Month: March 2022

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personal

My favourite and third favourite scarves

Sure I do

There’s a second story Japanese yakitori restaurant called Village Yokocho just a few steps from Solas that I used to go to on the regular with Rain and the college buddies.

Actually went on a few dates with one of the waitresses there. Sweet girl; she still has my favourite scarf but since it’s been a solid two decades, would feel weird asking for it back now.

I digress.

Inside Yokocho is a speakeasy called Angel’s Share that is (AFAIK) the only place that carries my buddy’s Paul‘s Nankai Shochu soju/rum.

The last time I remembered going there was way back in 2007 when I brought the girl with the blue jean eyes to get a drink during a snowstorm.

Fast-forward to this past weekend. I’d heard that both Angel’s Share and Yokocho were closing and I wanted to have one last drink before they did so I asked the Counselor to meet me there.

Unfortunately…

Me: It’s a two-hour wait.
Her: Oh wow…

We were planning on heading over to Solas afterward anywho so we just went there instead.

The entire joint was buzzing because there was a big party planned upstairs but the owner gave us a sectioned-off table so we could chat – actually, the same table as in this entry from 2017 – and we had the whole upstairs to ourselves for a spell.

Her: This is a really cool place.
Me: I’m glad you like it. Between my pretty face and the atmosphere, I’m hoping you won’t notice my awful personality.
Her: (laughing) It’s hard to overlook that.
Me: (nodding) Fair.

We ended up spending most of the night just talking and people-watching.

Me: Honestly, thank you for not being boring.
Her: Is that the worst thing that happens to you on a date?
Me: Well, yes, although women seem to get very handy with me for some reason. Still, I aware of how lucky I am that my worst-case scenario on a date is boredom while with women it’s grave bodily harm and/or death.
Her: (nodding) Yup. Guys are awful.
Me: On behalf of my kind, I’m sorry. But, in comparison, I’m a fucking delight.

I’d mentioned to the current bouncer – a relative of my old buddy Fouad, who died from cancer – that Fouad had literally met every woman of note I’d ever dated in my adult life.

Him: I miss him. He was such a good guy.
Me: (nodding) Yeah. He was the best.

That bummed us both out. But it was still a nice memory/conversation.

Ended up getting a series of drinks from friends and the owner and then she bought us some drinks as well. We also met some people along the way.

Me: What was that all about?
Her: (laughing) She saw you going to the bathroom and was worried about my being by myself so she came over to keep me company.
Me: Looks like we’re both making friends.

Ended up giving the bartender a big tip because he was so cool as well.

It was past midnight when we left, but we were both pretty wired so we went for a walk.

Me: Want to try something else?
Her: Sure!

We ended up making it around the way to a joint that used to be called The Thirsty Scholar – which has shown up in this blog before but never specifically by name – where we sat in a corner and chatted more.

In the middle of our talk, a fella walked up to her, pointed at me, and said, “You’re hanging out with a very cool guy.”

At this point, I’m pretty sure she thought she was being set up. After all, we got floated into Solas, got sat at a private table, got drinks sent to us, and now – in the middle of a second bar – some rando comes up and gives me a seemingly unsolicited compliment.

Her: (to me) Give me your phone and unlock it.
Me: (laughing) Here you go. I didn’t set this up, honestly.
Her: Sure. (turns to guy) Give me your number and take out your phone.

She said it all with such authority that the guy complied and I sat back amused. It’s interesting watching someone else slip into Lawyer-Mode.

She rang him to see if I had his number on my phone and I didn’t.

Her: (handing me back my phone and speaking to him) What’s your name?
Him: Yannick. I’m in the Marines and we watch his videos on the base.
Her: You two didn’t set this up?
Him: No, not at all. I just saw him and decided to say hello.
Me: You’re the fourth person that’s recognized me in the world. You made my night, thanks.
Her: (after Yannick left) Come on, was that for real?
Me: Evidently.

A pretty fun ending to very fun night. It was well past 2AM when we left. And super cold.

Me: You didn’t bring another jacket?
Her: I didn’t think I’d be outside long.
Me: (taking off my scarf and putting it around her neck) Here, take my scarf.
Her: You don’t have to do that.
Me: Sure I do. I insist.

And that’s how I gave away my favourite and third favourite scarves.

The End.

Location: earlier today, Paxibellum hanging with the boy and then Pez
Mood: optimistic
Music: don’t bore us, hit the chorus (Spotify)
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personal

I’m a freaking delight

I’m a goddamn pleasure

Out of everything I did the past two weeks, a few meetings/dates were interesting enough to talk about.

I’ll tell you about two or three of them. The first was with this gamer girl that also fights.

We’d been floating around each other for a while but finally decided to meet up for drinks across the street from my physical therapist’s office.

Me: You’ll have to excuse me, I take pictures of my food and drink that no one ever sees.
Her: Oh, I do too!
Me: Ooooh, lemme take a picture of you taking a picture of the drinks.

No umbrellas in them, unfortunately.

I think we both expected to be out for a short while but the conversation was pretty interesting – I’m always grateful when I’m not bored – so we stayed out until late.

Her: What made you learn how to fight?
Me: (shrugging) The usual, I suppose. I was bullied a lot as a kid. You?
Her: (sighing) What you might imagine. Guys on dates.
Me: Ah, I apologize on behalf of my kind. On the plus side, however, it really lowers the bar for a fella like me. Compared to other guys, I’m a goddamn pleasure.
Her: (laughs) I can tell. At least someone gets some benefit.
Me: Heck yeah – thanks to the average frustrated chump, I’m a freaking delight.
Her: (laughs) I know that song!
Me: OMG, you get two points for knowing it!

She had just come from her gym, and I ‘d just come from mine and we were both a bit peckish so we ordered a small cheese plate so we could drink more.

The waiter was really cool and suggested that I get a Downeast Cider.

Him: (taking can and shaking it vigorously) So the deal with this cider is that you have to shake it really hard because it’s unfiltered and…
Me: (interrupting) OK, when you open it, please point it at her and not me?
Her: (laughing) Hey!
Me: Sorry, lady. This is New York. It’s every man – person – for himself. Themselves. You know what I mean.

The waiter then explained that you have to turn the can completely upside down to pour it.

Him: (later) Did you like it?
Me: What’s there not to like? It was tasty and came with a good story behind it.

The gamer girl and I ended up staying out until it was pretty late.

Me: I’m trying to stay in the golden mean – it’s something I was working on a lot years ago and just recently started up again.
Her: How so?
Me: (thinking) I’ve spent the last several years living in the past or in the future. Not to sound all touchy-feely but I’m trying to live in the present, which I haven’t for quite a while.
Her: Ah, like Ram Dass.
Me: Definitely in that vein. 
Her: (later) I should tell you, though. I don’t know if it’s right to bring kids into a world like this.
Me: So funny you bring that up! I spent an entire meal arguing with a buddy over that exact topic. So, no kids for you?
Her: No, sorry. You?
Me: That’s why I’m here, darling.
Her: (later) Would you be down to just hanging out, maybe come by my school and I’ll go by yours?
Me: Oh man, that’s perfect! I always feel it’s me giving the, “let’s just be friends,” speech.

The rain started coming down hard when we finally called it a (late) night.

Her: Shoot, it’s raining. Should we grab a cab?
Me: (dismissively) Please, I’m always prepared. (pull out umbrella and offer her my arm) Shall we?
Her: Lets.

I took a picture of us.

Me: We’re a pretty good-looking couple.
Her: We are.
Me: Shame, really.

Some of my fave people/friends are people that I very briefly dated like El, Caligirl, HEI, Lviv, and the Sexologist.

She seems like she’ll still be fun.

Oh man, the ride home was a disaster. Tried to get a cab, none. Subways weren’t working (at all).

Finally got out and managed to snag a single taxi that got me home well after midnight.

On the ride back, I did chat with someone that doesn’t want to be in this silly-little blog:

Her: How was your date?
Me: Entertaining.
Her: (laughing) Is she my biggest competition?
Me: Her? No, she’s fun and I’ll probably see her again, but my front-runner is someone else entirely.
Her: For now…

There’s more but that’s all I wanted to share with you now.

This week’s quieter but only by so much.

Location: 8PM, a local BBQ and gyro spot (CC)
Mood: super busy, on every front
Music: There must be something wrong with you, cuz I’m a freakin’ delight (Spotify)
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personal

Love is the eye of the storm

That’s why I asked

It’s been busy lately, for a number of reasons.

Red: I should tell you I’m married.
Me: That would have been useful information to have prior to this.
Her: We have an open relationship.
Me: I’m glad you found your person. Unfortunately, that’s not my bag.
Her:  I’ve never [had someone just say no].
Me: Life is nothing if not unexpected. I’m a terrible person, to be sure. But I don’t fuck with marriage.

Blue: Do you really want to know?
Me: That’s why I asked.
Her: Both my parents died and I was 16. So it was either leave school or be homeless. I made a choice. That’s probably why I’m [so successful now].
Me: That’s called a “Hobson’s Choice,” because you really had no choice at all. And I’m sorry.
Her: Don’t be. You didn’t do anything. And everything worked out.
Me: (shrugging) I’m sorry because I’m human. And some people’s human experience is much worse than others.
Her: I appreciate that, after all you’ve been through, you still have empathy for others.
Me: (laughing) How could I not? 

Green/White: I was married. Twice. Are you sure you want to hear about it?
Me: That’s why I asked.
Her: (shrugging) The first one, I was just a kid and it ended early. But the second one just ended right before the pandemic. He had his own trauma and the deal was that he would go to therapy after we got married.
Me: I assume he didn’t.
Her: (bitterly) No. You can tell I’m still angry about it. Sorry.
Me: Don’t apologize for your genuine emotions. You earned them. So, you’re entitled to them.

White: There wasn’t a straw in my drink.
Me: OK. (thinking) Ah, you think I put something into it.
Her: Well…
Me: (taking a sip of her drink) If I end up passing out because someone – not me – roofied your drink, just make sure I get into a cab toward the upper west side?

Black: It’s like a job. Once or twice a week, I wake up, switch on an app, answer a few dozen stupid/boring questions from a buncha stupid/boring guys, and then go on with my week.
Me: Ah, modern romance. Where do I stack up?
Her: (laughing) Are you sure you want to know?
Me: That’s why I asked.
Her: Charming. Handsome.  But shallow. Unable to commit.
Me: (nodding) Seems accurate.

Me: Well, I don’t mean this sound overly romantic, but if you’ll allow me to be maudlin and sentimental…
Her: Let’s hear it.
Me: (nodding) The universe, all of reality, is a storm. Love is the eye of that storm; the one bit of peace in an otherwise cruel and dispassionate world that doesn’t give a shit if we live or die. We’re born naked and confused, without claws, teeth, or fur. Nothing. We only survived because someone loved us enough to make sure we did. I don’t get why someone would want less than that. It’s like someone turning down a billion dollars. Yet, they throw away love for stupid shit as if it isn’t the most rare and valuable thing in existence. And that, Counselor, is what I want. Something I had once and was taken from me.

Location: Solas, of course
Mood: exhausted
Music: Put your arms ’round my neck, and your heart on my chest (Spotify)
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personal

Doubling-Down Pt 3

Being rude

Her: Did you all meet at [your old gym]?
Him: We don’t say that name.

The words that jump out at me with this whole Ukraine madness is “doubling-down.”

These are just the first five articles. There are dozens. And it’s maddening to me.

To me, the whole concept of doubling-down is an extension of mental masturbation; it literally accomplishes nothing except emotionally gratifying the person doing it.

Unlike actual masturbation, where the result is nothing, this mental masturbation is assuredly something – something horrible, evil, and sad.

Unborn babies and pregnant mothers are getting killed. Cities are being bombed to oblivion.

3.6 million 3,600,000 people have lost their friends, homes, livelihoods, and familiar lives, just because one guy can’t stop mentally masturbating and doubling- and tripling-down – despite all evidence that all he’s doing is hurting others and himself.

There’s no positive here for anyone. The only thing that might possibly happen is that Russia withdraws and then what? It’ll take decades to rebuild Ukraine, physically, and Russia’s goodwill, metaphysically.

Doubling-down is such a stupid fucking concept that I wrote about it before – twice in fact.

An old friend of ours, Hawk, stopped by the gym today.

A solid chunk of the people in our gym either knew us or heard about us from our old gym and left there to come to us or went somewhere else.

While I’m happy that our gym’s doing well, I’m still filled with a sense of pity for our old coach. At any point, in all the years of us being there, he could have just listened and corrected his course.

I actually sighed writing that.

Man, to make so many people miserable and destroy one’s own life for some childish dream because one won’t – or can’t – just open one’s mouth and communicate is just the height of absurdity and sadness.

But he not only didn’t, he doubled-down every chance he got. Rumor has it that, after downsizing, he’s struggling to fill up even that smaller space.

And like I said, if you keep doing what you do, you keep getting what you get.

Doubling-down is such a foreign concept to me, I suppose because, even when I was a kid, I was an old man inside; just didn’t see the upside of hurting myself and others for some weird mental pride thing.

I’ve just never seen such destructive stubbornness played out on such a grand – and horrifying – scale before.

In the end, I wonder if we’re at the cusp of World War 3, just because of one man’s stubbornness and pathological need to mentally masturbate.

None of the people that are my success models do anything like that and I’ve never known anyone doubling-down on anything that came to any good.

What a waste in every sense of the word.

Her: Why do you carry that around?!
Me: Oh, I…wait, to be clear, I would never hurt you. That’d just be…rude.
Her: (laughs)

Location: 14th Street, wondering I should also get a taco
Mood: resigned
Music: if we get it wrong, we can’t blame no one (Spotify)
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dating personal

You’re in a Situationship

My mundane little life

Alison was never really into tech – at all. But she loved this ebook reader I got her years ago.

While I sold or donated most of her gadgets, that was the one thing I kept. It meant so much to me that I kept the very box it came in for well over a decade.

Because…well, kinda because of what the below cartoon illustrates.

And yet, I clumsily broke it the other day, which hurt more than I expected it to. But I’m trying to keep in the golden mean still, so I tossed it.

Grief really is such an odd and cruel little beast.

On a different matter entirely, I met up with some friends the other day and there was an attractive pharmacist there.

I was suspiciously seated next to her, but it didn’t matter since I can literally talk to anyone.

Her: So, what do you?
Me: The usual. I cook, bake, clean, teach people how to kill each other, and then go on dates-to-nowhere. You?

Later…

Him: So, what did you think of X?
Me: Oh, she’s lovely.
Him: And…?
Me: (puzzled) And what? She’s 29. I’m 49.
Him: You’re almost 49.
Me: Jesus Christ…

Similarly, I went to another party with the Surgeon and his wife. There was a young French dancer there too.

Once again, we ended up sitting next to each other.

Me: Wait, he lives in Texas? Oh, so you’re not in a relationship, you’re in a situationship.
Her: (laughing, then speaking in a cool French accent) Is that what it’s called?
Me: Evidently. I just found out that I was in a situationship for three years and immediately jumped into another one – or two…
Her: (later) Here, take my number.
Me: Ok then. Give me your phone and I’ll call myself.

As it turns out, the woman that taught me the phrase dropped me a 1AM text that was both sweet and sad.

I’ll keep the details of it to myself since I’m actually wondering where that one’s going.

But, getting back to the dancer, she’s actually on a plane back to Paris as you read this because she’s dancing in a show there.

Him: I see you got her digits.
Me: You know she’s 26, right?
Him: (shrugging)
Me: OK, then…

Speaking of planes, world events are really freaking me out. The other day, two Ospreys flew over my son’s school. It was nuts.

Him: (excitedly) Did you see that?! It was so cool!
Me: (concerned) Well, that’s one word for it.

But, so far, World War III hasn’t happened. Instead, it’s just the mundane little life I’ve grown to love in my own way.

Him: I want double chocolate chip cookies.
Me: But I just baked peanut butter oatmeal cookies.
Him: DOUBLE. CHOCOLATE. CHIP. COOKIES!!!!
Me: What’s in it for me?
Him: You’re my papa and you love me.
Me: (dammit) This is a compelling argument.

Very compelling, it turns out.

Seriously, I need a life partner just so this kid doesn’t take me for a ride for the next 20-30 years.

Location: the kitchen, baking like a madman
Mood: ambitious
Music: Thought that you would change, you didn’t (Spotify)
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personal

Everybody wants to rule the world

That must be nice

When my dad dropped me off at college, he gave me a hug and told me loved me before he left.

My suitemate – who was also Chinese – marveled at that.

Him: I don’t think my dad ever told me that he loved me.
Me: Really?
Him: Yeah. It’s not a really Chinese thing to do. Was he born here?
Me: (laughing) No, not at all.
Him: Oh. (quiet) That must be nice.

When I was a really young adult, I went to this rooftop party and chatted with this pretty girl. I suppose to impress her, I hopped onto the parapet while we were speaking.

Decades later, I still remember her eyes widening in horror. “Dude, we’re like 20 stories up! Get down from there!”

I remember laughing and hopping back down but then glancing over and realizing just how stupid that was. It was a straight drop down onto the Manhattan pavement.

The rest of the night was a disaster as I fully absorbed the what-if of that whole scenario.

The war in Ukraine eats at me for any number of reasons, least of which is the inequity of everything. These people were literally just living their lives when some douchebag decided to start murdering people, including pregnant women and unborn children.

And therein lies my own personal nexus with the matter.

Unlike Russia, which has been called the world’s gas station, Ukraine has a number of industries that the world relies upon. One major shadow industry they have is surrogacy:

It’s one of the only countries in the world where you can legally pay someone to have your own biological child.

For reasons we don’t need to get into now – although I’m sure you can guess – since 2021, I’ve been heavily researching surrogacy. To the point where I got one of my Russian speaking friends to speak to an agency about costs and procedures.

Fast forward to now. There are hundreds – if not thousands – of day/week/month-old infants whose biological parents are probably emotional wrecks knowing that their child – possibly their only chance to ever have a child ever – is being kept alive by nurses that are literally risking their lives just to keep them somewhat alive.

Man, Putin is really a special kinda motherfucker. Women really should rule the world.

It’s heartbreaking and maddening and yet another thing that pulls me away from the golden mean.

Just like the what-if of my parapet jump comes out of nowhere from time-to-time to haunt me, I’m haunted by the what-if I sent one of my only chances to have another biological child of mine and Alison’s to a warzone?

Would I try to get her, somehow? Or stay here to take care of the boy and not risk leaving him alone in the world?

Would she roam the world wondering who her parents were? Would she even be alive? Would people be nice to her? Would she be nice to people? Would she know she had a brother? Would she know I loved her?

Would she have Alison’s laugh?

 

 

Shit.

Him: Why are they doing that?
Me: I don’t know. I suppose everybody wants to rule the world.
Him: Do you?
Me: (thinking) If only to keep you safe. (later) I love you, you know?
Him: (laughing) I know.

Location: earlier tonight, just off West End Avenue and W. 79th Street, waiting
Mood: so conflicted
Music: It’s my own design, it’s my own remorse (Spotify)
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personal

Cooking vs. Cleaning

A weekend of carbs

Back when I hightailed it to California, my brother noted that he was gonna be here just a few weeks later.

Him: I mean, I’m back in NYC in March, just a couple of weeks from now.
Me: I know. I just have to do some things where you are. Besides, it’ll be good to see you anywho.

He arrived the other day.

Like most of the time when he’s here, that essentially meant days of pizza, since that’s the one thing that’s (clearly) better here than it is there.

Chad, Pac, and I shot another series of Scenic Fights videos this past weekend. We’re trying out some new things with a new format. Hopefully you’ll enjoy it.

Here’s a picture of Chad being an absolute badass…

…and of him being very domestic.

He’ll make some rich, elderly woman quite happy someday.

Shot 11 in the collage above was decidedly un-fun and my fault for having the pad so low.

Anywho, my domestic skills lie in cooking, not cleaning. To this end, I hired the ABFF’s cleaner to help clean up around the house while I baked the kiddo some Peanut Butter Oatmeal cookies.

This was one carb-y weekend, lemme tell ya.

Him: My room’s beautiful! She did such a great job!
Me: Do you think you could keep it clean?
Him: Can’t she just come here every day?
Me: Well, this has backfired.

As for him, I brought him to the Surgeon’s place for an impromptu (adult) birthday party.

Her: What do you think of her? (shows me a picture)
Me: Whoa. She’s gorgeous. What’s wrong with her?
Her: (laughing) Nothing! She’s a dancer.
Me: OK, but looks fade. Is she wealthy? (to the other women sitting at the table) I’m sorry, I’m terribly shallow. (pointing at self) In my defense, these looks aren’t going to last forever. (table laughs)

The kids had their own fun…

It amuses me how many people want to set me up with their friends. They should really read this blog to disabuse them of that notion.

On that note…

Me: You want to fix me up with a White House Fellow? I own a gym, why would you do that to her?
Him: (laughs) You have your moments.
Me: Ah, fun and games. Accurate. That I can provide.

Did manage to meet up with someone for drinks but that’s another story for another time.

The boy and I also managed to meet up with the NFL Player for even more carbs along with some of his other friends.

After this whirlwind weekend, and because it’s Daylight Savings, I took some of Alison’s meds that the cleaning lady found in the fridge.

Nuthing happened so I took a second dose. Long story short, I overslept for the first time in ages.

Him: Daddy, daddy! Wake up! You didn’t hear me?
Me: (groggily) Evidently not. What time is it?
Him: Late! We have to get to school!
Me: Is institutionalized learning really all it’s cracked up to be?
Him: Wake up!
Me: Blargh…

Location: earlier today, thinking WW3 was starting in the UWS
Mood: so tired
Music: Should you try again, should you just give up? (Spotify)
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personal

Then let’s go

Who knows about tomorrow?

One thing that the kid takes after me is that he runs hot. He often doesn’t wear a jacket out and I see parents looking at me as if I’m crazy.

But, I figure, he knows when he’s uncomfortable so I’m gonna respect that.

On that note, I’ve been wrestling with bringing my son to jits these days because of his eczema.

But, from everything I’ve been researching, most kids grow out of it so I’m hoping that this is just because our apartment is obscenely dry.

Hoping that the summer will be much better for him.

My very first girlfriend came from this very wealthy family. In 1990, her weekly allowance was $100, which is about $215 in 2022 purchasing power.

Mine was $20, I think?

At that time, I thought McDonalds was eating out, but she took me to places like Tavern on the Green and the restaurant at Rockefeller Center.

For our one-month “anniversary,” I bought her a pair of cheap gold-plated earrings; she got me a limited edition automatic Fendi watch. It was strange and different.

I think that the people that we let into our lives leave pieces of themselves with you – again, that whole you’re the average of the five people thing I always talk about.

She was not the nicest person and, because she was my first girlfriend, she left a lot of her good and bad traits and outlooks with me. How I look at dating, women, relationships, etc.

I think that, even some three decades later, I’m still trying to rid myself of bad traits people leave with me, including hers.

On the flip side, after Alison died, I left most of my old friends – who probably represent some of the best parts of me – because they were a constant reminder of her to me but, enough time has passed that it’s not that sharp anymore, which is one of the reasons I’m seeing them more these days.

One person I see somewhat regularly is her best friend. We actually don’t talk about Alison all that much but she’s a constant presence in our conversations, regardless.

It’s nice because I still feel connected to Alison in these small ways as I disconnect with others.

It’s strange. I feel like the past six years, my life was lived by someone else, someone I feel sorry for. He suffered, Alison suffered. It was all just shit.

Over a decade ago, I wrote about St. Augustine and how he ran into a prostitute that he used to visit before he became St. Augustine. The story goes that she tried to get his attention and when he walked past her, she said, Augustine, it is I.

And he replied without stopping, Yes, but it is not I. Because he wasn’t that guy any more. He looked like him but was not him.

That’s kind of how I feel again. I remember the horror and sadness, but I almost feel detached from it. It was me but not me.

Suppose it’s a survival mechanism but I do need to survive after all, so it makes sense.

Anywho, it was actually the second time I wrote about St. Augustine because, five years prior to that, I felt the same way.

Honestly, I don’t remember either guy at all – neither the 2006 version of me, nor the 2011 version of me.

If there is anything I have of value, for better or worse, it is the ability to survive and forget. Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders.

I remember seeking the Golden Mean in 2006, again in 2011, and again now. It’s not ideal but it’s better than the alternative, I suppose.

Her: Are you ok?
Me: (shrugging) I am today. Who knows about tomorrow?

On that note, I limit myself to only a few articles a day about what’s happening in Ukraine. I feel my blood boil and the emotions rise again when I read about pregnant women being attacked in a hospital for, really, nothing but money.

This article about a man losing his entire family set me off for a while before I put it away in head.

His wife was 43, his son Mykyta was 18 and daughter Alisa was nine, when they were murdered this past Sunday.

All I could think was that, if it was me, I would burn the entire world down and wouldn’t stop until someone killed me. Hardly a healthy mental state.

And this fucked up world is the world I’m bringing this kid up in.

I wonder if my buddy was right about the ethics of having a kid. But it’s too late, regardless, I’m in it. We’re in it.

I’ve gotta make sure he’s ready.

Him: Are we going to jiu-jitsu?
Me: Do you want to go?
Him: Yes!
Me: (laughing) Then let’s go.

Location: earlier today, watching him do an armbar for the first time
Mood: affectionate
Music: you ain’t coming home. I am your family tree (Spotify)
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personal

Getting random gifts

Still fighting my demons

My instructor and I run this FB kali group and, just for fun, I posted something a while ago that went something like, “If you’d like to buy me a random gift, under no circumstances buy me these knives…” and I then proceeded to list all of the knives I wanted.

Welp, no less than three people ended up buying me a knife – four if you count my buddy Miller’s gift for me in December.

One guy was from my gym and just handed me one, another girl dropped one off with me, and the last one was mailed to me.

That’s pretty wild.

Since it worked the first time: People of the internet, now I would like a wealthy, hot, busty, brilliant, woman that likes to clean but hates to cook between the ages of 32-36 that doesn’t think I’m the worst person on the planet.

It’s that last bit where I run into issues.

Although, not everyone I’ve ever dated thinks I’m the worst.

Been chatting with one lady and we’ve been trading notes as to how awful dating in NYC/LA is.

Doesn’t matter if you’re a dude or dudette, dating stinks. But, the alternative is to start eating cat food and forgetting one’s pants, evidently…

I’m spending waaaaaayy too much time watching the horrors unfold in Ukraine.

Been asking my Russian/Ukranian friends to translate things for me but everything is awful no matter how you translate it.

As you might imagine, Lviv is from…Lviv. She doesn’t want to talk about any of it and I get that. Ditto for BrightBea.

Much closer to home, I’m dealing with much smaller worries. It seems that the boy’s getting a pretty bad bout of eczema. It’s been a while now, but I was hoping with the warmer weather that it’d clear up, but it’s not.

I’ve got humidifiers running 24/7 here because I had a friend that had just one of the worst cases of it on the planet and it’s pretty terrifying vis-a-vis her quality of life.

Definitely don’t want anything like that for the kid. He’s got enough to worry about.

That’s him with me visiting a friend’s place. Brought the rum to spread the gospel.

Still, he’s handling it life pretty well.

Him: After soccer yesterday, I heard one of the moms saying that he’s the happiest kid they’ve ever seen. You must be doing something right.
Me: It’s the light beer in his thermos.
Him: (laughing) My son told his speech therapist that his fave thing is to drink beer with his dad.
Me: When does Child Services come to take him away?
Him: Meh. I’m not worried. You’ll be my lawyer, right?
Me: Oh man, if that’s the case, you’re screwed.

On a related note…

Her: Honestly, for your dating profile, you should just write: “Manhattan homeowner, amazing shape, amazing dad,” and be done with it.
Me: (laughing) Every dad thinks they’re a great dad.
Her: Yeah. But you really are. I honestly don’t get why you’re single.
Me: Where to begin…?

We shot more episodes of Scenic Fights this past weekend but the kicker’s that we did it at the gym.

We’re experimenting with a buncha things, including have Pac run some episodes as he’s our Judo coach.

Fingers crossed everything will work out ok.

Still fighting my demons but I don’t believe them (anymore).

Location: earlier today, taking a cab home with a CEO
Mood: ambitious
Music: I believe I’m on my way up and I’m going (Spotify)
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personal

Interestingly Weird

It’s like a salad but with alcohol

Saw my college friends – with alla our kids – the other day. They wanted to check out the gym. The kids had a blast running all over the mats.

Afterwards, we walked over to Shake Shack which is exactly what they all wanted.

I’ve known one of these guys since we were 16 years old – 32 years. It really boggles the mind.

There’s an older fella, that joined our gym that lives just a few blocks from my pad.

He runs a hedge fund, but used to play for the NFL, so he’s got a tonier address than I do. Much.

Mentioned to him that Charles Pan-Fried Chicken moved from Harlem to halfway between the two of us.

The lines have been around the block but he has people that work for him so he sent one of them to wait in line for us.

Him: What should she order?
Me: Definitely the fried chicken, the collard greens, and the ribs. God, the ribs are killer. Man, it’s good to have people.

She ordered enough to feed an army. Or just me.

Me: I’m going to kill all the chicken.
Him: Go ahead, we got it for you!

Because he used to play for the NFL, he’s a giant. But I think I ate more than him, which is a bit embarrassing.

I brought the kid over for dinner to boot, and his wife just adored him. It was sweet to see.

Me: (to kid) You’re making a mess!
Her: It’s fine, I have a son and remember this.
Me: You’re being too nice.

The kid literally just wanted the mac and cheese and the cornbread. He ate FOUR pieces of cornbread.

Him: I’m full.
Me: (scoffing) Yeah, of carbs.
Him: I love carbs!

Years ago, I was always the youngest of the people I hung out with. A number of them called me, “the kid,” a lot.

Since Alison died, I mostly hung out with people from my gym, who were all at least 15-20 years younger than me, making me the elder statesman of the group.

But, I’m trying to fix a buncha things in my life. One thing is how over-weighted I’ve been with much younger people in my social circle.

It’s fine, for the most part, but when you’re the oldest and most experienced person in a group, you’re usually giving information rather than getting it.

And, like I’ve said a buncha times before, you’re the average of the five people you hang out with the most and I feel my mind focusing on things that it shouldn’t be focusing on.

So, between hanging out with Steel and his surgeon brother, my college friends, and the NFL Player, I feel more like the version of me I was before everything went down.

Plus, I like hanging out with hyper-ambitious and successful people because their energy rubs off on me.

After all, it’s better to have success models versus failure models.

My life’s becoming interestingly weird again, which I kinda missed.

Later on, I invited the NFL Player out to eat some Chinese food to repay him for all the killer soul food we had.

Me: Notice something?
Him: What?
Me: You’re one of the only non-Chinese here. So, you know the food’s killer.

Ordered an obscene amount of food, as you might imagine.

We ended up grabbing drinks around the way – I ordered a mojito…

Him: What is that, exactly?
Me: It’s like a salad, but with alcohol.

…and some Hemmingway daiquiris.

He’s set on fixing me up with some of his friends.

Him: (showing me a picture) What about her?
Me: Oh, she’s pretty. But I’m currently…
Him: (interrupting) She’s worth half-a-billion dollars.
Me: Welp, suddenly, I’m a lot more interested. Although the last almost billionaire I dated was an asshole. Wait, you wanna set up a super wealthy woman with a dude that runs a gym?
Him: (laughs) You have your charm. (later) Let’s go talk to the singer…

Next thing you know, he’s shoving me in front of the singer at the bar we’re at.

Him: In terms of charm, out of 10, what would you give my buddy Logan here?
Her: (laughing) A solid 10.
Him: There you go. Logan?
Me: Jesus Christ…I can’t bring him anywhere. So, what’s your story?

Location: earlier today, learning a pressure pass with Pac
Mood: flattered
Music: know right here and now that I’d go anywhere with you (Spotify)
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