Done, done

Location: 19:00, unlocking a door in Queens
Mood: thoughtful
Music: No one ever said it would be so hard

: I’ve always been honest to you.
Her: I know it and I hate it. (pause) I’m just jealous because boys always pick me.
Me: (laughing)
Her: It’s true!
Me: I know it. I know it.

While we never see each other, PCD and I still chat online. We spoke the other night cause I was too tired to type. She’s thinking of starting a blog too, told her she should.

Her: You’re not right for me, I know that.
Me: That’s the thing about her. I think I’m right for her and she’s right for me. We’re appropriate for each other.
Her: I’d hate that – to appropriate for someone else.
Me: It’s not a bad thing. It’s hard for a boy like me to just stop, y’get used to the random nights. You know that better than most people – that it’s hard to stop and say, I pick you. To be done, y’know?
Her: Are you done, done?
Me: I hope so. (pause) I really like her.
Her: (thinking) Good then. I want you to be happy.

If there’s one common trait to the people I’m actually close to, it’s that they’re all really good people. My dad says that if you find good people in the world, you should keep them around at all costs.

He’s a smart man, my dad.

This post continued here.

YASYCTAI: Figure out which one of your friends are worth the effort and drop them a line. (hours/2 pts)

Strawberry Swing

Location: home, and running late
Mood: tired
Music: without you it’s a waste of time

Him: That’s the way to make an entrance. Walk in, demand a drink, and drop your pants.

Met up with Heartgirl on Friday for a quiet night in. Saw the interactive art project at Madison Square Park and then ate dinner at a nice restaurant. Always good when you don’t have to unwrap your dinner.

Saturday, saw my brother for massive amounts of pizza. He doesn’t live in NYC so whenever he’s here, he gets his fill.

Saturday night, went to HEI’s for her birthday party. Got absolutely soaked in the rain so as soon as I arrived, ask for some pants to wear. Spend the night walking around in women’s sweatpants and slippers.

Met some nice people and one girl that asked, “Can we be friends?” Brought HEI a bottle of rum. We all almost kicked it that night. Rolled home at 2AM and woke up the next day without a hangover. Love that rum.

Sunday, go with my brother to grab sushi. For some reason they gave us a bottle of sake and I had to drink it myself. Quite a way to start off a Sunday morning.

Sunday night, go with Heartgirl and one of her friends to see Coldplay in concert. Heartgirl doesn’t like being in pictures. She does like being with me though. Fair trade.

Duffy was the opening act. Spent $11.25 for a diet coke, pretzel and package of Reese’s Pieces. Coldplay was amazing in concert. Seem like nice fellas.

Got home five minutes to midnight. Now I’m home getting ready to run out the door. And you? How was your weekend?

YASYCTAI: Treat yourself to a small concert. The last major one I went to was 20 years ago. (90 mins/1 pts)

Glory Days

I know something you don’t know

Inigo Montoya: I admit it, you are better than I am.
Man in Black: Then why are you smiling?
Inigo Montoya: Because I know something you don’t know.

When you get beat up as often as I did as a kid, you either get all decked out in black and go Columbine, or you just learn how to fight. And for those of you that know me, I never do anything half-assed.

Bryson’s one of my best friends and was a striker like me. He outweighed me by 20-40 pounds but I was fast and flexible. We were always toe-to-toe. Until he started grappling. So I started too.

Then, a little after 9/11, I got injured. A kimura gone horribly wrong. Doc said I could either get surgery and lose 10% of my range of motion or rehab it and lose as little as 2%. Chose the latter. He said it’d take up to four years. It took seven. Stopped watching NHB stuff cause it made me sad. Didn’t wanna be one of those guys that spent his time talking about his glory days.

During those seven years, Bryson worked to the point that he’s a Pan-American Bronze Medalist. And he knew something his opponents didn’t – that as good as he was on the ground, he was even better on his feet. I knew that. My jaw knew that. Me? I stopped. Got fat. Settled down with a girlie.

The only place I’m still better than Bryson’s with a sword. But even then, he’s almost my match. We both know he’s better than me, he’s just too polite to ever say it. Some days, forget that I’m 35. Then my body reminds me. The last time I felt good about my right lead was in the mid-90s.

We spoke recently and he told me that he just got a similar injury. He finds out next week if he can roll again. I understood. Told him that he got seven years on me and he agreed. Small comfort, I know.

After we got off the phone, sat back and remembered when we weren’t old men. Instead, we’re in the muddy backyard of my college house. He’d swing on by, we’d laugh. Then we’d knuckle up and roll.

Man in Black: And what is that?
Inigo Montoya: I…am not left-handed.

Location: my parent’s living room
Mood: nostalgic
Music: hope when I get old I don’t sit around thinking about it

Home in NYC

Was walking home over the chilly weekend when a dragonfly settled down on a stoop in my neighborhood. Guess I’m not the only one that thinks NYC’s lovely in the Fall.

Saw Heartgirl over the weekend. She made an offhand comment about something, which I don’t remember in the least – cause she called me her boyfriend.

Been called someone’s boyfriend three times in the past 2.5 years. And the previous two times freaked me out. Decidedly. This time though, it was quite nice. More than nice. It was whatever’s the opposite of freaked out.

She hates, hates, hates, that I referred to myself as a womanizer but I told her that it was what I was and not what I am. Just cause she asked, though, I’m going to try and stop using the term completely. Before I do, however, gotta mention that Rain had two of his students interview me recently as a “pick-up artist” – which I never was.

Her: What’s the difference?
Me: A pickup artist is talented at the pickup. A specialist if you will. I’m only ok at it. But I’m good at people. And I choose to concentrate on women. Hence, womanizer.

As an aside, both interviewers told me that they expected someone completely different. I like to keep people on their toes.

In other news, PCD and I chatted online recently. She too said it’s ok for me to write of her again.

Me: So, what’s new on the dating front?
Her: I went out with three boys and have seven more. I can’t handle any more traffic. A friend and I want to start a blog on dating – now that you’re boring. I just need a fake name.
Me: Hey! (pause) What about PCD?
Her: That’s a dumb name.

Went home to find a jar for the dragonfly cause I didn’t want it to die in the cold. When I got back it was gone.

Things’re always made of sterner stuff than you expect, yeah?

Location: 20:02 yest, explaining the difference on 72nd & Amsterdam
Mood: happy
Music: red letter year they didn’t mention how much shit was gonna change

Being a Ham

Being Your Best Self


Me: You agree with what thing I said?
Him: That there’s no such thing as a line? It’s true. I was saying the stupidest things to this one girl the other day, and she loved every word.

Heartgirl asked me recently if I watched The Pickup Artist, implying that that’s where I learned to be the boy I am. But we both know that I made a fool of myself long before that show came out.

Tina Fey’s all over the place these days because of Sarah Palin but she cut her teeth in improv. In the vid, she takes one idea and ends on a completely different point entirely. It’s fascinating cause you can see how her mind snaps associations together. Rain’s like that too in real life (don’t send him an email). It’s called a Monologue in improv. It’s a crucial life skill to be mentally quick on your feet.

Have to say that improv was a one of two major components of being good out and about; the other was a line from a fella named Thomas S. Monson who said, Don’t be yourself, be your best self.

Contrary to what most people think, the key to connecting with people isn’t to be fake, but very much the opposite: to be as really you as possible – assuming, of course, that the real you’s not a douchebag.

Cause you never stumble for words with your friends – you just say what you think. The guys that screw up out and about are the guys that hide who and what they really are:

Her: Well, I have a terrier.
Him: Oh you have a dog. I love dogs. When did you get him? How big is he? How old is he? What do you feed him? Did you always have a dog? What colour is he? Where do you walk him? Um. What do feed him? Oh, I asked that?

Painful right? that was a real conversation. So was this one immediately afterward:

Me: Hi, I’m sorry, couldn’t help but overhear that you have a dog. I love dogs.
Her: (bored) Really?
Me: Especially with a twist of lemon and some salt and pepper. Then I like to finish off with a whole wheat donut. (noticing her face) What? Whole wheat donuts are great. Y’know what else’s great? Rum…

In a related note, Heartgirl’s sister thinks I’m gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Heartgirl says it’s cause I talk so much with my hands, use words like “lovely,” don’t play sports and am unabashedly nerdy. But it’s who I am.

It’s a suckers game to pretend to be someone you’re not. Y’can never keep it up. If you watch the vid, here’s the thing – everything she’s saying is true. It’s that honesty that makes it so entertaining, funny and compelling.


The Game is recommended reading:

  • for guys, mainly cause you gotta think, if this dweeby, skinny, bald dude can ask anyone out…
  • for girls, mainly cause you should know what’s out there.

Location: at the rents
Mood: productive
Music: What I am is what I am, are you what you are or what?

Three barns with white horses & sliding doors

Barn’s burnt down. Now, I can see the moon

Barn’s burnt down — now I can see the moon. –┬áMizuta Masahide

Worked this past weekend. Did manage to see Heartgirl for a bit – she said that I could mention her in this blog so long as it wasn’t anything terribly personal. So she’s back. On a related note, s’funny but about ten people unsubscribed since I stopped being single.

Heartgirl and I did have an interesting discussion about how Life works out. Year ago today I was queuing in Great Britain wondering what to do about losing all my scratch. She was doing some heavy thinking in Times Square.

She mentioned she loved Sliding Doors and In-a-Silver-Bag told me a story about a white horse. While I don’t think that everything happens for a reason, I do think that whatever happens in our lives sculpt us to be who we’re meant to be.

Having said that, had a terrible, terrible day. Said it before, out little lives are all just three things – health, wealth and relationships. It’s like our three barns. And onea my barns are always burning.

It’s hard thinking that there’s some good that’s gonna come outta this latest fire. Then again, realized this past weekend that, if my last major relationship didn’t supernova, never woulda started this blog, had the cool parts of the past 24 months, or met any of the people that matter so much to me now.

Also, never would have met Heartgirl. She alone’s worth the price of admission.

Well, her and the rum. Mostly her.

So…hoping that this latest fire is just my way to see Selene again and an excuse to drink some red, red rum.

Location: 19:45 yest, leaving office
Mood: terrible
Music: we got to do something about where we`re going

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Forests and Trees

Location: 18:03 yest, dinner with the fam
Mood: confused
Music: every cop is a criminal And all the sinners saints

: I can’t. (pause) Why do you defend them, anyway? And not even get paid for it? They’re criminals.
Him: (shaking head) They’ve paid their dues. They deserve someone that believes they can be better. God puts them in front of me. How can I not help them? We’ve all made terrible mistakes, haven’t we? They just got caught. They shouldn’t spend their lives paying for their mistakes, should they?
Me: (thinking) We all deserve someone that thinks we can be better. Look, I’m not a litigator. But tell me how I can help.


Is it You can’t see the forest for the trees? or You can’t see the forest through the trees?

Either way, all I see’re these damn trees.

YASYCTAI: Use the word kismet at least three times today. (30 secs/1 pt)

This time

Just off Times Square


Saw Gio tonight off Times Square. It was a networking thingy and they had some good rum. Probably not a good idea since I went fencing afterward.
The weird thing is that it was across the street from my old pad. Hadn’t been there in a while. Ayn Rand wrote of NYC in The Fountainhead:

I would give the greatest sunset in the world for one sight of New York’s skyline….When I see the city from my window – no, I don’t feel how small I am – but I feel that if a war came to threaten this, I would throw myself into space, over the city, and protect these buildings with my body.

You know when you love someone, you’d end anyone that’d do them harm? It’s like that.

Wish I could put it in my pocket and pull it out to show you Nino’s where I had the best Penne with Vodka Sauce, or the Algonquin Hotel where I’d wish I had dough or the chops to sit at the Vicious Circle, or my corner on 46th and 6th Avenue, where I’d sneak a cigarette at 3AM when I couldn’t sleep and wait for the sun to come up. Or my office at 1500 Broadway where I’d look out and see TRL being recorded with those freakin kids screaming.

OK, that I got a picture of.

Feel so damn nostalgic. Wanted to talk to Heartgirl about it but she was busy. S’ok, I’m hoping we have plenty of time to talk about these kinda things.

Speaking of Heartgirl, she doesn’t wanna show up here. So I won’t write of her anymore. Maybe she’ll change her mind but don’t think so. Cause she thinks that this is a blog about me being a womanizer – but that’s just the marketing message.

Me: It’s not. (pause) The truth is, it’s the story of a boy like me looking for a girlie like you. (thinking) And hoping, I mean really, really hoping, that this time, it’ll be different.


Location: wide-awake in my pad
Mood: nostalgic
Music: I wish I knew the time that I’ve taken I pray is not wasted

Can you hold this for me?

Location: my black chair in my pad
Mood: awake
Music: I know I’ve got to let it go and just enjoy the show

It appears that the weekend life of a reforming womanizer’s pretty boring and may involve: leaving parties at 12:30, picking up women for friends, cleaning the house and eating one’s weight in blueberries. Alla which are far more entertaining with a Dark ‘n Stormy.

Told you before that I’ve done some awful things in my life. Most I can’t talk about. But one thing I’m deeply ashamed of is the number of times someone gave me their heart and essentially said, Here, can you hold this for me? And take carea it, willya?

And I nod and immediately turn around, stomp the crap outta it and hand it back a wreck. It’s a jerk thing to do. And I did it way too often in my 20s.

Course, someone did it to me two years ago and nuthin realigns your thinking faster than eating the stuff you make someone else eat, yeah?

That’s why I keep thinking of Caligirl and if she’s right. What if I really do screw everything up so I don’t have to go through it again? Sir Edmond Hilary once said that, It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves.

It’s not easy, trying to be a better than you once were.

YASYCTAI: Get your shoes shined. They’ll last longer and you’ll look better. Hurry, before it’s winter. (10 mins/1 pt)

First of the Month

Location: a beige sofa
Mood: awake
Music: can’t think of the right words to say

: It’s that bitch Janet from Bill’s office on the phone. Man, I can’t…
Me: (interrupting) Please tell me she’s on hold!
Her: I’m not you, Logan…
Me: Hey, what…?
Her: (turning back to phone, singsongy) Helloooo Janet, Logan’s right here. Please wait? (turning to me, flatly) Bitch, line one.

The first of the month is always…stressful. I have to write five-figures worth of checks every first of the month:

  • mortgage
  • office rent
  • salaries
  • utilities
  • equipment costs
  • car payments
  • credit cards
  • insurance

The Devil’s laughing in my head all the damn time.

Got home close to ten that night and a redhead I was seeing stopped by to drop off something so I invited her in for some rum.

Her: I’m just killing time with him. He tells me things like he misses me and I just don’t wanna hear it. At least the extra-curricular activities’re interesting. Most of the time.
Me: And the other times?
Her: I fake it.
Me: Jeez.
Her: I’ve got things to do! (pause) Y’know, he doesn’t even drink. I mean he lets me drink but…
Me: Man, that’s like giving yourself a roofie.
Her: (laughs) I suppose it is. So…tell me about Heartgirl.
Me: (grins)

Speaking of Heartgirl, saw her on Thursday.

Her: I think I’m afraid of being in a relationship.
Me: Yeah. I know what you mean.
Her: I hate your taste in music. (pause) But I like you.
Me: (shrugging) Works for me.

YASYCTAI: Clean the bathroom; you know it needs it. (30 mins / 1pt)

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