Month: November 2022

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personal

Thanksgiving 2022

Getting hustled

This year was kinda different but also kinda the same.

The NFL player invited me over for a party that he was throwing for his friends and family, and it’s so close to my pad that I couldn’t say no.

The issue was that – for better or worse – there were cops just everywhere because they live right on Central Park West and there were huge crowds of people trying to watch the balloons inflate.

Officer: Sorry, you can’t go this way.
Me: (holding up a bottle of whiskey I brought as a gift) I’m heading to a party at that building over there, though.
Him: (sighing) Go ahead, sir.

Honestly, I’m gonna start wearing a suit and bringing a bottle of whiskey everywhere now.

It was a really fun night because there were actually a lotta 30-somethings there that were friends of his kids.

Mainly, though, it was really well catered and I’m a sucker for good food.

Him: These sliders are amazing.
Me: You don’t have to tell me twice. (grab a few)
Him: (looking at me) Are you only eating one of the buns?
Me: (sheepishly) I’m cheating on my no-carb diet but only partially.
Him: (pause) I’m going to do that too.

Sweeeeeet.

He even had a bartender.

Me: Wait, you have the aged Captain Morgan? No one ever has that.
Him: Well, we do. How do you want it?
Me: On the rocks with a slice of orange, please.

This was pretty much me most of the night; I don’t think most people noticed me stuffing my fat face non-stop. That’s the hope, at least.

It was late when I left and I offered to walk the NFL Player’s daughter to catch a cab.

Her: Thanks for walking me.
Me: Heck, it’s the least I could do, considering how much I ate.

Then, the kid and headed over to my in-laws to get Thanksgiving with them.

My brother was in town but I just hate the thought of my in-laws not having Alison over the holidays.

I know how much it wears on me so I can only imagine how it affects them.

It was always her favourite holiday because she got to spend it with her family and I would spend it with mine.

We only spent 2014 and 2015 together but that just makes me sad so I’ll move on.

In any case, I feel that, if Alison can’t be with them, the kid will be as a second-best option.

I’m just there as the kid’s chauffer but it’s fine because the food’s always killer.

I swear the kid hustled me with Uno.

Him: Uno!
Me: You’re kidding me.
Him: Nope! See… (shows me)
Me: (grumble)

There was a lotta pie, alla which I ate but I didn’t take any pictures.

Went home that night while the kid stayed there.

Had some things I needed to take care of and we’ll leave it at that.

I still hate the holidays but it hurts a bit less these days.

Suppose it’s just time. Or the rum. Maybe both.

Probably both.

Location: home, after a fun night at the gym
Mood: hungry again. I’m always hungry
Music: Oh, what can I say? I’m survivin’ (Spotify)
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personal

A birthday party at the gym

I’ll sing it to you

I texted/emailed the parents of the kids that I knew were coming from the UWS and told them that there were no trains running then took the only train down to Columbus Circle, the stop before the last stop, which was W. 50th.

So did pretty much everyone else on that train.

Columbus Circle was a madhouse.

A complete madhouse.

Could barely make it down the stairs and ended up not being able to get on the first two trains down and caught the third train, the D train.

What I didn’t realize – cause I never take the D train – was that it didn’t stop at 14th Street, instead, I ended up going to W 4th Street, 14 blocks and one avenue from where I needed to be.

Mind you, I’m lugging three enormous bags of toys, food, and miscellany this whole time.

Tried hailing a cab for a few minutes but there were literally none to be found. Not much traffic anywhere at all.

I’m guessing that (a) it being Sunday and (b) the water main break, meant that most people on the west side were stuck wherever they were.

So, with his party scheduled to start in about 30 minutes, I started hustling.

Ran just two blocks when I realized that I was along a bus line and turned around to see if I could see it.

In the first bit of good luck, I saw a bus headed my way so I flagged it down.

Me: (breathlessly) Do you go up to West 18th?
Him: Yeah, way past that.

Sitting down, I looked at the time and saw I only had 25 minutes to set everything up. Like…everything. In fact, I thought the kid and my friend might be there.

It took less than 10 minutes to get to 18th but I leapt off the bus anywho and ran to my gym. I was the first one there – which was good since I had the keys – and quickly started putting everything together – the table, the gift bags, the toys and games, etc.

My buddy that brought his kid and my kid came at 11:50, 10 minutes before the party was to start.

Him: I’m sorry, mate. We ended up hopping a cab and…
Me: No worries. I just got here a few minutes before you.

Since he and his wife brought the food and I set up the table, they set up all the food, while I did the drinks and gift bags.

It was a hurried affair – I later realized that I never set up the piñata nor handed out all these other toys that my MIL set up.

And I was so rushed for the next hours running the party and trying to keep everything running that I didn’t end up taking any pics.

Zero.

Luckily, my friends did, including RE Mike, who showed up with his kid.

Me: Man, I didn’t take any pics…
Him: I took a ton. I’ll send you them.

The kids had a grand time. Essentially, we played two out of the 10 games I planned to play.

Me: I’m think of just letting them run wild around the gym while I day-drink.
Him: I think that’s a better idea than trying to stop them from playing their own games.
Me: Thank god, I’m having a beer…or three.

The guys I ordered the pizzas from were so professional; they were train on time, the pizzas were hot and delicious, and the cupcakes I got the kids were a hit.

Him: You did a really good job, man.
Me: Did I?
Him: (shrugging) No one got hurt, there’s food left over, and the kids are disappointed it’s over. That’s a success.
Me: Sweeeeet.

My buddies took my kid back so I could focus on cleaning up the place.

Seven hours after everything started, I was done.

Me: Did you have a fun time, kid?
Him: Yes! (thinking, sadly) I have to wait a whole ‘nother year before I get another birthday party.
Me: (laughing) Thank goodness for that. (gently) It’ll be here before you know it, kid.
Him: I wish mommy was here. She could sing me “Happy Birthday.”
Me: (sighing) You and me both, kid. You and me both. But, I’ll sing it to you.

Like I said, the hours drag but the years keep sprinting away.

Here’s to the good days, to the bad days
To the breakups and the birthdays
Here’s to the best days, to the worst days
‘Cause I know that [we]’ll be okay

Location: home, heading straight to bed now that I’ve been poked and prodded all day
Mood: fulla food so, fat and happy
Music: You can’t feel the sun without the rain (Spotify)
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personal

Oh wait…I’m me

Well, of course

Speaking of childhood nostalgia, when I was kid, the closest I got to a birthday party was my mom would pick up some Entenmann’s cake, tell me to invite three kids over and we’d have a party for an hour.

They do things differently in 2022 Manhattan.

Here, I go to kids’ birthday parties that are significantly better than anything I have now as an adult. In fact, last year I essentially spent it alone and will most likely do that again this year.

But the kid’s lost enough, I think.

So, I wanted him to have a nice party and planned to have a big thing at my gym with the help of Pez, his regular sitter, my sister-in-law, and my mother-in-law.

Plus…45 kids.

I waaaaaaay over-booked. But I was in it. So, I ordered seven pizzas, a cake, a ton of toys, a ton of games, etc…you get the picture.

Was totally stressed out over it when I got a call from my MIL the night before, who had him that weekend and was gonna bring him over on Sunday.

Her: Well, of course, he has a fever.
Me: What?!
Her: Yeah. 103.
Me: (sighing) Well, of course.

Should mention this pic is my brother taking the temp.

Scrambled to tell all the other parents that bought gifts and were planning the day around this party. Everyone was a sweetheart about the whole thing.

My SIL took care of a lot of it and I felt terrible but she simply said, “Kids get sick, what are you gonna do?”

Of course, the boy was super upset. So, I promised him that I’d throw him some sort of replacement party. There was only one weekend that could possibly work – Sunday, November 20th – and out of 45 kids, eight could make it.

Him: Just eight?!
Me: Kid, I didn’t have eight friends in my life until I was college.

Had way more stuff than necessary but, having said that, what could go wrong?

Oh wait…I’m me.

Wake up that day and bring the kid over to some friends that agreed to bring him and some food down for me so I could haul THREE ginormous bags of stuff to the gym and I hop onto the subway.

Dashing downstairs, I miss a train and wait six minutes for the next train. I hop on and wait.

And wait.

12 minutes later – which, in subway time, might as well be a day – the conductor says, “Because of a burst pipe on Canal Street, there is no downtown service on [this train line].”

Well…of course.

While I decide what to do, the conductor comes on again and says that they’ll go as far as West 50th Street but no further.

And that makes sense because there musta been a billion trains behind us and they had to start getting these trains into stations and people outta the system.

And that’s when a whole new adventure started for me.

Writing this, I realized I have a medical procedure happening this week and I’m also doing stuff in the gym.

I got a lot going on these days…

I should not have opened the Entenmann’s Wiki page.

Man, they discontinued the Apple Strudel, Pineapple Cheese Strudel and fruitcake? Those were amongst my faves.

God, I’m so hungry.

Location: home, just now remembering that I can’t eat for the next 36-48 hours. Shoulda had that pizza.
Mood: so hungry
Music: I ain’t the way you found me, and I’ll never be the same (Spotify)
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Books that made me, me

Some more fiction

Rarely read fiction anymore. I used to read fiction voraciously but I’ve so little time these days that it’s been years since I read something with a plot and characters.

Read the entirety of John Grisham’s novels from 1990-1999. That’s the last time I remember reading fiction, although I’m sure I did in the 2000s – I just don’t remember.

It’s a shame because this fella named Charlie “Tremendous” Jones once said, You will be the same person in five years as you are today except for the people you meet and the books you read.

There’s a lotta truth to that.

Think that I’m the person I am today because of the books I read when I was a kid. After all, my summers were spent in the library.

A handful of books spring to mind immediately when I think of books that profoundly affected me.

Some, I already wrote about at length including:

  • The Godfather (sophmore year, college)
  • The Count of Monte Cristo (high school)
  • Les Miserables (high school)
  • The Little House series (grammar school)
    • Honestly, I read these books because I was always hungry and they had the most vivid descriptions of food. I still remember the description of the kids cooking pig’s tail and making maple candy. This is probably at least part of the reason I’m a fatty-fat-fat.
  • The Great Brain series (grammar school)
    • This one taught me the value of hustle, something that I took to heart immediately after reading the book and literally never stopped.
  • A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (high school)
    • I keep thinking about the saloon owner and his relationship with his wife for reasons that are mine alone, but I digress.

Lately, I find myself remembering books I read in late grammar school and junior high school, just because I want the kid to read them, someday.

On that note, I recently spoke at his school. But that’s an entry for another time.

Two books that really fucked with my head growing up were:

Tuck Everlasting
This is about a little girl that met a boy about her age, but he’s really 104 years old. He’s immortal and she wants to be immortal like him, but he tells her it’s a curse. The ending really messed me up but it made me realize for the first time that I would die someday.

And it was the first book where the boy and girl didn’t have a happy ending.

I think it was the start of me wanting to do something important because I knew my time here was limited.

It also meant that I never wanted to live forever.

In light of all that’s happened in my life, I think that all the more lately. I feel I’m just waiting around to die, already.

Bridge to Terabithia
Now, this messed me up because I’d never read about a main character dying before. The heroes always lived and won. This was the first book where that wasn’t the case and it made me realize that the good guys lose as much as win.

If these two books didn’t help, in some small way, prepare me for the last few fucked up years of my life, I dunno what did.

Speaking of bridges, since I have you, maybe you can help me find two books from grammar school that I just cannot remember the author nor title of because I was a little kid.

The first book was about a young boy in Manhattan that would sneak out and climb one of the bridges (the Manhattan Bridge?) in the middle of the night and just sit and think.

I used to sneak out of my house and just on random corners to think, because of this book.

When I first moved to Manhattan (Times Square) as a young adult, people would always wanna go out to parties or bars and meet people.

Me? I’d sit at the corner of W 46th Street and 6th Avenue and chat up whoever was there around midnight.

When I moved here, I used to sit on my stoop and make small talk with whomever.

Did I ever tell you that I met the doctor at a phone booth in Columbia and the German Girl at my local dive bar?

So much of my life has been chance encounters. Including Alison.

Don’t think I ever told that the girl in this entry was her.

She was my ship in the night.

Ah, fuck me.

Sorry.

Anywho, the second book was about a group of kids that found a key which turned out to fit into a hole in a stone wall. Inside the wall (the key was really a hook that hooked onto a box) was essentially a time capsule.

That book is probably part of why I write this blog.

Because I think that, maybe long after I’m gone, someone will find this and it’ll be a time capsule of some rando’s life in the early 2000s.

Gotta make sure someone pays the internet hosting bills, I guess.

Location: 5PM tonight, chatting with a buddy about the people we love, dying, on W 77th
Mood: thoughtful
Music: we should go get lost in the big wide world (Spotify)
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Thanks for the Joy, Cammie!

Hot damn, that’s damn hot

Can’t tell you the number of times people question why I even have this blog.

Heck, *I* question why I even have this blog and wonder on the regular if I should just pack it up.

In fact, the Counselor stopped talking to me for a bit after she found out about it. She could have been the only one that told me; who knows how many women stopped talking to me because of this blog and not because of my dreadful personality?

Now, I honestly tried once before, but then Alison got sick and I felt that if I didn’t write, I’d go starkers.

Some would argue that I did anyway, but that’s neither here nor there.

Suppose, this is as much my own therapy as it is my keeping track of the comings and goings of my life.

Every once in a while, though, I’m reminded that I connect with people that I might never have connected with ever, through this thing.

One person I met years ago when this was on LiveJournal was a girl that called herself WebCammie.

She was a young law student when we first (virtually) met, while I’d been practicing for a decade or so.

Now, the world hit eight billion people just five days ago.

Meaning, there are eight billion randos in the world – and I’m one of them. Yet, this one rando (Cammie) felt that this here rando (me) was special enough to keep track of. Even after all this time.

If that’s not flattering and kind, man, I dunno what is.

Here’s the kicker, though – she wrote me a pithy line the other day:

I work for FB so if you need help getting your account back, let me know. My email is…

Turns out, she’s an associate General Counsel at Facebook.

That’s…a pretty big deal.

So, I hit her up and FOUR HOURS LATER, my permanently deleted Facebook/Instagram/Whatsapp accounts all came back.

Goddamn, it’s nice knowing people in the world with this much juice.

Is it hot in here or is it just me?

Because, hot damn, that’s damn hot.

Me: Hey, if FB needs an extremely lazy, semi-alcoholic, somewhat maudlin, but very charming IP lawyer, let me know?
WebCammie: (laughing) We just laid off 11,000 users but are you seriously looking?
Me: (laughing as well) No, I’m just a full-time dad now.

So, when people ask me who I write my blog for, I always tell them that it’s a roundabout way for me to find people in my tribe.

Those that see the world (kinda) how I see it. As a complex tragedy fulla joy.

On the one hand, I spend my life bearing the endless fucking tragedies for the promise of some goddamn joy.

On the other hand, I try to give a little joy to others if I can, knowing that they’re living in a tragedy too.

And I think I’m not the only one.

Mr. Rogers famously said, Look for the helpers. I take that very much to heart.

The people that helped me when Alison was sick, the people that picked me up when I was on my knees after she and my dad died? These are all the kinda people I wanna know and I want my kid to know.

Because Alison lived her life trying to help people find joy in the tragedy that is our lives and I try to do the same, if only to just to meet people like her and Cammie.

And be grateful for the rando acts of kindness towards other randos.

Cause, honestly, what greater joy is there than to bring joy to others? I couldn’t tell you because I don’t think there is one.

So, thanks, Cammie, for the help and the joy.

The world’s a shitty place but people like you make it just a little less so. I’m grateful that you took time outta your insanely busy day to help this rando.

Thanks for existing.

Your fan,

Logan

PS – Surely, you can use an assistant. I make great ok passable coffee.

Him: Look at all the fog! It’s so cool!
Me: It is.
Him: What’s fog, papa?
Me: Well, essentially, water molecules condense – that means gathers – around little bits of fine parti…you know what? It doesn’t matter. Let’s stand for a bit and look at it together, ok?
Him: OK, papa! Look at the lights!
Me: (laughing) It’s pretty. Our little city’s pretty sometimes, yeah?
Him: (nodding) Yeah…

Location: earlier today, my gym at a private party
Mood: tired, but joyous
Music: How’d you always know when I’m down? I feel joy, when you call me (Spotify)
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A night with the Pastor and Conan

More Often

Him: I dunno – it sounds like everything you put in place worked.
Me: What are you talking about? I lost my Facebook account and Instagram accounts.
Him: Sure, that sucks. But they didn’t get any money because you had alarms set that notified you about the breach, you put on 2FA onto all your financial accounts, you had someone monitoring your network. Everything worked the way it was supposed to work, FB and IG notwithstanding. You lost no money and you didn’t get ransomwared. I’d call all that a win, honestly.

A buddy of mine is a tech specialist and he felt that both this latest hack and the previous one went as well as one could hope.

Suppose I really should focus on the positives more than the negatives.

Speaking of positives, the pastor invited me out to watch Conan O’Brien just a few blocks down from my pad.

We made arrangements for this months before the hack took place – interestingly, one thing they tried to do was transfer my ticket to the show outta my Ticketmaster account.

Luckily, I scrambled to stop that and moved it to yet another account I created.

So, one rainy night this past week, I met up with him at my usual diner.

Him: Do you know what you want?
Me: I’m actually gonna get the tuna melt, which I never do but a friend of mine just had one the other day and it looked good.

Caught him up with all the craziness that was going on with me. Like most people, he was puzzled about how the whole thing went down.

Him: They sent out your passwords and didn’t get any money?
Me: Well, they tried. Sending out my passwords was just kinda…mean.

We were literally right next door to the theatre so we stepped out, and were in our seats in less than 10 minutes.

Me: Every time I come here I say the same thing: I need to come here more often.

He got us some killer seats right next to the stage. I’m usually in the nosebleed areas.

Well, back when I still went out.

The only issue with the seats is the lady in front of me decided to put her hair up so this was what I saw 70% of the night.

Talk about lack of self-awareness.

The show itself was good, not great, only because the guest for the first half of that night was Tracey Morgan and I just don’t find him funny at all.

Heard that Stephen Colbert was the guest the night before – my luck runs ever true – so that was a slight disappointment BUT the second half of the show was pretty good.

We chatted for a bit afterward before I headed home, which was only 10 minutes away.

Me: Thanks a lot for the invite!
Him: No problem, I’m glad we could make it work despite everything you’ve been dealing with.

Note to self: Go there more often.

In the days/weeks before the show, kept thinking I should stay home to work on the hack but I’m glad I went and got my mind off everything, if only for a little bit.

Thank goodness for the good souls.

Location: stabbing, slashing, and wrestling on W 18th
Mood: tired, with a really bum knee
Music: Yes, I know, let’s go (Spotify)
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My office is moving

I’ll never see it again

While everything was happening, my law firm moved. It’s actually the third office we’ve had since I started working with them.

Told you about the day I started working there so, I figured I should tell you when I left too.

They invited me to a last-minute shindig, which I was going to say no to but then I figured I’d spent enough time hunched over my computers trying to fix my life, so I said, yes.

But, because it was so last minute, I didn’t have anyone to watch the kid.

Boss: Bring him!
Me: You sure?
Him: Why not? It’ll be fine.

So, after school one day, we went over to my old office; didn’t realize at the time that it would be the last time I would step foot into it.

The kid was a hit, of course. But he got super shy.

Boy: Too many people!
Me: But I’m here.
Him: (shakes head) Too many people.

So, he sat outside for a little bit while I chatted with everyone. After a while, the kid started relaxing and relenting. Plus, I promised him dessert.

Him: What is it?
Me: Cheesecake.
Him: I don’t like cheesecake.
Me: What are you, a communist?

Ultimately, he ended up sitting next to me and having some pizza. And pasta. And more pizza. And more pasta. And the aforementioned cheesecake.

He liked the chocolate garnish, just not the cake itself.

My boss handed him keys to part of the office and told him he could keep it. That made him smile. You can see the keys in the picture above, with the red key fob.

One of the lawyers that I’ve known for ages, David, isn’t coming with us, because he’s retiring and focusing on being a professor at the law school where he teaches.

He said some really kind words to me that I’ll keep to myself but I was grateful for the gesture.

A young lady who was the receptionist showed up. The last I saw of her, she had just started law school.

Me: How’s law school?
Her: (puzzled) Law school? I graduated a while ago.
Me: (shaking head) Sorry. I’ve lost so much track of time ever since…doesn’t matter. Where are you now?
Her: (nodding) I’m in the Brooklyn DA’s office.
Me: Wait, you’re an ADA?!
Her: (smiling) Yup!
Me: OMG, lemme see your badge!
Her: (laughs and reaches over for her bag)

It’s funny. All these people that were assistants and receptionists at my firm all went on to have some great jobs and careers.

When Alison first met my boss, she really liked him. We had all these plans, her and I, that never came to fruition.

Me: So, when’s the big move day?
Boss: Next Monday.
Me: Wait, that soon?!

It was then that I realized I’d never be in that office again. That really weighed on me.

In any case, I hope these people manage to get what they hope. Someone should get what they want.

Afterward, the kid and I walked to Grand Central where we met up with a student at our gym at the gourmet cheese shop where he works.

Me: So, this is where you are when you’re not being choked or strangled.
Him: (laughs) Yup.

It was late when the kid and I went home.

Me: Did you have a good time?
Him: (nodding) Your friends are nice.
Me: They are. You tired?
Him: (sleepily shakes head)
Me: Gotcha.


Location: West 76th and Amsterdam, running into a girl I met online in real life
Mood: sick
Music: I just sit here on this mountain, thinking to myself (Spotify)
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Clearing my mind with pie

About par for course

My life’s been pretty crazy for just over a month now.

To recap, it all started going downhill when I got slammed onto my neck (twice), then immediately broke out in hives, which went away, but then a mouse appeared in my bedroom.

Because of the mouse, I tore my room apart, which meant it looked like hell, which was further discomforting.

While this was happening, my harddrive failed, which meant I started scrambling to fix it.

Once that was fixed, I ended up slicing open my finger, so I rang my brother to bitch.

And in the middle of my conversation with my brother bitching about my life, hackers came in, took all my passwords, and then reposted it for the world to see.

So, yeah, about par for course.

After two more weeks of madness, I think I’m finally on top of the latest hack. Or at least good enough to meet a friend for lunch.

Her: I’m gonna get the tuna melt. Although they always put in like three cans of tuna.
Me: (puzzled) On what planet is that a bad thing? Y’know, I never think to order a tuna melt but I always want one after I see it. Next time…

Also, because things were calming down, but not yet calm, I stopped and did what I always do when I need to clear my mind: Cook.

Or, in this case, bake.

See, the boy – like all kids – loves carbs. But I refuse to buy him prepacked, highly processed things like cookies and other sweets. Because of this, I usually have to bake. Often.

Oatmeal cookies, almond flour chocolate cakes, etc.

This time around, I found a buncha premade nut crusts so I made some organic, high-fiber, high-(good)fat pumpkin pies.

Four, to be exact.

They were so good that we – mainly I – ended up eating three of them and I finally remembered to take a picture of one of the finished pies when there was just over a half of it left.

While I love cooking for the boy, I gotta admit that I miss cooking for someone that’s not in second grade.

It’s funny what you miss.

Now, these are the kinda problems I wanna go back to.

Then again, there’s always tomorrow.

Location: home, after another all day shoot, wondering if I should have some pie
Mood: sick
Music: had a one-way ticket to a place where all the demons go (Spotify)
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Jealous all the time, Pt 2

Found my wedding ring

Him: I came across some of your blog entries. It was unexpected.
Me: (nodding) I get that a lot. But we are what we constantly do and I always wrote. You surprised me as well. And I’m not often surprised. Hence, my being here. It seems that we all have our secret lives…and skills.

The Frenchman and his wife are also highly successful in their professional lives, like my friends around the way or the NFL Player.

Him: [My wife] runs the entire division.
Me: God, I wanna marry rich. Send me your rich, hot friends.
Him: (laughs) I might have someone for you.
Me: You should know, [I’m very shallow.]
Him: (laughs again)

There’s something about fighting that makes people struggle and scuffle in all areas of their lives. He’s not the first highly successful, highly dangerous person I’ve met in my life.

He reminded me of an old friend of mine. Quiet, highly educated, well-spoken, and well-dressed, but completely inured to violence.

Completely.

Him: (pointing over to someone at the bar) I know, what it will feel like if that man and I fought. I know how it would end, without knowing anything about him.
Me: If I had to fight you – or any grappler – I’d have to slit your wrists as soon as I could. I can’t allow you to grab me.
Him: (smiles) [You thought this through].
Me: I’ve survived this long by thinking things through.

In any ways, this craziness was a nice respite from the other craziness in my life.

He caught a cab home past midnight. We’d chatted for over four hours. It’s strange talking to my peers again.

Spent so much time talking to people so much younger than me for so long that it was like I was wearing old clothes that – surprisingly – still fit.

Him: I know you have close friends and a support network but if you ever feel down, don’t hesitate to ping me.
Me: I appreciate that, and the company and conversation tonight. These are the questions people of our age ask: Why are we here? And are we leaving the world better off than when we arrived? I don’t know the answer to either but am hopeful, for some reason.

I’m stupid like that.

And I don’t have many close friends on purpose. People are…difficult.

Walked home to my empty apartment, which was sparkling clean because the housekeeper was there earlier.

She found my wedding ring. I’d lost it ages ago but Alison never cared. She knew I was her fella; we were happy with just the other as company.

Friday nights were always our favourite.

It’s funny, the wedding ring never mattered to either of us, just the marriage itself.

Was actually holding it in my hand, thinking about my possible pasts again, when The Frenchman reached out to me earlier that night.

In any case, after I got back, I sat down and poured myself a drink and wished I asked him for his friend’s name that died from the brain cancer to give him a toast.

Instead, I just cheered Alison and my dad and downed it and half the bottle by myself in my empty apartment – the boy was away.

This is after four drinks with The Frenchman.

Woke up the next morning on my couch, still in my clothes. The ring was on the table.

Someone once asked if I was jealous of her bestie that recently had a baby with his wife.

She said it to break my heart but the joke was on her because you can’t break what’s already broken.

It was the strangest question because I thought the answer was obvious.

Of course I am, I said. I’m jealous all the fucking time.

Location: that night, with an empty bottle of rum on the table and an empty me on the couch
Mood: muddle-headed again
Music: I’m your walking disaster, keep on dragging me from self-pity, poor me (Spotify)
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Categories
personal

Jealous all the time, Pt 1

The Grey Men

The kid got his first stripe in BJJ recently. He was thrilled. As was I.

Him: Papa, papa, look!
Me: That’s awesome! I’m proud of you.
Him: (beams)

Didn’t vote for the first time in…dunno how long. Although, not for lack of trying. We went to two and almost three places but I wasn’t to be found.

I’m disappearing, it seems. Maybe that’s for the best.

I miss when I was a grey man and no one knew me and what I could do.

As for the boy, he’ll have secrets of his own, someday.

Had lots of plans this past weekend but everything fell through because of everything I told you. And some stuff I haven’t.

Every time I think I’m outta the woods, I find out I’m not.

Was planning on just working on cleaning up my digital life the entire weekend when I got a message from a fella that goes to my gym.

Him: Let’s try to grab a drink soon!
Me: I’m dealing with some craziness now that’s a bit hard to explain. (thinking) Oh wait, what are you doing tonight? You’re in Manhattan, yes?
Him: Yup! Let meet after I have dinner – closer to 8 works?

Told you once that no one knew that I did weapons work – for close to two decades no less – because I did it for me. It only came out because Alison died and I stopped caring and did Scenic Fights.

While I’m proud of what we do, and the fellas are great, a part of me regrets that decision. For many reasons.

In any case, this fella, we’ll call him The Frenchman, has been coming to Paxibellum’s kali class for about a year. He and his wife slip in, do their thing, and slip out.

Through Facebook, I found out that he knew Bryson and I was shocked that he’s a black belt from his school.

For those of you not in the life, that’s a really big deal. And it’s from a world-renowned academy, no less.

So, I was looking forward to finding out more about him at at my local dive bar, where he had wine and I stuck to hard seltzers and beers.

Me: You’re like me, a grey man. You have skills that you don’t talk about, I like that.
Him: (laughing) Yes. I do these things for myself, there’s no reason for anyone else to know.
Me: (nodding) Same. You’re a grappler that wants to learn weapons. I’m a weapons person that wants to learn grappling.
Him: What else do you do?
Me: (laughing) You first.

We ended up chatting for about three hours there but then it started getting loud so we went to a much nicer joint where we stayed past midnight.

That place was much louder.

He was curious about Scenic Fights, the gym, what I do…and Alison.

Me: Sorry, I didn’t expect there to be a band playing tonight.
Him: It’s fine. Tell me about your wife.
Me: Where to begin?
Him: We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.
Me: (shrugging) I always like talking about her. I just tend to cry when I do.

It turns out that one of his best friends also died of brain cancer. How sad and wild.

He lived a lot longer than Alison, though.

I was oddly jealous about that, which, admittedly, is a super fucked-up thing to think.

Then again, I’m pretty fucked up.

But it’s late, so I’ll tell you the rest tomorrow.

Location: home, with way too much alcohol, weapons, and sweets about
Mood: rough
Music: The rest of the world was black and white (Spotify)
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