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Have you ever had mantis shrimp?

That too…

Me: Can I use this picture of you?
Her: What? Why?
Me: Because you look so ridiculous, I wanna put it up.
Her: What? You don’t think I look cute there?
Me: Well, sure, that too…

If you managed to hack into my social media feed, you would find the following types of videos being shown:

    • Videos about food
    • Videos about fighting
    • Videos about wild boar hunting (don’t ask)
    • Videos about mantis shrimp

For the last one, if you don’t know, the mantis shrimp has one of the most powerful punches on the planet, despite their diminutive size.

They can punch with the speed of a 22-caliber bullet and regularly smash aquariums.

Warning, kinda graphic.

Anywho, imagine my surprise when the Surgeon wrote me outta the blue.

Surgeon: I just saw mantis shrimp at a market in sunset park. Haven’t seen those since Vietnam.
Steel: Buy a ton of them and I’ll swing by tomorrow to cook them.
Surgeon: I got six pounds. Those dudes looked at me like I walked out of a UFO. (I’m regularly the only white guy in all of sunset park.)
Me: (laughing)

So, this past weekend, we all went to the Surgeon’s pad and had some.

Steel made a killer herbed butter to cook them…

…and then they prepped them…

…while I held down the rum-drinking portion of things.

They say that it tastes like a mix between shrimp and lobster.

I’d agree with that BUT I feel the texture is a bit softer, which I find slightly off putting but is otherwise, delicious (I prob just need to get used to it).

Afterward, we had some dessert before heading back home.

Unfortunately, there was an uninvited guest on the platform of our train.

Her: Rat aside, tonight was fun.
Me: They’re always a good time. Man, I had a lotta rum.
Her: At least it wasn’t mezcal.
Me: Ugh. Yeah…

Location: home, figuring out middle school stuff…
Mood: overwhelmed
Music: guessing that’s real good news (Spotify)
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My two worlds

A Logan divided against himself

Almost exactly 30 years ago, Seinfeld had an episode called The Pool Guy, which had George increasingly upset when his fiancée, Susan, begins hanging out with Elaine and Jerry.

The reason why is that he sees himself as two distinct people:

    • Independent George – the version of himself he is around his friends
    • Relationship George – the version he is with Susan

And he’s upset that the two might possibly merge into one, exclaiming:

If Relationship George walks through this door, he will kill Independent George! A George divided against itself cannot stand!

If you’re at all interested, the scene’s below:

Now, this past month had two notable things happen.

The first one I hinted at earlier this month but now I can tell you – Scenic Fights signed its first deal with a major studio: Apple TV+.

Essentially, we had to do a long-form breakdown of the season finale of Chief of War, and we got our grubby little hands on it way before it aired but couldn’t tell anyone.

I did double-duty, both as on-screen talent and as the attorney for SF in the negotiations.

We had to drop everything to crank it out before the season finale but we’re all pretty pleased with the results.

Here’s hoping it’s the first of many.

The second thing that happened is that I was interviewed for a NY Times article as a lawyer.

I’m predominately an intellectual property attorney – which is what I lectured on both in Malaga, Spain and Paris, France before everything turned to shit.

But I did my first real estate deal with my dad back in 1986, when I was only 13 years old, I’ve run my building since at least 1997, and have done more closings than I care to admit.

Plus, I have this specialized credential of which there are only 350 of us in the entire state of New York so real estate is definitely the area of the law that I know best after intellectual property career.

And after all the stabby-stabby, slashy-slashy.

In any case, I don’t think that – in all these years – I’ve ever let you see my legal work but here’s a (tiny) bit of it – it’s a brief mention but I still think it’s cool:

Ask Real Estate: Scaffolding Has Encased My Building for Years. What Can I Do?

To end this on a humorous note, remember when I told you I went to Brooklyn last week to see Cappy?

That was because he was giving me his sons’ clothes for my kid and The Firecracker’s kid because he and his wife are just the best.

Her: That’s waaaaay too big for either boy. (looking at them) Wait, I think you could fit these.
Me: Me?! They’re clothing for teenagers.
Her: Humor me. Just try them on.
Me: Fiiiiinne. (later) OMG [the shirt and pants] fit!
Her: (laughing) You have GOT to send them a picture a picture of you wearing their kid’s clothes.
Me: I’m wearing these. I look fetch.
Her: Fetch is not a thing, Logan.
Me: (grumble)

Location: Hoboken, watching the boys swim and then walking past Alison’s old pad
Mood: conflicted
Music: I may not be perfect, but I’m perfectly unique (Spotify)
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Only when danger is far distant

Are you sure about that?

Took a knee to my eye and an elbow to my cheek the other day.

Fun times.

Her: You’re 52!
Me: I am not unaware.
Her: Are you sure about that, Logan!?

My SIL rang me up the other night because Alison’s mom was having a milestone birthday.

So, the next thing you know, the kid and I headed to her place to celebrate.

I spoke to her mom a while ago and she told me not to come for her birthday as it was too much trouble.

Me: You didn’t tell me it was [an important birthday]!
Her: I didn’t want to make a big deal.
Me: So, you wanna make me look like a jerk and not show up, lady?!
Her: (laughing) Thanks for coming.
Me: Of course!

My SIL brought some Italian cookies that I absolutely loved.

See, when I was a kid, my dad’s office was right next door to an Italian bakery.

Once in a blue moon, he’d bring home these exact cookies, and it was like the greatest day ever.

Man, I miss my dad.

Speaking of Italian things, we ended up just eating food from their local Italian joint.

I thought it was great but, evidently, I’m super easy because everyone else thought the food was only meh.

Me: I grew up super poor. This woulda been a feast for us.
Her: Well, we’re not eating the rest of it, so you can bring that home.
Me: Heck, yeah!

Speaking of when I was young, I read Machiavelli’s The Prince way back in 1996 when 2Pac released his like last album under that name (it was his only album I truly disliked).

I remembered the below quote from The Prince and was reminded of it recently what with everything going on in the news these days.

In general men are ungrateful, fickle, false, cowardly, covetous, dissimulating, hungry for profit and quick to evade danger. As long as you succeed and do them good, they are devoted to you entirely; they will offer you their blood, property, life and children… but only when danger is far distant; when danger approaches they turn against you.

Niccolo Machiavelli, The Prince, Ch. XVII

It’s funny how universal some things about humanity are and how they transcend both time and place.

I’m truly interested – and somewhat apprehensive – about what life will be like here in the US in a decade’s time.

Location: a lobster shop, buying a lobster roll
Mood: vexed
Music: The feds surely hope that they could finally nail me (Spotify)
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The Handsome Mens Club

A new year

Me: When are you two free for the next meeting of the Handsome Mens Club (trademark pending)?
NFL Player: Next week or following week?
Thor: Absolutely.

It’s been a busy week of catching up with people now that school’s back in session.

It’s funny, before I was a parent, my year began in September just because that’s when it began as a kid.

But as a parent, it begins in September again because the kid’s year now begins in September.

And so does the year of all my friends with kids.

Case in point: Met up with Thor and the NFL Player for dinner around the way at a new joint called Sugarfish because they were both back in town from their summer travels.

The food was very good BUT the rice was warm – warmer than body temperature – and I’ve just never had warm sushi rice before.

Very odd.

Also checked out Thor’s new whip that he got just for fun.

Him: (proudly) Zero-to-sixty in less than three seconds.
Me: Jesus.

Then, that weekend, the Firecracker, the kids, and I all went down to the Surgeon’s for a little get-together where we finished an entire bottle of rum…

Me: (to Flutist, the Surgeon’s wife) Your husband almost killed me last time.
Surgeon: That’s why we’ve been drinking rum.
Flutist: It was that bad?
Firecracker: (nodding) Oh, yeah…oh, yeah…

…before we went up to their roof because the weather was just perfect.

Then, the very next morning, bright and early, I went over to Cappy’s like I said in the last entry.

There, I went to his roof and saw more spectacular skylines.

I live in the basement of a townhouse, so my views are of garbage cans and a parking lot.

Maybe someday, I’ll live in a place with gorgeous views.

Actually, nah.

Don’t wanna get spoiled.

Location: NJ, having what I thought was good Italian food. Others disagreed.
Mood: fatty-fat-fat
Music: wanna let you know I’m gonna build castles (Spotify)

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Mr. Lo and the Rats from NIMH

Friends are the receipt we have for a good life

Him: Can I watch something?
Me: Can you read instead?
Him: Do I have to?

If there’s anything that’s a source of friction between the kid and me, it’s reading.

As someone that grew up with a total of five channels – ABC, NBC, CBS, PBS, Channel 55 (which is an in itself entry one of these days) – and zero friends, books were my primary source of entertainment.

So, I don’t understand how my child is so adverse to reading.

Fair use

One book that I think about quite a bit, even now, was a book called Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH.

It’s a kid’s book but, roughly, the story goes like this:

Mrs. Frisby was a mouse married to a mouse named Jonathan, who was killed. Alone with just her son, Mrs. Frisby discovered that her house was about to be destroyed and needed to be moved, but this was impossible because her son Timothy was sick.

So, she pled with an owl, who refused to help her. Until the owl discovered that she was Jonathan’s widow. Then he helped her. And told her to find the rats of NIHM because they too knew Jonathan would help. They would help because she was his widow, and Timothy was his son.

You see, it turns out that Jonathan was one of only two mice that were left from NIHM. Because of the experiments there, they both had exceptionally heightened intelligence. Because Jonathan used that intelligence to help the rats there escape, the rats always felt in his debt.

Now, when Jonathan met Mrs. Frisby, he hid all this from her. Because he didn’t want her to think any differently of him. He just wanted a normal and quiet life with her.

Man, do I get that.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Anywho, as the story went on, Mrs. Frisby discovered that her husband had this entire crazy life before her and that people loved and respected him.

He gave up everything to just have a quiet life with her but the kindness that he gave to others lived on, long after the relationships faded.

The funny thing is that I always thought that I’d die before Alison. But I often thought of this story while she was pregnant and thought, If anything ever happened to me, I’m going leave her and the kid a crapton of good friends that will make sure the two of them are ok.

Unfortunately, as fate would have it, she died before me.

But I’m still amazed at all the friends I’ve collected throughout these years did exactly what I expected them to do – be there for the kid.

Like, just this morning, I was in Brooklyn picking up three (more) huge bags of clothes that my old college buddy Cappy and his wife saved for the kid.

I think that friends are the receipt you have that you lived a good life.

Alison’s friends have also helped us through these times, good and bad – like the ABFF and my SIL.

So, I’m grateful that we’ve both lived lives where we both collected brilliant and good people along the way, because, man, did we need them.

Me: Dude, just read a book. If it’s a good book, it’ll be just as good, if not better, than anything you see on TV.
Him: (resigned) Fine, papa. I’ll read…
Me: (laughing) It’s not a punishment, kid.

A lotta people don’t realize that NIMH was a real place.

It was.

It was short for the National Institute of Mental Health and the kicker was that it focused on mental health.

For someone struggling with insomnia and depression, the irony is unexpectedly deep.

Location: Earlier today, near Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn
Mood: grateful
Music: Don’t take what’s not theirs, they don’t compare (Spotify)
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Sunday morning rolling

Plus a, little daydrinking

Him: Tomorrow, come with me to Brooklyn. I’ll get you and we can Uber on me. It starts around 1030-1045AM.
Me: Le what? Lemme talk to my girl about having her watch both kids.

Normally, my weekends are spent shuttling the kid from one thing to another but, because school just started, some days are still up in the air in terms of his schedule.

I’ve been hanging with this other surgeon that lives around me, and he knows that I do some grappling, so he invited me to this little gathering out in Brooklyn for an informal class.

Turned out that it was taught by a guy that my buddy Robinson describes as: “Probably the most knowledgeable (and dangerous) BJJ guy in New York after Jon Calestine and Eddie Cummings.”

Pretty high praise.

So, this past weekend, met up with the Fighter Surgeon and we headed out to the wilds of Brooklyn.

Interestingly, it was right by the old gym I used to head to in Brooklyn for a short stint.

It was actually a lotta fun, despite my back not being the best. Nice being on the mats again.

The instructor showed me some pretty clever tweaks to moves I already knew, which was a plus.

And everyone was very nice and chill.

Afterwards, we went around the corner and had a drink.

Me: Do you have a Michelob Ultra?
Him: God, you are such a woman.
Me: You try looking this good at 52!
Bartender: No, sorry. No light beers.
Me: Then just a rum and diet coke, then. Man, there’s nuthin like alcohol in the morning after violence.

It was a nice little change of pace from my usual quiet Sunday mornings.

Location: the kid’s hot classroom with two cameras
Mood: sweaty
Music: gonna try with a little help from my friends (Spotify)
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Medical issues

I’m in

Her: We have a 9:15 [three weeks from now].
Me: Shoot, do you have anything earlier?
Her: Sorry, we’re completely booked. (pause) Actually, unless you want to come in at night at 7:15PM.
Me: When can I do that?
Her: (clicking on keyboard) It looks like we have an opening tomor…
Me: Sold! I’m in.

Since March of this year, I’ve been trying, unsuccessfully, to get an MRI for my back.

I had no less than four appointments, alla which were cancelled because my insurance company refused to pay for it.

Last week, I went to see my ortho and told him that, while I wasn’t getting worse, I definitely wasn’t getting better.

Welp, that worked out because that night, I got a notice that it was approved and I immediately called the MRI joint to get an appointment.

So, the next night, I took the train down to head over to the dreaded 5 Columbus Circle to, hopefully, get my MRI.

It was a super-fast affair as I was the last person there.

Being there brought back really bad memories about Alison.

She did so many of these.

I’m always gonna marvel at her bravery and stoicism.

Afterwards, took the train home and, within a few hours, got a “ding” on my email and pulled up the below.

Dropped my buddy – the radiologist from Pittsburgh a line – and asked if he could do me a solid and tell me what he saw.

He actually rang me up right then and there and chatted with me and told me what I needed to do.

It pays to have diverse and brilliant friends.

Him: Well, it’s all pretty much what you already know. You have slight scoliosis – not that bad – and I see you have a crack in one of your bones, but if it’s not bothering you, not much to do there.
Me: Anything jump out at you?
Him: Besides the slipped disc and the stuff we already mentioned? Not much else. Your kidneys look good, though.
Me: Ah, good, I’ll start eating more salt. (pause) No, uh, cancer, right?
Him: Cancer? No, no cancer or anything like that I see. It’s just [stuff that comes with aging].

Honestly, that’s what I was terrified of.

Knowing that it’s just a herniated disc – which still sucks but is managable – was a huge relief.

Not much to do but keep doing my PT and hoping for the best.

On a (distantly) related note, on the way to the gym, saw a fella being carted into that ambulance.

Assuming that branch musta hit him.

That’s the thing with medical issues; you can be just minding your business one moment and the next, have every single thing about your life turn upside down.

I don’t envy him as I’ve been there, way too many times.

Here’s hoping you have no idea what I’m talking about.

Location: home, listening to the dulcet sounds of jackhammering in the morning
Mood: jackhammered
Music: what was it that I did? (Spotify)
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Always a loser

Doesn’t really matter

One of the reasons that I liked Andor so much was because it had a clear beginning, middle, and end.

That’s such a basic thing that you’d think all published media would have, at the very least, that.

Oh man, you’d be so wrong.

Like, I absolutely loved Heroes when it first came out. Ditto for Lost back in the day.

But, somewhere along the line, they were clearly just writing to keep the money coming in and I – and a lotta other people – just lost interest.

But that’s not just with television series, that can happen in movies as well.

Clearly the Godfather and the Godfather II were excellent. But did we really need the Godfather III?

And Rocky – man, that was a perfect film. And Rocky II was pretty good. Plus, I gotta admit that didn’t hate Rocky III.

But Rocky IV turned me off and I never saw a single other sequel after that – dunno if you know, but there were eight Rocky films, total.

Not Rocky but a cool shot I took a while back.

What made Rocky perfect was that, in a nutshell, Rocky was a loser.

And it was just so real – probably because, at that time, the author and soon-to-be star, Sylvester Stallone, was also a loser at that time.

Like, the dude was so broke, he had to sell his own dog for $25 to eat.

Little wonder it was such a popular film, especially with the awkward and overweight Chinese-American crowd.

Well, one of them, at least.

Somehow, Sly managed to convince a major studio to not only buy his script but also let him be the main star in it.

But, along the way, there was a noticeable mess up that they had to fix.

See, in the final fight, Rocky wore a pair of white trunks with a red waistband and stripes down each leg.

Unfortunately, there’s a scene where Rocky sees a giant poster of himself hanging in the stadium, but he’s wearing red trunks with white stripes.

This was actually a mistake by the art department and they didn’t have the time (or money) to redo the poster. Yet this was an important bit of scenery that was needed.

What to do?

Well, all they did was to have Rocky stare at the poster and mention to the promoter, before the fight, Rocky says that the trunks are the wrong color, and the promoter says, “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Because Rocky was a loser and he literally just had to show up and get the stuffing beat outta him.

So, what was a pretty glaring mistake ended up pushing the point that Rocky was insignificant in every aspect.

Except he wasn’t.

Just a random story for a random night.

Him: I can’t do anything right.
Me: Don’t say that.
Him: Why not?
Me: Because when you say things, you give them life, even if they’re not true. You are what you say you are. 

Location: A bar in Brooklyn this late morning
Mood: ick
Music: wrapping up his hand, he’s getting ready for the showdown (Spotify)
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My – and Dorothy’s – Home Town

You never get used to New York

My first NYC apartment was just two blocks from the Algonquin Hotel.

Used to walk past it alla time and think about one of my fave authors at that time, Dorothy Parker.

Haven’t read or thought about her in years but today, I remembered her essay about our shared hometown that she wrote almost 100 years ago but still resonates now.

Figured that, if you haven’t read it, I’ll put it below for you.

My Home Town
by Dorothy Parker

It occurs to me that there are other towns.

It occurs to me so violently that I say, at intervals, “Very well, if New York is going to be like this, I’m going to live somewhere else.”

And I do – that’s the funny part of it.

‘But then one day there comes to me the sharp picture of New York at its best, on a shiny blue-and-white Autumn day with its buildings cut diagonally in halves of light and shadow, with its straight neat avenues colored with quick throngs, like confetti in a breeze.

Someone, and I wish it had been I, has said that “Autumn is the Springtime of big cities.”

I see New York at holiday time, always in the late afternoon, under a Maxfield Parrish sky, with the crowds even more quick and nervous but even more good-natured, the dark groups splashed with the white of Christmas packages, the lighted holly-strung shops urging them in to buy more and more.

I see it on a Spring morning, with the clothes of the women as soft and as hopeful as the pretty new leaves on a few, brave trees.

I see it at night, with the low skies red with the black-flung lights of Broadway, those lights of which Chesterton – or they told me it was Chesterton – said, “What a marvelous sight for those who cannot read!”

I see it in the rain, I smell the enchanting odor of wet asphalt, with the empty streets black and shining as ripe olives. I see it – by this time, I become maudlin with nostalgia – even with its gray mounds of crusted snow, its little Appalachians of ice along the pavements.

So, I go back.

And it is always better than I thought it would be.

I suppose that is the thing about New York.

It is always a little more than you had hoped for.

Each day, there, is so definitely a new day.

“Now we’ll start over,” it seems to say every morning, “and come on, let’s hurry like anything.”

London is satisfied…,

Paris is resigned…,

…but New York is always hopeful.

Always it believes that something good is about to come off, and it must hurry to meet it.

There is excitement ever running its streets.

Each day, as you go out, you feel the little nervous quiver that is yours when you sit in the theater just before the curtain rises.

Other places may give you a sweet and soothing sense of level; but in New York there is always the feeling of “Something’s going to happen.”

It isn’t peace.

But, you know, you do get used to peace, and so quickly.

And you never get used to New York.

By Derek Jensen – Tysto, Public Domain

Location: my hometown, thinking of all those years ago
Mood: somber
Music: New York sky don’t get much brighter – she sets, she sets the city on fire (Spotify)
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Our usual schedule

A good start

Me: What do you think?
Him: Logan, you’ve had some stupid ideas before, but this has got to be the worst one yet.
Me: (laughing) Wait, what about…
Him: (holding up hand) Nope. I’m stupider now having heard your plan than I was just before hearing it.

Been chatting with Rain on the regular again.

He’s living in the country right now and has, essentially, become a farmer.

Hell hath frozen over.

But that’s his story to tell, not mine, so I’ll stop here.

Now that the kid’s back, we’re easing back into our usual schedule.

We were supposed to meet up with my college friends for a picnic at Governors Island but ended up not going because it was gonna rain.

We were gonna just have a quiet day at home, but then the ABFF asked if we wanted to get dinner so we did that instead…

…and then ended up by her pad to play some cards.

The Firecracker introduced everyone to Big Two, which I found amusing.

On the topic of games of chance, we also tried our hand in winning Powerball.

I’m sad to say, we are not billionaires.

It’s probably for the best.

Another friend: Let’s say you did win, what would you do?
Me: First thing is upgrade alla my friends to people way too good for me.
Him: (laughing) All of us?
Me: If I won a billion dollars, you’re all dead to me.

The next day, the kid went to a bday party and then a playground afterward.

I think it’s interesting how I both (a) have a normal now and (b) it’s a new normal, so different than when it was just Alison and me.

It’s not – at all – what I thought my life would be but, I’m grateful I have it.

Me: How was your first day of school?
Him: Good!
Me: Do you like your teacher?
Him: Yes, she’s so nice!
Me: (smiling) Great! It’s a good start to the year, then.

Location: home, cutting a box to make it a shipping cost go from $76 to $24
Mood: committed
Music: No, I don’t want it to stop (Spotify)
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