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Travelogue: COVID-NYC

The Sweet Caress

Had a completely sleepless night. This always worries me because I dunno if it’s a one-off thing or it’s the start of the madness.

A buddy of mine stopped by a couple of times; we kept social distancing.

Some time this week, either I injured myself rolling with Chad recently or I have insect/spider bite on my foot. This is part of why I had a sleepless night.

Regardless, I can’t walk because my foot looks like a sausage.

Doesn’t matter much, I suppose. I lent Chad my scooter for the week so I’m stuck at home regardless.

But I did manage to head downtown for a bit before that to be a tourist in my own city again so here are some pics.

And now I try and figure out if I should lie in bed all day to heal my foot, or get up in the hopes that I’ll sleep tonight.

Her: What are your plans for the day?
Me: (shrugging)The usual, emotional and physical pain, soothed by the sweet caress of rum. You?

It’s fine.

I got likes from strangers and love on the internet

Location: my empty apartment, surrounded by painkillers
Mood: less sober
Music: I can’t get out my head. It’s all because, all because (Spotify)
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On Children

And Now I’m Here

I wrote the stuff below the video way back in March 2013, not soon after Alison lost another pregnancy.

It was the start of all the horror we went through, long before the cancer. I don’t tell you everything because I’m not sure you’d believe it all. I mean, I barely believe it all, myself.

But, I’ve been chatting with two friends lately and I remembered that I never posted it because I didn’t want to bum myself out further. Or her.

The last line of the poem’s been in my head lately; on a parent (the bow) needing to be stable so that the child (the arrow) can fly as far and as high as possible.

I hope I’m enough to give the boy flight. Suppose only time will tell.

Saw him briefly this past Sunday, which I probably needed more than he. There’s more but that’s all I wanna share right now.

Me: Are you surprised?
Him: Yes, papa! I thought it was just Auntie that was coming and now you’re here.
Me: (nodding) And now I’m here. Lemme go wash up so I can give you a big hug.
Him: OK! You have to wash for 20 seconds.
Me: (laughing) Will do.

Been thinking a lot about family lately, for reasons I’d rather not get into.

My old boss told me once, when he was expecting his first child, that when men and women reach their 30s or so, they feel an incredible urge to start a family.

He’s right. Although, for me, I was a few years behind that curve.

But I feel it now; Life itself telling me that it’s time to grow up and be an adult because there are adult things I need to do. Things that need to be done.

One of my favourite poems I’ve quoted from before is Kahlil Gibran’s, On Children.

Like he says in the poem, I feel Life longing for itself and I can’t pretend not to hear anymore.

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, Speak to us of Children.
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Here’s hoping…

I wrote the earlier entry about On Children when I was mad at my dad.

I regret every argument I ever had with him and miss him terribly. There are some things that time doesn’t make any better.

Podcast Version
Location: my empty apartment, now with even more rum. And popcorn.
Mood: sober again
Music: Trust levels went way down (Spotify)
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Some of us are trees

Keeping it up

When you see a tree, you’re looking at a zombie. Essentially, 99% of a tree is dead, only 1% of it’s actually alive.

In some ways, that’s me. I respirate, ambulate, defecate, urinate, and – occasionally – fornicate.

But being alive and living are two slightly different things.

The people that met me after May 24th, 2017 only see what’s left of me, after I was hollowed out. In that sense, it’s a shame. I used to be a fully-functioning human being.

Used to be great fun at cocktail parties.

Me: What’s your name, darling?
Random woman: I’m not your darling.
Me: Not with that attitude, you’re not.
Her: (laughs)

Speaking of attitudes, I just need to keep this up until the kid’s ready to be in the world alone. Figure trees have been able to do this for eons, I just have make about 5,000 days.

Piece of cake.

Him: I wish I met her.
Me: Sorry, man. I’m not the best company these days.
Him: Actually, I enjoy your company.
Me: I always wonder if there was anything else I coulda done.
Him: I don’t think so. (thinking) You loved her. In that sense, she was lucky. You both were.
Me: (nodding) Yeah.

Podcast Version
Location: my empty apartment
Mood: sub-optimal
Music: no music today
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Getting strangled at home

Ups and downs

Five years ago – heck, last year – if you had told me that (a) the country would be in lockdown, and (b) the only person I would be seeing with any regularity during this time was my coach, Chad Vazquez, I woulda thought you were insane.

Yet, here we are.

He had his first online private BJJ lesson in my pad the other day. I think it went well.

Note that he’s been coming by from time-to-time for over a month now to train and eat with zero signs of illness.

So, I’m guessing the antibodies are doing something.

Somehow, I don’t think anyone in the video is really sorry. It’s fine.

It’s nice to cook for someone besides myself. TBH, if he weren’t here, I’d probably just survive on rum and peanut butter.

Me: Can you clean up again? I’ll make tacos.
Him: Awesome! Yup.

Then again, all relationships have their ups and downs.

Me: Did you just pour the rest of your beer down the sink?
Him: Yeah, I figure we’re switching to rum, so…
Me: Are we made of money?!

As the week goes on, I feel a mixture of anxiety, sadness, and hope. The 24th is coming up and somehow, I feel as if I would have survived another year if I make it to the 25th.

I realize how ridiculous it is; it’s only something in my head.

But, as Zimbardo noted, the mind is a formidable jailer.

You gotta be tired of being locked up for the past 60 days.

I’ve been trapped alone in the basement of my brain for almost five years.

 

Podcast Version
Location: my empty apartment, surrounded by empty rum bottles
Mood: sotted
Music: can’t shake my hunger for strawberries and cigarettes (Spotify)
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Waiting to find out

A Human Shield

When Alison was pregnant, she sat me down one day.

Her: I need you to promise me something.
Me: Sure, what?
Her: If the baby and I are ever in danger, I need you to promise me that you’ll save him first.
Me: (laughing) Why can’t I do both?
Her: I’m serious. He’s more important than both of us. Promise me.

Mentioned to a friend the other day that when you hear something completely true, your very soul hears it.

I’ve been watching Ryan Reynolds ever since Two Guys, a Girl and a Pizza Place and saw almost everything he’s been in since. He’s just a funny dude.

But he was on Letterman once talking about the birth of his daughter and said about his wife, Blake:

I used to say to [her], “I would take a bullet for you. I could never love anything as much as I love you.” I would say that to my wife. And the second I looked in that baby’s eyes, I knew in that exact moment that if we were ever under attack, I would use my wife as a human shield to protect that baby.

I remember thinking that, in all the years of hearing him on stuff, that’s the first time, I believed he meant that as pure truth. And this was before my son was born.

Mt. Saint Helens erupted forty years ago on May 18, 1980. I was seven.

There was a photographer there that day named Robert Landsberg. He was taking pictures when the eruption happened and he realized, too late, that the wall of gas and pulverized stone was coming right at him and that he wouldn’t survive.

So, he took as many pictures of the ash very thing that he knew would end his life, and, at the last moment, “he rewound the film back into its case, put his camera in his backpack, and then laid himself on top of the backpack in an attempt to protect its contents.”

And then he waited to die.

They found his body and camera afterward and developed the film. That’s his camera above.

That’s the story I thought of when Alison asked me if I would do that for her. I understood what she was asking.

There are some people that think they live. Some that wait to die. And some that wait to serve those things and people they love more than themselves.

We don’t get to pick. Life itself shows us which one we are.

The guard dies. It does not surrender

Me: (nodding) I promise.

Podcast Version: Waiting to Find Out
Location: my empty apartment, covered in machinery and metal dust
Mood: waiting to breathe
Music: it’s all better now, wait for me, (Spotify)
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The Algorithm

Critical thinking

I try to understand the world through three things that I used to call to call “The Machine,” but my buddy has re-termed, “The Algorithm.”

It’s essentially how I try to understand information. For me, it’s the basis of critical thinking.

      1. Occam’s razor – The simplest explanation is probably correct. This is the first because it’s the most important.
      2. Cui Bono – Literally, “who benefits?”
      3. Is it true? Alternatively: Does this make sense?

Not all three are always applicable but one invariably is. Fox News, for example, violates 1 – credulity – on the daily, and coupled with 2, and 3, doesn’t seem to be very reliable.

Of all three, the third is the hardest one when it comes to yourself. If someone says to you, “You’re selfish,” you have to really try to dispassionately examine the data. Ignore the messenger and listen to the message.

It’s easy to avoid (3) because (3) is the most painful but it leads to the most growth and overall happiness. It’s like any exercise, no pain no gain.

I recently found out that an ex of mine just had twins with her husband last month during the craziness of COVID. For a long-time, she was my favourite ex.

While we were together, there was a co-worker (not her current husband) that was always doing these little things to put me down. Nothing that rose to a full insult but just little things, like making fun of the colour of a tie for example, back when I wore ties.

And my ex not only never said anything about it, she would laugh along.

Me: I just don’t understand what’s so funny about a green tie.
Ex: I don’t know, it just is. He’s married and weird; stop being crazy.

I ran it through the Algorithm but refused to believe the results. They ended up having a fling together.

I learned from that experience to believe in the Algorithm – although not always – and I’m grateful to her for the lesson. Education’s expensive.

Had a long chat recently with someone who knew both her and her co-worker.

Her: I remember once that he called you an insecure nutcase.
Me: Well, he wasn’t wrong
Her: (laughing) Really?
Me: I was trying to buy a building then, and sleeping maybe three hours a night. Nutcase wasn’t inappropriate. As for being insecure, she broke the trust covenant by ______, _____, and _______. Wouldn’t you be a little insecure if you were me? If your husband did even *one* of those things, let alone all?
Her: (thinking) I never thought of it that way.
Me: “Insecure” means “likely to break”. That’s true in two senses: Personally, she and I were together at a time when I was likely to break. Regarding the relationship, she broke the trust covenant, repeatedly. When something’s broken once, it’s likely to break again unless changes are made. We both didn’t wanna change. I can say I was insecure in that relationship. But, that’s because I was asking questions she refused to answer.
Her: What questions?
Me: (shrugging) Why was he talking about me in the first place? Was he obsessed with me or something I had that he wished he had? I never talked about him but he always seemed to be talking about me. For both of them, it’s always easier to do something shitty to someone, if you soften them up first.

I’m not always right. But everything is obvious once you accept the answer.

And, in her defense: I was clearly mad from the insomnia and she still stayed. Everything went down when I didn’t get better.  She gets a lotta slack from me for that.

Now, she’s got a two fatties of her own and a family. I’m honestly happy for her now. Thrilled, really.

To be even more candid, I’m slightly jelly that she has the only thing that I ever truly wanted and can never have.

Me: Should I send her something?
Her: That’d be a terrible idea, Logan.
Me: Yeah. (nodding) Yeah. Good point, good point…

Podcast Version: The Algorithm
Location: my empty apartment, post ribs and dumplings
Mood: insecure about the next seven days
Music: all out my hands when you pulled the trigger (Spotify)
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Travelogue: Museum miles

You’re my main company

Me: You should bring her to the Museum of Natural History. I once took a girl there on a five-hour date. Oh, wait…

Someone I know met a girl several women recently and was trying to figure out where to take them (FWIW, he has the antibodies too). Told him that I loved museums before I remembered they’re a no go. 

But I got nostalgic and, after one really sleepless night, I hopped the scooter to go around town. There weren’t as many people out.

Any really.

Went to the Natural History first. Was last there in September 2018 when Gradgirl was in town but she didn’t want me to mention it for reasons I finally understand.

After the AMNH, went across the park…

…to 97th Street and then down Museum Mile past the Cooper Hewitt…

…to the Guggenheim…

…through the trees of the Met…

…past the Met…

…down Fifth Avenue, which was still pretty deserted at this time,…

…and then across the park again.

The Whitney Museum moved, which is probably for the best for my mental health.

Made it back home and fell asleep, dreaming of the other side again.

This lockdown is  a once in a lifetime thing and you and my demons are my main company so I figure I’d just show you what I see here.

That girl I went on a five-hour date with wasn’t my person and I wasn’t hers. She’s happily married with two beautiful kids. I’m happy for her.

Family’s everything.

(Earlier…)

Him: Are you gonna be ok there by yourself?
Me: Define, “ok.”
Him: Logan, stop fucking around.
Me: Don’t worry. I’d never leave the boy in this shitty world alone. I just need to sleep it off. I’ll be better tomorrow.

Location: my empty apartment, post shawarmas
Mood: under pressure and hating this fucking month
Music: Why can’t we give love that one more chance? (Spotify)
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A litmus test

Under Pressure

Him: I didn’t realize how broken it all made you. You know, you don’t have to be a high-functioning alcoholic.
Me: That’s like saying you don’t have to eat cake. I *want* to eat cake. If nuthin else, I’m a good cautionary tale.
Him: Well, you’ve become something else to me now.
Me: And what’s that?
Him: (thinking) The standard by which I measure another person’s decency. How people treat a guy that lost the person he loved most in the world, his father, and his career all in one shot tells me everything I need to know about him/her. I think you’ve earned some kindness from people.
Me: Great. That’s what I’ve become: (sighing) A cautionary tale and a litmus test. I just need to know that I’ve earned some rum.
Him: At least that. You’ve earned at least that. Fuck everyone else.

Eight years ago, Alison gave me a bottle of Ron Zacapa XO Rum just because.

There was just a little bit left when she got sick and I refused to have any more. When I found the bottle late last year, the cork had deteriorated and I had to transfer it to another bottle. It was one of my most special things.

Before she exited my venn diagram, I asked Mouse to share the last glass with me because I felt she earned it, unlike some weird rando, but she declined. Which is fine.

So, yesterday, a friend stopped by and we had it together in honor of Alison’s birthday, along with a lot more rum.

Speaking of randos, I met someone that also had COVID antibodies at Pier 64 today as I tried to clear my head and sober up for some meetings.

Me: It’s like we have superpowers!
Her: (laughing) Kinda!
Me: Well, since we just met, I suppose we should keep to safe topics like politics and religion, yeah?

I hide my real face well, I think. I work well under pressure.

Fake it till you make it, right?

Podcast Version: A litmus test
Location: my empty apartment, with no rum
Mood: disgustingly sober
Music: Keep coming up with love but it’s so slashed and torn. Why? (Spotify)
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Dear Alison…

Today is your birthday


Dear Alison;

You would be 41 today. I’m sure, like always, people would still wonder why you were with me. I still wonder that.

I gotta say, life’s so meaningless without you but I stay for the boy and the occasional happy moment when it comes. It does come from time-to-time, but the demons are always close behind.

They’re my main company these days again. At least you’re not here any more to worry about me. It’s ok, the boy’s away and even the Devil takes pity on me. There’s no profit in cruelty to a broken man. Plus they’re not bad company, as company goes.

Speaking of the boy, he’s doing well. He’s with your parents right now. You were right, a backyard makes all the difference. I bought him a bike and he loves it. It’s blue and yellow. Between that and the unlimited carbohydrates out there, he may never come back.

He’s been there for a while because…well, you wouldn’t believe what’s going on and I wouldn’t know where to start. I suppose we’d be debating again; I think I’d win this time, though. Humanity’s just as awful as always and getting worse by the moment.

If given the choice, I think I prefer my demons. At least I know they want to hurt me. The honesty’s refreshing.

I wish you were here. Selfishly. Because I’m lonely and alone. Without you and your optimism to keep them at bay, they’re hollowing me out again. Life without you and your hope is singularly soul-crushing. They come when I’m on my knees and I find myself there more often than not.

I’d wish you a happy birthday but, since you’ve gone, it’s always anything but.

I’m sorry you’re not here and that I am. It’s so perfectly unfair. You loved the world and I hate it and yet there you are and here I am.

What a cruel joke life’s played on our family.

I would’ve written sooner but it’s taken me three years to be able to write you this. I’ll do better. Been trying to get off my knees. Really.

I have to go. They’re back again. They’re my only lifelong companions, it seems. Another cruel joke on us.

The boy will sing you a song in a bit, along with his classmates. I can’t join him because I don’t want him to see my real face. I’m hiding it as best I can, but he’s smart like you. It’s only a matter of time.

Oh, Alison. I would do anything to trade places with you.

We’ve missed you so much.

I’ll love you until the end of the world.

The Hubs

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Giving me a chance

I hate May

Me: Man, it’s been ages. I gotta ask, so are you gay or bisexual now?
Jaerik: (laughing) Gay. I told you this about six years ago, it wasn’t a long conversation, but I told you.
Me: Sorry, my memory is so bad these days after everything that’s happened. The last I remember is your female ex? I have no recollection of you coming out.
Him: Ah, yeah, I told you. It’s fine. You’ve been through a lot.
Me: You know what my first thought when I found out? It was: “Thank god. The last thing I need as competition in life is a single, attractive former male model that’s making bank as a lead programmer for Amazon. As a straight man, thank you for being gay and giving guys like me a chance.”
Him: (laughs)

Now that I’ve gotten the coronavirus under control, I’ve been catching up with people I’ve not spoken to in ages.

I’ve also been meeting a lot of new people for reasons that aren’t really important. Although, honestly, being a guy with antibodies during a lockdown is…interesting.

On that note, the grey-eyed writer has a dog. I can’t do dogs in my apartment. It’s one of my rules.

And that’s why I hate dating in NYC. The disappointment is one thing but disappointing other human beings is another.

Then again, some disappointments are things you don’t even see coming.

Me: Are you here for the COVID test? I just got it.
Girl in a green mask: Really? How long was the wait?
Me: 30 minutes from where you are to the door, then 30 mins inside, and 15 minutes in the exam room?
Her: Oh, that’s great. Did you find out yet?
Me: Yup, just last night. I’m positive for the antibodies. It’s weird getting a medical exam and being excited for a positive result.
Her: (laughs, pulls down mask) You’re funny, what’s your name?
Me: Logan. And you?
Her: Alison.
Me: (nodding slowly) Of course it is. (stepping back) Well, it was lovely meeting you, Alison. I hope everything goes your way.
Her: Oh…
Me: As an aside, you have a lovely name. I think that “Alison” is just about the prettiest name there is. I wish you every good thing.


It’s Mother’s Day on Sunday.

Then it’s my Alison’s birthday.

And then it’s the shittiest day of the year.

I hate May. I hate May more than I can express.

Podcast Version: Giving me a Chance
Location: my empty apartment, now with tons of pizza
Mood: fulla pizza but still very empty
Music: I try, I really do (Spotify)
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