Tag: Writer

Chronicle 092 ~A B Fitting Title~

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Truth, Life, Braxton, Denial, Father, Dog, Man, Knowledge, Lady Sophia, Chronicle, Story, Writer, Will Bradford Jr., Marquis De Joker, History, The End, Women, Pain, Dæmon, Guilt, Books, 243, Better Worlds, Titles, NaNoWriMo

Friday, October 1, 2021

Chronicle 092 ~A B Fitting Title~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but people wouldn’t say, “Hey, it’s the billionaire.” Never call me STUPID again, for damn sure.

Braxton didn’t call me anything, but he did call. I guess as the song goes, “Tonight I Wanna Cry,” or this morning at least. I got up on time for once and made the bed to avoid temptation. Hell, things that get me going… fear of the Day Job, a pretty girl, a sick dog. A Step Towards Humiliations Galore, Getting Right To The Point, The Man With The Floorplan. I’ve never been good with book titles, or how about novel writing in general, Lady Sophia? NaNoWriMo officially begins November so resorting to cheating, right? Yeah, have I forgotten my laziness? Or is this procrastination with a three-hour head start that I got this morning? Again, there’s making the bed, a Pop-Tart, pictures, and Goodreads.

Everything to avoid talking to Monsieur B, 243 Days Ago. In his book “My Turn To B III,” I said all his titles. And how he came running, right up until the end. Then I was the one that followed him but not into the dark. The Rainbow Bridge, Heaven, the farm, so on. Lady Sophia, I also wrote about all his jobs. Anything to talk about how tired I always am. Even now, or the aftermath of again avoiding a sad story. I finished Connected Souls, yesterday which only leaves a dirty book to read. I swear no Succubus, Dragon, or Pokémon could ever match The Wee Little Puppy Man I let down. B was/is my hero. Even better, Braxton Is Legend. And Love…

Oh, so should I add Plagiarism to my list of crimes. Every time I speak to you, Lady Sophia, any of the girls, Braxton, or the man in the mirror. Hemmingway or my other app tells me to shut up. Braxton never did, but I know that he appreciates fine literature. Sophia, that, if anything, is a reason to keep writing. Should I be selfish and mention my bank account? For now, I need a title for my next novel. To be fair, I could use an entire idea. So could the WWE, too, when it comes to stories of champions. Billionaire, Hero, Champion, Legend… I want to be Daddy again but not to any fur baby. My Pancake, my Braxton. A B Fitting Title

243 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 091 ~To Be Patient B~

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Be patient, and I will find a cure, acceptance, salvation, forgetfulness, whatever. Yep, ASM, I still say whatever. I’m a sick puppy, or I had a sick puppy 242 Days ago. And now I’m insane in the membrane, as we said once? To Be Patient B.

Thursday, September 30, 2021

Chronicle 091 ~To Be Patient B~

242 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Mine is only beginning, and I’m already sick of it. Give me five more minutes.

Patient Daddy, but I’d be lying if I said I was sick like that. You saw me through the first year of COVID; I haven’t lost anyone because of it. I lost you this year, fucking insane. I’m glad you can’t repeat the things I say. Ain’t that a question. Can dogs talk in Heaven? Will I ever get to see you, B III? Hell, I’m making a mess over one of your would-be moms. Tell Millie “Sup” if you get a chance. I’m sure the last thing you want to do is spend all day in bed like your Old Man. I’m sick of feeling this way. I’m not talking about missing you; I mean being lazy. I got a good seven hours and still went back to sleep.

Patient B, that’s something I would never call you. If I brought fries home, you would be a real pain in the ass. No wonder I’m trying to exorcise you. Told you I’m sick, Braxton. While I was busy not telling you that B III, let’s see. Um, I did icky things I wouldn’t let you see. I got my affairs in order, but I’m not dead yet. Then comes the food I can’t share, B. I told you before about choosing Onion Rings vs. Fries, hmm? How about Chocolate vs. Sour Gummies? Here I worried about those things killing you, but it was hatred. Hatred is a sickness, but is patience a real virtue?

Patience in wanting to join you? I haven’t seen your grandpa in a minute; the Day Job only brings me more hate. I hate myself, sorry? B, now you weren’t a cure but a medication. Sometimes you could be distracting, but considering the work, I got done with you around. Hell, my last novel is most of these letters and the one before… Zombified daddy. The more I sleep, the less I think about a more permanent solution. Considering the books get busy living and B, you know the rest. You had so much more living to do, my friend. I failed you in that. Is love the cure for hate? More like warring with myself, and what have I created? Your book, for love, NaNoWriMo? To Be Patient B

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 085 ~It’s Empty B Cause~

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Like Father like Son. I’m running on empty and still trying to say something of value. Braxton was dying, and he continued to love so much he stayed beside me. He loved himself enough to walk to his water bowl. “It’s Empty B Cause,” nothing it’s full

Friday, September 24, 2021

Chronicle 085 ~It’s Empty B Cause~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now. If I hope to remain so, I know I can’t have days like yesterday or today.

In the back of my mind, the “thought” was there, but we’ll get to that in a bit. I don’t want to go blaming Braxton for anything. Only the house is emptier. I guess I decided to take the night off from playing the beast, and instead, I was a vampire. This morning a ghost. Yeah, I’m still up to my “Stuff and Thangs on Onlyfans. It’s not even like I want to be seen. Well, you could ask M Anime. But I’m not one for a certain kind of picture sending. I’m not STUPID, Sophia, but we’ll get to that too. As for other things in my pants, money? No, even though I got paid. For dinner, I had four bags of chips ha.

Oh, I always have money but between gaming and books. I’m trying to keep up with The Handmaid’s Tale, but I’ll still remain ignorant on life. Yeah, if I could stay awake to live it. My bed is empty right now, but I was up most of the night. B could be keeping it warm. I should get clean, but what are the odds, Lady Sophia. So much to do and no desire at all. Pleasing an empty stomach? Worse is the blank my mind is drawing. I’m filling out. Yesterday M Anime said that, and my answer is? Working out, eating; to be fat, happy? Sophia, I wish I could remember why I even wanted to start talking to you like this after Braxton.

I want to tell his story. I have 50,000 words, and there is even more? I need to refill my Amazon balance and start buying more for Braxton instead of only books. The Red Collar. My skin remains empty of tattoos. Braxton’s water bowl is never empty. His bathroom spot and food dish are never filled. I won’t remove his things from the kitchen counter. This brings me to the AM as I paid tribute, and I saw B’s bucket of treats. I’m “Running On Empty,” and it doesn’t make sense to buy more. Is anything I do ever, Sophia? Writing, for example, going to Petsmart on Saturdays, being on camera, love, however, it’s sliced? My heart’s not empty. It’s broken. It’s Empty B Cause

236 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 084 ~Reasons To Fry B~

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I have a vegan/vegetarian friend here or there. B III’s Aunt calls me a true Carnivore; this isn’t that type of conversation. As I stuffed my face yesterday with fries, and will do so again. I remember why there are more than usual. Reasons To Fry B.

Thursday, September 23, 2021

Chronicle 084 ~Reasons To Fry B~

235 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? My day is only starting, and it’s not because some chick is good mommy material.

I’m sorry, Braxton. We are boys, but I tried to keep that kind of talk away from you. I remember you and your Aunt and how you and I had “The Talk.” Be good, Daddy. Braxton, I don’t think I was. It’s obvious why you’re not here. I’ll never forget why you aren’t ok. So as the Terminator said, “I killed you.” And I didn’t put you, my son, first. Hell, if I was ever up this early, and I wasn’t going into the Day Job, you’d be up like the sun. I noticed that as I was making the bed. Second straight day and I decided to, B III. Usually, I would let you sleep longer B while I went to take a shower.

Is the water hot enough, or am I dreaming up new reasons I’m getting into Hell? As I said, it wasn’t a woman that got me up. I made an accidental discovery yesterday, so fuck. Well, at least it’s only me. And not some indigenous people, the day job (fuck that, BTW), or women. Well, in the instance of reading The Handmaid’s Tale, again trying. Braxton, I finished reading a good portion last night instead of talking to you. We’ll have to continue this conversation later this afternoon. Of course, I’ll bring fries home, Braxton. Did you see I’m saying your name more? I still say it every day with medicine in hand, saying goodbye, and walking in. Whenever I slip up, oh, the pain.

Take yesterday’s first humiliation as an example. I was walking up to the Day Job, and I literally almost slipped and fell, rain and all. Bark at Earnest Hemmingway, Braxton. What right do I have to ask you to do anything for me? Would you stand up to God if I had fallen and broken my neck? You could be saving me a nice warm spot by the fire, ha. Oh yeah, my Treachery, which of course, is a Ninth Circle trespass. Whether it’s something like buying onion rings B III. How about petting a warm doggie at the store? Being with you like this, but I want to be back beneath the covers sleeping. Explains some of my dreams. My Reasons To Fry B.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 078 ~Let’s Book It, Braxton~

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I always pictured the Daddy reading to his kids. Of the 38 books I’ve gotten to so far, only 11 (maybe) were appropriate. Braxton was here for four of them. All of January. Yet The Handmaid’s Tale has been on my mind. Let’s Book It, Braxton

Friday, September 17, 2021

Chronicle 078 ~Let’s Book It, Braxton~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but what did you do today, Braxton? No hands for applause. Some whining, big floppy ears.

I want to talk about Braxton but, there’s something I’ve been thinking… Moira and Emily. Didn’t I say something um wanting to read The Handmaid’s Tale? How about today, ha. I’ve only seen the show, a bit into Season 3. So here’s my question. Would you want to be Moira, no fanfare but to know that you’re safe? No one that doesn’t know what you’ve endured can ever understand. But now you’re a person you can live, your life matters. Or would you instead be Emily? Your life matters, and everyone knows? You’re seen not only as a survivor but a big damn hero. The world that you escaped from, the things you had to do in such horrific circumstances. Not only that, but someone is waiting for you only.

I’ve been talking to M Anime about how hard it is for her to be a woman. I in no way, shape, or form what to imply I know her struggle. Oh, I would rant to B about being black. My point is this. While I imagined reading The Handmaid’s Tale instead of, well, my latest. When I walk into the house, I remember all the days Braxton was still here to greet me always. Lame, isn’t it? When he was young, for sure, I was an Emily, and I didn’t have to bring in a baby. Bringing in a bag of goodies was enough, and of course, yeah, I’ll hang onto this B III. When he was older, I was Moira. Helpfully loving quietly.

My Day Job stories were a lot more appropriate. Despite multiple uses of the word “motherfucker.” In my younger days, my Olds wanted to know about my day, but not really. Now B III, my son, wanted to know everything. Yeah, I’d imagine that’s why he fought against so much. I told you before, people would say it was like B had to protect me. Sophia, when I would pick up a book, that’s when Braxton knew I was at peace. Hell, to think today, I wanted to tell you about the last book Braxton and I read together. Succubus Lord 7. Gospel 212 and Braxton’s last Friday. He didn’t see the end of Succubus Lord 8. Not appropriate anyway. Still, Let’s Book It, Braxton.

229 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 077 ~B A Good Book~

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“My Turn To B III” is a book I wrote that nobody’s seen. Hell, I haven’t looked at it in months. I know what I want to read across these pages, but the last thing I need is cops. I’m a black man told not to cry but without B’s fur. B A Good Book

Thursday, September 16, 2021

Chronicle 077 ~B A Good Book~

228 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Except for sitting on my ass in bed, today isn’t looking any better than yesterday.

God or instead, Dog, Braxton, I wish you were here today. Let me play the Republican right now and act like people don’t have Google or any type of search engine. September is National “blah” Prevention Month. Makes sense with it being my Emergence, right? Once I saw this book “On The Night You Were Born.” I didn’t say I read it; I flipped through a few pages. Um yeah, I got the gist. Hell, on the night I was born, I’m sure my Olds broke out into “That’s How You Know You Fucked Up.” The night you were born B? Well more like the night I saw you being carried into my world. Hell, I’ve already written four books, three as fiction, one biographical

You know a little “Mexican” college student who had a thing for tye-dye hoodies and was adopted. Is That Racist? As I said, I’m playing Republican trying to ignore the things I don’t like. The two worst being that you’re gone and myself. B, I picked up a lifeline card. No worries. The last time I talked to those people, my Olds kicked me out. I ended up living out of a one-room hellhole for around three months without you. What was the lesson? If I was going to do “something,” as Morgan Freeman says, “Go on and do it EXPEDITIOUSLY!” Hell, like everything else in life, I’m a lazy ass. It’s a bad habit that you picked up on. I’d read, and you’d sleep.

Then again, you knew how to live a good life. You knew how to be a best friend, a brother, the boy I would call my son. Even when you were running a brothel in my stories, you didn’t partake. You had a wife, children of your own. All the perverted shit is your Old Man. That’s all me. Of course, the story freaked Cherry out, and why wouldn’t it? I don’t know if I sent it to your Aunt. M Anime would go running for the hills. Publishing it? One of the reasons I’m still alive. You know what I want to say but don’t need the cops at the door. How to B You; a book I should read. B A Good Book

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 071 ~Some Candles B Lit~

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I’m 100% Pro-Choice and Anti-Book Burning. Unless it’s my words, then burn it all. Not Braxton’s story, because he is the only one worth writing about. Now seeing the end of Emergence Week and the humiliations, I avoided, mostly. “Some Candles B Lit”

Friday, September 10, 2021

Chronicle 071 ~Some Candles B Lit~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now because I’m “carrying the fire.” I don’t think I’m ready to read The Road quite yet.

With all the storms that have made their way through, I haven’t ended up reading in the dark. Well, you know what I mean, Lady Sophia. I’m reading about Time Travel and living it now since today is the 9th. Do you know what that means? Nobody picked up the torch. Should I go ahead and say it? “Humiliations Galore!” Before I start crying about the Day Job, how about the last time I saw candles. Fake lit candles, but I still need to buy some. I’ve been saying that for what 222 Days now. Hell, the last thing I got for B III was the Emergence Day dinner, and I continue to be salty about that. The Cheesecake was subpar. It didn’t need candles.

So what was I saying about candles… oh yeah, the day Braxton died. Let’s be clear, he was murdered by me. Sorry, I’m getting all into this, but yet again, it’s my routine. I call the Day Job Hell, so I need to remind myself what it truly is. Opening the door, no B III. Circles Four through Seven have nothing on the Ninth “Treachery.” I burn at the Day Job, and I freeze here. While the power hasn’t gone out, I find myself holed up in the Den, reading yes in the dark. It helps me not to look around for B. Pretending Punishment. Lady Sophia, the things that I do in the light? Yeah, I guess I’m not for Heaven, the Rainbow Bridge.

It would have been something if that horrible meal from Red Lobster killed me PROPER. But the story of the candles. How they had flameless candles and the frame about the Rainbow Bridge. I’ll spare you the image. Enough people want me quiet. Mourning Braxton. There were no candles for Emergence Day. I don’t think Braxton ever saw some candles. If the power did go out, the two of us would nap. I don’t think B feared the dark, well… Then there’s the fire B III lit under my ass along with NaNoWriMo. Better worlds. Lady Sophia, I keep imagining which one he ended up in. Hmm, maybe that’s why I haven’t started cheating with my novel. Should burn it. But Some Candles B Lit

222 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 070 ~A Promise, B Eating~

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Be Not So Fearful; it doesn’t taste as bad as it looks. Well, I wasn’t interested in B’s cake, but he loved it, his aunt made it. As for Red Lobster, well, that’s one restaurant I won’t bother with. I want a Buffalo Chicken Sub. “A Promise, B Eating”

Thursday, September 9, 2021

Chronicle 070 ~A Promise, B Eating~

221 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I’ve had two days of waking, whenever I want (it’s been a long time). To be young. Today is fearful.

No, it wasn’t the cheesecake. Not that I could share that with you anyway, but my promise. Out of everything to come out of “Emergence Day,” at least I kept my word. I’d instead celebrate your birthday, B. Even now, I don’t know what I would have done but 16. My greatest shame that you didn’t get to see it. Braxton, it makes that $50.00 I spent seem like nothing at all. Hell, it always comes back to money with me, doesn’t it? With the quality of the meal, you could have had all of it. I forget, can you have shrimp. No B III. Now that’s something you don’t miss, me telling you no. I bought some Mr. Goodbars, and since you’re not here…

Well, the house is still a mess. Sometimes I find myself stepping on this or that every once and a while. What it’s not like your mom is here. As a matter of fact, yesterday, I did a full-on photoshoot for my (Stuff And Thangs) Onlyfans. With a solid eight hours and a full stomach. Of course, I’m eating pancakes, and I would share plenty. I wonder how you would feel about the sausage and hash browns? Talk about stories I tell myself before bedtime. The Aunt Jemima breakfast you stole when you were but a small pancake yourself, Braxton. The things that pass for meat in the country and you and I aren’t vegetarians in any sense. At least you’re not mad at Subway.

No more Buffalo Chicken. You know I continue to imagine what did you in; besides my own hands. Was it the water? I got one of those notices for the fridge the other day. Before BK ripped me off, I ordered a lot from there with coupons. What was it B III? I don’t know? I’m having enough trouble filling my belly. I can’t worry about feeding another B III. Braxton, the dream I had about the candy dog, what were you trying to say to me playing my Virgil? I know what I know, and I’ll assume you’re stuffing your face. You deserve it. You know I would preach politics, but all my favorite foods are going away. Starvation, punishment? A Promise, B Eating

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 064 ~History of B Longing~

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Last week I called myself a writer, and that’s without taking a writing class. Most think of me as a Sci-Fi Nerd, Geek, Freak, watch it, but that explains my Second BFF. She has a thing for nerds, whatever. History um, Jan 31. “History of B Longing.”

Friday, September 3, 2021

Chronicle 064 ~History of B Longing~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but this doesn’t allow me to change history. No matter how much I seek erasure, forgiveness.

It’s days like these… what Thursday, Time Travel? When I was young, I loved SCIENCE. Again Time Travel, wanting to raise the dead, and Hell if I die, I want my ashes to become a virus. Everything to be with B sigh, perhaps our ashes would mingle, hating people ha. Of course, Science involves plenty of Math. Well, I’ve spent this afternoon looking at how much money I’ve lost and for what. Writing, we’ll get to that. How about anatomy? If my “Stuff And Thangs” is any sign. Today I did write out my dream. The Science of it, okay. As close to the subject as I’ll ever get again. Sci-Fi references and defending never having another furry life in my hands. Never again, Sophia.

Because I’ve spent 215 days WRITING about the son I lost. I don’t believe I have ever taken a Writing class before; junior college? Of course, you’re saying that’s quite obvious with how I can never stay on subject. You could also look to yourself and the girls; now B. Baby Braxton always wanted more time with me, a man of few words he was. Only I gave myself over to them. I’ve been down here since 8 AM, and talking to you will account for 2000. I haven’t even left my seat. I should, I’m sure English teachers would approve. What about my next novel for the Big Show? NaNoWriMo in November. Am I hoping to cheat? Remember French?

Yet when I was in school, my subject was HISTORY. As you know, I feel some kinda way about my father, but he was ready to fight a History teacher for me. Calling me Professor. I don’t forget that my son is dead. How many times will I say it, Lady Sophia? Have I mentioned somebody else is sick of me talking about it? Oh, and lunch with B’s Aunt. Emergence Day is coming up fast, and what do I do before each one? CLEAN. I never took a Home Ec. course, and why would I decide to start tidying up? This was B’s home. It’s never another day, Lady Sophia. Each is brand new, trying to find a way to live without him. My lessons, History of B Longing.

215 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 063 ~B Selfish And Others~

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I didn’t eat dinner last night thanks to Burger King, eww. T.M.I., but at least B wasn’t here to suffer with me as I didn’t get any fries. Not that I needed them. Now an Emergence Day meal, I was selfish to the both of us 2020. “B Selfish And Others”

Thursday, September 2, 2021

Chronicle 063 ~B Selfish And Others~

214 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I would tell you about yesterday, but I’m trying to avoid institutions. And for today?

You are a selfish little S.O.B., you know that. Before you think I’m angry like I almost was with your Aunt Carolina Bound, for no apparent reason. “You & Me” always and forever, like Father, like Son. So you being selfish was learned from me. You are B. Every single day you remain the first thought. Whether the Day Job or waking late. I’m pissed at myself about yesterday, but it serves me right because of forgetting your fries… I was even reminded of your birthday, your Sweet Sixteen, and wanting to go crazy. Selfish to think there would be more time, and you always wanted more of mine. And sitting here at the dining room table thinking if I had kept my promises B.

Didn’t I give those out by the truckload but actually executing them. Bad choice of words but B III, yesterday I went to Burger King thinking I would have enough for some days. STOLE my money, got a STOMACHACHE, “dude,” you’d SAY, “where’s my fries.” Trust me, you didn’t miss anything and with what I did to you? 214 Days B III, and I continue to feel pain. Only like Robin Williams in Good Will Hunting when he says, “My wife is dead.” I say, my son is dead; nothing beats that pain B. You’re gone, B III, I know. Everyone else knows too. A “friend” is sick of me talking about you. I’ll see your Aunt Saturday. M Anime says, bless your little soul.

What about mine, B? It’s getting around the time of “Emergence,” and I don’t have you to smother me. If my body is wracked in pain or lazy, what about my heart. My betrayal B. Saturday, I’ll be headed to PetSmart to pet the fur babies and then lunch with your Aunt and her hubby. A shared meal and there will be nothing for you. My Emergence Day meal B? How about my wish list? Your grandparents aren’t crazy enough to do some things. That dream I had a week or so ago meant I can’t be a dad. A Cuddle Clone, Stuff & Thangs? Fuck, I want my best friend back… you B III. Dance On Our Graves such selfishness. B Selfish And Others.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad