My Friend, The Odd Couple

I went to visit my friend, “The Odd Couple”, today. He greeted me with his usual rumpled, sardonic grin, which is his front, his defense mechanism for keeping the horseshit of the world at bay. He’s quite accomplished at it. When I stepped through his screen door, taking stock of the man’s normally spartan clean Felix homestead, I plainly saw that his alter ego, Oscar, had completely taken hold. His joint was bonafide. A mess. A work of art.
A hard drive that kept the mixes of the last artist he’d worked with lay in the middle of the den, on its back, unplugged, an island in the storm. His Christmas underwear lay in the hall. Hark the herald angels sing! A shirt and a pair of shorts were in the entrance to the studio. Reams of toilet paper lay on the floor.
When I pointed out to him the rock and rollness of the appearance of his pad, he laughed and opened the door to his bedroom. ....The sheets were torn from his mattress which sat deadpan on the floor. There were empty wine and beer bottles stood in various incongruous angles here and there amongst the remnants; clothes scattered about like a Hamas explosion.
Bottles and clothes strewn everywhere. Strategic even. A release I understood completely.
But yet, here stood a man to be reckoned with. A man with vision. Talent that is off the scale.
Could he be forgiven for the state of his abode?
Hell yes!
In fact, a standing ovation is in order! Long live Oscar! Give Felix some too! My friend. A good man. A talented man. The Odd Couple, on full display, living it. Like countless others only dream and wish, he is doing it. In cinematic living color. I love him. I love “The Odd Couple”.
He lives. He truly lives.