The difference between Knowledge and Wisdom

Understanding what it really means/Seeing the grey

10th Avenue in Manhattan, NYC

Worked pretty much this entire weekend. Beat tired.

Life was simpler when you’re young. There was ever only black and white, good and evil, heroes and villains.

As you get older you realize there’s a lot of grey. Unless you never grow up. If you never grow up, then the world remains black and white. You don’t see the grey. Or all of the luck, stupid luck, and stupid involved in life.

If you see the grey, you see that there’s a lot of stupid involved in life.

Have you ever noticed that it’s the least educated, least traveled, least read of the people you know that have conspiracy theories? Because they have no background on which to base a logical conclusion, they make their own out of bits and pieces of trivia and fact.

They can’t discern the difference between knowledge and wisdom.

There’s this example in one of Malcolm Gladwell’s books where a writing teacher says to a buncha students that the election is the next day.

They’re to write about what it means.

And most of the kids write about the democratic process, the history of nation, the candidates, etc. Information, data, knowledge.

But one student understands what this really means. It means: No school tomorrow.

That’s wisdom. Understanding what things mean.

There’re people with the ability to see the grey and everyone else.

Stranger: How do they know they got the right guy? I mean, besides the shootout, the cop they shot, and the pictures, what evidence do they have these guys did anything?
Me: That’s true, besides the shootout, the cop they shot, the pictures – and the chase, the video, the ATM pics, the multiple eye-witnesses – besides those things, I suppose you’re right, they don’t have anything.

Location: in front of more papers
Mood: weary
Music: giving the academy a rain check
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Becoming couth

Cocktails in the UWS, NYC

Like everyone else, we got caught up in the lottery fever.

Her: Shoot, our Powerball was “24” and the last winning Powerball was “24.”
Me: So we have ten tickets that have the same Powerball as the last winning ticket? I’ll just grab a quick-pick.
Her: (later) So? What’s our new Powerball number?
Me: 24.

Got good luck nor bad luck; just strange luck. This time, didn’t even win a dollar.

———-

Me: It’s nice spending time together.
Her: Yeah, in the five minutes you’re not on your computer.
Me: Three minutes. I have deadlines.

HG and I found time recently to chill out and watch Food Inc. It should be required viewing for all Americans – we really are too far removed from our food.

We also saw this flick called The Double, which we really enjoyed but got critically panned. On a related note, we struggled to get through The Descendents and have zero interest in The Artist.

We’ve come to this conclusion: those films that are critically acclaimed, we just don’t find all that interesting while the films that critics hate, we seem to enjoy.

Evidently, we’re uncouth.

How does one become more couth?

Location: running all over the joint
Mood: finally not sick
Music: wanna pillowfight in the middle of the night
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The world limits us enough, why do it to ourselves?

Train arriving at Columbus Circle

Her: It looks worse, you should go see a doctor.
Me: Nah, I’ll be fine.

Wonder how many people died saying those as their last words.

Been going to the gym like crazy cause summer’s usually my slow time and I wanna get in as much gym time as possible before things start getting mad busy. So I was rolling with my buddy Car when we got onto the topic of MRSA (pronounced “mer-suh”). If you don’t know what that is, do NOT google it, instead, just believe me when I tell you that it’s gross and deadly. I’m a germaphobe by nature – to the point that no less than a dozen people remarked why I’d wrestle since that’s so unlike me. Which goes to show, that as much as I hate touching stuff, hate not knowing stuff even more.

Feara ignorance > OCD hand-washing.

In any case, had just shaved earlier that week and rolled and had gotten some razor burn. After a week, it started looking bad. Like real bad. After HG put her foot down, went to the local medi-merge where the lady doc walked into the room, took one look at me, and said, “You’ve got staph, man.” It wasn’t MRSA – thankfully – but it was something dangerous and gross. She gave me some meds and told me to go home and shave, which I did for the first time.

Lemme tell you: (a) it was insanely painful and (b) it far worse than I thought.

Killed all of my weekend plans. A weeka antibiotics later, about 90% back to normal.

The psychological scars’re gonna take a bit to get over though.

Do you know I’m scareda flying? Was the international sales manager for a Fortune 500 company and terrified of flying. But I board that plane every damn time.

Cause the world limits me enough; don’t need to do it to myself.

So Thursday, back in the gym.

Course, gonna be covered in plastic wrap from head-to-toe but that’s really neither here nor there.

 

Location: in fronta piles of papers
Mood: better
Music: rolling in the deep the scars
YASYCTAI: Do the uncomfortable things. (always/3 pts)
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Over three years later, still hate mice and AT&T

Mona Lisa on a NYC Building

The snow just keeps coming. Parta the reason I live in the city is because I thought I wouldn’t have to shovel. This is not true.

In other news, was all over the city and beyond this week: went to the boogie-down Bronx, Yonkers, White Plains, Queens and Long Island. All on the same day. So at least work’s picking up.

Been thinking about canceling AT&T for some time now – over three years actually – since my reception is horrid is non-existent stinks sucks bites leaves much to be desired. But they’re like the mafia; they keep pulling you back in. I’m like a crow with my love of new shiny.

But then PB sent me this link and I rang them up. Spoke to a nice young lady and convinced her to send me a 3G microcell free of charge.

I’m telling ya, the most valuable skill y’can have is an ability to talk to people.

But since this @#$@#$ comes from AT&T, of course it doesn’t work. Can’t believe I left Sprint all those years ago and got into something worse.

Guess that’s my project for the day.

Location: in fronta more blinking lights
Mood: frustrated
Music: So I traveled back, down that road
YASYCTAI: Try to resolve that issue. (120 mins/1 pt)
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Where life takes you

Location: on way to Yonkers
Mood: busy
Music: with lovers and friends I still can recall

Building off Cooper Square in NYC

A buddy I’ve not seen in a bit came by the other day. We went out for a walk and randomly a frienda his invited him over to eat. So he invited me.

Next thing you know we’re on a cab heading west and sitting in some girl’s kitchen having some hommade jook and I’m moving a cello and he’s hanging a tapestry.

Funny where the day takes you sometimes.

———-

Katsmw: Logan, I’ve told you this several times before!
Me: Sorry – most of the 90s and the first half of the 2000s were a blur to me.
Her: Why is that?
Me: My insomnia. Once I started sleeping well a few days in a row, it was like putting on glasses and seeing clearly.

Had some other friends over last night; an old college buddy and his wife. Made a roasted rack of lamb, potatoes, salad with blue cheese and cranberries rounded off with some gluhwein.

Afterward, played some Scattergories (lost one round and tied one round) and introduced him to the wonderful worlda rum.

At some point, y’sit around and chat about stories in college. Like how my buddy would come back from a hard run and then have a cigarette. He’s since quit. 17 years I’ve known the fella. It’s nice seeing how things change with old friends.

And how much things stay the same.

Me: (dropping carving knife onto floor) YIKES!
Everyone: Whoa!
Her: That could have cut off your toe!
Him: It fell into his lap first (laughing) so a toe woulda been the least of his problems.


YASYCTAI
: Time for some dinner guests. (180 mins/1 pt)

Speaking of “Eat-What-You-Kill”

Location: still in front of computer screens
Mood: fulla fiber
Music: Early in the evenin’ just about supper time

View of an NYC entryway

Turning from my last post, once wrote about this mouse in my house. Bugger wouldn’t die. Just disappeared one day so figured some poison or cat got him.

Fast forward to last week, when I left my pad decked out in a full suit. Forgot something so I turned around and ended up face-to-face with a mouse. We stared at each other for a second, all high noon-like, ‘fore it turned and zipped inna my pad.

Ran after it, dropping my briefcase. It flew into the bathroom so I did the same, slamming the door behind me to trap us both. Grabbing the metal wastebin in there, brought it down on it over and over again, missing each time. Neighbors musta thought I was clear starkers.

Fast buggers, they are.

Finally thought I got it but turns out the dents in the can gave it a second chance; when I lifted it, expecting to find the past-present form of mouse, it sprang away.

So did I, leaping four feet back like a ten-year old girl doing double-dutch. Course, my bathroom’s only three feet wide so ended up smashing in my cabinet door.

Deep breath, flipped the can around and slammed it down one last time. Poor bastard, the last thing it ever saw was some crazed Asian-dude in a brown suit bringing down a dented silver metal can on it.

To say that it was a bloody mess’s not taking any literary license, lemme tell you.

Dunno how people that kill things regularly, like farmers, do it. Then again, they’re probably not wearing a sweat-soaked three-piece using a dustbin. Maybe they are; what do I know?

Sorry little guy, didn’t wanna, but had to.

Her: (noticing the missing can later) What happened to the trash can here? (surprised) And what happened to the cabinet door!?
Me: (sighing) Y’don’t wanna know.
Her: (shaking head) I don’t want to know.

In other news: my bathroom floor’s spotless, I’ve decided I wouldn’t last in the wild; and I still hate AT&T;.

YASYCTAI: Think about where all the meat y’eat comes from. (2 mins/0.5 pts)

Don’t really know

What’s the point of it all?

Cloudy day in NYC

Her: What was that sound!?
Me: Was working on something and the live power cable hit the fan.
Her: Logan! You’re going to kill yourself some day. (laughing) And your fly’s open.
Me: (slowly) Yes.

If something did happen to me, someone’d find that I’m 20% peanut butter (by weight, not volume). The remainder being rum.

Did y’have a nice Turkey Day? This year was different. Paul and WM hung up their club shoes to play board games by mine. Very Waltons.

The Professor wasn’t in town but I did see Johnny. With the exception of the Devil, he’s the onea the most dangerous men I know. That says a lot. And he brought his daughter over.

Her: I like you. You’re funny.
Me: I’ll take that as a compliment. Listen, keep your dad from punching me. He scares me.
Her: He scares me too!

This 25 year-old kid named Luis Armando Pena Soltren hijacked this plane from NY to Puerto Rico on 19681124 and went to Cuba where he spent the next 40 years in working as a day labourer.

At some point, he musta thought, What the #$@# did I do with my life?

So he came back an old man and’s sitting at some jail cell knowing that he’s thrown his life away on yet another thing that had the air of truth to it, but no real truth to it.

Him: 10 Million.
Me: Just this year?
Him: Yeah. (pause) Woulda made more if it wasn’t for this economy. Gotta fly back to China in three weeks.
Me: Why dontcha just sell it all? The factories, the buildings, all of it? Y’can spend time with your family, hang out with me. Start up that school y’always say you wanna do.
Him: (shakes head)
Me: Why not? You make more money than the pope but you’re miserable. What’s the pointa all that green if y’don’t get to see your family and I’m the only person in the world y’trust?
Him: Don’t really know.


Nietzxche was right, your convictions’re dangerous things.
The choices remain the same: Change your map; Change your reality; or Keep crying.

Better work out. Next year, doubt I’ll have his daughter there to protect me.

Location: a grey, half-sofa
Mood: cheerful
Music: come with me we’ll travel to infinity
YASYCTAI: Have you considered fencing? (90 mins/2 pts)

Details in my eye

Location: my pad all day
Mood: melancholy
Music: We stood so tall we caught a plane by the wing and held it

NYC nighttime skyline

Spent last Friday bouncing around a farm in upstate NY in the rain. Funny thing was that the price for 3,441,240 SF farm is about the same as my 1,700 SF apartment.

Came back to hit up a birthday party for my bro at a karaoke joint. Friends, pizza, rum – what’s there not to like? Afterward we went to this rooftop bar in midtown. My liver and I’re on speaking terms again so took it easy.

Feel bad that I didn’t have enough time to spend with my bro but was glad to see him when I could.

Told onea our close friends and favourite people that when I was 14, I was 5’3″ and 185 pounds. And she told us that she had a little sister that she lost when the sis was 19. Dunno how y’make it past something like that; how do you overcome that blow?

Let’s you and I never find out, yeah?

———-

I can only hope

that Some day, some day,

not quite so far away,

the contrails in the sky

match the details in my eye

and I’ll be who

I’m meant to be.

Contrails
NYC stop sign
You see,

I do believe I would be free

if only these memories would leave.

But then the places of my past

contrast the faces of my mind.

So then I think of them,

and they of me.

Well,

silhouette
I can only hope.

———-

Just screwing around with HTML, folks.

And now, a duck goose:

Upstate duck

YASYCTAI: Get to where you’re going tomorrow in a completely different way. (dunno/0.5 pts)

Eject, eject, eject

Location: 14:00, yest. spitting in Queens
Mood: pained
Music: and who needs love when there’s southern comfort?


Her
: So the first and second molds didn’t come through. (pause) So we have to do it again. You’re very brave to do it without anesthesia.
Me: (sighing in dentist’s chair) Nvave, oke. Evexpensivecmup.
Her: (removing tube) What?
Me: Not brave, broke. I’ve expenses coming up. Do it. Don’t mind me if I cry a bit.

Y’know how I always say that your friends’re mirrors to yourself? They’re also the thermostats to your mental health.

They’re the ones that pull you back and go, “Dude, what are you doing?” It’s why nutcases like Ted Kaczynski live by themselves in the woods.

The running joke between my friends and me’s that I beergoggle. They always whisper into my ear, “Eject, eject, eject.” And I always go, “Really?” shrug and bolt. Figure that I’m about 27.3% rum most weekends (by volume, not weight) so I should listen to them.

With mobile phone photography technology being what it is, they’re right more often than not.

Not all my friends eject when we tell them to, though, which is another running joke.

Another thing I believe’s that if three of your friends tell you something, unsolicited, it’s probably true. Like if three friends tell you that you’re acting like a jerk, chances are high, you’re acting like a jerk.

A buddy of mine’s all bent outta shape about a girlie that we all roundly believe isn’t worth his time. And yet he keeps trying. He insists that this is different, that she’s different. But we both know she’s not. It’s not.

He just needs time to sober up to see it. No worries. I’ll be sure to mock him once he comes up for air. It’s what friends do.

———-

Don’t wish me a Happy Birthday just yet. One more post tomorrow.

YASYCTAI: Get dental. Dental is totally worth it (60 mins/1 pts)

The pits

Location: my apartment, all day
Mood: ouch!
Music: well pick me up with golden hand

A tribeca apartment stoop

Me
: I think I need to go to the emergency room.
Her: OK.
  • When you make a salad, do not put in olives that have pits in them.
  • If you do make a salad that has olives with pits in them, do not serve at a dinner party.
  • If you do make a salad that has olives with pits in them, and must serve said salad at a dinner party, let your guests know about the aforementioned pits.

You can say:

a) The salad has olives that have pits in them.
b) There’re olives with pits in the salad.
c) Be careful eating this salad as the olives aren’t pitted.

Won’t belabour the point but y’know what happens when you don’t?

One bleeding guest, one shattered tooth, four tabs of vicodin, one shot of some painful painkiller, 500mg of naproxen, three shots of lidocaine, three shots of novocaine, four tabs of sleeping pills, $3,000 of tooth damage and Teeth whitening, two visits to the dentist (with another nine to go), one root canal, and more drugs.

Lots and lots of drugs. And lots of oatmeal. In fact, all the oatmeal one could eat.

In short, it was…wait for it…the pits.

However, Heartgirl did get to meet my mother and speak to my brother – although the circumstances were less than ideal. So that was my weekend, how was yours?

Me: (drugged out) On the way here, I was thinking two things: (a) man, I’m in pain, and (b) wonder if that halal food cart is still serving food this late.
Her: (shakes head) You know, I was just thinking this morning that I should get all your medical information. You have the worst luck.
Me: It’s more stupid luck. than anything. (later) Hey, thanks for staying.
Her: (laughing) Where else was I going to go?

YASYCTAI: If you get a feeling that a something is going to end badly, go with your gut. (10 mins/1 pt)