Tag: friends

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personal

But wait, there’s more

Good having friends

After the plumbers left, I rang up my neighbor Vic, who’s helped me many times in the past – including when my radiator cracked and Alison was sick – to talk about patching up the massive holes the plumbers left.

The problem is that, while getting him, I got locked out of my apartment. Of course.

More accurately, the lock wouldn’t unlock because the casing around the lock was completely snapped off.

You see, when the firemen came to deal with the gas from Pac, they seriously weakened the housing for my lock, to the point that, when I locked my gate, the screws that kept the lock in place weren’t attached to anything; the metal itself had been crowbared open.

Anywho, I was locked out of my home for close to an hour until I finally managed to get the gate open by repeatedly trying to jiggle the lock back – somewhat – into place.

I couldn’t get in touch with Vic, so I called up another workman around the way.

Me: How much do you think a gate like this would cost to replace?
Workman: Easily a thousand dollars; these are all custom made. Your best bet is to find a welder but even that’ll be expensive with COVID.
Me: You’re fulla good news.
Him: (shrugs)

So, between the flooding, the broken AC, the continued flooding, the fall, the doctor’s visit, the jackhammering, and now the gate, this has been a decidedly annoying and expensive few weeks.

Now, I had been continuing to pay my gym fees during COVID because the owner’s such a good guy and he and his wife have been nuthin but super generous with me.

But, after all of the expenses piling up, I finally had to stop paying.

Me: Hey brother – I’m sorry to do this but I have to stop payments. Got hit with a flood that wiped me out.
Owner: Shit, sorry to hear about the flood! I’ve suspended your membership. Thanks for sticking with us for as long as you have.
Me: Dude, I was hoping to stick with you guys until you reopened. It’s been a rough few weeks.

Of course, my life’s been far, far worse. So, I suppose everything’s relative.

Plus, it’s good having friends like the gym owner and Vic on your side.

Vic: I can do that for you. And I’ll see if I can find a welder for you to try to fix the gate. Maybe a week after next?
Me: Man, you rock. For sure.

Podcast Version
Location: earlier today, seeing Gio at Columbus Circle
Mood: drained (of money)
Music: Please come to save me from myself again (Spotify)
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Where to begin?

Streaks of bad luck

It’s been a trying few weeks. Where to begin?

I’d been feeling off for a while. Cloudy headed, disoriented, etc. I thought maybe it was just allergies or I was getting a cold but no sneezing or coughing so I just chalked it up to my regular insomnia.

I met with some clients for the first time in a long while.

Him: How have you been?
Me: This is my first time wearing pants in months.

It was short, which was for the best because, as it turns out, after four sets of plumbers, the flooding issue was not fixed, so I didn’t have time to really focus on much beyond that.

After my last entry, it rained again and so I was out on a rickety wooden ladder furiously trying to pump water out of my patio beyond a retaining wall. I’m essentially about six feet off the ground, wearing shorts and boots, when the pressure from the pump knocks me down all six feet onto the brick floor.

I felt that I, for sure, either broke or sprained two fingers. I went about my day as normal but a few days later, the pain just kept increasing.

Mouse – who’s dealing with her own streak of bad luck – hit me up and insisted that I go see a doctor.

Her: Go to CityMD.
Me: I think it’s just a sprain. Gonna give it a day.
Her: Why bother with a day? Just take care of now. Go to the doc and avoid other problems.
Me: Fiiine. I’ll eat and then go.

Next thing you know, I’m back there.

Doc: (looking at fingers) These aren’t broken or sprained. Both are infected. Pretty seriously, actually. From the looks of them, they’ve been infected for at least four days now.
Me: Wait, what? So, it has nothing to do with the fall?
Her: Not if it happened just a day or two ago. I need to open them up.
Me: (sighing) Of course you do.
Her: I have to say, I’ve been doing this for 20 years. I’ve never seen anyone with the exact same infection on two separate hands in two separate places.
Me: I like to go for the superlative.

Relax, it’s mostly iodine. Mostly.

It was painful and hard, but mainly because it brought back a flood of memories of Alison.

She endured what I endured but for every single day for years. That girl was tough as nails. I spent the rest of the day remembering stuff I didn’t wanna.

There’s more, but my fingers and soul are killing me. I’ll tell you the rest tomorrow.

Podcast Version
Location: in front of a bottle of antibiotics
Mood: drained (literally!)
Music: I heard you fell off after a couple bad nights (Spotify)
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It’s not that bad

Running into friends

As I was saying, while Mouse, Chad and I were eating at our usual Vietnamese joint, I locked eyes with this tall fella walking by with a buddy of his that seemed familiar, even though we were both wearing masks.

Him: Logan?
Me: John?

It was actually a buddy of mine from my old judo class out in Queens. The last time we rolled together was just around 9/11. At the time, I was living in the boy’s room, before Abbie. That’s one of the few pics I have of it from back then.

Man, was I a mess before Alison.

In any case, John was in high school then; he now had grey hair.

Me: (turning to Chad) This is actually my coach, Chad. Chad, this is John, he’s a purple belt…
John: I’m a brown, actually. (laughs)
Me: Damn, nice! Sorry.
John: (to Chad) We saw your ears and figured you were a fighter.

The two of them started to chat about our old coach. I stayed out of it since I got it all outta my system but it was interesting to see these two strangers trade very similar notes.

I do remember that I asked my old coach once how he was so ok with his less-than-stellar reputation. He said he was fine with it so I don’t have any compunction telling you.

I wonder what my reputation is like. Like, what do you think of me?

In some ways, I don’t care, in others, I care a great deal. Like my professional life – I care greatly what people say about me and my work product.

Because I don’t advertise at all and I also haven’t had a salary in close to 20 years; it’s always been eating what I kill. And that’s 100% dependent on reputation.

My personal life, I care about my reputation far less so. I’m probably making it all up anyway.

Can’t tell you how many people tell me that I shouldn’t write this blog. But it’s for me. To remember what I want to remember and keep myself honest about what happens in my life.

I suppose I’m rambling again. Anywho, John had to run because he was eating at Playa Betty’s and his table was ready.

Me: Oh, that place is great for kids but the food’s terrible.
Mouse: Why would you say that, Logan?!
Me: (stammering) Uh, uh, well, it’s it’s not that bad…
Everyone: (shakes heads)

Podcast Version
Location: in front of my computer, all day
Mood: busy again
Music: I’m anti-everything, but you (Spotify)
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Sweet Dreams

I’m sorry

Luciano’s mom reached out to me over the weekend and filled me in on some more information.

I didn’t know what to say. What does one say, but, “I’m sorry?”

The truth is, you want to say, “I’m sorry that the world is so fucked up and people like Luciano and Alison are gone but shit-heads like Trump and his progeny still exist. There’s no God and if there is one, he’s a giant asshole and he can go fuck himself.”

But in the end, all you can ever say is, “I’m sorry,” and hope it’s enough.

Speaking of which…

Me: I guess I should take these letters off.
Chad: Do you want me to help?
Me: No. I’ll do it myself. Just…distract me will you?
Him: Sure, I’ll do a dance. (thinking) You should take a picture.
Me: (starting the process) I already did, but thanks.
Him: I’m sorry, Logan.
Me: (nodding)

When Alison moved in, she wanted to paint the boy’s room but I convinced her not to. It was too much trouble, I said. We had already agreed on painting the master bedroom and living room so she relented on what was the guest room.

I kept the paint cans for those two rooms, 11 years after Alison and I got them.

It’s hard letting things go.

The boy’s room, though, was painted by a lovely girl name Abbie in September of 2004, almost exactly 16 years ago. That was the last time it was painted. Abbie painted it when patterns were all the rage but it now made the room look dated.

To the point that, when Mouse lived here, she also asked to paint it, and I said no again. This time for a slightly different reason.

You see, Alison and I put up these stickers that read, “Sweet Dreams.” It was just a random idea that Alison had and she surprised me with the lettering. I still remember her, pregnant and carefully measuring and adjusting the words so that they would be perfect. Which they were – perfectly balanced and exactly in the center of the crib.

That was her in a nutshell.

Now, she always had meant for them to be temporary but once she died, I couldn’t bear the thought of taking them down.

But the boy’s growing up. And he should have a room that he can have for the next 16 years if he wanted, not the room Abbie wanted 16 years ago.

So, this past Sunday, I took the lettering down with Chad. Then Mouse came by and the three of us painted the whole thing.

While we were waiting for it to dry, we went out for food.

Me: Are you two tired of Vietnamese yet?
Them: Nope, not yet.

We ran into an old friend of mine while we were out but I suppose that’s an entry for another time.

Then we came back and we marveled at the room.

Neither of them had ever painted before. It wasn’t perfect but we were happy with it afterward – we didn’t do any of the molding as I figured we’d do that some other time.

But it was good. I think Alison would have liked it.

Hopefully, the boy will.

Podcast Version
Location: earlier today, at 84th, asking for Ariel
Mood: much better
Music: Hold your head up, keep your head up, (Spotify)
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Goodnight, Luciano

I don’t understand why

Haven’t heard from the Devil in months. That worries me because he’s one of the few people in the world I think of as a friend.

How odd, to have a friend you call the Devil.

We’re friends because we see the world in the same way.

Me: Why me?
Him: (shrugging) Because you can separate signal from noise.
Me: So?
Him: As you get older, you’ll realize that most people can’t.

On July 14th, I felt compelled to reach out to this fella named Luciano Anthony.

What a name. Picture a super-built, really good-looking guy that was brilliant and you’d be picturing Luciano. He looked like a dude named Luciano Anthony.

(I also just found out that he went by Luciano Bianco as well – I only ever knew him as Luciano Anthony).

We were never close but he always said hi to me at the gym and was never anything but the nicest fella. He was covered in tats so I immediately made some judgments about him. All wrong.

He had a masters degree in Biotechnology from Johns Hopkins and worked as a science engineer. He did woodwork on the side.

Quiet and thoughtful, he was a beast on the mats. I remembered that I liked rolling with him because he always kept his gear clean.

Anywho, Luciano posted something random that night. It seemed out of sorts for what I knew of him.

I’m so fucking clever, you see.

So, I wrote him. I was probably drinking.

He was struggling with some demons. As a friend of the Devil, I know demons. In fact, I knew these particular demons he was struggling with. They’re old hated companions of mine as well.

Him:  (afterwards) Sorry if that’s too straightforward. Don’t have much family or friends so I tend to word vomit.
Me: No. That’s fine. When I say I understand, I really do. And more.

The last thing I said to him was, “I get it. If you’re in heed [sic] of someone to vent to, lemme know.”

That was it. Even though I knew something was wrong, I thought, I did my part. I reached out. I patted myself on the back. And I went back to my life. And I didn’t reach out to him again.

He killed himself exactly a week later. I didn’t know until today.

In ironies of ironies, I just wrote about depression and suicide in my last entry.

In the past four years, I’ve known six – now seven – people that died; I loved two of them completely. Luciano was the only one that took his own life.

I knew there was something wrong but I didn’t follow-up.

I get it. What could I have done? With him, with Alison? But what’s the point of hearing signal if nothing changes, if it doesn’t make a fucking difference anyway?

His mom posted that he died on Facebook. That’s how I found out. Fucking hell. No parent should have to do anything like that.

Like I said, a mother’s love for her child is like nothing else.

I think the same thing I always think whenever I hear about someone as good and as talented as Luciano dying – doubly so when it’s suicide – why?

For all my cleverness, I’ll never understand why. I suppose I don’t really want to. He was only 29. To me, that’s just a kid. What a fucking waste of a good soul.

Goodnight, Luciano. I’m so sorry you suffered and felt like you had to go.

I hope you found your peace.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
Hours: Available 24 hours. Languages: English, Spanish.
1-800-273-8255

Podcast Link
Location: Pier 84, talking about Luciano with Chad
Mood: not good
Music: Didn’t get to sleep that night till the morning came (Spotify)
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Why do you have to ruin everything, Logan?

My apartment flooded

Last week was one of the craziest weeks in my life.

First of all, my apartment flooded. See, I live on the ground floor of a townhouse in Manhattan and, prior to my buying it, my pad would flood every so often.

But once I bought it, my buddy and I spent the first few months trying to figure out how to solve the issue. We did.

For well over 15 years, it’s never flooded. Not even close. Then, last Thursday – during that crazy freak thunderstorm – it did. Worse than I’d ever seen it before.

Four sets of plumbers later, it turns out that a rock somehow got into our system. The plumber wasn’t able to remove it but did manage to blast out all the debris around the rock so that the water would/could flow freely again.

At some point next summer, I’m gonna have to have someone cut into my wall, cut out a piece of pipe, remove the rock, replace the pipe, replace the wall, and get the whole thing repainted.

Home ownership isn’t at all what it’s all cracked up to be.

That’s only part of the week but no sense in telling you everything all at once.

On a different point entirely, it was Lviv’s birthday the other day so I invited her over to eat – Vietnamese again because I honestly don’t think there’s anything better when the weather’s hot.

Also got her a small cake/huge cupcake.

All-in-all, it was pretty nice. Well, that is until we settled down to watch a film.

Her: Oh, look at the swans.
Me: I think they’re ducks…
Her: Why do you have to ruin everything, Logan?!

For what it’s worth, I assume no one ever means, “duck.”

Podcast Version
Location: my empty apartment, post Mouse and Chad eating all the food
Mood: exhausted
Music: You tell me I won’t ever change so I just say nothing (Spotify)
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Hating being single

How do you think I’m accomplishing that?

It was raining here for a while.

Me: I wanted to tell you to your face, but the weather’s conspiring against us.
Her: Can I ask why?
Me: I don’t wanna waste your time – anyone’s really. I’m not your person and everyone should be with their person.
Her: Is it the other girl? Or your ex?
Me: That’s a distinction without a difference.
Her: I always did like how you talked. (later) Goodbye, Logan.

I hate being single.

On the plus side, Chad came by to coach Mouse and me on some new stuff that he’s been working on. They both said hi to the boy via FaceTime.

This is us listening to him sing the Rolling Stones.

She and I took Chad out to eat as part of thanking him for the training.

We also chipped in to get him a nice automatic watch.

Him: Wow, thanks you two.
Me: We wanted to give it to you after COVID for always helping us but who knows when that will ever be?

Afterward, she stuck around for a bit to catch up. In a weird but kinda cool nexus, Lviv wrote me about another guy she was seeing.

Mouse, upon hearing some of it, took my phone and gave her her opinion via text.

Mouse: You don’t need that in your life. You can find something better.

If there’s any commonality to the women I’m attracted to, it’s that they’re all universally kind. That’s a baseline requirement for me.

And all – very coincidentally – seem to come from the same European country.

Him: Wait, this is a new person?
Me: Yes. From the same town as one of them.
Him: Wha…how…are you finding them on purpose?
Me: How do you think I’m accomplishing that?
Him: I dunno, Logan. I feel if there’s someone that can figure something like that out, it’d be you.

Podcast Version
Location: Verdi Square, discussing Nightwing with Joseph
Mood: sad
Music: you made me happier than I’ve been, by far (Spotify)
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The only nice day of the week

Taking the invite

Me: I’m probably gonna work out with my friends that day.
Her: The only nice day of the week?
Me: Or, I could spend it with you.
Her: Good choice.

Her: How do I know I’ll be safe around you?
Me: Because you will be. And because I don’t lie and I never break a promise.
Her: Is that true?
Me: I suppose you’ll find out. I have my rules. But you’ll ask me before I ask you.
Her: I doubt that.
Me: That’s what every girl says.

Her: What’s that shirt say?
Me: Atari. It’s a game console from the 70s and 80s.
Her: Ah, from when you were born. Makes sense you’d wear that.

Her: You made out with both of them? On the same night?
Me: There were three actually, if you count her.
Her: (pointing over to the women at another table) You should make out with them.
Me: (shrugging) I’ll need more alcohol, but sure.

We ducked into an empty mall and had the whole joint to ourselves. I might tell you about that some other time.

Me: When is your birthday again? The 22nd?
Her: 23rd! OMG, Logan!
Me: What? When’s mine?
Her: (dismissively) How would I know? Besides, you’re old. You shouldn’t be celebrating.

Me: Beer or cider?
Her: I don’t drink beer.
Me: You just lost another point. OK, cider it is. (cashier asks for ID) See, she thinks I look young.
Her: She’s just being nice, Uncle Logan.
Me: (shaking head) That’s…that’s just mean.

Her: Watch the movie! (slaps phone out of my hand) And stop texting other women when you’re with me. Have some respect.
Me: You’re texting other guys!
Her: It’s my apartment!

Me: I had a nice time, Lviv. Thanks for inviting me down here.
Lviv: Sure. (smiles) Have a safe trip home.

Location: 10 mins ago, walking her to her car
Mood: so. damn. hot.
Music: It all comes back to you (Spotify)
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Familiar unfamiliar territory

Finding me

BrightBea: You were by my place? You could have called.
Me: Honestly, how does anyone find me? I didn’t give you my last name.
Her: A girl’s gotta be careful.

I’ve spent the last several 4ths of July by my lonesome for reasons that aren’t important.

This year may be different but it’s hard to tell at the moment.

I’m in familiar unfamiliar territory, again.

Speaking of people reading my blog.

Lviv: You didn’t tell me that you went to see your ex.
Me: We don’t owe each other anything, yet. (later) Wait, I thought besides me you were seeing an economist and a male stripper something.
Her: Ex male stripper, who’s an ex. The economist wanted to hang out more, but I wasn’t feeling him. I like him as a friend.
Me: I need to start making a list.

Neither of us have plans for the 4th so maybe we’ll randomly run into each other somewhere on the Upper West Side?

Maybe.

On that note,

Mouse: I did quite enjoy that you managed to include in (our conversation) the part about a shipment of toothbrushes.
Me: (laughing) I honestly didn’t think anything of them until you mentioned it. I suppose that’s subconscious?

When I’m single I have more house guests for a variety of reasons, all of which revolve around my being centrally located in Manhattan.

Don’t read too much into it.

Mainly because, a rule I’ve always had is that: If you stay over, you get a toothbrush – with a choice of colour – and some sorta brekkie.

Before I met Alison, I bought three 12-packs of toothbrushes and went through two plus a couple here and there.

It might surprise you that some toothbrush conversations were quite sad, as odd as that sounds.

As for brekkie, that’s just to be polite.

Since we’re talking about food – Pac’s been making food videos. That’s his latest.

Do me a favour and like the video and subscribe? I need one of my friends to hit it big so I can borrow money.

Toothbrushes don’t grow on trees you know.

Podcast Version
Location: Morningside Heights, looking at stuff in the prepared food aisle
Mood: hopeful
Music: Ain’t I the best you had? (Spotify)

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Rolling around the city

Picnics and eating out

Forgot to mention that last week, my law firm met up over at Carl Schurz Park at East End Avenue and 84th street to have a picnic and catch up.

Him: How have you been?
Me: Immune. You?

It was good to see everyone. As an aside, I’m meeting a lot of people from a particular European nation these days.

Her: I’m from there.
Me: Well, of course you are.

My buddy handed me a bottled negroni, which was delicious. Probably shouldn’t have drank the whole thing.

Him: Are you ok to get home?
Me: We’re about to find out.

And then today, I met up with my buddy Robinson to roll for the first time in ages.

While I’m immune, the others have their own stories.

Him: How did you do?
Me: I didn’t die, so…well?

It was fun and exhausting rolling for the first time in ages.

Afterward, I wanted Vietnamese food but the restaurant was in the sun. So we just went to an American joint.

I got a salad. I regret my life’s choices. But we also got a crapton of alcohol.

Me: I think this is the first time another human being has served me food with utensils in months.
Everyone: Me too.

The salad was clearly not enough so I ordered more food.

Afterward, the waiter came and did shots with us.

Him: It’s not good tequila, but it’s free.
Me: If it’s free tequila, homie, it’s good tequila.

I was supposed to meet someone for a walk tonight but she’s a back-burner so I bailed.

Her: Wait, you just drank a lot and now aren’t coming?
Me: In my defense, I did tell you that I’m an awful person. But I’m an *honest*, awful person.

She did not find that amusing.

So, I went home and spoke to some people before crashing early and calling it a day/night.

It was a good one. A really good one. I don’t think I can say that very often.

Being hung up on and blocked by someone, notwithstanding…

Location: Queens, ordering more food
Mood: good?
Music: The house don’t fall when the bones are good (Spotify)
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