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
Friday, September 28, 2018
Tuesday, September 25, 2018
I Miss Him...
I love you Oscar.
Thursday, September 20, 2018
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.
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.
Monday, July 9, 2018
Well, Fuck Me Runnin'...
Last night I was a murderer. It was a strange dream. I killed my friend's Mother and don't even fucking know why. All I remember is that I was bashing her head in with my bare hands. I kept on smashing away with every part of my fists. It's like the dream a started right there. No dream foreplay what so ever...We were in a living room and my adrenaline was going crazy, I was going crazy. Then I dragged her into the corner of the room and propped her sloppy body there.
I walked out of the apartment and down the street to my girlfriend's house (who happened to be portrayed by one of my old neighbors in Hollywood). "Did you do it?" - "Yeah, but I have to go, give me a t-shirt." She kissed me. Then I ran down to this area that looked like the Metarie side of Lake Ponchartrain's bank. It was freezing and I slept on a bench there. The next morning I woke up and my friend was calling me. He told me what happened and I had to identify his Mother's body for whatever reason. So, I went to do that. The cops were questioning me and I played surprised and dumb. They let me go and I went back to my girlfriend's place. It was trashed. It looked like a party was had or something. Ashtrays, meth bags and booze bottles, clothes scattered everywhere... Just a big fucking mess. She was laying in bed in a t-shirt and panties and someone was in the bathroom. I could hear whomever taking a piss. (I still don't know why I killed that woman. In real life she always annoyed me so maybe that is why my brain went there. In my dream, I was so stressed out.) I shook my girl awake and asked what had happened, what was going on... Then she started screaming at me and hitting me as a guy came out of the bathroom. He looked like Kid Rock but he wasn't, just that vibe. I flip the fuck out and he and I start going at it while she is still freaking out, screaming, punching and scratching me. Furniture going everywhere. It was hectic, like it was real or something. Fucking drama, man. I ended up smashing that dude's head in too, but I used a jam box to do it. Then I dragged her nutty ass out into the yard by her shirt. Started smashing her face in and stabbed her to death with a broken stick. After that I grabbed a sledgehammer from the shed and I took off running again. Woke up later in the evening next to a fire with an old man sitting next to me. It was freezing again. He was rubbing my hair back and staring at me. Then I really woke up all stressed out, shaking, confused. Not even a nightmare. More like a pain in the ass. At least I didn't end up in prison. Shit.
I need a bike ride and a Coke.
I walked out of the apartment and down the street to my girlfriend's house (who happened to be portrayed by one of my old neighbors in Hollywood). "Did you do it?" - "Yeah, but I have to go, give me a t-shirt." She kissed me. Then I ran down to this area that looked like the Metarie side of Lake Ponchartrain's bank. It was freezing and I slept on a bench there. The next morning I woke up and my friend was calling me. He told me what happened and I had to identify his Mother's body for whatever reason. So, I went to do that. The cops were questioning me and I played surprised and dumb. They let me go and I went back to my girlfriend's place. It was trashed. It looked like a party was had or something. Ashtrays, meth bags and booze bottles, clothes scattered everywhere... Just a big fucking mess. She was laying in bed in a t-shirt and panties and someone was in the bathroom. I could hear whomever taking a piss. (I still don't know why I killed that woman. In real life she always annoyed me so maybe that is why my brain went there. In my dream, I was so stressed out.) I shook my girl awake and asked what had happened, what was going on... Then she started screaming at me and hitting me as a guy came out of the bathroom. He looked like Kid Rock but he wasn't, just that vibe. I flip the fuck out and he and I start going at it while she is still freaking out, screaming, punching and scratching me. Furniture going everywhere. It was hectic, like it was real or something. Fucking drama, man. I ended up smashing that dude's head in too, but I used a jam box to do it. Then I dragged her nutty ass out into the yard by her shirt. Started smashing her face in and stabbed her to death with a broken stick. After that I grabbed a sledgehammer from the shed and I took off running again. Woke up later in the evening next to a fire with an old man sitting next to me. It was freezing again. He was rubbing my hair back and staring at me. Then I really woke up all stressed out, shaking, confused. Not even a nightmare. More like a pain in the ass. At least I didn't end up in prison. Shit.
I need a bike ride and a Coke.
Wednesday, July 4, 2018
Here I Go Thinking Out Loud Again...
Yesterday was interesting even though I didn't really do a whole lot. Thought a lot. I woke up around 7AM today which isn't abnormal really. The way that I function is strange, well maybe it isn't. I can't tell. Maybe it's completely normal.
The reason that I am writing about this is because I was having a conversation with my buddy last night after work. I usually plan shit to where I can multi-task as I move throughout my day. Like, if I see a board or whatever that I know I want to paint on I always put it aside neatly to prep for whatever I am gonna do with it. I have a stack. Then as my days progress I always have something there to fuck with in "the meantime" of everything else I may have going on. Like as I am moving along I am also prepping for the next idea. What time I am gonna start whatever it is and all that like at least a day in advance sometimes more. Like yesterday I had to work all day today so I prepped for 2 days ahead since I was going to lose one... Get it? Makes sense to me somehow.
A huge run-on paragraph:
For instance, today I knew I had to mow the lawn. It's the day I chose this week and is one of my chores, therefore it gets slapped into my routine. So, I woke up early and poisoned a bunch of weeds and thistles before most people would wake up. I didn't want to be mowing while my friend or the neighbors are sleeping so I started there. It's quiet. Yesterday I worked at the shop, so in my down time I started organizing everything for a picture that I wanted to start drawing today, which I did start. After the poison shit I came inside and set my stuff out to draw for later. Ran downstairs and started a painting for another idea that I had. That shit has to dry so I ran back upstairs and started organizing my clothes to wash while listening to some tracks that I am working on. Checked my emails and all that shit then went and layed another small coat on the painting. Went outside to mow as the paint dried again. Cut the grass then put that shit away. Got it over with early so I could do other things that I enjoy doing with the rest of the day. Now it's like 10:30 AM or so. The way I work is if the yard was on my mind the whole time, I would not be able to focus on anything else that I want to do. Took my bike to the store for a soda. Most like coffee, I like a Coke. Came back, threw that in the fridge and went to breakfast with my friend. Got home and finished a shirt I am messing with (can't be dressing like a fucking robot) then threw the laundry in the wash. I was waiting to finish the shirt before I washed everything. More painting. Back upstairs. I sat down and tried to watch TV for a bit but dozed off. Short nap. Got up, threw the clothes in the dryer and checked the painting. It can wait because I had to start the drawing. My stuff was already layed out. Got that drawing mapped out then took a shower. Wanted to wait till I was good and dirty.
Now, I am finishing this writing as to wind down and add to this blog page which is another stupid project I started. Alright. It is 10:20 PM now. Time for folding clothes, sunflower seeds, my soda and a horror flick. Then zzzzzzz and start over again. That's my day pretty much every day. Different chores though. I try to do those first as you can see. Get that shit over with first while other stuff is in the oven. Lazy motherfucker huh?
Now, I am finishing this writing as to wind down and add to this blog page which is another stupid project I started. Alright. It is 10:20 PM now. Time for folding clothes, sunflower seeds, my soda and a horror flick. Then zzzzzzz and start over again. That's my day pretty much every day. Different chores though. I try to do those first as you can see. Get that shit over with first while other stuff is in the oven. Lazy motherfucker huh?
Website coming soon. 
Sunday, July 1, 2018
Welcome to Humidity City...
It's been really hot the last few days. I was sitting down, working on some music and I took my headphones off. It's raining!!!!! Man, the last couple of nights have been a bitch to sleep through. The heat gets trapped inside of the house and and there is no A/C. I was sweating like crazy, tossing and turning, sticking to the sheets and itching. I was pissed as fuck. It reminded me of withdrawals.
I was going to cut the grass earlier but it was so hot I figured I would wait until this evening when it cools down a bit, then it rains... The yard can wait a couple more days anyway. It really isn't that bad. I potted some cherry pits and some lemon seeds the other day. Guess I will see if they sprout. Earlier I did some jalapeño seeds. If all of that shit sprouts then I will be surprised. If not then fuck it, it was fun I guess. Other than that I have been painting and drawing a lot. Music stuff too. I wrote another punk riff. Getting that harder itch again. Not metal really but just nasty punk/rock -n- roll shit. Not cute either. Really mean and raw. Cut throat shit. I can't do cute at all. Everything has to be fucked up to a degree for me to get it. To understand it. Maybe once I start pushing this acoustic shit I will meet some musicians out here and start beating the piss out of harder stuff again. We shall see. It would be interesting.
I may have mentioned the gas station lady in another writing. She works down the street at Mobile. I am not attracted to her at all but she always smells good and is really nice. I think she is from Russia or some shit like that. She is super cool and reminds me of someone that my Dad would be friends with. Not sexually but like a friend of his' wife or something. Not a really nice way to word it but like someone who would run in the same circe of friends as his or whatever. He has some rad friends but definitely not the type that you would want to cross type of folks. Make sense? Probably not. If they like you then they love you and if they don't then just go find some other motherfuckers to hang out with types. I like that shit. The kind of people who can whip your fucking ass but can also sit back and cry in front of you. The ones who know that they can confide in you and trust you. The kind who let you know without any baby bullshit when you you are being an asshole and fucking up. The kind who understand you and won't let you fall or leave you hungry. That shit goes both ways too because they are the kind that you would listen to and also reciprocate the same actions when the tables turn. That is real friendship. My Dad is a prick but I know the other side so it keeps me in check. For instance... I can slap the shit out of him but if I see someone else do it, it's fucking on. I have done both so that ain't just talk either. So has he. I am rambling now.
Anyway, that Mobile chick reminds me of those types. It's cool because we are friends kinda. I go there just about every day for sunflower seeds or a soda or whatever.We shoot the shit and laugh. I am usually alone so it's nice to have an "outsider" to crack jokes and short talk sometimes. She was mopping last week and I told her that I could see her ass crack. I wasn't being dirty, just fucking with her. She said something back but I couldn't understand her because of her accent. She seemed kinda pissy. I told her it was a joke and I hear it all the time too. My ass crack is always showing. My ass cheeks are made up of nothing but a slit that goes from the top of my thighs and up my lower back. My butt cheeks are basically non-existent. Who cares? I would be a gay man's worst lover. His buddies would probably laugh at him. My girlfriends always have picked on my tiny butt. They call it cute. Good thing I ain't gay, I guess. What would a queer call it? Absent?
I saw her gas station lady, the other day and she was short with me. Maybe she is bummed with me. I didn't really do anything. Maybe she has something else going on... Fuck it. What can you do? This is the stupidest blog that I have ever written. Gonna go draw. Maybe I am just so happy about the rain.
Now the sun is out again... Motherfucker. Humidity City.
I was going to cut the grass earlier but it was so hot I figured I would wait until this evening when it cools down a bit, then it rains... The yard can wait a couple more days anyway. It really isn't that bad. I potted some cherry pits and some lemon seeds the other day. Guess I will see if they sprout. Earlier I did some jalapeño seeds. If all of that shit sprouts then I will be surprised. If not then fuck it, it was fun I guess. Other than that I have been painting and drawing a lot. Music stuff too. I wrote another punk riff. Getting that harder itch again. Not metal really but just nasty punk/rock -n- roll shit. Not cute either. Really mean and raw. Cut throat shit. I can't do cute at all. Everything has to be fucked up to a degree for me to get it. To understand it. Maybe once I start pushing this acoustic shit I will meet some musicians out here and start beating the piss out of harder stuff again. We shall see. It would be interesting.
I may have mentioned the gas station lady in another writing. She works down the street at Mobile. I am not attracted to her at all but she always smells good and is really nice. I think she is from Russia or some shit like that. She is super cool and reminds me of someone that my Dad would be friends with. Not sexually but like a friend of his' wife or something. Not a really nice way to word it but like someone who would run in the same circe of friends as his or whatever. He has some rad friends but definitely not the type that you would want to cross type of folks. Make sense? Probably not. If they like you then they love you and if they don't then just go find some other motherfuckers to hang out with types. I like that shit. The kind of people who can whip your fucking ass but can also sit back and cry in front of you. The ones who know that they can confide in you and trust you. The kind who let you know without any baby bullshit when you you are being an asshole and fucking up. The kind who understand you and won't let you fall or leave you hungry. That shit goes both ways too because they are the kind that you would listen to and also reciprocate the same actions when the tables turn. That is real friendship. My Dad is a prick but I know the other side so it keeps me in check. For instance... I can slap the shit out of him but if I see someone else do it, it's fucking on. I have done both so that ain't just talk either. So has he. I am rambling now.
Anyway, that Mobile chick reminds me of those types. It's cool because we are friends kinda. I go there just about every day for sunflower seeds or a soda or whatever.We shoot the shit and laugh. I am usually alone so it's nice to have an "outsider" to crack jokes and short talk sometimes. She was mopping last week and I told her that I could see her ass crack. I wasn't being dirty, just fucking with her. She said something back but I couldn't understand her because of her accent. She seemed kinda pissy. I told her it was a joke and I hear it all the time too. My ass crack is always showing. My ass cheeks are made up of nothing but a slit that goes from the top of my thighs and up my lower back. My butt cheeks are basically non-existent. Who cares? I would be a gay man's worst lover. His buddies would probably laugh at him. My girlfriends always have picked on my tiny butt. They call it cute. Good thing I ain't gay, I guess. What would a queer call it? Absent?
I saw her gas station lady, the other day and she was short with me. Maybe she is bummed with me. I didn't really do anything. Maybe she has something else going on... Fuck it. What can you do? This is the stupidest blog that I have ever written. Gonna go draw. Maybe I am just so happy about the rain.
Now the sun is out again... Motherfucker. Humidity City.
Wednesday, June 13, 2018
Delirium and other Delicacies...
Fuck, I knew I shouldn't have taken a nap today, well yesterday. I knew it. My sleeping patterns are all over the place so I have been trying to get up really early and blast through the day then turn off around 10PM and go to bed before midnight. Balance everything out that way I can work through the day and watch movies at night, then fall asleep. They put me to sleep. I need some kind of background noise like music or movies to crash out, otherwise my head won't shut off. I get distracted all up in there and end up pacing the floor for a while or bouncing back and forth with different shit that I am trying to create. There is no fucking off switch in my head. Like tonight, I just can't focus so I am screwed which is why I am wide awake at 5:46AM typing this unimportant bullshit. Maybe staring at a screen will make me sleepy. If so it probably won't happen until around 8AM...if I am lucky. It is so fucked up. Then when I start playing out again, everything will flip around. So, why bother trying to harness anything when it's just uncontrollable in the first place?? I ain't into pill popping and all that shit either so there goes that idea. Out the window. Melatonin does absolutely nothing.
In other news, I don't like drinking out of plastic containers so I buy glass ones to store water and tea in. I boil the water and when it cools dump it into the glass containers. Old milk or juice bottles. I was watching some movie and got up to walk around. I saw a bottle of apple cider vinegar on the counter and grabbed it. Grabbed it, took off the cap then realized that it wasn't one of my water bottles just as I was about to take a huge chug of that shit. I was about to fucking go for it too. Man, that would've sucked a bag of dicks so bad. Probably would've started coughing and puking... Who knows? Thank whatever that I didn't find out the hard way though. Fuck this, I am gonna try another movie. This is senseless rattle. I am a little tired now. I am so fucking bored... maybe that helped.
~Bye~
~Hello again~
Well that went along just as I figured it would but definitely not part of the plan. I watched 1/2 of a movie and zonked out then woke up around 10:15AM. Best (insert sarcasm) part is that I woke up to a voicemail from my Mother to let me know that my Grandfather had passed away this morning. He has been ill for quite some time now, and in the hospital. It was inevitable to say the least. As sad as it is to face the truth, it was also expected. So, I went for a bike ride on The Plymouth Whip. That thing rides smooth. Thought a bit.
My Mother's Father was 80ish, maybe early 80's in years. I don't know that exactly. He was a cool cat from what I knew/know about him but he definitely battled his demons. He was a heavy drinker in his prime and had 7 kids total. He gave up drinking with some treatment and through working the program. From what I have gathered throughout the years is that there was an extended period of time where most of his own children wouldn't even speak to him. I ain't one to talk. I didn't know him like they did. He was always the same man to me. Well, somehow he managed to dig himself out of all that mess. He was a heavy smoker for most of his life as well and even fought off lung cancer not so long ago. He definitely saw his share of shit. Put it that way.
When I was a kid and would see him which was not all that often, he loved fucking with me. He would tell me that he had a fake eyeball and that I better behave or else he was gonna pop it out. That would scare the shit out of me. Other times he would just call me over and pretend he was digging it out to simply show me. He didn't have a fake eye. At least I don't think he did. It used to scare the shit out of me though. He would laugh about it. He also smoked a tobacco pipe. I loved the smell of it. The best way for me to describe him is that he looked like Popeye's dad from the Robin Williams movie back in the early 80's or whenever that was that it came out. He always reminded me of that character. I told him that once as an adult and he got a chuckle out of it, "Could be worse I guess."
Everyone knew it was coming. Yet, most people don't want to admit death's arrival is nearing. Those people come up with all of this "woe is me crap, I am losing a loved one". I call bullshit. Most but not all of those people are just crying for attention and losing a close friend or family member is first class in self loathing department. Everybody wiping your little butt and and all that. They died dumbass, not you. Not yet at least. It's fucking true and if you are reading this you know it is. Most people are selfish maggots in my opinion. I have been there. What trips me out is that the worst ones with said behavior are the ones who get everything handed to them anyways.
A close family member and I were talking about this event about to turn the corner just a matter of days ago. He told me that he was "breaking apart or down". Something like that. Mind you this is a man who never bothered to call the now deceased in the first place. They would talk on occasion but to set it straight, he barely even knew the man aside from family holiday crap and all that type of crud. He asked me what I thought and basically why wasn't I all bummed out and mopey about the situation. This was roughly my response, though not verbatim yet in a nutshell I said:
~ Well man, the way I see it is like this. You weren't close enough to him to be breaking apart or being over dramatic about it. It would be selfish of me to feel that way or behave that way because I wasn't either. Yes, I loved him and the time we spent together. He is my Grandfather. He had a long life when he shouldn't have. With all the shit he has been through he should've died years ago to tell you the truth but he wasn't and ain't ready yet I guess. Shit, now that I am thinking about it, I should be dead by now too. To me acting surprised about his approaching demise is fucking ludicrous. He had already avoided death so many times while fighting off his demons and illnesses, had a nice sized litter of kids and lived to be this age to smile about it? I say he is ready. I think he knows it too. Yes, I love him and as selfish as it may sound, Godspeed to him. ~
He didn't like that answer. It's the truth though isn't it? Think fucking logically. People hate the God damned truth. That's why they lie so fucking much. Fact. They also hate admitting when they are proved wrong. Well, I may have to fly out to NOLA tomorrow if I can make the funeral. I'll know later today. I apologize if this read got a little morbid but then again never mind. I don't.
In other news, I don't like drinking out of plastic containers so I buy glass ones to store water and tea in. I boil the water and when it cools dump it into the glass containers. Old milk or juice bottles. I was watching some movie and got up to walk around. I saw a bottle of apple cider vinegar on the counter and grabbed it. Grabbed it, took off the cap then realized that it wasn't one of my water bottles just as I was about to take a huge chug of that shit. I was about to fucking go for it too. Man, that would've sucked a bag of dicks so bad. Probably would've started coughing and puking... Who knows? Thank whatever that I didn't find out the hard way though. Fuck this, I am gonna try another movie. This is senseless rattle. I am a little tired now. I am so fucking bored... maybe that helped.
~Bye~
~Hello again~
Well that went along just as I figured it would but definitely not part of the plan. I watched 1/2 of a movie and zonked out then woke up around 10:15AM. Best (insert sarcasm) part is that I woke up to a voicemail from my Mother to let me know that my Grandfather had passed away this morning. He has been ill for quite some time now, and in the hospital. It was inevitable to say the least. As sad as it is to face the truth, it was also expected. So, I went for a bike ride on The Plymouth Whip. That thing rides smooth. Thought a bit.
My Mother's Father was 80ish, maybe early 80's in years. I don't know that exactly. He was a cool cat from what I knew/know about him but he definitely battled his demons. He was a heavy drinker in his prime and had 7 kids total. He gave up drinking with some treatment and through working the program. From what I have gathered throughout the years is that there was an extended period of time where most of his own children wouldn't even speak to him. I ain't one to talk. I didn't know him like they did. He was always the same man to me. Well, somehow he managed to dig himself out of all that mess. He was a heavy smoker for most of his life as well and even fought off lung cancer not so long ago. He definitely saw his share of shit. Put it that way.
When I was a kid and would see him which was not all that often, he loved fucking with me. He would tell me that he had a fake eyeball and that I better behave or else he was gonna pop it out. That would scare the shit out of me. Other times he would just call me over and pretend he was digging it out to simply show me. He didn't have a fake eye. At least I don't think he did. It used to scare the shit out of me though. He would laugh about it. He also smoked a tobacco pipe. I loved the smell of it. The best way for me to describe him is that he looked like Popeye's dad from the Robin Williams movie back in the early 80's or whenever that was that it came out. He always reminded me of that character. I told him that once as an adult and he got a chuckle out of it, "Could be worse I guess."
Everyone knew it was coming. Yet, most people don't want to admit death's arrival is nearing. Those people come up with all of this "woe is me crap, I am losing a loved one". I call bullshit. Most but not all of those people are just crying for attention and losing a close friend or family member is first class in self loathing department. Everybody wiping your little butt and and all that. They died dumbass, not you. Not yet at least. It's fucking true and if you are reading this you know it is. Most people are selfish maggots in my opinion. I have been there. What trips me out is that the worst ones with said behavior are the ones who get everything handed to them anyways.
A close family member and I were talking about this event about to turn the corner just a matter of days ago. He told me that he was "breaking apart or down". Something like that. Mind you this is a man who never bothered to call the now deceased in the first place. They would talk on occasion but to set it straight, he barely even knew the man aside from family holiday crap and all that type of crud. He asked me what I thought and basically why wasn't I all bummed out and mopey about the situation. This was roughly my response, though not verbatim yet in a nutshell I said:
~ Well man, the way I see it is like this. You weren't close enough to him to be breaking apart or being over dramatic about it. It would be selfish of me to feel that way or behave that way because I wasn't either. Yes, I loved him and the time we spent together. He is my Grandfather. He had a long life when he shouldn't have. With all the shit he has been through he should've died years ago to tell you the truth but he wasn't and ain't ready yet I guess. Shit, now that I am thinking about it, I should be dead by now too. To me acting surprised about his approaching demise is fucking ludicrous. He had already avoided death so many times while fighting off his demons and illnesses, had a nice sized litter of kids and lived to be this age to smile about it? I say he is ready. I think he knows it too. Yes, I love him and as selfish as it may sound, Godspeed to him. ~
He didn't like that answer. It's the truth though isn't it? Think fucking logically. People hate the God damned truth. That's why they lie so fucking much. Fact. They also hate admitting when they are proved wrong. Well, I may have to fly out to NOLA tomorrow if I can make the funeral. I'll know later today. I apologize if this read got a little morbid but then again never mind. I don't.
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