Anniversary II

I thought she was too tough to ever go away

Clock on 73rd and Broadway

This conversation happened around 1982.

Me: Is it dead?
Her: (taking cigarette out) Nah. (exhaling smoke and looking up) I think it just fell outta it’s nest.
Me: We have to help it, we have to get it back!
Her: Fine, fine. Hold on. (leaning over to pick up the robin in one hand and with her cigarette in the other, climbs up tree, deposits bird, climbs back down) There – y’happy?
Me: (beaming) Yes, grandma.
Her: (smiling then putting cigarette back in mouth) Good. Cm’on kid, your mom’s waiting.

We all thought y’were too tough to ever go away.

It’s raining here, which sounds about right

Location: my hot room
Mood: only ok
Music: And rain will make the flowers grow

Something better than average

Location: back at my desk
Mood: thirsty
Music: we’ve got the movement that bends us to break

Snow on the 72nd Street Pier in NYC

Her: It’s too hot to grill. It’s too hot to do anything.
Me: (panting) In fact it’s so hot that all we can do is sit here and talk about how hot it is.

Severala my friends find themselves newly single at this point, which explains all of the dating related entries again these days. It’s like old times.

Him: My date last night said she doesn’t want a guy that treats dating like an occupation.
Me: That makes zero sense to me. Think about how much work y’put into a getting a good job. Meeting someone that you love should deserves at least that much dedication and care.
Him: Where’s the romance in that?
Me: What’s more romantic: Telling someone that y’love her because she had the locker next to yours in high school or telling someone that you’ve met the world and she’s the best thing in it? Telling someone you’ve set her apart. Romantic is: I will bust my ass to make this work cause you’re my favourite.
Him: She’s just looking for someone who dates…normal.
Me: Normal means average. Average means just like everyone else. Normal here means that most marriages end in divorce 66% of the time, dude. Even if she wants average, y’should want something more for yourself. Be honest with yourself and her – tell her the truth.
Him: And what’s the truth?
Me: That you’re looking for someone, something more. Something y’can’t put inna words.

Y’should want something more than the reality that, if you get married, chances are over 2-to-1 that you’ll also get a side of divorce to go with your fancy wedding.

Goodness, people, y’should want something more than just average.


For anyone taking the bar exam, you’re probably already sitting and writing like mad. But good luck anywho.

YASYCTAI: Treat it at least as importantly as you would your occupation. (1 minute/1 pt)


It’s really the disappointment that wears you down

Sitting on a street curb in NYC


Me: You don’t care at all about that? It’s part of what makes a woman attractive.
Him: (laughing) Some like the attic, some like the basement. I’m a basement man, you’re an attic man.
Me: Well, that’s certainly a colourful way of putting it.
Him: (sighing) I still love her, y’know. Even though she’s evil.
Me: She’s pure evil. (patting him on shoulder) But I know. It’ll get better.

Take a lot of classes. Classes for wrasslin, fencing, law, etc.

Was talking to one of my instructors the other day, who’s been doing his thing for 20 years. We’ve known each other maybe seven/eight years. Told me outta the blue that he’s gonna be calling it quits soon.

This surprised me.

Me: Why?
Him: I can’t take the disappointment any more.
Me: (confused) The disappointment of your students quitting? Or the disappointment of them not practicing? Or of them not caring?
Him: (nodding) Yes.

It’s sad but true. My friends don’t wanna date cause it’s really the disappointment that gets you. Others have stopped looking for work. Still others have stopped trying to take those chances.

It’s bound to happen some time. He’s in his late 50s so maybe it’s time.

Still, it kept me up the other night. Something about teachers requires that they hope that someone listens, someone cares – no matter how many times they’re disappointed. It’s a hard and often thankless job.

So, climbed outta bed and practiced quietly in the dark. 1, 2, 3…

Location: in the back room
Mood: pensive
Music: It’s too late – much too late, too late for the young gun
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Iron intelligence

As Iron Sharpens Iron

Small leak in my ceiling

Me: (discussing the triathlon) If there’s a competition in three parts where the first part is solving a computer problem, the second part is fencing, and the third part is cooking, I’d totally rock that.
Her: (laughing) You would totally rock that.

With the exception of maybe Jaerik, don’t think mosta you read when I wrote my favourite quote in the world from this dude named Schopenhauer that goes, With increased intelligence, comes increased capacity for pain.

Him: She left. Think I need to be by myself for a bit.
Me: Sorry to hear that, man. But I think that that’s not the way to do it – get out there and date.
Him: I don’t wanna get back out there.
Me: You gotta. Interacting with a buncha new people’s the best way to learn about yourself – as iron sharpens iron so does one person sharpen another. Plus it’s self-correcting: Say you do it for six months. In six months, let’s say you finally meet a great girl. You’re golden. Say your ex comes back. After six months of dating other women, you’ve learned that much more about yourself. You’re golden. Let’s say neither after six months. You’re still out there getting better and meeting women. So you’re still golden.
Him: I shouldn’t have lied to her.
Me: No, you shouldn’t have. But you did. And you can’t plead, argue, logic or beg someone to care. All you can do it take the pain and deal with it. Leave her alone – she’ll either come back or won’t. Either way, handle yourself first.

Speakinga Jaerik – since it’s now public knowledge – congrats for your company selling Islandlife.

The offer for manservant’s still open.

In other news, got a small leak in my kitchen ceiling.

Location: Still sweating at my pad
Mood: Still hot
Music: One fine day You’re gonna want me

Writer’s Block

Down the Stairs

Manhattan from Roosevelt Island
Me: (standing at edge of stairs) …so that’s what I did today.
Her: (taking my arm) Be careful of those stairs, you make me nervous. You’re so clumsy you’ll just fall down them and break something.
Me: I’d be offended if that wasn’t true.


Just figured out how to kill someone that makes sense.

Easy there, it’s a character that needed to go in my manuscript. For the past 53 days, this @#$@#$@#! guy was just taunting me.

Writers hit these logical issues that they either try to work around or just ignore. When you work around it, you get great story-telling. When you don’t and just hope folks don’t notice, y’get all the post-Unbreakable crap that M. Night Shyamalan’s been putting out.

Really dude, an alien race that can be killed by water invades a planet that’s 70.9%+ water?!?! Oh, how I hate you…

Anywho, writing up a storm since resolving this logical issue. Have even treated myself to some low-carb ice cream.

Yesterday was a fine day.

Good Parts

Location: my pad, melting
Mood: tired of summer
Music: not proud of how I’ve been

Jaymay singing in NYC

Jaymay’s gonna be singing every Friday in September at Rockwood Music Hall and she announced this with a posting and a picture. My picture. (!)

Funny thing’s that she had a photographer there but used my pic. There’s probably a simple reason that she used mine but in my head, it’s cause she liked mine the best.

Things’re always better in my head.


Met up with another lawyer for lunch today at a restaurant in Chinatown. She referred some business to me the other day and wanted to take her out to eat. In the middle of the meal, the waiter leans in and says, Hey, Logan.

Turn to look and there’s a buddy of mine, smiling. He’s doing some recon, apparently, on the restaurant for the owner. Sometimes NY’s a small town.

Was downtown to pickup my SecurePass. Like I said, not a court lawyer but the past coupla years, been to court so many times, figured having the card makes sense.

Gotta say, holding it felt like something special. Stupid, really. But still, wanna think that I’m getting back to what I once was. The good parts, anyway.


Attempted to get frisky with the lady last evening but we both ended up in a laughing fit.


YASYCTAI: Make a lista what’re your good parts. It’s good to have a list like that. (60 mins/1 pt)

Art is…

The One where Logan rants about ranting

Almost Tribeca, NY

Her: If I left, I’d just take my stuff and walk out the door. You’re not a jerk so I don’t need one.
Me: Ok then, so I won’t write up a prenup if we ever get hitched.
Her: (laughing) It’s funny, we’re planning out the divorce before we’re planning out the marriage.

Immediately prior to Lincoln’s Getteysburg’s Address – which was only ten minutes long – a fella gave a two-hour, 13,607-word speech. You know who that was? Me neither. Cause no one remembers or cares.

Have you ever read just crap poetry? Or seen crap art in general? You thought, in some fashion, How the hell is this art?

When you’re a kid, you think that art is all about unfettered freedom and novelty. But real art comes from limiting yourself. It’s about conveying the maximum depth of meaning with as little possible – words, time, paint, whatever.

Art’s efficient.

Look, my drivel’s not art, but I still try. Whenever I’m done writing, pour a cup of joe, sigh, and then start whittling down.

Almost all of Shakespeare’s stuff’s in iambic pentameter, which is freaking hard enough without a delete key. Oscar Wilde wrote the shortest telegram in history to ask his publisher how his book was doing.

Oscar: ?
Publisher: !

Art only happens with restraint; and if you’re writing and not getting a dime for it, it should be art somehow, yeah?

Otherwise it’s just ranting and ranting is worse than a waste. It’s a bore.

Location: waiting to wrassle
Mood: melting
Music: You’re not here but it’s ok I assure you babe

My 4th Weekend, 2010

Location: getting ready to go to a meeting on the east side
Mood: busy
Music: Don’t know where to start or when to stop

Looking west in Manhattan towards the setting sun

Kinda obvious, that we’re all the same with our god-given rights.
The right to inhale and exhale.
The right to live how we wanna.
The right to be happy.


Spent mosta the weekend covered in paint. Painted all the cabinets in my kitchen. Been meaning to do that for the past decade or so but never got around to it.

It’s crazy how fast time passes. Hadta wake up at 6AM Friday and Saturday to do it all. Afterward, met up with my coach and some fellas to catch the UFC 116 at a local bar.

Him: How long have you two known each other?
Me: A long time – he spent 9/11 at my apartment.
Coach: Yeah, it’s been a while.


My brother came into town for the weekend. As I stumbled outta the bar, he texted me that he was nearby so I met up with him at a local pizza joint – of course.

The next morning…

Me: What do you want for breakfast?
Him: Wanna order a pizza?
Me: Works for me.
Him: (later) I think the delivery guy dropped our pizza or something – all the cheese and toppings’re on one slice.
Me: Can I have that slice?


After touching up the cabinets, spent the fourth in bed, hiding from the heat. Watched Outsourced before we passed out. Woke and drove out to see the folks on Monday. Was hot but not brutally so. And the empty streets made it a nice drive.

Her: I’ve decided that we should always stay in the city over holidays where people go away. (later) Did you shave?
Me: No.
Her: Yes you did, I can tell.
Me: Then why did you ask?

It’s not that we don’t like people. We just don’t like people all up in our grill 24/7.


We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life,
Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.

YASYCTAI: If you live here in the US, be a little grateful. There are some scary places out there. (10 mins/1 pt)

Let it burn

Sometime we have let go of the old things we love to let in the new

A roof on fire in the big city.


Did you ever wonder why NYC’s, NYC? That is to say, how it became the biggest city in the world? Why not Boston, Philly, or DC?

In 1776, this massive fire occurred and pretty much wiped out the city as it was.

Afterward, the city made a decision in 1811 to set up the grid pattern we all know in NYC – doesn’t sound like much until you think that most everything past 14th street was forest.

Other places, like Boston, would have been like, “Well, there’s a tree where the road should go, and no one’s here anyway, so let’s just build a road around the tree.” But the plan said to cut down any tree and fill in any stream in the way of the streets – which most people thought of as insane and wasteful.

But cause they did that, the city grew in an orderly fashion and immigrants – like my folks – that couldn’t speak a lick of English could get around the city. So they came here.

Another one of my buddies called me today:

Me: What’s the dilly?
Him: Flipped the company. For $100M.
Me: Oh, NICE! Are you rich? More to the point, do you owe me money?
Him. “Yes,” and “no.”
Me: Wait – $100K or $100M?
Him: $100M.
Me: Do you need a manservant? I can be like Cato.
Him: That would be awesome. “I’m home!” WHAM!

He too had a hard life, as did Sheridan. Something about suffering makes y’want to succeed, to make things better.

Chris Rock once said that, “There’s something about being picked on that makes you work harder to make a reality where no body picks on you.”

It’s not true for everyone; some people that suffer stay broken. But the ones that get better – oftentimes – get a lot better. Bendy. The broken ones tend to get more broken.

If you’re the former, sing it with me – We don’t need no water, let the @#$@#$ burn…


Location: near Grand Central
Mood: ambitious
Music: she all fly But I can take the heat
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