It’s terribly lonely

So different from everyone else

I’m doing only a little work these days and yet it still manages to overwhelm me at times. Whatever work I do has to be interesting and challenging enough to keep me engaged for something more than just a paycheck.

Of course, it’s nice to talk to adults from time-to-time. Well, nice for me at least….

Me: …so that was the Battle of Vienna. It’s the reason why Europe’s Christian and not Muslim and is also a great example of how, when you lose your primary weapon – in this case, cannons – it’s better to bail than pour good assets after bad. Which is my point.
Him: Honestly, how do you know all this ____?
Me: (shrugging) We’re all given 24 hours to spend. It’s how you spend it that makes us different. For me, the choice is between self-improvement and mental masturbation.
Him: (laughing) You roll around on the ground with sweaty dudes all day, I’m not sure you should be one to talk about mental masturbation.
Me: I don’t like to run or lift weights. Wrestling’s the most economical way, in terms of raw time, for me to be physically fit.
Him: You’re the strangest dude I’ve ever met.
Me: Mission accomplished, then.

Went out to NJ this past Saturday and met up with an ex again.

Afterward, I went to a birthday party for a gym friend but rang up Mouse ahead of time.

Me: Free for a drink beforehand?
Her: (pause) Sure.

We ended up showing up late and leaving late.

There’s more to alla that, but that’s all I wanna share right now.

Life surprises me, almost always in ways I don’t like. Still, the occasional nice surprise happens here and there.

The boy, meanwhile, is always surprising me. Suppose time will tell if they’re ultimately good or bad.

Teacher: (in Irish accent) Mr. Lo, I have to tell you: In 11 years of teaching, I’ve never had a three-year old student read before and certainly, nothing like your son does. Every book I pulled out – even up to third grade level – he could read. I honestly don’t know what to do because he’s so far ahead of any child I’ve ever seen.
Me: He must take after his mom.
Her: Your son should be in the gifted and talented program. We may have to send him to another grade for reading.
Me: (shaking head) I don’t want that. I don’t want that for him.
Her: Why?
Me: Because…because it’s lonely. (long pause) It’s terribly lonely to be so different. I know it too well. (agitated) I don’t want that for him. To be so different from everyone else.
Her: (gently) You might not have a choice, Mr. Lo.

Solitary trees grow strong. But only if they grow.

Location: the pit of my brain
Mood: worried
Music: 11 minutes away and I have missed you all day

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A poor imitation of myself

My own sense of self

Me: If, one day, you find out something horrible about me, I hope that you’ll remember that I was a good friend to you.
Him: How bad?
Me: Not murder or rape bad. But bad. I never said I was a good person. I like to think that I’m a good friend, though.

My friends wonder why I keep certain people in my life. I suppose it’s because – despite their faults – they’ve always been good and loyal to me. For the most part.

Told this to one of the people I mentor. Because, I think, he holds me in high esteem. And that worries me. Cause I’ve made so many mistakes in my life.

Do you know what Charlie Chaplin, Hugh Jackman, Adele, and Bryan Cranston all have in common? They’re all poor imitations of themselves.

For example, Charlie Chaplin entered into a Charlie Chaplin look-a-like competition. He came in 20th place. Same with the rest of them – you can click the links to read their stories.

There’s this line from Elton John’s Rocketman that goes, “I’m not the man you think I am at home.” That’s kinda how I look at myself these days.

You see, I realized that Mouse saw the worst parts of me and still stuck around for over 18 months. Spoke to her about it recently:

Me: Why did you stay so long?
Her: I was hoping. Then I stopped hoping.

It’s almost like I’m waking up from a nightmare and realized how crazy everything made me. How crazy I was.

Mouse sees me as this terrible version of myself and I can’t really blame her because – at best – I was a poor imitation of myself, of who I thought I was. At worst, I was exactly who she thought I was.

But maybe I can be better. I’d like to be better.

Fucking cancer took so much from me. Even my own sense of self.

I’d like to be the best version of myself again. For Mouse, for myself, for the boy.

I suppose, even if I come in 20th, at least that’ll be closer to who I thought I was versus who I actually was after everything went to hell.

Another friend/mentee:

Him: You’re the strongest guy I know, Logan.
Me: Sheyeah, I’m a goddamn rock. (shaking head) I’m not sure if you’re saying that seriously or not.
Him: I’m dead serious. I dunno many people that coulda gone through what you went through and be ok.
Me: That’s the thing: Am I OK? I think I am now, but I’m not sure. And that’s what’s scary.

Location: this afternoon, the 17th floor of 1 New York Plaza
Mood: regretful
Music: I think it’s gonna be a long long time

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The 9th Step

I think that’s who you really are

Me: You met me at a strange and awful time in my life.
Her: You keep saying that.
Me: In some ways you never met me. Who I actually am. You only ever met me all f____d-up.

Alcoholics Anonymous has a 12-Step program where Step 9 is apologizing to all the people that you’ve wronged.

In some ways, since the 4th of July, I’ve been trying to do something like that.

People that grow up with zero friends seem to fall into two camps: The ones that learn to do ok by themselves or the ones desperate for companionship.

I’m definitely  more the former than latter. All the times that I said that I set Alison apart, the obvious question is how did I treat everyone else?

For better or worse, most people I’ve met in life were/are disposable.

There’s something about being social and glib that there’s always another interaction around the way, another new relationship just with a wink and a smile.

I’m better than most at shallow relationships; slightly more than half of the people I dated between 33 and 35 are still on good terms with me.

After Alison died, I went into full pickup mode and met a number of women. A total of zero are friendly with me. Well, one still kinda talks to me.

Don’t remember much of that time except the pain, guilt, and insomnia. Everything hurt. Everything was agony. Women and alcohol were a great salve. But somewhere along the line, I think I was just awful to everyone.

It’s hard to be nice to people when you’re in agony. And I hid it so well that I suppose that people kinda forgot that I was clinging onto life.

It sounds like I’m making excuses for myself and perhaps I am, to an extent, but I’m also just trying to let you know maybe why I was as I was.

I contacted about six people, including my brother and sister-in-law whom I stopped interacting with for various reasons; only my brother and sister-in-law responded.

Well, they responded and so did Mouse. But not the way I’d hoped.

Mouse: No. (shakes head) I think that’s who you really are, Logan.

Location: home, alone with the boy
Mood: thoughtful
Music: I need direction to perfection, no no no no, help me out

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It’s gonna be ok

Suddenly, everything’s different

Him: Another drink?
Me: Thanks, but I can’t. Got an early morning tomorrow.
Him: I thought the kid was away.
Me: He is. I’m in court tomorrow morning.

Sorry for the lack of posts.

Took on some work a little while ago and it all came to a head this past week regarding three court cases; and I’m only a lawyer in one of them. In the other, I wear my other professional hat, and in yet another, I’m the petitioner, representing myself.

Been almost five years since I was last in court.

Submitted my legal memorandum to one client this past Wednesday after working on it for several months. Then, that same day, met up with another client in court downtown and happened to have my own case in the same courtroom with the same judge.

Turns out that there were several errors in my paperwork – not in any of the others. I suppose, when you’re your own lawyer, you’re less exacting.

That’s what I tell myself.

Guessing that the weight of what was going on must have shown on my face. Cause this stern judge admonished me for the errors and then looked at my ashen face and brightened a bit (only a bit) and said, “It’ll be ok, counselor. It’s gonna be ok.”

Then he signed my OSC and suddenly a lot of things were different in my life. And different for the boy. All with the stroke of a pen.

The judge also signed an order for my client, who’s also a good friend of mine. The path of his life just changed along with mine. And we walked out of the courtroom different men than the ones who walked in a few hours earlier.

Buddy: Thanks, I’m not sure I woulda done this if you didn’t help.
Me: Well, I wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t do it, so…same. Thanks.

Afterward, we met up with my buddy Pac…and Mouse, for some Vietnamese food.

Me: (getting up) Can we talk for a sec?
Mouse: (hesitates) OK.
Me: (privately) Thanks for coming. It really means a lot to me.
Her: I didn’t come just for you, they’re my friends too.
Me: I know. (nodding) I’m still glad you came.

Afterward…

Pac: Is lunch on you, Logan?
Me: (thinking) Well, considering the three of you are the only people I consider that I actually mentor, sure.
Him: I was only kidding!
Me: It’s fine. (taking out wallet) I want to do it.

The picture way above is with my buddy from around the way. He’s a writer and he and I talked about the craft. It felt almost normal.

And the drink was in the hotel I once stayed at with Alison when it was called Nylo but it’s now The Arthouse Hotel.

Everything changes around here. Sometimes I hate that. Sometimes, that’s for the best.

Suppose time will tell which is which with this massive change I made in our lives.

Location: home, telling someone that I’m sorry
Mood: hopeful
Music: more than worth it

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More Random Conversations

Clearly, a better choice

Saw Mouse three times this past week including over the blackout we had over the weekend. More on that later, I suppose.

Nuthin’s changed so you’re not missing much.

Me: More food or alcohol?
Her: Alcohol.
Me: Done.

Continuing from my last post, friends I’ve not seen in ages have been reappearing in my life. The Professor, for example, was in town to give a lecture.

Me: You’re taking forever to finish your drink.
Him: I drink 5cc’s of liquor every five minutes.
Me: I see. Well, afterwards, we can discuss how the Holy Roman Empire was neither holy nor Roman, nor truly an empire.
Him: That was an interesting non sequitor.
Me: (shrugging) No more so than your drinking my rum at a rate of 5cc’s per five minutes.

Been hanging out with some new friends as well. A buddy of mine has a very different take on dating than I do:

Him: Your rules are insane, man.
Me: Everyone has criteria.
Him: (shrugging) Not me. I figure one outta seven will be attractive enough to date but when it comes to ______ everything goes. When I had my own apartment, I’d just meet someone, go back to my place and ________, _______, and _______. Afterward, I might ________ but sometimes I just ________ ________ or she’ll ________. Either way, she’d ______ or _____ and I’d just _____ and it’d be fine. Although there was this one time this woman and I _______ and she ______. The next day, my buddy was like what’s that on your ______ and it was her ________.  (laughing) That was crazy.
Me: (standing up) OK, you need to stand in the middle of my pad and not touch anything. My kid lives here. I need to burn everything you *did* touch and then take a shower. And you should get checked out.
Him: Eh, I’m fine. Probably.
Me: (walking to the bathroom) I’m going to take a shower now. Don’t. Touch. Anything. I’m serious.

But some of the best moments in my entire life have also been happening lately and I’m always excited to see what else in store for the two of us.

Me: When you grow up, do you want to be like papa?
Him: No, I wanna be a pirate.
Me: Clearly, that’s a better choice.
Him: Then I wanna be a monkey.
Me: (nodding) Again, better choice.

Great song; weird video. Not sure if I like it but Asian dude’s the lead so I gotta support.

Location: earlier, the Oculus
Mood: rested, almost ready
Music: I’m right back where I started

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Fiddlesticks

Random conversations with the Gymgirl and my son

Gymgirl: Man, you look good.
Me: I was just thinking the same thing.
Her: (smiles)
Me:…I do look good.

Feeling a bit run down cause the boy is waking me up at all hours of the night for no real reason.

Need to get some rest cause the Gymgirl and I are traveling together again, which reminded me of a conversation we had while we were staying at that hotel in Boston and I had forgotten to pack some earplugs for the trip:

Hotel representative: (on phone) Yes, Gymgirl’s an elite member, we’ll send that right up.
Me: Great, thanks! (turning to Gymgirl) You’re brilliant! Cm’here…
(5 seconds pass)
Hotel representative: (on phone) Um, I’m still here. You guys didn’t hang up.
Gymgirl: (bursting out laughing) Write this down for your blog!

Speaking of conversations of the inappropriate stripe, I used to say goddammit a lot for obvious reasons. But the kid was copying me so I stopped. The stopping has helped to a limited degree.

Me: Say, “Oh, fiddlesticks!”
Him: Oh, fiddlesticks!
Me: Great!
Him: (10 minutes later) Goddammit.
Me: Noooooooo! Fiddlesticks!! Fiddlesticks!
Him: (laughs) That’s funny.

A very limited degree.

He’s been staying over my sisters or mother-in-law’s at least half the weekends so hopefully that’ll help.

Gymgirl: We’re keeping him this weekend, right?
Me: Well, legally, I have to keep him for the next 16 years.

Still, the hope is that – at least linguistically – we’re all a good influence on him moving forward.

Gymgirl: OK, dude, I’ll be ready in five minutes.
Me: You’re sticking with “dude,” huh?
Her: Yeah, dude.

Well, that’s the hope, at least…

Location: my desk in the bedroom
Mood: tired
Music: no, there’s nothing not to love about me

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The deadliest hotdog stand in the world

Neither a rapist nor a hypocrite

The Pentagon was built like the old Bastion forts in Europe where the center  was the most protected area.

During the cold war, the Russians focused a tremendous amount of time, money, and manpower to try to get access to the building in the center of the Pentagon.

What the Russians didn’t know was that the building in the middle of the Pentagon was a hot dog stand. The reason it was in the middle of the Pentagon is because of (a) pure dumb luck and (b) the fact that the world was different – the Pentagon looked like a Bastion fort but wasn’t a Bastion fort, it just looked like one.

I think we spend our lives looking at information and trying to sort out what it all means. Sometimes we get it right, sometimes we get it wrong.

After this post, got a call from a friend-of-a-friend telling me about his dating life.

Him: …and that was it. Two years together, gone like that. (sighs) I moved in with my cousin last week.
Me: (joking) If this is it, I kinda need a new roommate. (thinking) Oh wait, you have dogs…
Him: (correcting) I have *a* dog. She has the other one.
Me: That’s *a* dog too many. (sighing) Sorry, man. People tell you what they’re all about if you listen.

On that note, the Gymgirl and I were in the gym (hence, the moniker) together the other day. Traditionally, she was my partner for most things and this day, she just ended up next to me and we were partners again, just like before.

Some of my buddies asked me if I thought that something else might be going on.

Me: (thinking) The thing is, I’m not a rapist nor a hypocrite.
Him: What does that mean?
Me: A lotta guys – too many – hear “no” from women and think: She doesn’t really mean that. Then, in the best case scenario, they hope and hang around, like a stalker. In the worst case scenario, they’re rapists. I’m neither of those things.  Like I said, it’s always better to be the dumpee than the dumper:  You grab your shoes, say, Thanks for the lovely evening, and bounce. I’ve been in her position before: Where I really like someone but there’s something missing. I can’t be a hypocrite and fault her for wanting me around but not wanting something more.
Him: That’s too bad, I liked you two together.
Me: Oh, I did too. We’re having brunch together on Saturday.
Him: (laughs) I don’t understand you two.
Me: (shrugging) I’m 45. I’m constantly shocked how little I understand about anything. Especially women.

Maybe I’m looking at a hotdog stand or maybe I’m looking at the most dangerous building in the world.

Who knows what it is? We’ll have to wait and see what happens.


The boy goes to school for the first time this week. I’m beyond excited.

Location: getting a speeding ticket in midtown, yesterday
Mood: significantly poorer, man, tickets are expensive
Music: How can you say, “It doesn’t matter much to me”
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Conversations with Rose, Pt2

What am I, a child?

Rose and I talked for a lot longer than either of us expected we would.

Mentioned that I was still online friends with about a quarter of the women I (very) casually dated but not with anyone I dated seriously in my life.

Me: I got a lotta randos on my f-list, which is fine, because I’m a rando to them. Could probably cut out 90% of those and not blink. Told Alison I’d do it for her but she told me she didn’t care. She knew that I didn’t f___ with marriage
Her: Oh, no. I’m not friends with any of them at all. And I’d kill my husband if I found out he was talking to or seeing an ex.
Me: Does it really matter? Fiat and prohibition? You can’t stop people from doing what they wanna do. Even when you stop them from doing it, in their heart, they still wanna do it. You just end up making them wanna do it more. If someone thinks someone or something else is a better offer, you can’t do much but let them go find out.

As for her, she ended up marrying her fella from the UK not that long ago.

Her: I think we had quail.
Me: God, you’re so British.

I couldn’t go to the wedding cause it was in the UK and: Cancer, kid, life, death, drinking. You pick.

Her: I actually met him when I was Gymgirl’s age. We broke up for…three years? Because of a buncha things. It was Bobby that convinced me to try again.
Me: (curious) Why’d you try again?
Her: He was trying to get back with me. (laughs) He was 31 when he came back. I told him to put a ring on it or go away.
Me: Evidently, that worked.
Her: Evidently. (glancing down at phone) Oh, that’s him…

It was late when we started finishing up.

Me: I gotta kick you out.
Her: Fiiiine. I’m gonna chug this. (drinks more of my rum) You’re not really going back in the dating world are you?
Me: Not unless you can get me a trust fund baby. (grinning) Don’t think I’ve been single and non-suicidal for … ever. Maybe I should try it.
Her: You should. Hey, whatever happened to Daisy, or Gradgirl? Or X?
Me: X’s gone. Daisy’s seeing the love of her life. So is Gradgirl, I think. Besides, neither looks at love and marriage like you and I do.
Her: Yeah, you gotta respect marriage, or even committed relationships. (thinking) How do you keep meeting all these women? Do you use an app?
Me: Why do people keep asking that? I use my personality and this face here. (points at face)
Her: (laughs) Well, stop bashing it all up.

We talked and drank a little more. Had a whole conversation about God that I gotta organize and write about someday but not right now.

I will say:

Her: I feel the need to tell you that I’m about to cry. I’m not asking you to stop, but…
Me: OK, then just lemme say that if there is a God – your God – he f___ked my family. And now, (sighing) we can stop.

On that pleasant note, she got ready to go.

Her: Hey, if the Gymgirl comes back (pause) talk to her, OK?
Me: Sure. We’re in the same orbit and I owe her a lot. But why?
Her: Maybe I like her, despite everything. (shrugging) She impresses me. She’s impressive. She kept your attention and she kept you from dying. Both are unique and both are something. Big somethings. No excuse but still…
Me: Like I said, we should all be with the one we want most. But, I’ll take it under advisement. Now, you gonna get back to your hotel ok?
Her: What am I, a child? (hugs me) I can hold my liquor, Logan.
Me: So you keep telling me. Goodnight, Rose.
Her: Night, Logan.

Location: don’t even ask
Mood: hot
Music: in love with the shape of you
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Conversations with Rose, Pt1

Rum infused conversations are the best

Rose came by recently, as promised. She wanted to meet the boy.

Her: OMG, he’s so adorable!
Me: (shrugging) Eh, I’m required by law to keep him for the next 16 years, regardless.

Don’t let too many people meet him because he’s my most precious thing.

She thinks that I’m a good father although she’s concerned about my extracurricular activities.

Her: Y’know, a womanizer is not a good thing to be.
Me: We’re all what we are. And you sit and drink with me, anyway. So you’re obviously ok with it.

But she was there throughout Alison’s ordeal and more than earned the right to see the boy and me.

Her: So, you’re single again?
Me: Evidently. Now, why are you an investment banker if you can’t get me a wealthy investor banker? What good are you to me?
Her: To be clear, I’m a hedge fund girl.
Me: Then get me one of those.
Her: They’re pretty high in demand, you know.
Me: Please, *I’m* pretty high in demand. This is a waste of a friendship.
Her: (laughs) You do fine.

She wanted to know what I was up to, so I told her about the kid, work, and the Gymgirl.

Me: …and that’s all I have to say about it.
Her: She sounds like an typical 28-year-old girl. I know this because I was a typical 28-year-old girl and 28-year-old girls do things that don’t make a lotta sense. You’d be surprised at how much insecurity we have.
Me: You’re cute, I’m surprised fellas weren’t all up your grill.
Her: Sure, but not the right ones. Any girl can get a guy, it’s getting the right guy that matters.
Me: There’s a saying someone once told me in Chinese: 我不想要别人的东西: I don’t want another person’s things. I can’t take what belongs to someone else. That’s why you’re, as a married woman, safe here with me. For all my faults, I don’t f___ with married women.
Her: But aren’t you someone else’s thing, too?
Me: Fair. But the love of my life is no longer on the planet. The love of yours is. Likewise for her. I can’t stand between someone and what they want.
Her: And how do you know what she wants, Logan?

She told me a few other interesting things I wasn’t prepared for.

Me: Wait, you sold drugs? You were a drug pusher? You can’t be a drug pusher and be in my house.
Her: (rolling eyes) It was in college. Like I said, young people do stupid things. I liked having my own stash and some nice designer bags. Make sure you put that in your blog.
Me: How do you know you’ll even make it in? And that’s a distinction without a difference, Rose.
Her: Of course your gonna write about me, I give you some great dialogue.

We ended up talking about her husband, God, Trump, the Gymgirl, and other women and things in my life.

But it’s late and I’m really lit so I’ll finish this tomorrow. Or something.

Location: sitting with Rose looking at a picture of another time
Mood: lit
Music: talk that talk, baby; better walk that walk
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You had one job, Pac

So much for vacations

Me: Man, my phone is going off like crazy. (taking it out)
Her: Well, we’ve been away for a while.
Me: (checking my phone) Oh no…

Because this was the first vacation I’d taken in over four years, and because I help manage my building, had a buddy housesit for me for the first time.

Well, that was a disaster.

The first six days were fine but the last day, my buddy, Pac – evidently – left the gas on such that the couple three floors above me smelled the gas at two in the morning and called the fire department and ConEd to try and break my gate down.

For better or worse, my gate held but it still needed to be repaired.

Still, no one was hurt and that’s the most important thing.

Although I’ve had five surprise inspections by ConEd and the Fire Department with a sixth scheduled for tomorrow.

So much for rest and relaxation. It was nice while it lasted.

Me: You had ONE JOB – NOT ALMOST BLOW UP MY PAD!
Him: My bad.
Me: OMG…
Him: I’m pretty sure it was Kong.
Me: I’m gonna kill you, revive you, and then kill you again.

Location: home, waiting for ConEd
Mood: not rested, that’s for sure
Music: Our friends, our drinks, we get inspired, blowing s__t up
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