Month: November 2021

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personal

Same as everyone else

My addictive personality

Me: I’ve lived here close to 30 years.
Him: How’s that possible?
Me: Did it the same way as everyone else: At a rate of 60 minutes an hour, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. That’s how.

My friends around the way have the nicest apartment I’ve ever been to – on the Upper West Side or otherwise.

But, recently, I met up with a fella from my gym that has a pad along Central Park with some jaw-dropping views. My friends around the way still have the nicer pad but…man, it’s close.

Some other people stopped by and we all chatted for a bit.

It’s weird, I never have a problem meeting new people but who stays and who leaves my Venn Diagram is always a surprise to me.

While my friends make fun of me for my rules, I do think that it’s why so many people are willing to enter my Venn Diagram.

Because they know that I have standards I hold myself to. And those around me.

For example, there’s a reason why I’ve never done any hard drugs or have a strict three-date maximum rule: Because I have an addictive personality.

I, very easily, get addicted to things, ideas, people. Knew this since I was a kid and it was part of why I was a fat kid – I was addicted to food.

And, while it’s almost always a negative, it can be a positive: To wit, I got addicted to losing weight at 14, to the point that I went from 183 pounds to 123 pounds in six months. I lost 10 pounds a month, 2.5 pounds a week.

I got addicted to that number: 2.5. I had to lose 2.5 pounds a week. It wasn’t until a girl named Julia went up to me and said, “I’m worried about you. You don’t look well” that I realized that I was doing it again.

      • I made it a goal to read every book one side of a library once. I did that.
      • I wanted to teach myself German to high-intermediate. I did that.
      • I wanted to know how to fix a car so I built one.

Never had a drop of alcohol or drugs in college. Didn’t eat fast food for 13 years. Never cursed either. Because of my rules. Shockingly, I still managed to have friends. Dear ones.

In fact, I didn’t curse for 28 years. I started again the day she died.

Fuck.

Anywho, the friend I was chatting with about this dealt with his own demons in his life and they cost him a great deal. He was married to two models and both marriages disintegrated.

He’s very wealthy but that matters less to him than his own peace of mind, so he lives a pretty simple life.

As for me, after she died, my demons old gods all came calling and I was happy to see them. They, Gradgirl, and Daisy kept me company for a while.

Oh, my friend that I was just talking about has the third nicest apartment I’ve ever been in.

I need to up my game.

Him: Would you be willing to date someone that makes more money that you? I mean…a lot more money?
Me: Willing? That’s a weird question. Do you think my parents raised a moron? That’s the dream. (pointing at self) These looks aren’t gonna last forever, man.

Location: earlier tonight, being told I don’t look my age
Mood: so…cold…
Music: Love me when I’m gone (Spotify)
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Thanksgiving 2021

Yet another visit to a Medemerge

Chad and I’ve been dealing with some really crazy and creepy stalkers lately.

Honestly, considering what we do, we’re probably the best able to deal with such things but it’s still pretty horrific what we get sometimes.

I shudder to think what your average woman has to deal with out in the world.

Spent Thanksgiving with Alison’s family; her aunt and uncle came by to join the boy and me there.

Since he was the only kid there, my son was pretty restless but it all ended up fine. The assortment of desserts didn’t hurt.

Me: There’re cupcakes, pumpkin pie, apple pie, and strawberry rhubarb pie. Which one do you want?
Son: Pumpkin pie…WITH cupcakes.
Me: Well, it is Thanksgiving…
Him: What are you having?
Me: All the pies. I think pies are better than cake.
Her: You’re crazy!

I took the train home that night just to have some time to myself.

Part of the station was flooded; it seems like every place is flooding these days.

On Saturday, the gym had an open mat instead of regular classes but my wrist was still messed up so I ended up fixing some artwork we had installed a while ago but couldn’t get running right.

Speaking of pie, Mouse was there and brought a large apple pie to the gym. Afterward, several of us went to a local bar to get a drink and we brought the pie in tow.

Some old friends from our old gym were there and it was nice catching up. A fella was there from our old gym and I recalled when Pac and I went to his mom’s funeral and had dollar pizzas and tacos outside in the rain. I got our buddy a sandwich.

I think that day was the first time I talked to Pac outside of the gym.

Him: Thanks for coming that day.
Me: Of course. I’m sorry I had to.
Him: And I’m sorry for everything you had to go through too.
Me: You and me both, man.

The next day, I woke up and my wrist was just awful. This is despite not rolling.

My MIL brought my son back that morning and then my brother and his girl came by for lunch.

Because they were here, I decided to go get an xray of my wrist to finally start the process of seeing if I had to get an MRI and, finally, surgery if need be.

Me: Can you watch the kid for me? I might be up to an hour.
Brother: Sure.

So, I took a deep breath and went to the same medemerge that I always go to.

Ended up being there a lot longer than I expected but it was a mixture of good and bad news.

Doc: I don’t think it’s something that requires surgery but I’m not an orthopedist.
Me: So, you think I should get an MRI?
Her: It wouldn’t hurt.

They gave me my x-rays and I went back home. Afterwards, my bro and his girl went off to the Hudson Yards and the kid and I just had dinner together.

Pac, KG Betty, another female friend, and Chad all gave me a ring afterward for various reasons.

It was nice that people wanted to see how I’m doing.

But it looks like I’ll be heading to a hospital regardless if I want to or not.

Me: Why me?
Her: (pause) For some reason I trust you.
Me: You don’t even know me. (pause) I’m not good at hospitals for reasons I’d rather not get into.
Her: I don’t have anyone else.
Me: (sighing) OK, I’ll help.

On that note, there’s only Christmas and New Year’s left.

Location: the pad, making soba noodles for the kid for dinner
Mood: missing home
Music: Our house I’ll miss the most (Spotify)
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personal

A lawyer, by trade

Waiting for the holidays to be over

Her: I read your blog, the one about your wife and the five dollars. Are you a writer?
Me: No, I’m a lawyer, by trade. You?
Her: I’m a journalist. You write beautifully. You should do it again.

Met a woman, recently, that came across my blog, somehow. It’s a different world now.

When I first started this blog, there wasn’t Facebook, Instagram, or any social media to speak of.

Now it’s too easy to find and know everything about me so I have to be much more careful.

I dated a journalist once. That was an unmitigated disaster.

Seven months before Alison got sick, told you that I was stopping this blog. Didn’t tell you that it was because Alison was pregnant – after all, we lost so many babies, why jinx this one too?

Besides, we were planning on making major changes.

I was going to work remotely but pare down my workload, as was she. The two of us were going to sell the apartment and move out to NJ to raise the kid with green grass and shade.

I was gonna write more fiction. The thing with writing is that your mind can only crank out so much quality stuff before you’re just churning.

That’s part of why I don’t post every day; I’d rather have one or two good posts than a series of crappy ones. So, I stopped the blog to focus on writing.

In the end, that was the one pregnancy that stuck and we thought we’d finally be ok.

But it all turned to shit anyway.

Now, I just have zero – absolutely zero – desire to write do anything beyond this blog, hang with the kid, and run the gym.

And even then, it’s always the same thing, a blur of people and things that I barely remember.

Voltaire once said that, Madness is to think of too many things in succession too fast, or of one thing too exclusively.

If that’s the criteria, then I’m clearly starkers. Clearly.

I’m dreaming all the time again – some good, some less so.

Saw my family recently. My brother’s back in town; his girl’s coming in later on this week. She’s sweet. My dad woulda liked her. I hope they end up together.

Met a stylish young woman on the ride home. She wore bell bottoms and shoes with sapphires on them. She thought the kid was adorbs.

But I’m not me right now so I just thanked for the company and carried my sleepy son home. She laughed and waved goodbye to us. The kid waved back, sleepily.

Him: I’m so tired.
Me: Good. Then maybe you’ll have some nice dreams.
Him: She was pretty. Is she your friend?
Me: Maybe in a different life.

It’s Thanksgiving soon.

I just want the holidays to be over.

Location: with my mom, telling her that I loved her
Mood: dreaming
Music: damn that’s stylish. Smiling, don’t pay attention to the mileage (Spotify)
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Thinking the kid and I are awesome

Trying to simplify

Since we’re talking about parenting, right after I wrote the last entry, read about a dad in a helicopter, bear hugging his daughter as the helicopter went down.

The daughter was the only survivor. He used his own body as a cushion for her.

Him: Holy shit.
Me: Right?
Him: I see you doing something like that, Logan.
Me: Jesus Christ, let’s hope we never find out.
Him: Honestly, if women knew what kind of dad you were, they would beat your your door down.
Me: How do I tell people I’m a good dad?
Him: (laughing) Easy, just show them the kid.

I’m much more careful about who I introduce to him, though.

There was one blond, hazel-eyed girl who was one of the most dispassionately attractive women I ever dated.

But I kept my emotional distance from her because she made it clear that she too “didn’t mind” that I had a kid and definitely didn’t want any of her own.

Female friend: I think she’d meet the kid and fall in love with him. Everyone does.
Me: I can’t take that chance.
Her: Wait, so that’s it?
Me: Pretty much. 

Even when I was in the height of my dating frenzy in my 30s, the paramount thing that I was looking for was someone that would be a good mother.

Ideally, someone that was also brilliant and hot as blazes was a close second but being a good mother came first. Because being a good mother/parent subsumes most of the other stuff I’m looking for.

Hot as blazes not withstanding (brilliant is subsumed under “good parent”).

And just like then, I let a lot of really great women go in the hopes of getting someone awesome – that thinks the kid and I are awesome too.

Figure that’s worth waiting for. Everything else is just wasting time. Besides, I did it once before.

Plus, I actually have two acquaintances that are going through divorces right now because they married people that are not good mothers. Full-stop.

Both are pretty gutted about the whole thing – met one of the wives as well and thought she was pretty nice but we all have our three lives.

Him: I swear, she uses him as leverage against me and that’s all he’s worth to her.
Me: Are you sure you’re not exaggerating at all?
Him: I wish I was. I think maybe if the kid was white, it would be different…
Me: Holy crap, I didn’t even think about that!
Him: Yeah. Once her family got involved, it was over.
Me: (nodding) Oh man, I’ve been there before. If the family’s against you, you got zero chance.

Life is so complex these days. I wish there was some way to simplify it. Or maybe it’s me that making it so.

Him: Can I sit next to you?
Me: Sure. Why?
Him: (climbing up onto sofa) Cause you’re my papa!
Me: Well, alllrrriiight!

And now we switch pensive thoughts for some extreme violence: The above is Chad and me breaking down a little show called Squid Games.

Definitely don’t watch if you haven’t seen it yet since it’s chock fulla spoilers.

Man, did we have fun shooting that episode…

Location: on a couch with some homemade ramen and the kid
Mood: forgetful but happy
Music: they told me I don’t need to worry (Spotify)
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Late nights drinks and a sleepover

Such a kick

Parental guilt is no joke.

On the one hand, I try to be social so that I don’t get burnt out or feel any sort of resentment towards the kid. On the other had, I feel guilty every time I don’t spend a night or day with him.

This past weekend, saw a few friends, including Chad and the Scenic Fights guys on one night. We went to a joint near the gym and one guy brought Chick-a-Fil.

Him: I hate supporting them but they do make delicious sandwiches.

Tried my best to resist but the carbs were calling me. Besides, I already ordered an Old Fashioned with Rye.

Presently, we realized that all of us, save one, lost our dads in one way or another.

Him: I didn’t take his dying seriously enough, I don’t think. I didn’t think he’d die. And then, in the end, I wonder if he knew how much he meant to me.
Me: I did the same. Didn’t think my dad would die either. But, now that I’m a father, I can tell you this: The only thing your dad really cared about is that you were ok. If my kid hated me, it’d break my heart, yeah. But if I knew he was happy and safe that’s all that would really matter, man. That’s the only thing that matters to any good parent.

Fathers and sons/parents and kids. It’s really amazing how much we influence them.

And vice versa.

Which brings me back to my guilt comment.

My sister’s been offering to bring her kids over for a sleepover for some time now so this past weekend, I agreed to one night and the kids were over the moon.

After a particularly unhealthy night of eating, we all got up early the next day to head over to the Museum of Natural History.

The last time I was inside it was in 2018 with Gradgirl, although I swear I went there with someone else entirely afterward.

Just goes to show how fuzzy my head is these days (I went by the building myself during the height of the pandemic, but I suppose that doesn’t count).

As luck would have it, the streets were closed; it’s a pretty cool thing to be able to just wake up and walk a few blocks to an internationally famous museum.

Or run, as the case may be…

They seemed to like most of it….

…although things like the elevator were the biggest hits.

On the way back, they found an oversized Jenga set in the middle of the (closed-off) street and just sat down to play.

Ended up picking up food from my fave Chinese joint around the way for everyone before they all left.

Him: Aw, I miss them already.
Me: I have something else for us to do. Get dressed!

Because my kid loves classic rock, I brought him back out to see a cover band around the way.

Like I said, it’s nice living in a hood where everything is a block or two away.

It was way too cold to stay out too long, though.

Him: What now?
Me: One more thing, kiddo.

My old college buddy Buckley was in town with his family to get their kids booster shots – also at the museum (!) – so they stopped by for a spell too and the kid entertained their kids while I caught up with the adults.

I’d not seen his wife in ages. She marveled at how big the boy was.

Her: I see Alison in him. In his face.
Me: Yeah. (sighing) She woulda gotten such a kick outta him.

Location: the greatest neighborhood in NYC
Mood: a bit less guilty
Music: The girl that’s driving me mad is going away (Spotify)
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I don’t mind

Dreaming of Paris

Made three women cry recently; all essentially strangers. One was business, two were personal.

Me: Do I come off as scary or a jerk?
Him: You do get intense.

The business one was over video chat. In no way, shape, or form did I attack her personally, I just wanted to know why, literally, everything my client was promised did not come through to fruition.

In 25+ years of business, I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone just break down in front of me. I don’t think I even raised my voice. No cursing, no name calling.

Her: Industry average is 15-20 days.
Me: We’re at 21 days. So you’re telling me that you’re not even doing average work. You’re offering me below average work. Lemme ask you, if you came to me and I said, “I’m gonna provide you with below average work,” would you hire me?

And then…it all went sideways. With waterworks. My client and I just sat there, wondering what the hell just happened.

The other conversations didn’t go any better.

One was sad and involved someone else that lost her family. I knew I wasn’t her fella but we traded our sad stories, anywho.

Her: Are you ok now?
Me: (laughing) “Ok,” is a very relative term. (later) What about you?
Her: I’ll be ok. I’ll leave you alone now. Thanks for listening to me.

The last was an acrobat who cooked Greek food. I seem to have a thing for short-haired adrenaline junkies with a particular look.

But she said something that irritated me no end.

Her: I’m always the girl that people want to have fun with but never the one they want to stay with. (later) If you send me an Uber, I’ll come on over.
Me: It’s late. Kid’s got school tomorrow.
Her: I don’t mind if you have a kid, BTW.

My kid is not someone you don’t mind. My kid is made of awesome. You’d be lucky to meet him, let alone, have him in your life.

That ended things before they could begin.

There’s this song where this guy asks a girl what she’s looking for and she answers, Something that I want.

It’s weird. My buddy and I meet new people all the time. It’s in our nature.

But he finds something in them that intrigues him whereas I just can’t seem to want anything from anyone.

He sees colour everywhere. I only see grey.

Him: You and your rules, Logan. They’re insane.
Me: My rules keep me, and those around me, safe. You’re safe because of my rules. Imagine if I didn’t have them. We’re where we are right now, because of my rules.

I’ve been day-dreaming of Paris lately. Sometimes, I regret deleting people from my phone and life.

But it’s one of my rules.

Speaking of fuzzy memories, on the plus side, I got some sleep recently thanks to my friend Miller, so I’m relatively more clear-headed.

Clear-headed is a relative term as well.

MIL: Did you buy me cereal and have it sent to my house?
Me: I’m gonna say no but lemme double-check.

Me: Who did you hear that from?
Pac: You, Logan. You told me that.
Me: Jesus Christ. I cannot be trusted with anything these days, man.

Location: home, with four pounds of steak, somehow
Mood: rested(ish)
Music: He’s been living in a pure illusion (Spotify)
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Who are you?

Not as long as you need me

Pac: You already told me this.
Me: I did? Sorry, I’m forgetting a ton of things.
Him: What is wrong with you?
Me: Well, insomnia, a possible concussion, lots of pharmaceuticals and general feelings of pain and loss. I’m actively trying to forget things and people and sometimes other things get caught up.
Him: Great, now I feel bad for saying anything.

Recently made a channel on YouTube for Paxibellum and got a call from one of the producers of Scenic Fights. Evidently, I did a number of things he wasn’t happy about but mainly…I did it twice.

Him: …AND you uploaded the videos twice to each channel!
Me: I did it in my insomnia phase so I’ll take them down. Sorry.

Evidently, Sleepy Logan’s back. It also appears that he’s on a health food kick because there are half-a-dozen avocados, and two large containers of salads in my fridge that I have zero recollection of getting.

MIL: I bought toys for him. You told me you got them and put them away.
Me: Mom, I hid them so well, that I forget everything about them.

Chad’s been telling me to get an MRI and I really struggled with whether or not to do it but I ultimately decided that there’s nothing to be done.

Let’s say, arguendo, that I do have a concussion, what is there to do but wait and see how everything shakes out?

Plus, I’ve been to every fucking brain MRI joint in this goddamn city. I know what they all smell and sound like. I will literally walk in the door and projectile vomit.

Chad also thinks I should get one on my wrist, shoulder, and neck since all three are pretty messed up. Those I’m still considering.

The wrist one bothers me the most because, who/what am I if I can’t hold a sword again? Because, in my head, I’m a swordsman.

That’s how I define myself to myself.

I’m living in waking dreams again; remembering things from possible pasts again.

Him: You know the difference between the devil and a demon?
Me: No, tell me.
Him: The devil is a creation of god himself. He exists because god allows him to exist. But a demon is a god. It’s what the Judeo-Christians called any old god that existed prior to their god. So that’s why the devil looks like Pan, an old Roman god.
Me: So you believe in god?
Him: I believe God is an asshole. He has nothing to do with me, and I have nothing to do with him.

Always found it somewhat poetic that demons are our old gods. The things we used to worship in the past, torment us in the present.

Speaking of torment, both the kid and I getting nightmares for some reason.

Him: Sorry to wake you. I’m worried there are snakes in my room.
Me: Dude, there are no snakes in Manhattan. If you’re gonna worry about something, worry about flooding, which is an actual issue.
Him: (eyes widening in horror) We might flood again!?
Me: (fuuuuuuuuuccckkk…)

In any case, before Alison, my old gods were various pharmaceuticals and late night excursions. But she became my new god and my old gods faded away.

But I lost her and found other new gods. Then I lost those new gods as well

I honestly wonder if I made one up completely or if she was real. Told you once that my insomnia means that I can even remember things that never happened, people that never existed.

Coupled with a possible concussion, I’m lucky I remember my own name these days. And my old gods/demons are back as if they never left, even though the devil has.

Then again, I have one shiny new god I adore in the form of a tiny human.

Him: Halloween was last week! You mean, “See them for Thanksgiving!?”
Me: I said, “Halloween?”
Him: Yes! You’re being silly, papa!
Me: So, I am. It’s time for bed.
Him: (quietly) Don’t go. Please. I’m scared.
Me: What are you afraid of?
Him: I don’t know. (thinking) What if you’re not here when I wake up?
Me: Why would you think that?
Him: [People leave].
Me: Not me. I won’t leave you. Not as long as you need me.

Location: home with the kid and Sleepy Logan
Mood: fuzzy
Music: I really wanna know, who the fuck are you? (Spotify)
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Ziggy and the kid

Diddling around Chinatown

Me: Man, that is one small laptop, can I see it?
Her: Sure, you can diddle around on it.
Me: I haven’t diddled around with anything in a while, lady.

RE Mike shot me two top-tier tix to Midsummer: A Shakespearience the other day but I’ve been so cloudy lately that I declined.

Him: Bring a date!
Me: (laughing) No one’s made the cut to meet you yet, man.

He sent me the below to show me what I missed out on. Alla my days and nights are blending together again so it woulda been a waste anywho.

I’m always dreaming again.

Or at least, sleepwalking.

Friends and almost friends have been asking me to head out with them and I’ve said yes as often as I’ve said no.

That’s a lie. If I’m turning down RE Mike, I’m turning down most people. But some people make the cut. Some.

Gotta say, though, that my most memorable night recently has been with the kid.

See, he’s been taking Chinese class and this week’s lesson was about Chinese food so I decided to take him downtown to eat dinner with me.

So, right after his class, whisked him to Chinatown to try out the dishes he learned.

On the way down, we ran into zombie Ziggy Stardust…

Son: Did you know him?
Me: No, I just met him now.
Him: Then how did you know his name was Ziggy?
Me: (laughing) That’s a long story. But he was nice, wasn’t he?

..before we got to Chinatown…

Him: There’s so much Chinese [writing everywhere]!
Me: Hence the name, kid.

…and worked our way to the restaurant to try out some steamed veggie dumplings, pan-fried dumplings, scallion pancakes, and soup dumplings.

Waiter: Are you expecting anyone else?
Me: Nope. It’s just the two of us. We’ll eat it all.

I was pleasantly surprised how much he enjoyed the steamed vegetable dumplings. Not everything was a surprise, though.

Him: (making a face) What is that?
Me: Tea.
Him: I don’t like it.
Me: It’s only the second most popular beverage in the world. (leaning over and whispering) It’s ok, I prefer coffee myself. Shhhh…

We killed everything and he was still hungry afterward. He’s definitely my kid.

A group of women lawyers were in the the table next to us, talking shop, and I locked eyes with a pretty brunette.

But, like I said, I’ve been so fuzzy lately, I figured it’d just end up as another date to nowhere.

So, I tossed her a wink, the waiter two Jacksons, and walked the kid around the place.

Him: Can we do this again?
Me: Anytime, kid, anytime.
Him: Tomorrow!
Me: (laughing) Strike and withdraw. Lemme rephrase that…

He’s getting the shot tomorrow.

I may be muddled-headed these days but the only thing that’s crystal clear is that I gotta keep him safe, any way I can.

You see, he’s my only treasure…

Location: earlier today, being told he was special
Mood: grey
Music: I had to phone someone so I picked on you (Spotify)
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Typically what one does

Hey, kid

Him: Great, now *I’m* paranoid.

This was probably one of the busiest Halloweens I’ve ever had, mainly because of the kid and some other things that I don’t want to discuss, publicly.

Speaking of discussing things publicly, I mentioned to some people in my gym the the other day that I almost never say the kid’s name out in public.

Because I have zero desire for the world at a whole to know my son’s name. It’s the same reason that I don’t put up pics of him and his face.

Look, this kid’s gonna grow up with the least amount of privacy the world’s seen to date – and it’s only gonna get worse.

There are almost no pictures of me between the age of 14 and 25 years of age, beyond what my family has. Because, my dream job throughout college was to be an analyst (not a field agent) at the CIA. I actually made it through two rounds of interviews before I got a rejection.

Never did find out why. But that’s neither here nor there.

Find it so odd when parents emblazon their kid’s name on their backpacks and put up endless social media photos of them. That strikes me as a bad time waiting to happen.

I’d say I was paranoid but my luck is of the stripe no one wants so, really, I’m just acting on the information I have.

Me: Honestly, this kid is only thing that really matters to me. So, fuck everyone and everything else.
Him: Seriously though, I agree with everything you just said.

Still, I can’t keep him at home alla time – especially since he didn’t get a real Halloween last year – so we did make it to one house party where he was Chewbacca…

…one street party where he was a Ninja Turtle…

…while stopping by stores to get even more candy…

…and the usual group next door.

Me: Thanks for inviting us, as always!
Him: (laughing) I heard a bunch of people invited you.
Me: It’s the kid, not me. Everyone loves the kid.

On another matter entirely, our producer for Scenic Fights just told me that we have more subscribers (148,000)  on our channel than Esquire does on their channel (147,000).

And Marie Claire for that matter…

Plus, I got the funniest call the other day.

Him: Hi, I’m calling about the kali class for Paxibellum.
Me: Sure. (explains to him the procedures) When you get there, my business partner, Chad, can set you up.
Him: Wait, Chad from Scenic Fights? Is Logan going to be there as well?
Me: Logan will not be there. Because Logan’s with his kid that day. I know this because, I’m Logan.
Him: WHOA! I’m a huge fan. You answer your phone?
Me: (laughing) Yes, that’s typically what one does with one’s phone.

Fans. Chad and I have fans. Don’t even need huge fans, tiny fans will do.

What a kick in the head.

It’s the first good kick in the head I’ve had in a while.

Location: earlier tonight, the gym for the my first Monday
Mood: curious
Music: think it’s finally, finally, finally, finally, finally safe (Spotify)
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