A fella from my gym I’ll call Curt heard that I wanted to go on a bender the past weekend.
Him: Do you want someone to drink with? My girl’s away for the next month.
Somehow, I double booked with him and a last minute thingy with my usual buncha gym buddies so I invited him along.
Actually, I triple booked (I’m guessing people were worried about me for the weekend) but we don’t need to get into that.
Anywho, next thing you know, the four of us are on a train to the stop I usually go to in order to see my mom.
While there, I randomly asked a young woman if she would take a picture of alla us.
Her: Sure. (takes picture, pauses) Sorry, are you Logan?
Note that whenever a woman asks this of me, I freeze because I have to go run through some 30 years of living.
Turns out, she’s a friend of an ex. And a friend of my brother’s. Plus, she’s also been to my pad before. What’re the chances?
Then again, I’ve always said that NYC’s a small town.
As for us, we ended up meeting our buddy Pac and going to an AYCE Korean restaurant that was just killer.
It was weird seeing that woman. Cause it was like running into one of my possible pasts and my possible selves.
I’ve not seen that version of me in ages.
Curt and I essentially finished a bottle of rum between the two of us.
We ended up drinking again later that weekend but I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. Or the day after.
What a crazy day this has been. I literally sat down and laughed at the ridiculousness of this life of mine. Then again, I get to live it.
Something else I’ll have to tell you about tomorrow. Or the day after.
Man, have I got stories for you…
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Location: home, still with a disassembled washing machine
Music: she’s a forest fire, I do my best to meet her demands
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