The Only 2 Times I Have Ever Seen Oscar Get PISSED OFF...

It's getting cold up here, man. I have been thinking about Oscar so much lately. Today I started giggling at him while I was building some little platforms to paint on. I get so fucking sensitive about shit like that. It often lasts for years. I was outside screwing scraps of wood together, thinking. As they say, "One man's trash is another man's treasure." I guess.

I was dating a girl for a little bit when we adopted him. We were together for a couple of years or however long. I don't even know what that was to be honest. Oscar lived with me though. As always I fucked it all up again somehow and she split for some other dude. I just don't like being up someone's ass 24/7 nor do I like it happening to me. I'm not gonna do anything wrong if you just give me space. I don't give a shit what you do, just don't lie or cheat, I'll do the same and we are golden. Simple, right?

So, growing up with her around a lot, she was his fucking Mom. Then she wasn't around and it was just us and a bunch of Hollywood leftovers for quite a while (If you know what I mean). So She pops back up many months later and we are hanging out again. Not like before but trying to remain friends type of shit. We had a pretty heavy relationship. Extremely complicated. We are still cool. I don't give a fuck what she does anymore and she is the same but we are pretty protective of each other still. Like a don't fucking hurt her or I will cut you really bad type of thing. Dig?

Oscar was apparently the same way. I think we went to lunch one day or something and went back to my place. She wanted to see Oscar. I had to do something to my car so we were outside and I was messing with my car, she and Oscar were sitting outside in the grass. This person came walking by with their dog and it went up to the girl I have been talking about. It was just going up to sniff her or something. Nothing bad. Oscar flipped the fuck out. He was snarling and barking. He never did shit like that. EVER. He was very passive actually. Not that day. I actually had to go and calm him down.

Oscar wouldn't even bark if there was a knock at the door. He would just walk over and stand there staring at it. That is how I would know if someone came over when I had my headphones on or the music up too loud. It's like, "Hey Dad, someone is knocking. Don't worry though, I won't say nothing." Good thing for socks and peepholes because a lot of the time I "wasn't home" so to speak.

Another time, I was laying on the floor drinking whiskey and reading a book. Johnny Cash's first book The Man in Black. It was probably around midnight. I lived off of Sunset Blvd. near the strip. A lot of party spots and shit right there so I could hear the people laughing and having a good time up the block. It was a nice night. Just me and my son chilling' out. I would sometimes buy Oscar a beer. He loved beer. I would always get him a good one. I guess they were good ones, I would pick out whatever label looked coolest to me, that was how I would choose. I really don't like beer at all. To me it is like drinking a loaf of bread that tastes like dehydrated mule excrement or ear wax. Ever ate your own ear wax? I tried it once when I was about 8 years old. It is gross. I can swing Rolling Rock or Coor's light. It's like water, that's why. Anyway, Oscar had is beer and I was sipping whiskey, reading, beautiful night... I set two glasses up next to me and put a shot in each. Plopped back down on the rug and started reading again. He stumbles over and licks me across the face then he just stared at me. I grabbed my shot and cocked it back. He shoved his tongue into the other glass of whiskey and started growling. He was showing teeth and pissed. He didn't like that at all!!! I was laughing so hard. It' was like he got bummed out with me and walked away, kept looking back at me all fucking mad. I guess he thought I was trying to pull a prank on him. I wish someone else was there to see it. I nailed that fucker back too and then walked over to him but he wasn't having it with me. He was mad at me. He ignored me for about an hour afterwards. Then we went to bed and cuddled and he got over it.

THE END

I Miss Him...

I miss our apartment too. Gave it up for bullshit out of greed and stupidity. I should've listened to my friend and none of this would have happened. Of course I didn't do that. I packed up and took him with me. We left it all and got nothing done but waste time, fucking time. I wasted both of our time in my own thread of derailment and self destruction while dragging him along with me. That was "ours". Our home. We were a fucking team. I think of you every day and I am sorry that you had to be mine.

I love you Oscar.

It's Good Food...

I had the strangest dream last night. It was so vivid and I have been thinking about it for hours.

I was driving a Jeep, like a Daisy Duke kinda Jeep. A female police officer rear ended me at stop light. We pulled into a store parking lot to check it out. It wasn't bad and there was no damage to either vehicle so we just shook on it and she took off. For whatever reason there was a toddler in her car too. I remember wondering why but I don't know... Again, it was very vivid.

I decided to go into the store. It was like a Target type of place and I ran into a couple of friends, said hello and all that. I ran into my friend Anya and were in a check-out line just talking. I never bought anything, I was just in line for some reason. She pays for her things and I walk on through the line. I was just standing there and people were walking by, I'm still in the store. This black man walks in. He is obviously homeless. He was barefooted, and his hair was all messy and dripping with sheen. Imagine a filthy Easy-E but no shades or hat, totally dirty and without shoes. That is the best way to describe him. He was pushing a cart. Not a shopping cart either. It was like a small canvas cart. I was just watching him and he started handing out magazines to people. The magazines looked brand new and he comes up to me and gives me one. He says, "It's good food."

I take the magazine and it was a cookbook, magazine. I look at him and the him thank him. He just stands there staring at me with grease dripping from his hair, then points up his index finger as in telling me to hold on. Then starts rummaging in his little cart thing again. I am just standing there and he pulls out a cloth with something wrapped inside of it. Inside is a severed hand with tattoos of writings all over it. It wasn't all bloody or anything. It was like it had been cleaned. It was just a severed hand with a stump at the wrist, as if all the blood had already dried. He hands it to me and I take it. I'm looking at the hand and all the tattoos are addresses and names with dates under them. I am reading it and he is just standing there watching me. I wrap it back up and give it back to him. He puts it away and does the finger motion again as if he wants me to wait. Then he pulls out a small box with plastic draped over the side and a large ladle. A big soup ladle. Now keep in mind of his appearance. Then he see sets the box on a check-out counter, meanwhile people are just casually walking by as this is going on. He dips the ladle into the box and fills it with this black, tar looking liquid that is now dripping over the edge of the large spoon. He goes to hand it to me but I decline, so he shrugs like "okay then" and dumps it over his head. Now he has all this black greasy shit running down his face, onto his dirty clothes and barefoot onto the floor. He puts the box back into his cart and rolls it away, out the door.

The only words he ever spoke were, "It's good food. The rest were simply hand gestures.

Another strange part of the dream is that not once did I feel afraid or intimidated, shocked. Nothing.
Then I woke up. I am still thinking about it though.