Useless / Outta time

I feel so useless these days

Sorry, those of you that read me know I’m pretty regular about my postings but this week’s been…hard. Don’t think I had one sober night this week. Heartgirl took me to a fine restaurant, PCD took me out and made me carrot cake, and BEG rang me. They’re all such good people. It’s funny who contacts you and who doesn’t. Slept about four hours a night.

Told you before that A man’s dying is more the survivors’ affair than his own.

I think I’m fairly quick-witted. Rain’s faster on the draw but I hold my own. S’what happens when you read as much as a nerd like me. But I dunno what to say to my own mother. Isn’t that a kick in the head?

Sucks when you realize a particular talent you have’s only good for entertainment purposes.

The irony of this whole thing is that my mom just came back from Taiwan two days before my grandma died. Now she’s gotta go back.

Her: I didn’t know she was gonna go. (pause) I woulda stayed if I knew.
Me: One of us (kids) should go back with you.
Her: No, it’s useless. She’s gone. You called her all the time. That meant a lot to her. (pause) You’re a good kid.

She doesn’t know that I stopped calling her after the theft cause I didn’t want her to worry. Stupid. I thought we had time. Goddamit, I thought I had time. No one told me we were outta time.

Gonna add that to my list of ten thousand regrets.

Gonna need more damn paper.

Location: my office, beat tired
Mood: beat tired
Music: you wake up in it One fine day

All good things come to an end

 

Him: What’s the point of dating her if it’s not going anywhere?
Me: All relationships end. Some just end sooner than others.

Anthropologist Ernest Becker once said that Everything that man does in his symbolic world is an attempt to deny and overcome his grotesque fate.

All relationships end. And all relationships that matter end in tears. It’s just the way it goes. There’s nothing you adore now, that you can hold now, that you won’t lose at some point down the line. Either because it goes – or you go. It’s all ashes and dust and there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it.

And it doesn’t matter how you go, yeah? Someone’ll wish you didn’t.

Writers try and cheat the end we know is coming. It’s our sad way of staying longer than we should. Because I’ve tricked you, you see. I’ve made you think of me.

My grandmother passed away. I’m heartbroken.

Please don’t say, I’m sorry. Tell me something funny or interesting. Cause I gotta go home and dunno what to say to my mom.

I’m a crap writer. I’ve run outta words.

Location: my office
Mood: heartbroken
Music: the sun was wondering if it should stay away for a day til the feeling went away

You are a soul

You can’t sell your soul, you are a soul

Me: I’m sorry, come again? How old’re you?
Her: 18.
Me: (turning to WM) Yeah, I’m leaving.

Spent Friday out with Gio and WM around the UES. Not my scene.

Saturday morning, spoke with Heartgirl; that’s a post for some other time. Saturday night, saw PCD. She did NOT heed my advice and was hung over so we spent a very nice quiet night in the UWS.

Unfortunately, while writing this, I just found out that my grandma’s in the hospital. Was supposed to see her when that woman stole all my money.

You know when someone talks about selling your soul, or whatnot? That irritates me. Cause you’re not a body with a soul. You are a soul. You just happen to have a body.

My grandmother is no dainty grandma; she’s tougher than DeNiro and smokes more than he does.

But her body is betraying her and there’s nuthin I can do about it. She gave me my eyes.

I wanna hit something.

Location: in front of three computers
Mood: worried
Music: No need to say goodbye You’ll come back
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Blessed are the forgetful

Location: 10:00-14:00 yest, all over Manhattan
Mood: calm
Music: Why so scared of romance?

Her: I forget a lot of things.

Me: I envy you. Nietzsche once said, Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders. I never forget anything.

Her: I’d never want to remember everything. That’d be terrible.

Me: (nodding) It’s why I’m an insomniac.

Caligirl’s getting married.

For my longtime readers, she was also the girl in this entry. She’s everything I’m looking for in a girlie. Yet I don’t love her. Least, not in the way she wants. Dunno why that is, but that’s as it is.

As a kid, I remember reading about Soma in A Brave New World and wondering why anyone would wanna forget stuff. Not a kid anymore. There’s no Soma in NYC. There’s no River Lethe. That part I knew. But I’m also finding that there’s no SING. No girl on the east side missing a heart.

There are, however, any number of fine (and not so fine) drinking establishments in the big city where they’ll serve me my favorite poison on the rocks with a big slice of orange for $14 a glass.

I know cause I went to two of them Wednesday and Thursday nights with any number of girlies, some very random, some very specific. The weekend forecast looks similar. They’ll have to do.

Suspect I’m not invited to the wedding.

I’m an insomniac cause I lie awake remembering. I’m so talented at it that I even remember things that never happened, people that never existed.

A Tale of Two Conversations

Me: You ever read Tale of Two Cities? Charles and Sydney look alike and both love Lucie. But Lucie loves Sydney. Sydney’s arrested and about to be killed when Charles appears and takes Sydney’s place. So Charles asks, why would you do that for me? And Sydney goes, I’m not doing it for you; I’m doing it for her.
Him: If I break up with her, it’ll kill her.
Me: If you marry her cause you feel obligated to – that’d kill her. (pause) If you really do care about her, cut her loose. Then again, what do I know? Sometimes, you do the right thing and you hate yourself. Sometimes, you do the wrong thing and you hate yourself. After a while, you just get used to hating yourself. Hence, rum.


Caligirl: But I realize that there is something we have in common.
Me: And that is?
Her: (softly) Don’t you see it? I’m seeing someone else. PCD’s seeing other people, BEG’s seeing someone, the accountant never wants to get married and Heartgirl’s unavailable. You like the ladies you can’t have. Cause it saves you from the messy things. From having to look someone in the eye and telling them that you’re not the guy. (contemptuously) You’re such a sad and pathetic person, Logan.
Me: (pause) You’re in rare form today.
Her: I try, Logan. (pause) I saw that pretty blond at your birthday party and I knew you’d ____ it up. Just like you always do. You’re terrible at your two rules. What are you looking for?
Me: Something I can’t put into words. What you’re saying, has the ring of truth, but isn’t true at all.
Her: I wonder if you really believe all the crap you say. (pause) I hope you get your heart broken. Into a million little _____ pieces. Put this conversation in your sad little blog.
Me: I’ll take that under advisement.

Funny thing is, sometimes you forget why, exactly, you hate yourself but you get so used it to doing it that you keep doing it.

Location: 22:00 yest, parrying a dagger in the UWS
Mood: pensive
Music: A little less conversation, a little more action please

Between the lines

Her: My one problem is that I like boys with brown eyes but I want kids with blue eyes.
Me: Not up to date on Mendel but I’m thinking that won’t happen with a guy like me.

 

Thursday, meet up with WM and chat with Stephen, the bartender. His recipes for drinks are on Fine Living here.

Friday, see PCD – it’s nastier than summer’n hell so we stay in and rent In Bruges – not good. So we stop it and see Dr. Horrible online instead – so good! Make cole slaw and almost bogart the whole thing myself.

Her: Well, we’re both busy. I mean we’re seeing 700 other people.
Me: FIVE! I’m seeing five other people.
Her: (rolling eyes) I meant the two of us together are seeing 700 other people…

Saturday afternoon, go to the gym and get rocked. Take 16 tabs of ibuprofen, shower and dash down to see Heartgirl for dinner on the west side.

We get into a tiff because she misunderstands me – don’t wanna complicate things for her; her life’s complicated enough.

Me: People have done that to me. Hung around with me telling me that we’ll be friends when actually they’re just hoping that I’ll change my mind and like them in the way they want. It’s terrible. (pause) I won’t do that to you.
Her: (nodding) Yeah. (later) Don’t you dare put what we talked about in your blog, Logan.
Me: (stopping) What?!
Her: (turns and walks away) I hear things.
Me: (muttering) I’ve gotta change my name.

Walk her to her subway stop and then check my phone. 1AM. Early yet. Walk over to Maru and see old friends. It’s 3AM when I stumble home.

Sunday, am supposed to see Pretty Jenny but I screw up the times. Instead see family for an early dinner around the way. Heading home, run into a waitress I know who grabs my arm and pulls me in. The triathlon just ended and she’s in a good mood so she buys me a Bud.

Chit-chat before dashing off to church. The hazy heat pulls me into a hazy headspace and I daydream of conversations from the weekend before I snap back to reality. I’m ever between the lines.

Strolling home, a pretty lady sits on my stoop. She stands, smiles and waves at me. I laugh and invite her in.

Location: 6:20 – bed, doing situps
Mood: hella hot
Music: Too late, two choices to stay or to leave

Talk. I’d listen

Location: 8:19, trying to figure out what to clean first
Mood: excited
Music: so few come and don’t go

Everything here, I say to my friends in real life; it’s why Jill thought I was giving her lines when I was just being myself.

One thing I tell people all the time is: drink rum. Seriously, do me a favor this weekend and one night do nuthin but pound rum. Mojitos, Captain n Coke, aged rum on the rocks with a slice of orange, whatever – just don’t drink any other type of alcohol.

Drink one glass of water with a multivitamin fore you sleep and see how you feel the next day. No hangover. Plus, note that you’ll feel “happy” versus “angry.” Those same two chemicals I told you bout last time not only give you that nasty hangover but also make you an angry drunk.

The beauty of rum is when you go on a bender, it only lasts that night. The next day you’re just as productive as you woulda been had you not been on a bender at all.

Rum. It’s nature’s perfect drink.

Another thing I say to people all the time is Proverbs 27:17, which goes Iron sharpens iron, so friends sharpen friends. The people you surround yourself with are your mirrors to the world. It’s also why it’s painful when people leave your Venn Diagram. You dull a little when they do.

Interestingly, that bible quote was in an article on relationships in the NY Times. The article notes that more marriages are killed by silence than by violence. It’s harder than you might think. The talking.

Her: My thing is that I just lose interest in people. You know how when you just want someone gone and you don’t even want them to say anything? Ever? I hate how that feels.
Me: (slowly) More than you know.

Her: Yes. So that’s why I wanna go slowly. I’m getting ahead of myself by trying to stay behind. Does that make sense? (pause) We don’t have to stop talking yet. You could talk. I’d listen.

Me: OK then, let me tell you a story…

Harvard

Location: 6:15, awake in my bed
Mood: content
Music: my tongue is sand until the iridescent band begins to play

Her: I don’t understand. Why do these things keep happening to me?
Me: Cause you give your blessings away too early. I think of myself like Harvard: Anyone can apply, but not everyone makes the cut.
Her: I’m not like that. I fall quickly and hard; I’m very passionate. I like falling in love.
Me: How’s that worked out for you?
Her: (pause) Touche.

If your life isn’t as you want it, I submit that it’s that way cause, whether you’ll admit it or not, you’re getting something from it.

If you’re the victim, the doormat, the outsider, I submit that some part of you wants to be that way. Cause you know your lines, you know your cues. You know the role. And there’s a comfort in that.

Change is tough. Sometimes it’s easier to be the victim – to blame things outside your control. But it’s a crap role.

There’s this saying that goes, If you keep doing what you do, you keep getting what you get.

Expect more from yourself, then you can expect more from others.

Look, why don’t you give yourself permission be the person you wanna be already? Then this stuff’ll stop happening to you.

Under advisement

Just walked in the door from a wedding of one of my oldest and dearest friends. We’re all different but ever the same. Aren’t the best friends the ones where you can just pick up where you left off – even it was years ago?

———-

A building around the way caught fire. HEI stops by for brunch but we’re captivated by the heat from flames. Quite something, those firemen.

Her: There’s always something happening around you!
Me: I like to keep you on your toes.

Friday night, meet up with PCD.

Her: Why do you have so many different types of plates and cups?
Me: (shrugging) Had lots of failed relationships
Her: (pause) That’s a lot sadder an answer than I was expecting.

End up walking around Columbia for a slice of Koronet Pizza and lounging on the steps to the library.

Her: I like you but…I’m seeing other people, you know…
Me: (nodding) I’ll take that under advisement.

Saturday, wrestle. PCD’s a little freaked out that I’m pretty much constantly covered with black and blue marks; I look like an abused child.

Saturday night, meet up with Heartgirl and some friends downtown. We end up alone, just after midnight, and chat.

Me: I’m sorry, I’m not up on the young people speak – what does that mean, Don’t catch emotion with me?
Her: It means don’t fall for me. (pause) I’m looking to date other guys.
Me: (nodding) I’ll take that under advisement.

I kiss her goodnight and she hops into a cab. We’re supposed to meet up Saturday but she’s always ditching so I don’t expect to actually see her. As I turn around, I lock eyes with two pretty blonds, smile and start chatting with them.

Me: …everyone’s got their front-runners and back-burners. But that’s my story with her (Heartgirl). Why don’t we talk about our story?
Her: (sarcastically) Well aren’t you confident?
Me: (grin) Quite.
Her: (laughing) I like that.
Me: (nodding) I’ll take that under advisement.

The wedding was beautiful. I’d like a wedding like that. Suppose, I’d have to find a girlfriend first, though…

Location: 23:00, walking alone down Broadway
Mood: fat ‘n content
Music: She’s my Brandy Alexander always gets me into trouble But that’s another matter

Oh…cm’on!

Location: My office, wishing I were outside
Mood: wistful
Music: Our hands are covered in cake But I swear we didn’t have any

Seriously, someone somewhere really just hates me. Hates me.

Realized as I went through records that I may be the oldest person in my entire condo building.

Still, although it’s served with a big slice of lemon, at least my blue sky’s back.

———-

Heartgirl dropped me a line recently. Isn’t weird how the more you don’t want to think about someone, the more you do?

HEI’s going through some rough times but I told her that rough times are when you find out what you’re made of. Rough times cut away the fat of your life to see the muscle underneath. On a related note, while we’re both attracted to each other, we’re solidly in friends camp for our own reasons. Hopefully we stay in each other’s Venn Diagram.

BEG is off on vacation so I don’t think I’ll be seeing her any time soon.

Finally, PCD and I saw each other recently. In addition to being a cake decorator, she also has an anthropology degree so we’ve some interesting conversations.

Her: Today I made an onion – tomorrow I’m making asparagus.
Me: (laughing) You’re so non sequitur.

Her: I’m totally sequitur!

Me: It’s ok, I like non-sequitur.

Her: So one physical marker of an Asian is the shovel shaped incisors – the insides of your incisors are scooped.

Me: (feeling the inside of my teeth with my tongue) Well, look at that. (pause) Cm’re, lemme check out yours – for purely scientific purposes, I assure you…