Madam. Come December 1st, I’ll never think about it again until Camp NaNoWriMo. I’ve finished three this year, two camps, and November without my boy. Um, today there was Cherry. Hell, even before her, there was Ariella Ferrera, Yuffie Kisaragi, to say the least. How many times have I wished I could be a regular guy that watches porn? No, I’m one for intimacy, meaning I need everything. Do I need to go over the list again of frightened women? Money though? Every CEO, billionaire, Mafia Don. Whatever money man gets the women in the novels I read. Or a beard and/or a motorcycle. I’m in on some particular Yabbos.

But at least for now, my grief is richer. My promise, my vow to B III. 11 Days right now. It’s been 302 Days without Braxton, though. I believe before, and then when he died, I went 161 Days. B give me strength that I don’t give in to temptation and since I’m done, Madam. Braxton is my obsession. But when he was alive, though, I became indifferent. Obsession leads to trouble, Madam. And it seems, for the most part, my obsession is my own pain. As another song goes, I’m just a sucker for pain. Yeah, fuck you, Hemingway, for dinging the word “just” and the name Grammarly. Oh, there’s the $139.00 you took, Grammarly dammit. Stories, Boobies, Doggies. Obsessed Men Are Dangerous Men.

302 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 149 ~B Brave, 300, 3000~

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B and I were far from 300, but nevertheless, the two of us were an “Army” thank you, Ellie Goulding. What she’s a great singer with what I’m assuming are nice… ok, shutting up about that. It’s been 300 Days without him in my sight. B Brave, 300, 3000

Saturday, November 27, 2021

Chronicle 149 ~B Brave, 300, 3000~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and I would have been sooner if I got off my ass. More like my balls.

30-year-old, well 37 talking about his dick (pardon my language…) classy. Between recovering from yesterday’s “Humiliations Galore.” And today being PetSmart day or not, no doggies, sigh. And I didn’t have the nerve to call B-Dubs, so Taco Bell, Lunalesca. Again I’m fucking 37 (sorry), and I can’t call restaurants, repairmen, or rescues. Then again, I’m still crying over Braxton, and we’ll get to that in a minute. How about thirty of them, and I give myself far too much credit when it comes to sex. Seen any other women? Not even in my novel. Speaking of which, I’m reading something before the Christmas Erotic Fest. You know me, Lady Lu, TRADITION. “A Sincere Warning About the Entity in Your Home.” Is that what I’m calling B III? Not yet.

300 bucks would be a much better way to honor him. Of course, Grammarly fucked me over for about half of that. $139.00. Fucking assholes! So it led me to do some quick math at PetSmart. The times of plenty are over. When I wasn’t paying for B III’s survival. Now I find more dubious ways to waste money. Let me say AHEM, this bitch got me “Smokin Out The Window.” Only that’s not fair at all, Lunalesca. Fucking Yabbos! Anyway, today will mark 300 Days without my son. I’m trying, ok. I gave “Only Gone From Your Sight” 3 stars. Everything within me wants to say that Braxton is always here. Nothing has moved as far as moving on.

3000 days could go by, and that ain’t happening. I love B 3000, and I ain’t Iron Man either. Regardless of what’s in my pants and I swear I’m shutting up about that. I’ll have to start Succubus Christmas Special soon. I also have Dystopian Girls 3. Sensing a theme? I had 3 days to finish my novel, and I wasted this one away, Lady Lu. I’m 7,500 words away from 50,000. That’s 3 chapters, and you know how the Day Job week is going to be. At least I caught up with “my” 3 girls, Carolina Bound, Cherry, and M Anime. But only seen one pair of Yabbos. I’m not a brave man or a very smart one at that. B Brave, 300, 3000.

300 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 148 ~Pump The Breaks B~

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To think I damned last Friday. Today’s Black Friday, so yeah, my “Humiliations Galore….” Well, I don’t want to talk about it, then again I do, but my son is gone. When nobody is Happy you survived the day, then I’d get back here. “Pump The Breaks B.”

Friday, November 26, 2021

Chronicle 148 ~Pump The Breaks B~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means there should be no more humiliation. Penis Rocket, Bernie Sanders, lying to Stephen Colbert.

Hell, with today being “Black Friday.” the Humiliations Galore portion of my life was multiplied. If I started talking about all my shame today, I would never ever stop Sophia. I could always tell you some more about Braxton. Always with the pain of his loss, everything pales in comparison, my lady. It’s pretty fucked up using Braxton this way. Would you rather me tell you a pornographic tale? Yet again, I will lie to NaNoWriMo about “Behave In The Cherry Patch.” I finished reading “Only Gone From Your Sight.” So many stories. But the one that came to mind this afternoon was when I escaped for an hour at lunch. Am I trying to remember happier times with my lost boy? After a nap.

Anyway, when I do get a lunch break, I would come back to walk Braxton. I’m trying to remain “cheerful,” Lady Sophia, honest. AHEM, so I’d return, and we’d walk the path behind the house. I could be late a minute or so getting back to the Day Job, but B III IS worth it. He was so tiny that when he sneezed, sometimes he would bang his head on the floor. No wonder he was on a quest for comfy spots. Hardheaded but a soft behind, that’s B. I could never figure out what was wrong with one side of his bed, you know. Saving a place for me? He could have wanted me to sit my ass down. Sometimes for only ten minutes.

Once, when we first got here, I remember that I came back to the house, and Braxton had slipped through the bars to greet me. I can tell you so many miracles of Braxton showing love, but him staying with me, not sprinting outside. Impossible, Parenting, I did it right. Sophia, of course, you know my favorite view of Braxton. Waking up like I did today, and B III at the foot of the bed staring out the door. He would come back and decide if I was strong enough. If he cuddled me, I’d drift off. If he ran around the bed. “Daddy’s awake.” That was his way of telling me it was time to live but 299 Days Sophia. Pump The Breaks B

299 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 144 ~Guilt Is A Controlling Mechanism~

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If I had known the moment I called B and he hopped in the car that this is how it would end? Hell, I do shit all the time knowing that it could come crashing down. Yet my guilt at all that I’ve done hasn’t stopped me… Guilt Is A Controlling Mechanism

Monday, November 22, 2021

Chronicle 144 ~Guilt Is A Controlling Mechanism~

Two-Hundred And Fifteenth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, and if I have learned anything from others. There’s no shame, guilt. No need for a conscience.

Mine died 295 Days ago. My soul, my serenity, my son. His Dark Materials put it best, my Dæmon. If I had any reason to stay in line, it was him and now? Well, why do you think I’m calling you so late. Every day I don’t leave this bed, um, every afternoon, I fail. I keep up with Braxton’s treats… what was it a day or so ago? I noticed I missed one. When I leave the house, I keep up the usual banter, and when I return. I’ve had tacos, two days. Hell, Madam, when I don’t bring fries back, I know that I’ve failed Braxton. Daily ritual. When I can’t keep it in my pants because I want to feel something “good.”

Fuck Aria Logan and Cherry, um yes, please if again you’re wondering where I’ve been. Satisfaction? Nope, guilt kept me from coming. It’s the guilt that keeps me from going. Back to bed, that is. Only again, I’m sitting right here knowing I won’t get a wink tonight. Not if I don’t tell you all these horrible things in my life. Losing Braxton, always first. There’s also my nighttime ritual of lying to NaNoWriMo about my progress in writing. What about the Day Job I hate? And yet feel like I failed them, and by God, I did once again. It’s the guilt. I am guilty. And if I told you all my secrets… “First, let me explain that I’m just a black man,” yep.

While I’m busy ripping off songs, “I’m only human after all. Don’t put your blame on me.” While I was reading this evening from “Only Gone From Your Sight.” Jack/Kate says, “stop identifying yourself as my victim.” When it comes to B III, I never have. What do I see? The killer in the mirror, staring back at me. B III is the worst thing I ever got away with. Take your pick with the things that could cost me everything. He’s the one life, the crime everybody goes “meh.” Braxton’s body wasn’t even cold. Father “Get a new dog.” Fucking asshole, and I feel guilty saying that. I say guilt controls and yet my crimes. Braxton is still dead. Guilt Is A Controlling Mechanism

I believe in consequences.

No, you believe in guilt.

Maybe. But guilt before we act is called morality.
“Liberal Arts“

295 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 142 ~A B Sized Problem~

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If I tried again, he or she would have to be B III’s size. Who am I kidding? I want a Chihuahua, and I screwed that up with my son. And then with Chase, a problem that can fit in the palm of my hand because of anything bigger… Ha. A B Sized Problem

Saturday, November 20, 2021

Chronicle 142 ~A B Sized Problem~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I can shut down Disney for a bit. “It’s A Small World After All.”

Ironic that I found that ride so peaceful as a child in the Magic Kingdom. Yet as a grown-ass man, 37-year-old baby, the world today was way too small. There’s too many men, ha. Why stop with the song. “Too many people. Making too many problems. And not much love to go round.” No wonder my dick’s curving. Sadistic tendencies are making me hard. Lunalesca, that’s TMI, isn’t it. Today was terrible, to say the least. What about telling the most? While I deserve to be punished for B III. I don’t want to sound like some Trumptard, Nah. I doubt I could claim self-defense, and plenty of black men have been shot unarmed. I’m sorry, Lady Luna; I’ve been watching the big news today.

Hell, every day is gigantic, gigantic, gigantic when it comes to the media as it should be. As I said, people are making a mess. Is it the fucking noise Lady Lu. I’ve had enough, hmm? I’ve said before the silence without Braxton was killing me, but now I’m cherishing it. Still, I bought two new sets of headphones for the Day Job. Apple headphones surrendered. Can I have my son back breathing now? If you’re wondering why I’m talking to you so late, the “good” news is I was reading “Only Gone From Your Sight.” Yes, a book on loss. The bad news is I was also watching, well, stuff. Yeah, Yabbos, Cherry’s, Momokun’s, Aria Logan’s. What, I’m well-rounded and should shut up now.

Only all my problems keep on growing, and even the ones that are dead. No, I don’t mean B III, and he wasn’t trouble. Okay, that’s a lie, but I was thinking of turkey, Luna. Another first for me without Braxton. Now I could get all political, but we talk about family. The family I try to avoid bringing me food that I can’t share with my little B III. The question is, what am I grateful for this year? I didn’t have another wreck today. Despite my lazy ass efforts, I’m employed and living, dammit. Not cumming today… yet. Lunalesca, I am trying my best to be somebody B would be proud of but people. But one, in particular, me. A B Sized Problem

293 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 141 ~Cause It’s Friday B~

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I wonder if Friday the 19th could be a thing. The 13th has zing. I live my horror story, Friday the 29th, back in January. Either way, you slice it; a dog’s dead or dying. A killer is on the streets (Rittenhouse), and today sucks. Cause It’s Friday B

Friday, November 19, 2021

Chronicle 141 ~Cause It’s Friday B~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and that might be enough to forget that it is Friday in a Sensory Deprivation Tank.

I hate Fridays though I should be enjoying this one considering Black Friday is coming up next. I could tell you the stories of the decade in which I have wasted my life at the Day Job. Humiliations Galore… nothing hurts more than the Friday I found out about B. Anyway, we’ll get to him; we always do. Even now, I’m not making him a priority. Hell, I didn’t make Cherry one either, and she has Yabbos. What about the supervisor today I couldn’t talk to? To see my cowardice in real-time, Lady Sophia. My effing Day Job, ok? When Braxton was dying, I was on the phone; I was all over the place. At the moment, I would rather be nowhere at all, Sophia.

Don’t mind me, while I was dicking around, I finished reading the book “I Am Nelson.” A dead dog, plus watching a killer go free… Yes, I saw the Kyle Rittenhouse verdict. And then where are we now, Lady S? 292 Days without my son. Then there’s the next day. While I was busy paying for Yabbos, I found my paycheck adequate. Art thou happy? Hackers and spam have been plaguing me this week, but nothing today. Art thou happy? I’ve felt a splash of inspiration from music and movies Lady Sophia. Art thou happy? Today, hell no, I’m tired, and I hate myself. I hate my life. Even sitting in bed ain’t easy right now. But it could always be worse. On the floor…

How low will you go? A lot of people ask themselves this when the weekend is upon us. I already talked about being on the ground scaping up fries someday this week. Braxton would be appalled. More when I spoke to him last night about what I didn’t do Saturday. I’m still not a BELIEVER, but God bless dogs. I saw that I forgot all about the reason I even started this blog. I missed November 5th. As I was buried in kitchen playsets, vacuum cleaners, bedding, and dog toys. Only one memory, a single day, stuck in my mind. Sophia, today is Friday. One more day to hate like all the others. Do I have stories to bring about sleep? Cause It’s Friday B

292 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will