Month: August 2018

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personal

Michael and the emperor of emperors

Karma is garbage


Met so many wonderful souls when Alison got sick. One was a fella named Michael. He’d been diagnosed with GBM six years ago, three years before Alison. Yet he was much higher functioning than her: He still worked and swam almost every day.

He did every experimental treatment he could. We spoke often, even after Alison’s death, the last time being July 23, 2018. He was worried about me.

How’s that for a kick in the head?

We talked about our kids a lot. Michael had two little girls that he adored. He fought like crazy to watch them grow up, just like Alison did.

And, just like Alison, he doesn’t get that chance, cause he died this week.

Fuck.

John McCain died this week as well, which is certainly less impactful but still a nice dose of fuckery for me and my addled head.

Michael was also the one that introduced me to Jeffrey Weiss who died last year from this goddamn thing. All of them died from the same cancer that took Alison.

Fuck. Did I say that already? I think people overuse it; it’s like antibiotics IMHO. You should use it when you really need it.

In any case, cancer’s called the emperor of all maladies; if that’s true, then GBM is the Emperor of all emperors. Capo di tutti capi. It’s kills so perfectly that, I gotta think that the other cancers are jealous.

I’ve always prided myself on not really hating much. There are things I dislike but few things I hate. Who has the time to hate?

But I hate this goddamn thing. If I could kill it with my bare hands, I would, then revive it to kill it again.

I’ve also learned to hate the concept of karma.

If ever there was a horseshit idea, there’s karma. Alison and Michael sure as fuck did not deserve this bullshit deal they got. Dunno anyone with GBM that did.

Sorry, I’m rambling. I’m battling a cold and my sleep’s been awful these days. August has been awful. It’s been a month of lies, terrible truths, death, and endings.

I’m tired of it all. I just wanna sleep and not know anything, especially about this fucking cancer. Blessed are the forgetful and alla that…

But I do know it.

I know a lotta things I don’t wanna know. So many things.

Fuck.

Location: a red chair
Mood: sick
Music: Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray, it might come true
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personal

Logan with a lotta baggage

Bye-bye. Broke.

Friday, went to the cemetery for the first time since that awful day. I did not handle it well at all. McCain‘s passing and some other rough stories about friends meant that my August continued to be less-than-ideal.

In any case, afterward, my sis, her husband, and I went to eat some Korean food; I had the goat, which was pretty terrible.

It’s fine. It was a terrible day.

The boy’s been talking about Gymgirl a lot.

Mom: So what happened?
Me: What do you mean?
Her: He said, “Gymgirl, bye-bye. Broke. No more.” So what happened?
Me: (shrugging) The same thing that always happens to everyone, mom. Life. Life happened.

As for my talking, dating seems to come up with all my friends, quite often.  We all agree on this about it: It’s the constant disappointment that wears you down.

JF1: Dating is definitely – reliably – disappointing.
Me: That’s the worst, isn’t it? You put all this excitement and emotion into someone and then it all turns to crap. It’s designed to always turn into crap every time…except once. And even then, at least with me…

Then again, she’s 29, tall, beautiful, and blond. I’m 45, and neither tall nor blond.

Still, in my head, I think I’m 12 years better than I was before.

Thought about about Gradgirl and my ex, No 6, recently. Not a lot, enough. Not in a romantic sense. In a, it’d be nice to chat, sense. Couldn’t sleep the other night – of course – and was close to calling one of them.

But I got up and made a batch of chocolates instead. Sugar-free in case you’re wondering.

On the plus side, not one but two different people sent me this article to boost my ego: For Online Daters, Women Peak at 18 While Men Peak at 50, Study Finds. Oy.

Yes, that’s crazy unfair, I agree.

But, you gotta admit: Life’s been plenty unfair enough to me already.

ABFF: Dating sucks. Don’t get your hopes up, Logan.
Me: Cm’on, lady! Hope’s all I got.

Although I do manage to find entertainment where I can:

Her: Sandi – with an “i.”
Me: Nice to meet you, Sandi-with-an-i. Logan (thinking) with a lotta baggage.
Her: (laughs) Nice to meet you, Logan-with-a-lotta-baggage.
Me:  (grinning) Yeah, you laugh now, you haven’t seen my baggage yet, darling…

Ended up calling Gradgirl again, after all.

That deserves an entry on it’s own but it’s a story for later.

The insomnia is…better? It’s rotten, versus @#$@#$#@ horrible. That’s better by my reckoning.

Location: a train with passenger that wanted to be home
Mood: thoughtful
Music: I regret every single thing I ever said, I said those things too softly
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personal

Here until you’re ready

I lost my father this time last year

My father was supposed to teach the kid how to make sushi.

He was supposed to teach him Chinese and Japanese.

He was supposed to explain pi to him.

He was supposed to show him how to make eggs.

And he was supposed to show me stuff too. He was supposed to tell me how to be a good father.

I have an indescribable hole in my person, not having him or Alison here to help me with the boy. It’s like a Schrödinger’s cat paradox: I’ll never know who the boy woulda been in the presence of them, with their influence. Nor will I know what kinda father I woulda been with them here.

When you take someone away, you’re never the same person that you woulda been if they were there.

It’s a feeling of despairing empty grief that I can only describe like this: Imagine you spent the day making dinner for someone you love. All that excitement and preparation. They’re late. And then you get a phone call that starts, “Mr. Lo? I’m calling about your father. I’m sorry, but…”

Except it’s every moment of every day, twice as bad after dusk, and exponentially more on the 24th. That’s the day I lock myself in my apartment alone and put on my real face. The one the boy’s never seen.

They were both supposed to be here, Alison and my dad. Nuthin is like it was supposed to be. All our beautiful plans…

I miss my dad. I miss my family. I made this goddamn dinner and no one’s here for it.

I wasn’t ready.

Fuck all, I’m never ready.

Me: (running in) What’s wrong?
Him: (quietly) I want papa.
Me: Are you afraid?
Him: (nods)
Me: (lying down next to crib) Don’t be afraid, Nate. I’m here. (sticks hand into crib, boy takes it) I’ll stay here until you fall asleep, ok?
Him: OK, papa. (closes eyes)
Me: (on the floor) Life is sweet, in spite of the misery. I’m here. And I’ll be here until you’re ready.

Location: with a large glass of mint-flavored whiskey thanks to the day and yet another scare. It’s always something.
Mood: hollowed
Music: It’s a crying shame. Who pulled you down again?
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The Captain and the Kid

Having Tea with the Kid

Me: I love you, kid.
Him: I love you too, papa.

Holy s__tballs! Well, this was the best night this month, which, let’s be honest, is a low bar.  Not gonna lie, I might’ve wept a little. Just a bit.

Got no one to share it with, so I share it with you.

Speaking of the kid, I try not to write about him cause I always try to remember what it was like when I was a kid: I didn’t want to be discussed and dissected in public.

But now I get why my parents did it. Cause parents love their kids so much that they wanna talk about them and show them off.

So I allow myself a post every so often.

When my sister-in-law brought him home the other day, the song Clocks came on and he knew all the words and that the band was “cold.”

No idea where he picked that up from; she had no idea either.* Kids are really like sponges.

A song I’ve been listening to a lot is a song called Imaginary Tea about a dad writing about having imaginary tea time with his daughter.

I loved you before I heard ever heard your voice
Before I even knew your name
I loved you before I saw those pretty eyes
I loved you right away

That’s precisely how I feel about the kid and if ever there was a song that summed up parenthood, it’s this song.

Speaking of parents and parenthood, the one-year anniversary of my dad passing will be this Friday.

The kid’ll be away and I’ll be locked in my room with my half-bottle of rum, which is all that’s left of the rum from the cruise.

Last year, I had people around. This year, it’s just me and Captain Morgan.

Holy s__tballs (again). What an awful month this has been.

Then again, everything around me seems to go to hell. I’ll take it, though, if that means the kid’ll be ok. Alison woulda felt the same way.

We’d suffer any sling and arrow if the kid’s ok.

Me: Do you wanna hear that song again?
Him: (nodding) Yes, papa.
Me: OK!

*edit: My mother-in-law told me they listen to the album in the car; mystery solved!

Location: surrounded by dishes
Mood: nostalgic
Music: I’ve been picking up the pieces of the mess you made
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No place to go

Loss and threat of loss

ABFF: I read about the breakup and your insomnia, are you ok?
Me: Strictly, speaking, I haven’t been ok since November 8, 2015. But I’ll survive. After all, that’s what I do, right?

Wrote once that anxiety is fear of the hypothetical. But if you look at it from the fear side of the equation, there are really only two types of anxiety:

  1. Fear of loss
  2. Fear of the threat of loss

I’ve dealt with the horrible realization of some of the worst fears any human being can imagine. Repeatedly. And whenever I thought no horror could top what I was experiencing, life was like: Not done with you yet, man.

On a smaller scale, some fears regarding the Gymgirl were realized recently. As I said, everyone’s grief is grief to them, even when they’ve dealt with the worst-of-the-worst for so long.

After all, I adored the girl.

This blogger named Jamie Anderson wrote:

Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.

The start of my insomnia was actually because the father of one of my oldest and dearest friends just passed away, in a similarly horrifying and grotesque way. I actually fell to my knees when I heard. Literally, my knees buckled. Because I knew everything he was feeling and felt it with him.

What happened with the Gymgirl happened the very next day and just added fuel to the fire.

Agony plus grief is, well, just a lotta f__king grief.

I sent my buddy the quote above in the hopes that understanding grief would make it a little more bearable. It did for me. Kindasortamaybe.

The plus side of this type of grief is clarity, i.e., the disappearance of anxiety. My buddy, I hope, has some peace cause the hypothetical becomes concrete.

Although, I’m sure he, like I, wish it were all concrete in the opposite direction. Then again, I wish for a lotta things.

For me, I now know all this information that I never knew before about my relationship with the Gymgirl. She knew, I didn’t, rather.

If nothing else, this new info allows me to see things in a different light, and that’s somehow better. Somehow.

Her: I’m sorry, Logan. You don’t have time for this.
Me: (dismissively) Don’t worry about me, I’ve been through this, so many times, before. Sometimes you’re the dumper, sometimes you’re the dumpee. I’ve always said that I prefer being the dumpee if given the choice.
Her: Why?
Me: (shrugging) Cause there’s nothing for me to do but take my ball and go home. Now she and I both know what’s in the other person’s head. It’s too bad we weren’t listening to each other this whole time.

Him: [The Gymgirl] sounded great. Can’t you two work it out?
Me: (rolling eyes) How do I do that? Make a 15-slide powerpoint presentation that starts: Reason 1 that the kid and I should be enough…? That’s not how it works. She’s an adult, I gotta respect the choices she makes. But there is an upshot to alla this.
Him: What’s that?
Me: (thinking) I now know that I can feel something for someone again that’s not Alison. That’s eye-opening. Was always worried that it would just be a parade of randos that I’d have to somehow explain to the boy.
Him: (amused) So, no parade of randos?
Me: Well, I didn’t say that. The boy has his own room, I could always…
Him: (laughing, interrupting) I’ve seen your powerpoint presentations. You should consider that first, Logan.

Gradgirl once told me: I could never love someone that wasn’t in love with me.

That was good advice.

I joke about the parade of randos but some people leave a deeper mark on my life than I care to admit.

Location: on a white couch with the boy
Mood: okay
Music: we are fools. Throw our lives away, for one happy day
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personal

You wouldn’t believe me…

…if I told you how little sleep I’ve had

This latest bout of insomnia actually started a few days before the breakup. The breakup and the manner in which it happened didn’t help, though.

It’s one of the worst ones I’ve had in ages; not including when just I stopped sleeping when Alison was first diagnosed.

Cable: You start hallucinating yet?
Me: Yup. I assume you’ve been awake this long before too if you know about it. Saw a ghost on all fours walk up my wall.

I slept zero hours in the past 48. It might also be that I’ve not gone to the gym, but then again, I’m in no shape to go to the gym.

And none of my normal meds, plus some recently added stuff from a friend, seem to be helping.

The  boy’s away, in case you’re concerned. Which is good, cause I just found my watch in the fridge.

Her: Are you ok?
Me: I haven’t been ok since November 8th, 2015.

I’m considering checking into a hotel. The pad’s empty save for memories I don’t wanna remember.

On a different note, I look great. I think I’ve lost four pounds. But I don’t advise it as a dieting scheme.

Me: (to self) Well, this isn’t good. (turning) Boy!
Son: (runs in) Yes, papa?
Me: You’ll be having water and peanut butter for a while. Papa will just be having water.
He: (laughs) OK, papa.

Well, while my personal life is in the tanker, at least my finances are also plummeting as well, so there’s that.

Honestly, though, I’d give my life savings right now for some sleep.

Location: with ghosts and demons, evidently
Mood: exhausted
Music: All I know is that you drove us off the road
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A lie is the truth, until

Giving and getting dating advice

JF1: Welp, I just ended things with the guy I’m seeing too. Heartbroken and disappointed again.

I think because I’m recently single, people are reaching out to me (a) to check in on me and (b) to relate their own dating issues.

A girl from my past – she’s been in the blog before but I’m renaming her JF1 –  just dropped me a line because almost exactly what happened to me with my last major girlfriend before Alison, happened to her. And she handled it the same way I did – better, even.

Dunno how much I can tell you, since it’s not my story to tell. I will say that little impresses me more than true bravery.

Cause she decided she’d rather be alone than be anyone’s second choice – and she’s a tall drink of water, so that guy’s an idiot.

There’s something about someone that stands up and is honest and brave, come what may.

It’s actually why I fell so hard for Alison; you get points in life for being brave. Alison was the bravest person I’ve ever met. Still is.

Just like everything valuable, bravery’s valuable cause it’s rare and difficult to find.

Me: You just walked out and bought a plane ticket that moment? Balls! Wow. Legit, impressed. You’re a rockstar.

Her: Yeah. I (packed my stuff), left him a note, and left.

Other friends are asking me for advice about their love life.

Find this amusing cause I’m great at having people enter my Venn Diagram. Having them stay is a wholly different matter.

Him: Hey, one last question, since I have you.
Me: Sure, hit me.
Him: What do you think about someone who’s life’s motto is: “A lie is truth, until it is uncovered and labeled as a lie.” Thoughts?
Me: (thinking, slowly) I think that when someone tells you what they’re all about, you should believe them. Even more if they show you…
Him: Smart. Super smart.
Me: I’m not just a pretty face, man.
Him: Oh, I’ve known that since the moment we made eye contact.
Me: Thanks…wait…(you heard I said “just” right)?

Got more time to write so I’ll write more later/tonight/soon.

If I can clear my head. Insomnia is a special form of torture.

1834.08.04, in case you were wondering.

Location: coming back from the world. I prefer being in my head
Mood: dull and vicious
Music: I’m a sucker for the way that you move, babe
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Conversations with Rose, Pt2

What am I, a child?

Rose and I talked for a lot longer than either of us expected we would.

Mentioned that I was still online friends with about a quarter of the women I (very) casually dated but not with anyone I dated seriously in my life.

Me: I got a lotta randos on my f-list, which is fine, because I’m a rando to them. Could probably cut out 90% of those and not blink. Told Alison I’d do it for her but she told me she didn’t care. She knew that I didn’t f___ with marriage. 
Her: Oh, no. I’m not friends with any of them at all. And I’d kill my husband if I found out he was talking to or seeing an ex.
Me: Does it really matter? Fiat and prohibition? You can’t stop people from doing what they wanna do. Even when you stop them from doing it, in their heart, they still wanna do it. You just end up making them wanna do it more. If someone thinks someone or something else is a better offer, you can’t do much but let them go find out.

As for her, she ended up marrying her fella from the UK not that long ago.

Her: I think we had quail.
Me: God, you’re so British.

I couldn’t go to the wedding cause it was in the UK and: Cancer, kid, life, death, drinking. You pick.

Her: I actually met him when I was Gymgirl’s age. We broke up for…three years? Because of a buncha things. It was Bobby that convinced me to try again.
Me: (curious) Why’d you try again?
Her: He was trying to get back with me. (laughs) He was 31 when he came back. I told him to put a ring on it or go away.
Me: Evidently, that worked.
Her: Evidently. (glancing down at phone) Oh, that’s him…

It was late when we started finishing up.

Me: I gotta kick you out.
Her: Fiiiine. I’m gonna chug this. (drinks more of my rum) You’re not really going back in the dating world are you?
Me: Not unless you can get me a trust fund baby. (grinning) Don’t think I’ve been single and non-suicidal for … ever. Maybe I should try it.
Her: You should. Hey, whatever happened to Daisy, or Gradgirl? Or X?
Me: X’s gone. Daisy’s seeing the love of her life. So is Gradgirl, I think. Besides, neither looks at love and marriage like you and I do.
Her: Yeah, you gotta respect marriage, or even committed relationships. (thinking) How do you keep meeting all these women? Do you use an app?
Me: Why do people keep asking that? I use my personality and this face here. (points at face)
Her: (laughs) Well, stop bashing it all up.

We talked and drank a little more. Had a whole conversation about God that I gotta organize and write about someday but not right now.

I will say:

Her: I feel the need to tell you that I’m about to cry. I’m not asking you to stop, but…
Me: OK, then just lemme say that if there is a God – your God – he f___ked my family. And now, (sighing) we can stop.

On that pleasant note, she got ready to go.

Her: Hey, if the Gymgirl comes back (pause) talk to her, OK?
Me: Sure. We’re in the same orbit and I owe her a lot. But why?
Her: Maybe I like her, despite everything. (shrugging) She impresses me. She’s impressive. She kept your attention and she kept you from dying. Both are unique and both are something. Big somethings. No excuse but still…
Me: Like I said, we should all be with the one we want most. But, I’ll take it under advisement. Now, you gonna get back to your hotel ok?
Her: What am I, a child? (hugs me) I can hold my liquor, Logan.
Me: So you keep telling me. Goodnight, Rose.
Her: Night, Logan.

Location: don’t even ask
Mood: hot
Music: in love with the shape of you
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Conversations with Rose, Pt1

Rum infused conversations are the best

Rose came by recently, as promised. She wanted to meet the boy.

Her: OMG, he’s so adorable!
Me: (shrugging) Eh, I’m required by law to keep him for the next 16 years, regardless.

Don’t let too many people meet him because he’s my most precious thing.

She thinks that I’m a good father although she’s concerned about my extracurricular activities.

Her: Y’know, a womanizer is not a good thing to be.
Me: We’re all what we are. And you sit and drink with me, anyway. So you’re obviously ok with it.

But she was there throughout Alison’s ordeal and more than earned the right to see the boy and me.

Her: So, you’re single again?
Me: Evidently. Now, why are you an investment banker if you can’t get me a wealthy investor banker? What good are you to me?
Her: To be clear, I’m a hedge fund girl.
Me: Then get me one of those.
Her: They’re pretty high in demand, you know.
Me: Please, *I’m* pretty high in demand. This is a waste of a friendship.
Her: (laughs) You do fine.

She wanted to know what I was up to, so I told her about the kid, work, and the Gymgirl.

Me: …and that’s all I have to say about it.
Her: She sounds like an typical 28-year-old girl. I know this because I was a typical 28-year-old girl and 28-year-old girls do things that don’t make a lotta sense. You’d be surprised at how much insecurity we have.
Me: You’re cute, I’m surprised fellas weren’t all up your grill.
Her: Sure, but not the right ones. Any girl can get a guy, it’s getting the right guy that matters.
Me: There’s a saying someone once told me in Chinese: 我不想要别人的东西: I don’t want another person’s things. I can’t take what belongs to someone else. That’s why you’re, as a married woman, safe here with me. For all my faults, I don’t f___ with married women.
Her: But aren’t you someone else’s thing, too?
Me: Fair. But the love of my life is no longer on the planet. The love of yours is. Likewise for her. I can’t stand between someone and what they want.
Her: And how do you know what she wants, Logan?

She told me a few other interesting things I wasn’t prepared for.

Me: Wait, you sold drugs? You were a drug pusher? You can’t be a drug pusher and be in my house.
Her: (rolling eyes) It was in college. Like I said, young people do stupid things. I liked having my own stash and some nice designer bags. Make sure you put that in your blog.
Me: How do you know you’ll even make it in? And that’s a distinction without a difference, Rose.
Her: Of course your gonna write about me, I give you some great dialogue.

We ended up talking about her husband, God, Trump, the Gymgirl, and other women and things in my life.

But it’s late and I’m really lit so I’ll finish this tomorrow. Or something.

Location: sitting with Rose looking at a picture of another time
Mood: lit
Music: talk that talk, baby; better walk that walk
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All that glitters is not gold

Playing cards with friends

Her: “All that glitters is gold.”
Me: (laughing) The saying is, “All that glitters is NOT gold.” You got that precisely wrong

Gymgirl’s gone again. The details are unimportant.

She’s great; I adored her, really. We just don’t see the world the same way.

Despite my reservations, three buddies of mine just showed up for drinks by mine…

…along with food, which I had to decline because of personal reasons.

Him: Man, you really didn’t eat anything.
Me: I told you, I’m a rock. I’m a goddamn brick wall.

Now, I desperately need sleep – see the convo below – which is another entry entirely, but I couldn’t say no to them.

I’m pretty touched that my friends always show up to see how I’m doing. Although they made their feelings about her clear as well.

Him: We all liked you with her, man. How much sleep have you gotten this week?
Me: Nine hours in the last 96.
Him: Are you sure you should be making decisions like this right now?
Me: (shrugging)The die is cast. We make our choices in life and accept the ramifications. Both of us. Alla us. These are the cards she dealt me and I, her. So we play them as we do.

Perhaps they’re my friends because I’m old as dirt and have learned a thing or two along the way.

Or maybe there’s just something in my life that makes some people wanna stay yet others not.

Death and f____ing cancer notwithstanding.

Although some of them could be a bit more supportive than others.

Me: What are you talking about? I’m the best looking Asian from our old gym.
Him: No, that’d be your cousin.
Me: (thinking) OK, that’s fair. She’s lovely.

Location: in the world, doing some work I’ve not done in a while
Mood: accepting
Music: Now, all I know, I know all these things
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