The Prodigal

Location: my own apartment for a change
Mood: anxious
Music: You’re like a favorite song to That melody, that melody I love

Was out this weekend with Paul. He got a killer Hong Kong gig lined up so if any of you are from there, drop me a line? He’s the guy I go out with the most so if you do end up showing him around, he’ll fill you in on about 40% of what I leave out in this blog.

Consider it a bargain. Plus he’s the gold-standard of wingmen.

Speaking of being out, a girlie and I got into a theological discussion at a bar recently about the parable of The Lost Son/The Prodigal Son. Yes, I like to interrupt my drinking with religious discussions. Of course, she’s a bisexual pescatarian – although not from NJ.

I always felt that the older brother got screwed. Here, the younger son blows all his coin, lives it up and comes back broke, only to be welcomed by his father. The older brother’s pissed.

He was loyal. He took care of his scratch, his family and here’s this messed up brother who gets welcomed back with open arms. A party no less. How’s that fair? Now I see it like this; the father loved all kids and so:

  • the older son will be rewarded for what’s he’s done;
  • the younger son is forgiven for what he is.

That’s what fathers do. Even when the kid a royal screwup, a father pulls for him anyway.

I think hope that’s what it says. Because I’m the family screwup; the cautionary tale for my extended family. But they’re all too polite to say it to me.

So I sigh, put on my brown shoes, my happy face and wait for the 1 train to roll in. And I hold my breath for the weekend to come again.

Hello, Monday. What do you have for me this week?

Being a brick wall

It’s hard keeping it together when it comes down on you

Me: You can do this. You’ve done it before, you survived. You can do it again. You just gotta be a brick wall.
Her: What does that mean?
Me: Two things. First, a brick wall doesn’t cry, it doesn’t beg, it doesn’t plead, it doesn’t do anything. It just is. A brick wall does what it’s supposed to do – without compunction, without complaint, without contempt. A brick wall’s built for pressure; you’re built for pressure.
Her: And second?
Me: Second is it doesn’t give anything away – you can read a face, you can’t read a brick wall. Keep it together. People’re relying on you. You’re relying on you. Don’t ever let him break you down. A brick wall doesn’t break; everything else breaks against it.
Her: (quizzically) I’ma brick wall?
Me: Yeah, you’re a goddamned brick wall.
Her: (deep breath) I’m a brick wall.
Me: You’re stone.

Location: 18:30 yest, hopping onto the seven train
Mood: beat tired
Music: the only one here now is me; I’m fighting things I cannot see

None of your business

Heartache or papercuts

With nods to Jaerik and my friend who cares way too much.

I figure at least 20 people hate me in this world. One of them is this old hippie that yelled at me in Cooper Union while stumbling home for having my feet up on a public seat. My feet, I said, with a wink and a smile, are probably cleaner than most people’s butts.

Ass___, she said. To which I shrugged and said, That’s merely your opinion. And why should your opinion matter to me? You didn’t even say hello.

Considering that there are 6,641,114,623 people in the world, the fact that 20 hate me, that’s pretty good. In fact, I don’t have a calculator that can compute such a tiny figure. Try it.

Whatever someone thinks of me is just their opinion. Someone’s else’s opinion should not control your life – it’s a sucker’s bet.

Frankly, it’s none of my business what people think of me. It’s none of your business either.

On a grand scale, wars are fought over opinions. People fly planes into buildings because they have an opinion. Men become stalkers because they have an opinion. Little girls commit suicide because of people’s opinions.

On a more personal scale, you’ll drive yourself starkers caring what people think of you. I wasted my youth and my 20s tilting at those windmills. In this world, you can only ever change things about yourself.

The rest is just heartache or paper cuts.

In other news, I’m sick again. I’m always getting sick. Dammit.

Location: 5:30 yest, going to bed
Mood: sick again
Love me or hate me, it’s still an obsession

Postcards and Peanut Butter

Location: 9:00 yest, the subway platform, waiting
Mood: yep, still sick
Music: I’ll get over you, I know I will

I think Life’s talking to me again. The Grey-Eyed Girl and Berlingirl told me I should listen. I’m trying.

I blog less these days so it doesn’t become a daily bitch-fest (Let’s see what minor disaster befell Logan today).

From 1994 to 2001, I pretty much disappeared. I made a sick amount of money, worked out constantly, traveled everywhere and wrote like you couldn’t believe – like Ted Kaczynski on crack. Somewhere between page 1 and 972, I squeezed in law school, a fairly successful nightclub business, a few published works and 3.5 relationships.

Through it all, my family was there, but I expected that. But I was a bit surprised that my friends always were too. There’s this old joke that you have friends because you can’t pick your family. I can see that.

I bring this all up because some college buddies called me outta blue last week to check up on me. Bryson also stopped by last night to buy me dinner. And The Laura, Betts, someone that doesn’t want to be mentioned and Daiseefut all recently sent me postcards.

Plus, my church was talking about Job again, the ‘rents are strangely insightful and I’m having these deep philosophical discussions in the weirdest joints. Odder still, two people I’ve not seen in at least 14 years randomly reached out to me; one today when I was eating my dinner of peanut butter outta the jar with a metal spoon. I was so surprised, I dropped the spoon.

So yeah, I think Life’s telling me something and, like I said, I’m trying to listen.

I’m trying awfully hard.


A Frog in a Well Knows Nothing of the Ocean

You ever hear of the saying, A Frog in a Well Knows Nothing of the Ocean?

This frog meets a turtle one day and the frog says to him, Dude, you gotta come check out my home in a well. It’s got it all: cool mud in the summer, protection from the wind in the winter, the whole nine.

The turtle checks it out and says to the frog, Man, have you ever been to the ocean? The water goes down deeper than a thousand of your wells. And you could swim forever and never see the land again if you didn’t wanna. And there are things of every color in the rainbow that you couldn’t imagine of in your dreams.

Y’only know your well, the turtle finished, but there are oceans you know nothing about.

Prior to 2001, I was the frog. Then I met this girlie…but that’s not really the point. Sometimes, I think I still am the frog. I told someone recently that I learned to ride a bike here. That kinda stuck with me. Anyway, remember how I’ve said, There’s no such thing as a line?

It’s true. Pretty much everyone I’ve mentioned in the past month or so, I’ve been asking, You know what we need to do? We need to go to Sydney, Australia. I’m actually interested when they say they’ve been there before. I spoke with one girl about traveling for hours the other night.

At some point, someone asks, But why Australia and why Sydney?

And I answer, truthfully, Australia because everyone’s got that cool accent. And Sydney – well, it just sounds pretty.

Doesn’t it though? We should go. It’s freaking cold here. And it’s not just the weather.

Location: 9:00 yest, driving crosstown
Mood: restless
Music: Break, eject, eject, eject, break, eject, eject, eject
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Gossip Folk / More advice

Location: 16:02 yest, looking at the new office
Mood: contemplative
Music: he went about his business and devised a plan

Continuing from yesterday, someone asked me if there was a lesson to be learned from what happened to me. Here’s my answer:

Avoid gossip folk.

The woman that took my scratch was the local gossip. I thought she was harmless. Lesson learned.

When I’m out and about, I constantly see guys call a girl a hottie one second and a bitch the instant their game goes south. And that’s always when static starts and I get gone. People always cut you down with words before they cut you down with anything else.

Before it became part of WWII, the beef between China and Japan was called the Sino-Japanese War, Shina being being a racist word in Japanese. In fact, all of WWII can be seen as step-by-step escalations of evil starting with simple words.

In this blog, the only person I criticize (relentlessly) is myself. I’ve now made it a point to avoid gossip-folk, even cutting an entire raft of friends. Cause if they gossip about others, they gossip about you. And if they gossip about you, they don’t respect you. And if they don’t respect you, well then…

I think evil people can’t help it. They can hide everything else, but the gossip. The one scene I remember from JHS reading Julius Caesar was where Cassius starts it all up by leaning over to Brutus and whispering, The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

I should have known better. I should have paid attention in seventh grade English class.

Avoid gossip folk. That’s my advice.

Saving the world, or at least visiting

Stanislav Petrov saved humanity once

Dunno if you know about this guy Stanislav Petrov but he saved humanity by pretty much doing nothing. I like Heroes as much as the next guy but this, as real life, is something else.

To make a long story short, due to a bunch of insane coincidences, the Soviet Union ’round this time in ’83 thought the US launched all our nukes at them and he was ordered to counterstrike with all of their nuclear weapons.

He refused. Because he wasn’t insane.

He knew we wouldn’t have launched against them for the same reasons. Then, he lost his career for saving the world. How’s that for a thank you?

I too did almost nothing today but I didn’t save humanity because of it.

Did manage to get a haircut though.


I’m going to Oktoberfest on my own for the last three days and I just spent the last three hours trying to book a hotel.

My German has gone to crap.

Location: mentally, over there
Mood: tired but excited
Music: do the good thing hey hey I saved the world today
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No Such Thing 2: Soulmate / One-itus

┬áThere’s no such thing as a soulmate


My buddy Rain once wrote something brilliant maybe a decade ago called My Soulmate Sells Kumquats in Istanbul, or something. Basically, it was about the ridiculousness of the concept of a soulmate.

Fun with math:

  • There are 8.2 million people here in NYC.
  • With some 65% women, that means 5.33 million women.
  • Assume arguendo that 1% of 1% are perfect for me – the right age, look, brains, education, dietary restrictions, whatnot.
  • Ergo, there are 533 women in NYC perfect for me. Perfect. I just gotta find em.

So to add to my idea that there’s no such thing as a pickup line, there’s no such thing as The One. That and St. Valentine’s Day, was invented to sell you something – whether it be $4.50 for a piece of paper or the thought that, this person is the best I can do.

Trust me, the person you pine after ain’t that grand.

The only thing that changes in your relationship life is the degree of (a) effort and (b) forgiveness two people expend. That’s it. It’s true of any relationship – lovers, friends, family.

One-itus. It’s a crock. And don’t tell me I’m not a romantic – if you’ve read me at all you know I am.

It’s lot more romantic, IMHO, that two people work on making something…work, than two people being together because they both happen like the same obscure 80s band.

The one means, you’re the one I found cause I’m too lazy or scared to go up to a stranger and ask, what’s your story morning glory?

Location: 2PM yest, 53rd and 6th Ave., eying the Halal food
Mood: enthralled
Music: I was off kilter, now I got shelter

Birds of a Feather / Circumstance

Your friends are mirrors to yourself

Well, I had both a fantastic and craptastic weekend rolled into one. Lemme sort and get back to you.
Did go to a new church with a girl that had the nicest grey eyes though.


  • Life is a mirror and will reflect back to the thinker what he thinks into it. Ernest S. Holmes
  • Our environment, the world in which we live and work, is a mirror of our attitudes and expectations.Earl Nightingale
  • I am no Einstein. – Albert Einstein

OK, I just threw that last one in to screw with you.

I told you I cut a few people recently, yeah? They no longer reflect who I am. The people with whom you choose to surround yourself are mirrors to your values.

I submit that the five things that you wrote down that you admire about someone are five things you respect about yourself, wish you had yourself, or think you can have yourself, if only circumstances were different.

Conversely, the five things that you don’t admire about that other person, you secretly fear you could be, do, or have, yourself – again, if only circumstances were different.

Love that word, circumstance.

You and I are only ever separated from everyone else by that one thing and that one thing alone.

Ah, but what a thing that is…

Location: 3PM yest, upper east side
Mood: disappointed
Music: One time a thing occurred to me what’s real and what’s for sale?
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You and Me

(c) Derik Leong

Her: You’re awfully self-involved.
Me: It says right there, “logan lo dot com”
Her: Still…


I like you.

The fact you’re reading me makes me like you. That says something about me, I know.

In fact, not only do I know that is says something about me, I know what it says. But that’s neither here nor there.

Let’s play a game, shall we? I play it all the time when I’m out and about. It’s not mine, someone once told it to me. Anyway, I feel we should, cause I like you more than all the people I meet when I’m…doing what I do.

  • Make a list of about five things you admire about someone (or various persons) you love, loved and/or respect.
  • Make a list of about five things that you don’t admire/don’t respect.

Keep it to yourself, send it to me, tell your mom, it doesn’t matter.

We’ll talk about it Monday, yeah?

As always, I’m off to bed to lie awake for a while.
Location: upstairs, studying
Mood: tired
Music: home, only just a few miles down the road I can make it, I know I can