Month: September 2018

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personal

Intent versus skill

Life is 80% intent

I went to my old haunt Solas again this past weekend. It was for a buddy’s 30th birthday party.

Funny thing was I that I remember turning 30 there also. I think. I don’t have any pics but that pic above is from another buddy’s birthday 19 years ago. Been going there a really long time.

Now, on the way there, my buddy asked to see me do some pickup.

Him: I’ll pay you $5 for each girl you pick up.
Me: (shaking head) It doesn’t work like that.

This knife fighter named William Fairbairn once said that fighting is 80% intent and 20% skill.

Now, I’d go further than that: I submit that most things are 80% intent and 20% skill.

The Gymgirl beats me about 40% of the time in the the gym when we fight, despite my outweighing her by a solid 35 pounds.

The main difference between us is intent: She hates to lose while I don’t need to win – I just wanna get in a workout and go home with all my parts intact.

Getting back to the other night, the reason I can’t just turn on pickup is that the intent isn’t there; the intent would be to show off, not to meet someone.

Don’t think people really understand how important intent is in shaping our individual worlds and the world around us.

If you look up from your computer/phone right now and look around; everything you see that isn’t biological was built by intent. Someone dreamed up whatever you’re looking at and made it into the world. Shoes, computers, desks, everything.

That’s what intent does; it makes things happen and the greater the intent, the greater the result. The only reason I was any good at pickup at all was because of the level of my intent.

After all, Man is made by his belief.

Without it, I’m just like anyone else. It was the intent that made me so good. I wanted to meet someone when I was out-and-about.

On a somewhat related note, I realized that the last time I was at that bar, I got to know the Gymgirl there almost exactly a year ago.

My intentions as to my fate at the time were pretty dark, but I remember that they weren’t quite as much with her.

An old buddy called me for the first time in months.

Rain: Hey, what’s going on with you and Gymgirl?
Me: I dunno. She doesn’t know either. At least we’re on the same page.

Location: home
Mood: hungry
Music: classy girls don’t kiss in bars, you fool
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personal

It’s been over a year, no?

Maudlin

Begin rant, with apologies to my friend Jaerik.

Someone mentioned that they found my blog maudlin.

That made me chuckle to myself. Maudlin means unduly self-pitying often with alcohol. That’s probably apropos. God knows I should probably drink less.

Still, I wonder how they expect someone – who just lost his wife and father and almost his best friend via suicide all in the same year and just over a year ago – should act?

I dunno enough about them to make a comment about their lives but I do hope they don’t have to watch the people they love die up close and personal, slowly and in fucking agony.

Cancer and suicide are nuthin if not death in slow motion.

That’s my hope for them. That they continue in their blissful, ignorant – and hopefully cancer, suicide, and death free – lives where someone can go through everything I’ve gone through and not be a little fucking maudlin.

After all, it’s been over a year, no? That’s gotta be enough time for someone to be normal again in their estimation.

I don’t think so, though.

Dunno what they’re made of but I don’t think most people would survive what I’ve survived, let alone function or raise a kid that’s – from all outward appearances – not a train wreck.

It’s hard figuring out the best way to end a rant but I always think that the way the girl with the Blue Jean Eyes used to do it was, and remains, pretty good:

Go fuck yourselves.

Me: Is he…is he happy?
Teacher: Oh yes, he’s always laughing. I mean, it’s a little rough for a minute or two when you drop him off, but then he’s fine.
Me: Good. (thinking) I worry.
Her: (gently) He’s doing well, Logan.
Me: (nodding) Thank you.

Location: In bed
Mood: sick with a fever
Music: What are you made up of?
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personal

Comings and goings

Bad idea to be friends

The insomnia lasted three days. Which, let’s face it, is better than having a whole month of it, like August.

A buddy of mine sent me this article, probably because she thinks it’s a bad idea for me to try to be friends with the Gymgirl.

I get that. I’m actually not friends – on social media or otherwise – with anyone I’ve dated seriously. (Anyone else, rather). After all, we ended for a reason and the negatives of staying friends probably outweighs the positives.

Having said that, I am friends with about 1/3 of the people I dated (very) casually.

Plus, I’ve got a number of people I’ve met throughout the years that are of the opposite sex and we just kept in touch for one reason or another.

I recently reconnected with my old LJ friend Seemore and we caught up the other day. Pretty crazy how our lives unfolded.

And I just found out that the 18 year-old Italian I met on an airplane is getting married. It makes me happier than you might imagine that she found me and stayed friends.

Finally, just recently at a train station, I ran into the other Italian that I went with to Roosevelt Island all those years ago.

Her: Logan!
Me: (turning) Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you moved away for school?
Her: I did – I’m back.
Me: Do you live in the Upper West Side now?
Her: Yup, we’re neighbors! If you’re going downtown right now, let’s catch up.

Funny, who stays and who leaves your venn diagram. And who shows up again.

Turning back to the topic of dating, one of my biggest hangups is that I assume I’m just just going to end up meeting one laco-ovo-vegetarian after another, no matter what I do.

Him: How many laco-ovo-vegetarians did you date?
Me: Put it this way: If you put me in a room with 100 single women, I’ll end up with either the only 23 year-old laco-ovo-vegetarian or the lesbian from the group.

When I was dating the Gymgirl, I picked up two people, just to see if I could. Told her about it.

In hindsight, I’m kicking myself for not asking if they were laco-ovo-vegetarians or not.

Him: (laughing) Why does that matter?
Me: (joking) I wanna know what’s in store for me after all these years. God, if I keep meeting 23 year-olds again, I’m gonna shoot myself.

Location: this weekend, in an Italian restaurant with my favourite two people. Italians are a recurring theme in my life, evidently.
Mood: thinking
Music: each morning I get up, I die a little
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personal

Sometimes the quiet darkness is your friend

Day 1 of the insomnia again


I shattered glass all over my kitchen and dropped two plates today because I got less than two hours sleep last night.

My insomnia stretches have no rhyme or reason.

I could be happy or sad and they happen. Successful or failing and they happen. Have a late night or early night and they happen.

But I did notice that a few weeks ago, when I stopped drinking coffee altogether, I slept for two days in a row without any of the hard meds I usually need.

Less than a  week ago, started drinking regular coffee again and last night, I slept for about two hours.

I also realized that No 6 and I started getting into our insane insomnia-fueled fights after we got an espresso machine.

Wrote someplace else a dozen years ago about our coffee ritual of my making us two cups of coffee before she went to work. That’s neither here nor there.

Now, I usually stop all caffeine by 4PM; the average person takes up to six hours to process caffeine.

Recall stopping coffee several times in my past with no effect on my sleep, or lack thereof. But my brother once said something like this:

The thing is, I only have, at most, two cups of coffee. But perhaps it’s related now. Maybe that and all those possible pasts that I’ve gathered in my head alla these years means that the insomnia is stronger than it’s ever been.

I used to have a ritual to help me sleep but that’s gone now for reasons I’m sure you can figure out.

Wonder sometimes if Sleepy Logan is the real me or am I just the fake him? I don’t remember so much of my pasts but he does. Dunno which one of us is the lucky one.

But we both love the boy. So I suppose it doesn’t really matter which one of us is here.

Him: Papa!
Me: What?
Him: Open the door, just a little bit.
Me: No – sometimes the quiet darkness is your friend. For example, it helps you sleep.
Him: Go to sleep, too.
Me: I would love to. If only I could.

Location: the edge of insomniaville again
Mood: clear-headed and addled at the same time
Music: Wonder how I ever made it through. And there are children to think of
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personal

The deadliest hotdog stand in the world

Neither a rapist nor a hypocrite

The Pentagon was built like the old Bastion forts in Europe where the center  was the most protected area.

During the cold war, the Russians focused a tremendous amount of time, money, and manpower to try to get access to the building in the center of the Pentagon.

What the Russians didn’t know was that the building in the middle of the Pentagon was a hot dog stand. The reason it was in the middle of the Pentagon is because of (a) pure dumb luck and (b) the fact that the world was different – the Pentagon looked like a Bastion fort but wasn’t a Bastion fort, it just looked like one.

I think we spend our lives looking at information and trying to sort out what it all means. Sometimes we get it right, sometimes we get it wrong.

After this post, got a call from a friend-of-a-friend telling me about his dating life.

Him: …and that was it. Two years together, gone like that. (sighs) I moved in with my cousin last week.
Me: (joking) If this is it, I kinda need a new roommate. (thinking) Oh wait, you have dogs…
Him: (correcting) I have *a* dog. She has the other one.
Me: That’s *a* dog too many. (sighing) Sorry, man. People tell you what they’re all about if you listen.

On that note, the Gymgirl and I were in the gym (hence, the moniker) together the other day. Traditionally, she was my partner for most things and this day, she just ended up next to me and we were partners again, just like before.

Some of my buddies asked me if I thought that something else might be going on.

Me: (thinking) The thing is, I’m not a rapist nor a hypocrite.
Him: What does that mean?
Me: A lotta guys – too many – hear “no” from women and think: She doesn’t really mean that. Then, in the best case scenario, they hope and hang around, like a stalker. In the worst case scenario, they’re rapists. I’m neither of those things.  Like I said, it’s always better to be the dumpee than the dumper:  You grab your shoes, say, Thanks for the lovely evening, and bounce. I’ve been in her position before: Where I really like someone but there’s something missing. I can’t be a hypocrite and fault her for wanting me around but not wanting something more.
Him: That’s too bad, I liked you two together.
Me: Oh, I did too. We’re having brunch together on Saturday.
Him: (laughs) I don’t understand you two.
Me: (shrugging) I’m 45. I’m constantly shocked how little I understand about anything. Especially women.

Maybe I’m looking at a hotdog stand or maybe I’m looking at the most dangerous building in the world.

Who knows what it is? We’ll have to wait and see what happens.

The boy goes to school for the first time this week. I’m beyond excited.

Location: getting a speeding ticket in midtown, yesterday
Mood: significantly poorer, man, tickets are expensive
Music: How can you say, “It doesn’t matter much to me”
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personal

The only thing that’s changed

My Labor Day 2018


The weekend was strange. But nice. Nicer than August, for the most part.

Friday, made the trip down to Alison’s family’s home in Jerz to drop the kid off. I was actually fine for most of it.

“Fine” is a relative term.

But I took a wrong turn and somehow ended up right in front of one of the hospitals she had to go to. Then, to leave, passed the very last hotel we stayed at.

God, she was so happy then. She almost glowed.

I cursed for 15 minutes straight. So much so that’d I’d lost my voice.

OK, that wasn’t the nice part.

Me: Do you wanna go to the diner around the way?
Her: I love diners.

On a slightly more upbeat note, the Gymgirl stopped by twice this holiday weekend. If you asked me why she did, I couldn’t tell you. And if you asked me why I saw her, the same.

Gymgirl: Have you seen your big plant?! When was the last time you watered it?!
Me: What day is today?
Her: Friday.
Me: I dunno why I asked what day it was. I have no idea when I did anything beyond taking care of the boy.

We ended up watching the latest Mission Impossible flick and drinking.

In fact, this weekend, I went on a bender of rum that I’ve not done in a while. She did it with me; I may have converted her to be a rum drinker.

Her: I’m going to sleep in the front room.
Me: Sure.

The second time we met up was when I woke up – mostly sober – and was in the mood for some sushi so I put up a random note that if anyone was free they should come join me.

Gymgirl said yes and we had lunch together along with another friend of ours.

I can’t explain that to you either. Not much makes sense.

Me: (puzzled) Did you just give me a bro-shake?
Her: Yes?
Me: Ok then…

My life is on repeat.

Mentioned to some of my friends that I saw her.

Him: I figure you to be more of the: Are we doing this thing? Cause if not, I’m moving on to the next thing, kinda guy.
Me: I usually am. But here, I’m just doing whatever. I’m not asking her for anything and she’s not asking me for anything.
Him: (laughing) So…you’ve officially started 6th grade again.
Me: (sighing)This is so true.

I’d be lying to you if I said it wasn’t was a nice surprise seeing her.

But the only real thing that’s changed is time. And that’s not enough for either of us.

There’s more that happened, both with and without her, but I need to sort it out, like everything else.

She said she missed the boy and I told her that he missed her too. He starts school next week, which is yet another entry I have to sort out in my head.

Only realized after she left that she cleaned the bathroom, made coffee, and folded the clothes. And she watered Harold and all the other plants.

Gotta remind myself that the only thing that’s changed is time.

Location: home, running outta rum again.
Mood: cloudy
Music: Don’t wanna wait until she finally decides to feel it
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