Tag: Waking Up

Tale 361 ~Virgil Becomes Routine, Braxton~

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I relate to Joe Stevens in “The Mill,” Bingham Madsen in Fifteen Million Merits, #000000014 from the film 2003 Share? Clarence in The Book of Clarence. Men in routines to a wife, Abi, girlfriends, a mom. I got Virgil. Virgil Becomes Routine, Braxton.

Wednesday, June 26, 2024

Tale 361 ~Virgil Becomes Routine, Braxton~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. Well, not if you’ve “joined Braxton.” That’s become my new way of saying “unalive.” Censorship sometimes, Inspector Echo…

But this morning, after I finished mourning the loss of my Braxton… Is that something that needs to be scheduled? It’s my morning routine. I lie in the darkness, Inspector. Moments later, I panic. And then I realize that my son, Braxton, is gone. And he’s not coming back to me or for me. And then I lay back down. Sometime later, I find my glasses, and finally, I’m prepared to see the world. Well, no, that’s a lie for two reasons. Fear and effing.

So after I’m done moaning in a completely different way… For legs, breasts, and thighs…

That makes me smile. Braxton thought the best came out of a box of chicken. But then, what’s next on my agenda. My boy, Virgil?

All these motivations I listen to tell me that your success is made in your routine. This week will be so easy. I thought. I would publish a poetry compilation, “GULP,” and that would be that. But if I have accomplished anything, it’s setting a routine for Virgil. Wake up and let him go outside… Sorry, I’m too busy crying. And then I remember how much of an adult I am with my Yabbos collections. And before I start writing…

There’s Virgil. Sometime in the afternoon, Virgil again. Like having a 9 to 5, Virgil is my commute. And before I fall asleep with all the lights on, Yep, you guessed it. Let V out.

And yet I ain’t his Daddy, Inspector. What am I?

I asked Braxton’s aunt once who she thought would win between androids vs. zombies? That’s a weird question, Inspector… Right?

She said androids, but here’s the thing. Neither one is alive. Just like me, Inspector. I struggle with ‘becoming Human’ and ‘Being a man ‘. Am I just going through the motions, like an android? Have I ever truly lived? Inspector, I feel like a lot of things, an android… Inspector, I could be a bot, Infected, a slave, a zombie… I could go on. How to be a man?

I keep going back to fatherhood being the epitome of manhood. A Man Provides, Echo.

And what I should have provided this week, Inspector Echo, is time enough at last…

Every afternoon, though, you’ll find me “spending my dimes, wasting my time” on my belly.

Or on my back moaning…

Routine? Not writing, filming, reviewing? Nothing! Virgil Becomes Routine, Braxton

1242 Days Without B III, Day 683 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 354 ~We’ll B FREE, Virgil~

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Juneteenth… First, let me explain that I’m just a black man. And no MAGA/GOP, that isn’t a sin. My sin lies in my son Braxton’s Euthanasia. I’ll never be free of my Grief. But, fear, bad dreams, my Olds, Day Job… FREEDOM! “We’ll B FREE, Virgil.”

Wednesday, June 19, 2024

Tale 354 ~We’ll B FREE, Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. And I don’t mean not keeping my promise to my son Braxton. That title sounded familiar, Inspector Echo.

FREEDOM is a significant word in my life, much like HAPPINESS or HOME. Yet, these words, these concepts, seem distant and intangible. They are mere symbols devoid of real meaning. They are like a cow’s mess, scattered and meaningless… BS

Inspector, you want a word that means anything. I can give you one, meaning everything.

Braxton. Braxton Barks Bradford. Son.

I’ve told the story of B III’s name, or at least my opinion. My Ma gave Braxton his name. Uh…

My son Braxton was named after Braxton P. Hartnabrig, a character from The Jamie Foxx Show. This character was a tall, light-skinned man with a ‘classy’ attitude. However, my son Braxton, a short, beige fluff ball, shares only his name and believes he’s superior to everyone. But he lacks the class. Ha! My brave boy.

Hence, his middle name Barks.

Now, I named Virgil after the Roman poet of the same name. Primarily because he led Dante through Hell itself. That’s another sin; I dragged Virgil down here with me.

Inspector as I speak on the sins against my sons, Braxton and Virgil. It would be remiss not to talk about the third sin that has brought us here today. And that is of FREEDOM.

Today is Juneteenth, a day of liberation and freedom long denied. So what about mine? I was “freed” from sleep because of a bad dream. I make bad financial decisions.

$139.68, that’s the exact amount of a PAYCHECK. And that’s from the last ‘good’ week. This week has been worse. The next one promises to be even more challenging. PAYCHECK, HAPPINESS, HOME, FREEDOM… These are just words, empty and meaningless. Yet, I continue to write.

Because aren’t I a writer? All words have meaning. And how else do I expect to be free, I ask!

How many hours for my last measly PAYCHECK? And at the same time, barely any hours this week. And if I had any cash, I could go on vacation for most of next week, too.

Write, Edit, Publish! That is the key to freedom, but did you see me yesterday? Inspector, you can’t say that I didn’t try. What? I didn’t try to edit one of “my” books.” My pants?

Well, I kept them on. I still have $12.00 on OnlyFans, but I need $20.00 for a payout. What’s next?

FREEDOM from everything… well, FEAR! Because Grief is going nowhere. Braxton. We’ll B FREE, Virgil

1235 Days Without B III, Day 676 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 347 ~Codes B And V~

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This is no game; this is no drill. Battle Stations! Um, Abandon Ship… from my brief stint in the Navy. I’ve cried so many tears. Sweated bullets. And let’s not talk about other bodily fluids. I’m supposed to exist in “this.” But no Codes B And V

Wednesday, June 12, 2024

Tale 347 ~Codes B And V~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. Have I spent too much money… AGAIN! Last time I checked, Virgil is alive and “physically” well. Mentally?

Well, here on this Wednesday, June 5, 2024… V’s probably sitting on the stairs, too scared to come down. So was Braxton on that Sunday, January 31, 2021. Even if he had wanted to, which he didn’t. My son was way too sick. Dying actually. A red alert, dear Echo.

Fears like losing another fur buddy have me like Tris from Divergent. Fear keeps me up longer than any energy drink. And when Braxton was here, I could face it head-on. I found courage for my son because of my son. Someone asked, If you wanted to share your soulmate pet’s life story and you only had six words, what would they be?” My answer:

“You and me, against the world.” A father and son.

“Fear doesn’t shut you down; it wakes you up.” Divergent

Should it worry me that I’ve written two full-blown novels for Braxton? And I’m doing nothing with them, Inspector? But six little words on the fly fit me and B III easily. Shame on me.

What about the fact that 2V has been here for 669 days? And he and I still haven’t bonded. That’s a cause for a red alert if I’ve ever heard one. General Quarters, Battle Stations!

Virgil and I are pretty decent. I should save that for my Old Man. Did I call him yet? Hmm.

There’s the alarm for when I go to the Day Job. Humiliations Galore! Inspector Echo.

Whenever the next “tragedy” strikes. As in Virgil making a mess. To the fence falling. What about DISH Network, Inspector?

I swear! I will stop talking about that because what was I watching anyway? Inspector, what have I been watching for the past few minutes? It should be a red flag or alert that I’m always angry, afraid, and amorous at any given point and time. And as far as being “amorous…” A safe word? I need some code words. Or I should stop talking because I’m the only one ever in trouble. Critical writing, Inspector. The sounds of silence.

Only when I’m in the duvet, dead, or being disgusting. And when I’m disgusting Echo. Now that’s an alert I can do without when I’m about to… well, Inspector… Eww!

Deciding how to exist was easier once. But Red Alert… no Codes B And V

1228 Days Without B III, Day 669 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 340 ~Virgil, We’ll B Humiliated~

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Wake Up! Yes, I hate bright lights. Yes, I would rather bask in the darkness than see in the light of day I’ve wasted 39 years. Yes, people are horrible. But try waking up every morning to… Sigh… “Humiliations Galore.” Virgil, We’ll B Humiliated

Wednesday, June 5, 2024

Tale 340 ~Virgil, We’ll B Humiliated~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. Losing Braxton, waking up before and after losing Braxton. There’s also taking off my pants, peeking at Yabbos.

The usual morning. However, I haven’t looked in the mirror yet, which is a blessing.

Yesterday, I got caught up in a motivational speech. It said something to the tune of 90% of success in life… or was it 80%? Anyway, 90% is just showing up. And the other 10% to 20% is, what for. Now say it with me, Inspector Echo. AHEM, Humiliations Galore!

Inspector, I wondered as I waited for Virgil to do his business this morning. He’s been going in the house, so why bother sitting here for twenty minutes? Am I trying to teach him at all? He looks at me as though he expects something. Hopefully, it’s not what I did to Braxton on Sunday, January 31, 2021. Uh, Euthanasia?

You’ll have to forgive me, Inspector. Between reading another fur buddy book, “The Survival Guide to Pet Loss.” And now having another E for “E-Day.” Euthanasia, in addition to Emergence, Existence, and Extinction. I don’t want to be FORTY, Inspector.

And I won’t be for a while yet… if ever. But it’s approaching. And that is what brings me to you today. As I’ve been saying for a few days. I’m not complaining. But I’m not as horrible as Tucker Carlson when just asking questions. Echo, I’m observing and explaining.

Every morning, I wake up saying I’m a sinner. But that’s not because of a religious doctrine, my friend. I say it because I know the “man” that I am. It ain’t a good one.

Braxton and Virgil, though… my boys. Why should they share my fear, failure, and fire?

Braxton was humiliated when my Old Man kicked him four feet high into a door. And then, when he ran to me. His tail was between his legs. And yet he turned and barked defiantly as I held a knife between us and my approaching Old Man. My son B III was/is a brave boy and the best “man” I’ve known. Even to the end, when he was dying, he was humiliated he couldn’t stay.

Virgil might not want to. His humiliation lies in the fact he can’t figure me out. I don’t know how to love him. That’s the both of us. But when I wake up, Inspector, I know. Virgil, We’ll B Humiliated

1221 Days Without B III, Day 662 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will