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personal

Medical issues

I’m in

Her: We have a 9:15 [three weeks from now].
Me: Shoot, do you have anything earlier?
Her: Sorry, we’re completely booked. (pause) Actually, unless you want to come in at night at 7:15PM.
Me: When can I do that?
Her: (clicking on keyboard) It looks like we have an opening tomor…
Me: Sold! I’m in.

Since March of this year, I’ve been trying, unsuccessfully, to get an MRI for my back.

I had no less than four appointments, alla which were cancelled because my insurance company refused to pay for it.

Last week, I went to see my ortho and told him that, while I wasn’t getting worse, I definitely wasn’t getting better.

Welp, that worked out because that night, I got a notice that it was approved and I immediately called the MRI joint to get an appointment.

So, the next night, I took the train down to head over to the dreaded 5 Columbus Circle to, hopefully, get my MRI.

It was a super-fast affair as I was the last person there.

Being there brought back really bad memories about Alison.

She did so many of these.

I’m always gonna marvel at her bravery and stoicism.

Afterwards, took the train home and, within a few hours, got a “ding” on my email and pulled up the below.

Dropped my buddy – the radiologist from Pittsburgh a line – and asked if he could do me a solid and tell me what he saw.

He actually rang me up right then and there and chatted with me and told me what I needed to do.

It pays to have diverse and brilliant friends.

Him: Well, it’s all pretty much what you already know. You have slight scoliosis – not that bad – and I see you have a crack in one of your bones, but if it’s not bothering you, not much to do there.
Me: Anything jump out at you?
Him: Besides the slipped disc and the stuff we already mentioned? Not much else. Your kidneys look good, though.
Me: Ah, good, I’ll start eating more salt. (pause) No, uh, cancer, right?
Him: Cancer? No, no cancer or anything like that I see. It’s just [stuff that comes with aging].

Honestly, that’s what I was terrified of.

Knowing that it’s just a herniated disc – which still sucks but is managable – was a huge relief.

Not much to do but keep doing my PT and hoping for the best.

On a (distantly) related note, on the way to the gym, saw a fella being carted into that ambulance.

Assuming that branch musta hit him.

That’s the thing with medical issues; you can be just minding your business one moment and the next, have every single thing about your life turn upside down.

I don’t envy him as I’ve been there, way too many times.

Here’s hoping you have no idea what I’m talking about.

Location: home, listening to the dulcet sounds of jackhammering in the morning
Mood: jackhammered
Music: what was it that I did? (Spotify)
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personal

Always a loser

Doesn’t really matter

One of the reasons that I liked Andor so much was because it had a clear beginning, middle, and end.

That’s such a basic thing that you’d think all published media would have, at the very least, that.

Oh man, you’d be so wrong.

Like, I absolutely loved Heroes when it first came out. Ditto for Lost back in the day.

But, somewhere along the line, they were clearly just writing to keep the money coming in and I – and a lotta other people – just lost interest.

But that’s not just with television series, that can happen in movies as well.

Clearly the Godfather and the Godfather II were excellent. But did we really need the Godfather III?

And Rocky – man, that was a perfect film. And Rocky II was pretty good. Plus, I gotta admit that didn’t hate Rocky III.

But Rocky IV turned me off and I never saw a single other sequel after that – dunno if you know, but there were eight Rocky films, total.

Not Rocky but a cool shot I took a while back.

What made Rocky perfect was that, in a nutshell, Rocky was a loser.

And it was just so real – probably because, at that time, the author and soon-to-be star, Sylvester Stallone, was also a loser at that time.

Like, the dude was so broke, he had to sell his own dog for $25 to eat.

Little wonder it was such a popular film, especially with the awkward and overweight Chinese-American crowd.

Well, one of them, at least.

Somehow, Sly managed to convince a major studio to not only buy his script but also let him be the main star in it.

But, along the way, there was a noticeable mess up that they had to fix.

See, in the final fight, Rocky wore a pair of white trunks with a red waistband and stripes down each leg.

Unfortunately, there’s a scene where Rocky sees a giant poster of himself hanging in the stadium, but he’s wearing red trunks with white stripes.

This was actually a mistake by the art department and they didn’t have the time (or money) to redo the poster. Yet this was an important bit of scenery that was needed.

What to do?

Well, all they did was to have Rocky stare at the poster and mention to the promoter, before the fight, Rocky says that the trunks are the wrong color, and the promoter says, “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Because Rocky was a loser and he literally just had to show up and get the stuffing beat outta him.

So, what was a pretty glaring mistake ended up pushing the point that Rocky was insignificant in every aspect.

Except he wasn’t.

Just a random story for a random night.

Him: I can’t do anything right.
Me: Don’t say that.
Him: Why not?
Me: Because when you say things, you give them life, even if they’re not true. You are what you say you are. 

Location: A bar in Brooklyn this late morning
Mood: ick
Music: wrapping up his hand, he’s getting ready for the showdown (Spotify)
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My – and Dorothy’s – Home Town

You never get used to New York

My first NYC apartment was just two blocks from the Algonquin Hotel.

Used to walk past it alla time and think about one of my fave authors at that time, Dorothy Parker.

Haven’t read or thought about her in years but today, I remembered her essay about our shared hometown that she wrote almost 100 years ago but still resonates now.

Figured that, if you haven’t read it, I’ll put it below for you.

My Home Town
by Dorothy Parker

It occurs to me that there are other towns.

It occurs to me so violently that I say, at intervals, “Very well, if New York is going to be like this, I’m going to live somewhere else.”

And I do – that’s the funny part of it.

‘But then one day there comes to me the sharp picture of New York at its best, on a shiny blue-and-white Autumn day with its buildings cut diagonally in halves of light and shadow, with its straight neat avenues colored with quick throngs, like confetti in a breeze.

Someone, and I wish it had been I, has said that “Autumn is the Springtime of big cities.”

I see New York at holiday time, always in the late afternoon, under a Maxfield Parrish sky, with the crowds even more quick and nervous but even more good-natured, the dark groups splashed with the white of Christmas packages, the lighted holly-strung shops urging them in to buy more and more.

I see it on a Spring morning, with the clothes of the women as soft and as hopeful as the pretty new leaves on a few, brave trees.

I see it at night, with the low skies red with the black-flung lights of Broadway, those lights of which Chesterton – or they told me it was Chesterton – said, “What a marvelous sight for those who cannot read!”

I see it in the rain, I smell the enchanting odor of wet asphalt, with the empty streets black and shining as ripe olives. I see it – by this time, I become maudlin with nostalgia – even with its gray mounds of crusted snow, its little Appalachians of ice along the pavements.

So, I go back.

And it is always better than I thought it would be.

I suppose that is the thing about New York.

It is always a little more than you had hoped for.

Each day, there, is so definitely a new day.

“Now we’ll start over,” it seems to say every morning, “and come on, let’s hurry like anything.”

London is satisfied…,

Paris is resigned…,

…but New York is always hopeful.

Always it believes that something good is about to come off, and it must hurry to meet it.

There is excitement ever running its streets.

Each day, as you go out, you feel the little nervous quiver that is yours when you sit in the theater just before the curtain rises.

Other places may give you a sweet and soothing sense of level; but in New York there is always the feeling of “Something’s going to happen.”

It isn’t peace.

But, you know, you do get used to peace, and so quickly.

And you never get used to New York.

By Derek Jensen – Tysto, Public Domain

Location: my hometown, thinking of all those years ago
Mood: somber
Music: New York sky don’t get much brighter – she sets, she sets the city on fire (Spotify)
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personal

Our usual schedule

A good start

Me: What do you think?
Him: Logan, you’ve had some stupid ideas before, but this has got to be the worst one yet.
Me: (laughing) Wait, what about…
Him: (holding up hand) Nope. I’m stupider now having heard your plan than I was just before hearing it.

Been chatting with Rain on the regular again.

He’s living in the country right now and has, essentially, become a farmer.

Hell hath frozen over.

But that’s his story to tell, not mine, so I’ll stop here.

Now that the kid’s back, we’re easing back into our usual schedule.

We were supposed to meet up with my college friends for a picnic at Governors Island but ended up not going because it was gonna rain.

We were gonna just have a quiet day at home, but then the ABFF asked if we wanted to get dinner so we did that instead…

…and then ended up by her pad to play some cards.

The Firecracker introduced everyone to Big Two, which I found amusing.

On the topic of games of chance, we also tried our hand in winning Powerball.

I’m sad to say, we are not billionaires.

It’s probably for the best.

Another friend: Let’s say you did win, what would you do?
Me: First thing is upgrade alla my friends to people way too good for me.
Him: (laughing) All of us?
Me: If I won a billion dollars, you’re all dead to me.

The next day, the kid went to a bday party and then a playground afterward.

I think it’s interesting how I both (a) have a normal now and (b) it’s a new normal, so different than when it was just Alison and me.

It’s not – at all – what I thought my life would be but, I’m grateful I have it.

Me: How was your first day of school?
Him: Good!
Me: Do you like your teacher?
Him: Yes, she’s so nice!
Me: (smiling) Great! It’s a good start to the year, then.

Location: home, cutting a box to make it a shipping cost go from $76 to $24
Mood: committed
Music: No, I don’t want it to stop (Spotify)
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Moving water doesn’t freeze

Gather Ye Acorns

Ok, the year is 1986 and I’m a very fat, nerdy, “just-turned-a” teenager.

An anthology series by Steven Speilberg called Amazing Stories, which was a bit like a (then) modern take on the Twilight Zone, is must-watch-tv.

Because this was in the time before cable and YouTube and you either watched what everyone else watched or you had to sit on the sidelines as the other kids talked about it.

Man, I loved that show as a kid.

One of the stories that really sticks out to me was Gather Ye Acorns, which starred Luke Skywalker himself, Mark Hammill.

In it, Hamill’s a young man that meets a weird old dude – who’s actually a troll – that tells him to keep everything he’s ever loved, even if the world mocks or belittles him.

So, Hamill’s character does so and holds onto comic books, toys, and pop culture trinkets – for decades.

Just like me.

These are actually my buddies; I was more of an X-Men/Batman kinda kid.

Unfortunately, like the rest of the world, the young man turns into an old man, and a poor old man at that.

What’s worse is that, the whole time, people either think he’s silly – which is the best-case scenario – or a complete idiot.

His parents eventually disown him and toss him out.

He ends up alone and, eventually, homeless.

Now an old man, Hamill’s character is frustrated and angry, cursing the fact that he met the old troll and ruined his life.

A bitter old man, he ends up just waiting to die.

Yet he somehow finds himself at a collector’s auction where he’s mobbed because everyone wants his “junk” – alla which is now super valuable.

The story ends with Hamill’s character wealthy, vindicated, and – perhaps best of – finally seen by those around him.

I did exactly that – yes, sometimes with actual stuff, like comic books, old electronics and the like – but also with things in my head.

I remember telling my college buddy, Crawford that, “One day, I’ll be a swordsman.”

He laughed and said, “Well, one day, I’m gonna live on a sunny island like Jimmy Buffet and play the guitar on the beach.”

Guess what? We both did exactly what we said we’d do.

Because neither of us gave up on our “childish” dreams.

What a difference that makes, not giving up on the things you love.

That’s the thing that makes me different from other people, I think: Like Hamill’s character, I rarely gave up the things I loved, like peanut butter, Spam, kali, comics, short stories, etc.

That can be a disserve at times, but – by-and-large – it’s served me well.

When everyone else quit kali, I kept it up. For almost 20 years, I would go. Usually twice a week and then once a week when the classes got more sparse.

But I’d always practice by my lonesome at night.

This was 15 years ago. That was our old space.

Likewise, many of my very well-meaning friends – like the one way above and even my own father-in-law, caution me about continuing to wrassle with 20-somethings.

But I know that if I stop, that’s moment I’ll truly become become an old man.

See, I know that I’m mathematically 52 years old, but as long as I can keep doing the things I love, I don’t believe it.

There’s an old saying I like that goes, Moving water doesn’t freeze.

So, I gotta keep moving.

Her: Why don’t you run with me?
Me: Sorry, I need to train.
Her: So, lemme get this straight – you’d rather roll around with a buncha sweaty men, than jog with your amazing fiancé.
Me: …yes?
Her: (slowly nods) Ok then…

On that note, we just did a crazy cool thing on Scenic Fights.

I’ll tell you all about it when it finally happens.

Location: home, cutting a box to make it a shipping cost go from $76 to $24
Mood: committed
Music: I survived. I’m still breathing. I’m alive (Spotify)
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personal

Labor Day 2025

Loganisms

Her: When I was a kid, we played a card game called, Big Booty. But I don’t remember how it’s played.
Me: I assume it involved your butt?
Her: Actually, not at all..
Me: That’s both a disappointment and a misnomer.

Saw my college friends this past weekend out in the wilds of Long Island again.

It was really nice that we bookended this summer by kicking it off with them…

…and then closing it out with them.

Like always, it was a ton of fun, and a good way to give both boys one final good weekend before school began.

In fact, the kid stayed in the pool for the vast majority of the time we were there.

The ridic delicious food didn’t hurt.

And I even gave in and had some donuts – along with my requisite peanut butter.

Katsmw: You know, [my husband] is eating peanut butter more and saying Loganisms these days.
Firecracker: Does he constantly talk about eating “protein, fat, and fiber” at every meal?
Me: Oh, you’ll thank me when he’s old and looks amazing.

On that note, I was talking to Rain about the kid growing up so quickly.

Me: It’s weird being on the other side of childhood. I remember that, as a kid, school and the years would just draaagggg. College was four years, but it seemed like forever.
Him: Yeah, that makes sense. When we were in college, it was 1/5 of our lives. Now it’s just four years.

College lifetimes seem to sprint by these days.

Actually, everything sprints by these days.

He’s starting up fifth grade now, which seems so wild to me.

Cause I remember fifth grade fairly well and I felt I was a lot older than my kid is now, which I know is purely in my head.

Then again, I spend way too much time in my head, I think.

Location: home, listening to the dulcet sounds of just one jackhammer right outside my door, so…yay?
Mood: less jackhammered
Music: Suffer in the morning, but that taste is all I wanted (Spotify)
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When you know…

…you know

A dear friend wrote me outta the blue one morning.

Her: Hola! You’re probably sleeping but I wanted to see if you and [The Firecracker] are doing anything on the 29th. This guy I’m dating, who apparently is my boyfriend, is taking me to dinner in the city. He’s inviting you both to join.
Me: What?! Yes! And…what!?

I’ve known her a solid 17 years and have never met anyone she’s ever dated, let alone someone she’s called her boyfriend.

So, I moved a buncha things around and the two of us met up with her and her fella at Aqua, downtown.

He was actually a super nice fella and seemed a touch nervous, which I found pretty sweet.

Me: How did you two meet?
Friend: (rolls her eyes) How do you think, Logan?
Me: Ah, the traditional online meet-cute.
Firecracker: Logan wanted to make the best first impression so he ate a full dinner before dinner.
Me: This is true, I had to pregame with a burger and salad.

Of course, this didn’t stop me from finishing my entire meal.

As well as the Firecracker’s.

And my friend’s.

And…

Him: I actually only wanted half the pizza.
Me: Are you sure?
Friend: Just eat it, Logan, you know you want to.
Me: (shrugging) Hokay.
Firecracker: I honest-to-god don’t know where he puts it all. I always say that he’s got a peg leg.

Turns out that he’s only in town for a (very) long-term work project but hinted that he was open to moving to the area for her.

Friend: (joking) I don’t know why he’s so into me.
Me: Oh, I get it.
Firecracker: Me too – when you know you know.

This isn’t to say that they’re guaranteed to end up together – although the Firecracker and I really liked him and hope they work out – but it’s definitely worlds easier when both parties are really into each other.

Afterward, we went to Thyme Bar where I bought a round of drinks before heading back.

The drinks were delicious and insanely strong.

On the ride back, the Firecracker and I got to talking; we both agreed that we felt a spark the moment we met and saw each other almost every day for weeks.

Me: The thing is that, when I met you, I wanted to see you as much as possible because the worst type of disappointment is the kind that takes months to figure out.
Her: (nodding) Same. I wanted to know as soon as possible as well.

Said it before, the worst part about dating is the constant disappointment and disappointing.

Here’s hoping they make their spark last.

Firecracker: (reading over my shoulder as I write this) Like us!
Me: (laughing) Agreed.

Location: home, listening to the dulcet sounds of TWO jackhammers right outside my door
Mood: Jackhammered
Music: And I want you to want to be here with me (Spotify)
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Train (still) on time

Mentally mapping trains

Her: Before I buy more KFC can you check the freezer to see if we already have KFC?
Me: Check the freezer?! Baby, all we’re doing is adding to our current KFC stash if there’s *already* KFC in the freezer. That’s like saying, “Hey, before I make more money, check the bank to see if we have money in the bank already.” Do you hear how that sounds?
Her: Someone’s hangry right now.
Me: Clearly!

The kids are both back for school to start next week. While they’re growing up quickly, we’re still not ready to let either of them take the trains by themselves yet.

This is despite the Firecracker’s kid being just obsessed with trains.

Trains and the subway show up a lot in this blog – even way in the beginning – because that’s my main means of transportation, which is kinda strange if you think about it.

I suppose most of you travel by car and such but that’s a luxury here in the city.

When the Firecracker and I went to Vienna, we didn’t think twice about taking the trains.

And years ago – before this blog, if you can believe it – I went to visit Prague and Berlin and had to get someplace off the train line.

Asked a local where the nearest station was and he said we should take a cab instead because their subway system was so complex.

I remember laughing and saying, “I’m from NYC, I think I’ll be ok.”

And I was.

Same with Vienna and every other major city I’ve ever been to.

Essentially, if you can make it around the NYC subway system, any other system on the planet is a cinch, language issues notwithstanding.

Interestingly, I read this article which said that “city transportation maps with over 250 connections are too complex for most people to navigate. In fact, a staggering 80% of trips in New York already exceed this cognitive limit.”

Meaning that just being able to take the NYC subway system puts you in the elite of cognition as it relates to mental mapping.

In some ways, that’s part of why I wanna raise the kid in the city versus elsewhere – because he’s constantly being tested and pushed in ways that he doesn’t even realize.

Well, that plus the fact that I can readily get all sortsa fried fowl, even in the midst of a pandemic.

Hangry…

Location: by a pool in Central Islip
Mood:
Music: oh my, the train is gone (Spotify)
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Grief is the price you pay for wonderful things

It is a concern

Headed back out to middle-of-nowhere Brooklyn again the other day to pick up the kid from his sleepaway camp.

He was grinning ear-to-ear when I got him.

Him: Papa!
Me: Hey, kiddo! Man, you got dark! I hope you put on some sunscreen. How was it?

He told me that he had a great time and made a lotta new friends, which was exactly what I was hoping to hear.

When we packed, I asked if he wanted to bring his guitar and he said yes, so we did just that.

Well, it turns out that it’s a good thing that we did because he ended up playing for everyone twice.

The first time was at a talent show…

…but the second time was on the last full day, where he played for the entire camp.

Me: What song did you sing?
Him: Riptide!

I shot the picture below to my MIL.

Me: I wish we could do something about his quiet and reserved nature…
Her: It is a concern

The only thing that bummed me out was that he told me that when it was his turn to talk about Alison, he said that he was ok because he didn’t remember her enough to miss her.

That absolutely gutted me, but I didn’t say anything, because we have to let true things be true.

Then again, if he remembered her, he wouldn’t be functional.

Because all she ever wanted was to be his mom and he would have been devastated at losing her.

On that note, he did get super sad that night at dinner.

Him: (sadly) I miss all my friends.
Me: (gently) Then that means you had a wonderful time. Grief is the price you pay for wonderful things.
Him: But it’s so hard.
Me: (nodding) We’re always gonna miss wonderful things when they’re gone. That’s why I miss your mom all the time, because she was my wonderful thing.

Location: heading out to dinner at the Flatiron to meet my SIL’s new fella
Mood: curious
Music: I got a lump in my throat ’cause you’re gonna sing (Spotify)
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Two college lifetimes

For my boy, of course!

Mom: Was that today? I forgot.
Me: (gently) That’s ok. I forgot too until [my sister] reminded me. It’s good that we forgot today. It’s not like we’d forget him.
Her: Oh, I’d never forget him.
Me: I know, mom.

My dad died eight years ago this week.

I graduated college waaaaaaaay back in 1993. For a solid decade or two afterward, I told time in terms of “college lifetimes.”

Like, eight years woulda been two college lifetimes.

I remember when 1997 rolled around; I marveled that I’d spent four years in college and now, another four years had passed.

College seemed like it would go on forever.

And now, it’s been over for 32 years, which is such a kick in the head.

It doesn’t feel like my dad and Alison have been gone for two college lifetimes, and yet they have.

I suppose the only small solace in all this is both my mom and I forgot that my dad died this week, and that’s such a good thing.

Don’t wanna celebrate, or even memorialize his death, just his life, and how much it meant to me.

My dad drove an old beat-up blue Toyota.

The man coulda bought any car he wanted but that car never gave him a lick of trouble, and he loved it, so he drove it until it practically fell apart.

My siblings and I are pretty much the same way as him.

I used to take the train to Flushing and my dad would pick me up at 老地方, or “the regular spot,” for years in his blue whip.

There was one time, he picked me up with a mischievous grin on his face.

Him: You smell anything?
Me: (getting into the car) Yeah. What is that?
Him: Open the glove compartment.
Me: (opening it) OMG, you got a Fontana’s gyro for me!
Him: (nodding) With extra meat, just like you always ask for.

Swear to god, I had no idea that I’d replay that moment a thousand times in my head.

That was my dad. No one picks me up from the regular spot anymore.

I don’t have him or my regular spot anymore.

He woulda loved the kid so much too.

And he’d be so amused at how much he eats, like me.

Me: Oh man, thanks, dad. You’re the best!
Him: (waving his hand) For my boy? Of course! Just remember to treat your kids the same way.
Me: (laughing) Kids? Me? 

Location: Hoboken, for three minutes, before heading back
Mood: nostalgic
Music: I’ve lost count, all the detours that we take (Spotify)
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