Month: April 2022

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personal

Maximum Angles and Old Ghosts

So much for sleep

The second birthday party was pretty brief – people from my old gym.

Chad and Kung were there – like me, they both had wrist issues, but much, much worse. Both had surgery.

That’s them comparing the maximum angle they can have their hands.

It was pretty funny. OK, you had to be there.

They did it a lot.

A fella that worked for the government and helped me with the whole crypto theft was there too.

Me: I gotta take you guys out for some steaks and beer.
Him: No, it’s really…
Me: Dude, don’t be selfish – what if I just want an excuse to eat expensive steaks and cheap beers? Or cheap steaks and expensive beers? I’m easy.

Probably too easy. Even before I arrived, I had way too many drinks already that night, including two more there. Think that put me at eight?

At some point Chad said that he had to dash, which I was thrilled to hear because I just wanted to get home and crash.

He barely got the words out when I was already high-tailing home.

Walking out the door, I made it to West 4th to hop the train. Somewhere between there and home, I ran into an old ghost with blond hair and green eyes.

Her: Logan!

I’m such a sucker for blond hair and green eyes. A boy could marry a girl like that.

So much for getting any sleep.

These late nights have caught up with me because I woke up today with a fever and sore throat after weeks (months) of battling allergies.

I’m convinced that COVID has made my – previously almost imperceptible – seasonal allergies into weeks of misery.

Me: I think I’m going to just spend the night in bed watching junk. Sorry, just feel like trash.
Her: No worries, definitely been there. Feel better!

Location: double-masked, waiting for the boy in Union Square
Mood: sicky-sick, send soup
Music: Three months without you, I don’t know what to say next (Spotify)
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personal

No sense in wasting time

I gotta jet

Actually went to two more birthday parties, back-to-back, the other night.

The first was for RE Mike’s girl on the roof of the Daintree – he booked the whole room. Of course. Because he’s RE Mike.

As soon as I walked in, the lady at the front put a bracelet on me.

Her: This is for the open bar.
Me: Sweeeeeet. I’ll have a Hemmingway daiquiri.
Her: I’ll have your waitress get you that.

Pretty much had three of those and then an old fashioned.

I knew several people there, including my friend-from-around-the-way.

Me: How’s work?
Him: The usual. Our new offices are near your gym.
Me: Ah, we should grab lunch. (thinking) You know, I think we’ve known each other 20 years?
Him: 22. I met you the first day I arrived there for work.
Me: Jesus Christ. We be old, yo.

Kinda wonder where my life would be if I stayed in corporate America.

Don’t think I woulda met Alison or done kali or any of that. I woulda been a totally different person living a totally different life.

There’d be no kid, no Paxibellum, no Scenic Fights, prob no blog.

I’ll stop now before I meander too far down my possible pasts.

Anywho, afterward, I went upstairs – with yet another Hemmingway daiquiri – and immediately started chatting with a redhead.

Her: …but I’m leaving for France tomorrow.
Me: Shame. Everyone runs off to Paris right when things get interesting.

Still, I actually spent most of the time talking to her friend who offered to take pics of me and vice versa.

Me: Sorry, I have to ask, how old are you?
Her: 29.
Me: Oh, so close…
Her: You’re not going to invite me downstairs for a drink with your friends?
Me: Tempting, but I have these rules, you see.

We chatted a bit more but then I had to dash off to go to the other birthday party waaaaaaay downtown.

RE Mike: You should get her number.
Me: (shrugging) Nah, I meet women every night. It’s not a good fit. No sense in my wasting her time, or her wasting mine. The night’s young and I gotta jet. Thanks, as always, for the invite!

I’ll tell you about the second birthday party tomorrow.

Still trying to catch up on sleep.

Location: earlier yesterday, a huge Manhattan apartment, getting a new phone case and then running into my buddy heading to Union Square. Small world.
Mood: allergic to the world right now
Music: I can speak to you by saying nothing at all (Spotify)
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personal

Most New Yorkers

Checking out the Chrysler Building

Attorney-at-my-Office: Logan, this is X. You just caught him just in time because this is his last day here.
Me: Oh my, was it something I said?
Her: (laughs) He’s going to back to law school.

Was in my office the other day just to catch up with some co-workers, but also because I was supposed to have drinks at The Campbell with a young lady.

See, the bar’s just a few blocks from where I work. When I go to the office, that is.

As luck would have it, her office was also a few blocks away.

Me: Where are you again?
Her: The Chrysler Building.

Been here close to half-a-centry but I’ve never been inside the Chrysler Building, which – I think – is probably true of most New Yorkers. In fact, I’ve not been to most touristy things.

Left my office and was just about to turn into Grand Central to meet her when she wrote me to say she was stuck in the office late

Her: Sorry, can you actually just come here? Si por favor?
Me: Yes.
Her: Thank youuuu!

So, just a few minutes later, I exit the elevator on her floor.

I’m guessing she’s pretty good at her job because she had a killer office with some killer views.

She actually pulled out a bottle of white from her office fridge but she also had a shelf fulla fine spirits and one cool looking globe decanter.

Me: What’s in the decanter?
Her: I’m actually not sure. It was a gift from someone. I’m not even sure it’s still good.
Me: I pretty much have a cast-iron stomach so, let’s find out.

I opened it and smelled it – it smelled like some really good quality rum. So, I poured myself a glass and tried it.

Me: God, that is so good.
Her: Really?
Me: Yes, you should try it. (hand her my glass)
Her: Whoa, that is good. Shoot, I don’t even know what brand it is since it’s in a decanter.

She introduced me to one of her co-workers and it was nice and somewhat sweet. It’s been a while since someone introduced me to their co-workers in an almost prideful way.

I stayed for a bit, chatting up with her, and we both lost track of time. It was kinda cool, having most of the office to ourselves, not to mention her own nice slice of it.

But we both had other plans so we had to call it an early evening.

Me: I’m heading cross-town for a birthday party, you?
Her: Uptown. Drag-show with my college friends.
Me: Shame. Maybe we’ll see each other this weekend?
Her: I’m sure we’ll figure something out.

There’s a lot more but this is as good a place as any to stop.

On a different matter entirely, my first short for Scenic Fights was just put up.

Do me a favour and check it out, plus like, subscribe, and comment?

Thanks! Back to the usual nonsense tomorrow.

Location: earlier today, getting smashed at Paxibellum
Mood: coughy…
Music: a new perspective, seeing my reflection from a better point of view (Spotify)
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A fella like me

Thinking we’d have more time

Her: I never met a guy who wore a bright red leather jacket before.
Me: (shrugging) Makes sense. You never met a fella like me before.

My son’s been away for a little bit and I miss him terribly.

Still, it does give me a chance to be out and about, something I’ve not had the luxury to be for extended periods of time.

So, I take advantage of it while I can.

One rainy night after we finished rolling around in our gym class, my buddy Miller and I went to get some drinks.

Or, rather, I did, as he’s a teetotaler.

Bartender: You off the sauce tonight?
Him: I’m always off the sauce.

Miller brought me out for my birthday to a nice joint around the way from the gym.

Me: I’ll have the caprese, since I like the sandwich so much.
Him: (after drinks come, he laughs) Now that’s a manly drink.
Me: (shrugging) What can I say? I like my girly drinks because they’re delicious and I love myself. Too bad there’s no umbrella.

It’s funny because Alison made me my first caprese and I used to eat them all the time with the Gradgirl so it made me think of them both.

Didn’t feel right having him cover the bill when it was just me drinking so I secretly paid the bill while he wasn’t looking.

Still, I was touched by the gesture.

Him: Dude, not cool! I wanted to bring you out for your birthday.
Me: And I appreciate it. Thanks for the company.

The bartender struck up a conversation with us and comped me a lemondrop, which also always makes me think of Alison since that was the first drink I ever got her at Solas.

Wrote about it in this entry. In some ways, I’m filled with regret that I didn’t put in more details about all my interactions with her – like the fact that I bought her a lemondrop – but I try not to write about other people if I can help it.

I thought I’d have her with me to reminisce about the details. I thought we’d have time.

Well, fuck. I guess this entry’s done.

Her: I’m finishing up if you want to stop by.
Me: Not tonight, I’m afraid. I’m outta sorts.
Her: You’re no fun.
Me: Evidently not.

Location: home, waiting for him to come back
Mood: detoxing from the week
Music: Rebound, feelin’ like a re-run (Spotify)
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Grief and I are old friends

Falling in love, repeatedly

The boy’s away for spring break so I’ve been catching up with people when I can.

Before he left, though, I went to his school for career day.

Me: OK, so I have few jobs I do. I’m a lawyer, I run a building, I own part of a gym, and I teach people how to fight. Which one do you…?
Kids: Fight!

That made me laugh. The boy looked so happy and proud of me, I coulda burst.

This fella – don’t remember who – once said that you don’t just love your kids, you fall in love with them. I’ll add to that: Repeatedly.

Gotta say, that’s spot on.

Him: Thanks for coming, papa!
Me: Sure. Thanks for being glad I came, kid.

 

Met someone recently that I’ll call Heidi. In many ways, she reminds me of Daisy; dealing with a lotta things, ranging from simple heartache to some serious horrors.

Her: It’s sweet that you’ll listen to a stranger. I’m sorry I’m crying.
Me: After my wife died, strangers listened to me. So, I figured I’d pay it forward. And you should never apologize to anyone for your honest emotions.
Her: Whatever happened with the last girl?
Me: (shrugging) We were awful to each other, in our own ways. I suppose –  not that it’s an excuse – that we were both trying to survive. Which is what you’re trying to do now: Whatever you need to do to survive.
Her: That’s the first helpful thing anyone’s told me.
Me: Unfortunately, grief and I are old friends.

Saw the Acrobat, briefly and I’ll just keep the details of that to myself. We’re both unmoored in the world, but for very different reasons.

I suspect we’re all looking for home, but she’s a leaf in the wind and I’m a ship on the waves.

Because of that, what we want for ourselves are two very different ideas of home.

Sunday, it was my birthday.

I’m 40-freaking-nine. I cannot believe it.

Him: Honestly, you’re like a vampire, Logan. I don’t think you’ve aged a day in the two decades I’ve known you.
Me: I always believed that I just aged slower than other people, for a buncha reasons. (thinking) But the last six years aged me more than any other time in my life, I think. So, I’m catching up.

Of course, I did the traditional Chinese breakfast of cooking a six-pound pork shoulder overnight and waking up early to make a Cuban Sandwich for myself with an overly sweet, hot cuppa joe.

Birthday brekkie of champions.

Her: You spent your birthday alone? (laughing) You need better friends. I would have taken you out.
Me: I know. I appreciate that. It’s fine. I’m not sure how good company I’d be, anywho.

My birthday always falls around Easter but this time it fell on Easter. I remembered that Alison made a whole weekend of plans for me once and we caught the Easter parade too.

This year, I wanted to see it alone.

But I didn’t quite make it – partly because Heidi called me, and partly because, I hit the grief button because Heidi called me and I couldn’t.

I was doing so well.

Maybe next year.

Location: home, baking four dozen high-protein chocolate chip cookies for him
Mood: allergic to life
Music: you are flowing like a river, washing right over my soul (Spotify)
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personal

Stealing lines

Hanging with Isabel

Had an interesting 49th birthday this past weekend. First I ran into the French Dancer downtown…

Me: You’re back! When did you get back?
Her: I just got back Monday but I’ve been working on my visa since Monday.
Me: Oh, I’ve done some before in the past. What type?
Her: O1B – the extraordinary artists one. Here, take a look at the paperwork I have to fill out.
Me: Well, you’re the first extraordinary artist I’ve met, then. Whoa! That’s a lotta paperwork. How’s the situationship going?
Her: (laughing) It’s done.
Me: Noted.

There was homemade pie…

Me: I think pie is better than cake.
Her: I agree.
Me: Finally!

….but I had to run off to meet a different lady. That’s a story that starts and ends there.

Most people are as interesting as tap water.

Dammit, I shoulda just stayed for the pie.

Speaking of extraordinary artists, do you remember when I told you that I met this really lovely singer with the NFL Player?

Anywho, her name is Isabel and you can follow her on IG here.

The Counselor and I were looking for stuff to do so we caught Isabel around the way and had a few drinks while listening her sing.

Me: Oh man, I love every song she picked.
Her: Me too!

While Isabel was singing, the Counselor and I caught up.

Me: …so we just wrote him off.
Her: Good for you, not your circus, not your monkeys.
Me: OMG, that’s my line!
Her: What? Lies! That’s not your line, that’s my line.
Me: I beg to differ.

She didn’t like any of the drinks I got her so she got some wine.

Me: You should just finish this, it’s tiny.
Her: That’s what she said.
Me: I literally just said that in my gym class today.
Her: Stop trying to steal all my lines, Logan.

We chatted with Isabel afterward.

Counselor: I love your jacket! Where did you get it?
Isabel: Loft, I think? (checks label) Oh, what’s your sign?
Counselor: It’s X, what’s yours?
Isabel: It’s Y!
Counselor: It’s Logan’s birthday tomorrow. He’s an Aries.
Isabel: Happy Birthday! (to Counselor) He’s totally an Aries.
Me: What’s happening here?

We ended up swinging by my place because she broke her heel. I tried to fix it, hence the rubber mallet.

Me: Wait, you were the captain of the cheerleading team in high school?
Her: No, I was the twice captain of the varsity cheerleading team in high school.
Me: Oh man, I gotta tell all my friends from high school I’ve been dating a (twice) captain of a varsity cheerleading team. Oh wait, I don’t have any friends from high school.
Her: (laughing) You know, if you had a kid when you were 21, he would be just a few years younger than me.
Me: I just threw up a little in my mouth.

It was late when she caught an Uber home.

My actual birthday was pretty quiet so I’ll just tell you about later.

Still trying to catch up on sleep.

Location: earlier today, telling another Daisy about the grief button
Mood: hungry for pie
Music: you’ll be on my mind forever (Spotify)
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Dreaming of Revenge

A deadly diaspora

More thoughts on Ukraine: Do you remember when I went to Boston and wrote about the Irish?

Did you know that there are seven times more Irish in America than there are in Ireland? Legit.

There’s a new world coming – again, provided these fuckers don’t blow it up first – and it’s going to be a diaspora of Ukrainians who aren’t going to forget who and what did this to them took their home from them.

Like, the Irish aren’t forgetting about the famine anytime soon. And the Jews aren’t forgetting about the Holocaust anytime soon.

And, as I’ve said before, if cancer was a person, there is nothing on earth that would stop me from getting to him/her after what it did to my family. Nothing.

I’m beyond incensed over what’s happening in Ukraine and I’m 100% Chinese.

I can only imagine the hatred and dreams of revenge that young Ukrainian men and women are feeling right now.

I wrote a novel once that you can buy on Amazon if you’re so inclined. In it, I opened the book with a quote from artist Paul Gauguin:

Life being what it is, one dreams of revenge.

Knowing as many Ukrainians as I do, I don’t see them forgetting who and what did this to them who took their home from them.

I don’t think the Russian government/Putin fully realize how many of these young men, women, and children now dream of revenge. That’s not a good thing for them.

Her: Did you read about…?
Me: I did.
Her: Wait, you didn’t even hear what I was going to say.
Me: If it’s about the war, I did. I most definitely did and wish I didn’t.

I made the kid some duck confit again – the first time around, he kinda liked it. Well, he liked it with the rice at least.

This time around, a lot less so.

Him: Why can’t we just have McDonalds?

Now, here’s the kicker – I said the exact same thing to my dad ages ago.

See, when I was his age, my dad owned a Japanese restaurant and food that he couldn’t sell and would go bad, he’d bring home for us.

So, we had sushi constantly and lobster and crab pretty regularly. I remember him telling us that we would regret this when we got older and he was totally right.

Me: OK, if I gave you some barbeque sauce from McDonalds to dip the duck into would you…
Him: Yes! I want that.

Ah, it’s moments like this I wish my dad were here so I could tell him about the boy. And that he was right. About so much. And that I miss him terribly.

Now, I want some sushi. Or more duck. Or even McDonalds.

I’m just hungry, yo. That, and I like to eat my feelings.

Speaking of eating my feelings, Daisy’s back. Kinda.

It’s a long story and hard to explain.

I’ll try and sort it all out for you at some point. Really, I’m trying to sort it all out for me, but I’ll tell you all about it if I do.

Location: at the gym, getting repeatedly strangled by Pez and Erin
Mood: so, so, so hungry
Music: Home Sweet Home (Spotify)
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Questionable and Complex

Palsgraf

Her: I showed my friend your picture and told her that you’re almost 49. She said, “He looks 32!” And she’s Asian!
Me: Whoa, now that’s a compliment.
Her: I’ll send it to you so you can frame it in your room.
Me: God, yes please…

I’m turning 49 in a week. On the one hand, I realize that not everyone gets to celebrate turning a year older so I’m lucky to have the chance.

On the other hand, every passing year gives me anxiety, not so much that I’ll die – although there is that – so much as I feel I’m running out of time to give the boy the tools I think he’ll need to navigate this world.

In some way, this blog itself is a tool for him.

I try to write as honestly as I can so that he can get what knowledge he can about why I am as I am and how I think.

Suppose time will tell if this is a good or terrible idea.

Her: You’re not worried about all the stuff you write about?
Me: No. Because I write about life and life itself is questionable and complex. If nothing else, he’ll read this blog and know that Alison and I loved him and I loved her. That works for me.

Her: I’m just visiting a few different schools. Wait, you’re the knife guy!
Me: What? (laughs) I’ve never had anyone call me that before.
Her: Really? But you are the knife guy, yeah?
Me: So it would seem.

There’s a place called the Summer Palace (頤和園; YĂ­hĂ©yuán) that was the pinnacle of luxury and glory back in the days of Imperial China.

The legend goes – and this might just be pure sexism against someone that was actually awful but also happened to be a woman – that the Empress Dowager Cixi embezzled funds from the Chinese Navy to pay for work with it.

At the time, the Chinese navy was supposed to be the strongest navy in all of Asia. But when the Japanese invaded and the navy was totally trounced, the truth was uncovered – all of their technological and personnel advancements were just fluff.

Regardless if it was the Dowager or someone/something else embezzling the money, the money that was supposed to get to the military, never made it there.

Here, we’re seeing the same thing in Russia versus Ukraine. Just like China was supposed to easily beat Japan, Russia was supposed to easily beat Ukraine. But how does a politician like Putin own things like $700 million yachts?

I suspect the same way the Dowager could afford a second palace.

In 2022, China is still struggling to be the equal of the west, because of this national theft.

Think that that 2122’s Russia – provided we didn’t annihilate the world via nukes by then – will still be struggling with cascading consequences of what’s happening right now.

Who the fuck needs a second palace or a $700 million yacht?

There’s a name that instantly pulls every lawyer in America back to their first year of law school: Palsgraf.

It’s a long story, but it too is a story of unforeseen, cascading consequences.

The last time I said that name was close to a quarter century ago.

Her: How would you prove the chain of causation in that?
Me: Well, this is first time in my life, I’ve been on a date and the phrase, “Chain of causation” was used. Have you ever dated a lawyer before, Counselor?
Her: God, no.
Me: Yeah, I never fished off the company pier before. Oh wait, you’re gonna make me say it…
Her: What?
Me: Palsgraf.
Her: Oh, no! You said it! (laughs)

Location: A park, trying to get out of a conversation with a different pretty girl because she was freaking me out
Mood: more conflicted than ever, but for totally different reasons
Music: Any way you want it, that’s the way you need it (Spotify)
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The Mouse that Roared

Punching above our weight classes

My son’s eczema seems to be getting progressively worse and it’s alarming.

I’ve, unfortunately, had a lotta experience in watching someone I care about suffer from it. Watching my son trying to deal with it is just awful.

It was originally just a small patch on his back but now it covers large amounts of his body and he’s always asking me to scratch him.

Him: Stop, stop!
Me: Why?
Him: I have to scratch. (does so) I’m sorry I keep stopping.
Me: (shaking head) Don’t apologize for that. I’m sorry you’re uncomfortable.

I’ve now spent a small fortune on ointments, creams, and bath additions as well reading up on any number of things that are supposed to ameliorate things, with limited effectiveness.

Oddly, oatmeal seems to help matters, at least according to what I’ve been reading and what I know.

So, in addition to giving this kid regular oatmeal baths, which he tends to enjoy save for his annoyance with taking baths in general, I’ve been baking him oatmeal cookies and feeding him bowls of oatmeal like there’s no tomorrow.

The hope is that, once summer arrives, he’ll do much better.

In the meantime, I’m spending waaaay too much time reading up on the matter and feeling for everyone that has to deal with this nonsense.

On an unrelated point, and very separate from the horrors that we’re watching unfold in Ukraine, I’ve been thinking a lot about the novel, The Mouse That Roared.

I last read it when I was in grade school, maybe, so I’m sure I’ll get some of the details wrong, but it’s essentially the satirical story of a tiny nation that decides to start a war with the US in the hopes of losing and having the US rebuild them, stronger and better.

The kicker, however, is that they win and have no idea what to do after they’ve won.

It’s a bit like the Joker’s speech in The Dark Knight where Joker tells Two-Face that he’s just a dog chasing cars.

I wouldn’t know what to do with one if I caught it.

Just like the British were unprepared for America winning the Revolutionary War, the Soviets were beaten by the Finns in WWII – fighting on skis of all things – the Koreans thrashed the Japanese Empire in 1592, and modern America was essentially beaten by Vietnam, I wonder if Ukraine has a chance to not just claw back its original territory from Russia but also regain Crimea and any other regions that Russia annexed.

If I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that it’s difficult to adequately gauge the effects of (a) motivation, (b) home court advantage, and (c) luck on expected outcomes.

Let’s hope the Ukrainians continue to punch (way) above their weight.

And FWIW, I’m pretty sure the Ukrainians can figure out what to do if they do get back what’s rightfully theirs.

On a completely unrelated matter, we finally have a new Scenic Fights video up, this time regarding Atomic Blonde.

Give it a go?

I’m not sure what I’m doing in that still above…

Location: 7PM, the kitchen, making duck confit for a six-year old that wants McDonalds
Mood: irritated that I have to compete against McDonalds
Music: Remedy, running through the red lights (Spotify)
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Bringing the kiddie gang to Koreatown

Shoehorned

Because I’ve been out so much lately, I decided that I should take the boy out with his friends at least once.

To this end, I invited my SIL and ABFF and her kids to head out to eat Korean food in Koreatown.

Chose Koreatown because (a) I love Korean food and (b) it was kinda the middle point for alla us.

Unfortunately, because we all met up at 6PM, the place was packed so we had a choice: We could either sit upstairs on the fifth floor sans alcohol and be seated immediately or sit on the second floor, get alcohol but wait 45 minutes for a table.

We chose the former. And by “we,” I mean “they.”

Her: You know, you can eat without drinking, Logan.
Me: Tenuous.

It was pretty nice, though. We essentially had most of the floor to ourselves, save for a couple here or there.

The kids were pretty well-behaved, all things considered. Think they found the whole idea of having a BBQ in the middle of a table kinda interesting.

Her: Why don’t you just order for us?
Me: Way ahead of you.

I ended up ordering waaaay too much food. Forgot that half the table was comprised of children so, for the first time ever, I brought some food home.

Her: Wait, there’s more food?
Me: It’s fine.
Son: Papa will eat it. He eats everything.
Me: Thanks?

Afterward, we went to get pastries across the street.

Pac’s mom has a noodle shop – Noona Noodles – on the ground floor there and I was going to stop by to say hello but the whole place, including her restaurant, was a madhouse.

Suppose people are just super jazzed that the pandemic restrictions are easing substantially.

But, back to the story, it turns out they food court we ended up at shoehorned two small karaoke rooms off to the side.

My son heard the music and couldn’t help but go, watch, and sing along.

Me: Can you imagine if you were singing and you looked down and saw a little boy looking at you sing through that window?
Her: That’s hilarious.

Everyone was full and happy at the end.

As for me, I was totally sober, which was the first night in a while where I could say such a thing.

But there’s always tomorrow.

Me: Well, my major issue’s that Trump’s such a pussy.
Purple: Ugh. Why would you use that word? “Pussy.” It’s vulgar and sexist.
Me: (rolling eyes) It’s derived from the word “pusillanimous,” which means “timid” or “weak.” Google it.
Her: (later) It’s not clear. It either comes from that or from the word “pussycat.”
Me: Both of which have nuthin to do with the female anatomy.
Her: See! You knew that’s what people think.
Me: (shrugging) Most people think that we have five senses, they’re wrong.
Her: Wait, what?

Location: this past weekend, spending $60 for 18 dumplings around the way and wondering why
Mood: hungry for dumplings or Korean BBQ
Music: [see above, this song doesn’t exist anywhere but Spotify, which I find hella annoying]
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