Author: Logan Lo

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When you know…

…you know

A dear friend wrote me outta the blue one morning.

Her: Hola! You’re probably sleeping but I wanted to see if you and [The Firecracker] are doing anything on the 29th. This guy I’m dating, who apparently is my boyfriend, is taking me to dinner in the city. He’s inviting you both to join.
Me: What?! Yes! And…what!?

I’ve known her a solid 17 years and have never met anyone she’s ever dated, let alone someone she’s called her boyfriend.

So, I moved a buncha things around and the two of us met up with her and her fella at Aqua, downtown.

He was actually a super nice fella and seemed a touch nervous, which I found pretty sweet.

Me: How did you two meet?
Friend: (rolls her eyes) How do you think, Logan?
Me: Ah, the traditional online meet-cute.
Firecracker: Logan wanted to make the best first impression so he ate a full dinner before dinner.
Me: This is true, I had to pregame with a burger and salad.

Of course, this didn’t stop me from finishing my entire meal.

As well as the Firecracker’s.

And my friend’s.

And…

Him: I actually only wanted half the pizza.
Me: Are you sure?
Friend: Just eat it, Logan, you know you want to.
Me: (shrugging) Hokay.
Firecracker: I honest-to-god don’t know where he puts it all. I always say that he’s got a peg leg.

Turns out that he’s only in town for a (very) long-term work project but hinted that he was open to moving to the area for her.

Friend: (joking) I don’t know why he’s so into me.
Me: Oh, I get it.
Firecracker: Me too – when you know you know.

This isn’t to say that they’re guaranteed to end up together – although the Firecracker and I really liked him and hope they work out – but it’s definitely worlds easier when both parties are really into each other.

Afterward, we went to Thyme Bar where I bought a round of drinks before heading back.

The drinks were delicious and insanely strong.

On the ride back, the Firecracker and I got to talking; we both agreed that we felt a spark the moment we met and saw each other almost every day for weeks.

Me: The thing is that, when I met you, I wanted to see you as much as possible because the worst type of disappointment is the kind that takes months to figure out.
Her: (nodding) Same. I wanted to know as soon as possible as well.

Said it before, the worst part about dating is the constant disappointment and disappointing.

Here’s hoping they make their spark last.

Firecracker: (reading over my shoulder as I write this) Like us!
Me: (laughing) Agreed.

Location: home, listening to the dulcet sounds of TWO jackhammers right outside my door
Mood: Jackhammered
Music: And I want you to want to be here with me (Spotify)
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Train (still) on time

Mentally mapping trains

Her: Before I buy more KFC can you check the freezer to see if we already have KFC?
Me: Check the freezer?! Baby, all we’re doing is adding to our current KFC stash if there’s *already* KFC in the freezer. That’s like saying, “Hey, before I make more money, check the bank to see if we have money in the bank already.” Do you hear how that sounds?
Her: Someone’s hangry right now.
Me: Clearly!

The kids are both back for school to start next week. While they’re growing up quickly, we’re still not ready to let either of them take the trains by themselves yet.

This is despite the Firecracker’s kid being just obsessed with trains.

Trains and the subway show up a lot in this blog – even way in the beginning – because that’s my main means of transportation, which is kinda strange if you think about it.

I suppose most of you travel by car and such but that’s a luxury here in the city.

When the Firecracker and I went to Vienna, we didn’t think twice about taking the trains.

And years ago – before this blog, if you can believe it – I went to visit Prague and Berlin and had to get someplace off the train line.

Asked a local where the nearest station was and he said we should take a cab instead because their subway system was so complex.

I remember laughing and saying, “I’m from NYC, I think I’ll be ok.”

And I was.

Same with Vienna and every other major city I’ve ever been to.

Essentially, if you can make it around the NYC subway system, any other system on the planet is a cinch, language issues notwithstanding.

Interestingly, I read this article which said that “city transportation maps with over 250 connections are too complex for most people to navigate. In fact, a staggering 80% of trips in New York already exceed this cognitive limit.”

Meaning that just being able to take the NYC subway system puts you in the elite of cognition as it relates to mental mapping.

In some ways, that’s part of why I wanna raise the kid in the city versus elsewhere – because he’s constantly being tested and pushed in ways that he doesn’t even realize.

Well, that plus the fact that I can readily get all sortsa fried fowl, even in the midst of a pandemic.

Hangry…

Location: by a pool in Central Islip
Mood:
Music: oh my, the train is gone (Spotify)
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Grief is the price you pay for wonderful things

It is a concern

Headed back out to middle-of-nowhere Brooklyn again the other day to pick up the kid from his sleepaway camp.

He was grinning ear-to-ear when I got him.

Him: Papa!
Me: Hey, kiddo! Man, you got dark! I hope you put on some sunscreen. How was it?

He told me that he had a great time and made a lotta new friends, which was exactly what I was hoping to hear.

When we packed, I asked if he wanted to bring his guitar and he said yes, so we did just that.

Well, it turns out that it’s a good thing that we did because he ended up playing for everyone twice.

The first time was at a talent show…

…but the second time was on the last full day, where he played for the entire camp.

Me: What song did you sing?
Him: Riptide!

I shot the picture below to my MIL.

Me: I wish we could do something about his quiet and reserved nature…
Her: It is a concern

The only thing that bummed me out was that he told me that when it was his turn to talk about Alison, he said that he was ok because he didn’t remember her enough to miss her.

That absolutely gutted me, but I didn’t say anything, because we have to let true things be true.

Then again, if he remembered her, he wouldn’t be functional.

Because all she ever wanted was to be his mom and he would have been devastated at losing her.

On that note, he did get super sad that night at dinner.

Him: (sadly) I miss all my friends.
Me: (gently) Then that means you had a wonderful time. Grief is the price you pay for wonderful things.
Him: But it’s so hard.
Me: (nodding) We’re always gonna miss wonderful things when they’re gone. That’s why I miss your mom all the time, because she was my wonderful thing.

Location: heading out to dinner at the Flatiron to meet my SIL’s new fella
Mood: curious
Music: I got a lump in my throat ’cause you’re gonna sing (Spotify)
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Two college lifetimes

For my boy, of course!

Mom: Was that today? I forgot.
Me: (gently) That’s ok. I forgot too until [my sister] reminded me. It’s good that we forgot today. It’s not like we’d forget him.
Her: Oh, I’d never forget him.
Me: I know, mom.

My dad died eight years ago this week.

I graduated college waaaaaaaay back in 1993. For a solid decade or two afterward, I told time in terms of “college lifetimes.”

Like, eight years woulda been two college lifetimes.

I remember when 1997 rolled around; I marveled that I’d spent four years in college and now, another four years had passed.

College seemed like it would go on forever.

And now, it’s been over for 32 years, which is such a kick in the head.

It doesn’t feel like my dad and Alison have been gone for two college lifetimes, and yet they have.

I suppose the only small solace in all this is both my mom and I forgot that my dad died this week, and that’s such a good thing.

Don’t wanna celebrate, or even memorialize his death, just his life, and how much it meant to me.

My dad drove an old beat-up blue Toyota.

The man coulda bought any car he wanted but that car never gave him a lick of trouble, and he loved it, so he drove it until it practically fell apart.

My siblings and I are pretty much the same way as him.

I used to take the train to Flushing and my dad would pick me up at 老地方, or “the regular spot,” for years in his blue whip.

There was one time, he picked me up with a mischievous grin on his face.

Him: You smell anything?
Me: (getting into the car) Yeah. What is that?
Him: Open the glove compartment.
Me: (opening it) OMG, you got a Fontana’s gyro for me!
Him: (nodding) With extra meat, just like you always ask for.

Swear to god, I had no idea that I’d replay that moment a thousand times in my head.

That was my dad. No one picks me up from the regular spot anymore.

I don’t have him or my regular spot anymore.

He woulda loved the kid so much too.

And he’d be so amused at how much he eats, like me.

Me: Oh man, thanks, dad. You’re the best!
Him: (waving his hand) For my boy? Of course! Just remember to treat your kids the same way.
Me: (laughing) Kids? Me? 

Location: Hoboken, for three minutes, before heading back
Mood: nostalgic
Music: I’ve lost count, all the detours that we take (Spotify)
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Nuthin like it was for someone else

You pay to be left alone

Her: Hey, are you free to join some work colleagues for dinner?
Me: Sure – where and when?

The Firecracker had a fancy work dinner to attend, so I gave her some suggestions, including the really nice restaurant that I took her to on our first proper dinner date years ago.

She booked a reservation but then one person couldn’t make it, so I showed up in his stead.

It’s funny because someone mentioned on the Firecracker’s social media why we would want to eat in an empty restaurant, and we talked about that exact topic that night.

Me: (to the guests) The thing about living in NYC is that when you pay a ridiculous amount of money in a restaurant for food, you’re really paying for people to not be on top of you.
Firecracker: Yeah, most places are crowded and loud. You pay for space and quiet.

In any case, I got my usual burger…

…and a drink.

Afterward, I gave some of them – who were in town visiting – a tour of the St. Marks area.

Along the way, we walked by some old haunts of mine, including:

Spent most nights there with my friends Francis and Rain but that’s a story for another day.

We ended up at Criff Dogs…

…and Please Don’t Tell, the speakeasy that we didn’t make it into last time and actually made it in this time.

I may or may not have ordered some hot dogs.

Firecracker: I swear to god, he has a wooden leg.
Me: I’m a growing boy.

Afterwards, we all went our respective ways but I actually, sent Rain a shot of Cafe Orlin/Marlou Bistro…

…and his response was typically him.

Without telling his story, I think part of the reason he left New York was that the New York that he loved left him.

I think that’s why a lotta people leave this place.

There’s almost nuthin left of the New York City that I once knew.

But that’s ok for me.

Because I gotta figure that the New York City that I knew is nuthin like it was for someone else who came before me.

And it’s time for someone else to have their New York City.

Me: I miss the kid.
Her: He’ll be back this weekend.
Me: (nodding)

Location: 10AM, shooting a shirtless video for Scenic Fights and then eating $58 worth of carbs immediately afterward
Mood: so. so. so. so. full.
Music: In New York, you can be a new man (Spotify)
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Being special is the inverse of being happy

I want him happy

Me: Do you want me to wait with you?
Him: No, it’s ok, papa. I’m fine. I’ll just get on the bus and meet some people.

Woke up bright and early the other day to bring my kid to middle-of-nowhere Brooklyn where he caught a bus to another state for his first sleepaway camp.

He was fine. I was a mess.

It’s a special camp for kids that have lost an immediate family member – mother, father, brother, sister, etc.

An old and dear friend of mine told me about it, whose name is – fittingly – Heal.

She’s actually on the board of the group because she too lost a close family member as a child, so she walked me through the process of applying.

Well, he made it in and is currently living his absolute best life, at least based on all the pictures I’ve been seeing.

It’s a special camp for special kids, which makes sense, because my son is special.

Certainly, he’s special to me, but that’s not what I’m talking about.

    • He could read at 18 months.
    • He plays the guitar like a teenager.
    • He just beat me in poker (granted, a well-trained poodle could probably beat me in poker but just put a pin on that for now).

He’s also the kid that doesn’t have a mother.

That is the thing that – unfortunately – makes him special in a way that no one wants.

When I was a kid, I aspired to be special.

I was/am the middle child and probably the biggest nobody until I was in college.

But it was over a college summer working in at some office that I realized that there seemed to be an inverse relationship between the special and the happy.

The happy people were the middle-management nobodies that deeply loved their spouses and kids, and their innocuous little hobbies.

Conversely, the special people were either always trying to convince people that they were still special or – probably much worse – convince themselves that they were still special.

The special people were rarely happy.

And the happy people were rarely special.

Seeing my kid blissfully unaware that he’s at all special, but for the fact he only has a dad, means that he’s also blissfully happy.

But he’s been noticing that he’s special lately, because he’s the only one of all his peers with only one living parent.

It was because of this that I sent him to this camp – so he would know he wasn’t alone in the world.

If I had to pick one, special or happy, I would pick happy every day and twice on Sunday.

God, I just want him to be safe and happy.

He’s such a good little kid.

I’d pay any amount right now, if I could know that, long after I’m gone, that he’s safe and happy.

And I’d trade all he could possibly be – brilliant, famous, wealthy, respected, everything – for him to just be that.

Me: Alright, please be careful, ok?
Him: (nodding) I will. Don’t worry. See you next week.

Location: 7AM, the gym, trying to wake up
Mood: pacing
Music: I’m ready to show that I’m no ordinary (Spotify)
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A short trip north

Cornell Chicken

Both the Firecracker’s kid and my kid are back for a little bit.

My kid came back first, so he and I had a little lunch together just so we could chat and catch up.

Me: So, how was it with your cousins?
Him: Good!
Me: (nodding) Anything else?

And then once the Firecracker’s kid came back, I took them both out to eat, since we’ve not really had a chance to hang out over the summer.

Me: So, how has your summer been, kiddo?
FCSon: Good!
Me: (nodding) These are good talks we’re all having.

An actual good I had recently was with my old buddy Buckley regarding the entry I wrote the other day, and he invited us to go see him.

Him: The weather is finally getting better. My offer to visit our hood remains open! From now through November will be prime weather.
Me: 100%! Hey, both boys are here this Sunday if you’re around? No pressure if you’re not but I wanted to ask.
Him: That could work!

So, that weekend, we took the train up to their neck of the state.

Buckley actually made Cornell Chicken, which is something I’ve always wanted to try.

Ironically, the day after, I came across this article from my old company that wrote about the history of it and why it’s so good.

Him: It was actually invented by the same food scientist that invent chicken nuggets.
Me: (laughing) Perfect because FCSon is like 79% chicken nuggets by volume.

While the adults were catching up, the kids were playing on a zipline that Buckley installed for his kids.

Me: Buckley is the only person I would trust to put up a zipline (he was an engineer in college).
Buckley’s Wife: Oh yeah, he did everything the right way.
Me: (nodding) Having lived with him alla these years, I believe that.

Told his kids that I’d known their father longer than I’d NOT known him, which is a kick in the head.

The zipline was a nice distraction from the screens…albeit short-lived.

We hung out a bit longer before we took the train home as the dark clouds were looming.

Her: Just think about it, Logan. If we lived in a house, the boys could have a zipline and you could have a grill.
Me: Compelling arguments. But let’s see after the boys head off to college.

Location: Please don’t tell…
Mood: fatty-fat-fat
Music: We’d play pretend in the suburbs (Spotify)
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The humblest, even

Two sets of friends

Despite my loving French onion soup – which is definitely in my top five soups – I only recently discovered that the Firecracker never had any.

Me: You never had any?!
Her: Why do you do that, Logan? You ask me something, I answer, and you are always shocked at my answer.
Me: Because I’m always shocked at your answer!

Realizing this, I spent a little too much time trying to find a joint around me that made some, to no avail.

So, I figured since I couldn’t find it for her, decided to try making some.

Me: Well? Whaddoyou think?
Her: OMG, this is so good!
Me: Yeah, you seriously hit the jackpot with me – easy on the eyes AND I can cook, too.
Her: (rolls eyes) And so humble.
Me: The humblest, even.

Been home more lately just because my back has just been killing me.

That, plus some idiot at my gym torqued my ankle with a hyper-aggressive lock and probably tore some part of my instep.

I don’t recommend it.

I’ve noticed that for years decades, really, I’ve had two sets of friends:

    • The injured
    • The uninjured

At any given moment I will have (most of which are because I’m clumsy):

    • A herniated disk
    • A broken finger (I’ve broken seven outta ten)
    • A cracked rib (3x)
    • A torn shoulder
    • A hyperextended elbow (20+x)
    • A sprained ankle (20+x)
    • A broken tooth (6x)
    • A broken toe (2x)
    • A torn knee
    • A ripped lip
    • A cracked jaw

Considering that X percentage of my friends fight regularly and Y percentage don’t, this makes sense.

Yet, recently, I’ve been slowly realizing that I have almost no uninjured friends left.

It’s not so much that I’ve got more fighter friends, it’s that age is breaking down the bodies of my non-fighter friends.

And yet, I also see that they deal with these injuries very differently.

Most of my fighter friends are more what I might term “bummed” that they’re injured while my non-fighter friends seem more upset that they’re dealing with this sorta thing.

Anywho, merely an observation.

Him: Logan! How have you been?
Me: Still topside and breathing, although my back is crap.
Him: Don’t even get me started on my back. Oh, and I ate a nasty wrist lock the other day.
Me: Yeah, this idiot at my gym…

Location: hanging with Buckley et al a little north of here
Mood: ex-haus-ted
Music: Baby, I’m cookin’ with gas (Spotify)
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Way less sad

Taking it every day I can

KG Betty: I just moved a few weeks ago; once I’m settled in it’ll all start sinking in. How about you? Still super happy? I hope everything is good with you!
Me: I wouldn’t say I’m super happy but you just reminded me of a song I’ve been listening to called “Way Less Sad.” It’s got a line goes, “I’m not happy yet, but I’m way less sad.”

Been chatting with KG Betty again.

She reached out to me a few times while Alison was sick but I couldn’t pull myself together enough to chat with her.

Or anyone, really.

Afterward, I was even more of a mess.

But, she always kept in touch, something I really appreciated. And she’s been dealing with her own stuff these days so I reached out to her.

Like I always said, old friends are such a valuable thing to have in your life.

I’m grateful for the ones that have stuck around.

Speaking of friends, my buddy Katrina was in my area the other day.

Her boyfriend was part of a bartending contest at our fave rum joint, Tiki Chick, to raise money for EPIC: Empowering Pacific Islander Communities.

Wanted to go – both to see them and because it’s my regular rum joint – but I was dealing with more tech issues, which I’ll tell you about one of these days.

Me: Sorry, was a crazy busy day with my network going down. Very annoying.
Her: That sucks. But it’s okay – you’re a busy guy

It’s a shame that I couldn’t make it but I figure they’ll do something like this again in the future and I can make it next time.

Until then, back to fixing this @#$@#$! network…

What I told KG Betty and my buddy Owen is true and I think that pretty much sums up my entire mindset these days.

I think that once someone deals with a double-whammy loss like I did, happy is something that seems very quaint and far away.

Way less sad is a win in my book and I’ll take it every day I can.

Obviously, the Firecracker has a lot to do with this, so I’m grateful for her as well.

Location: The New Cottage with my two tiny roommates
Mood: tech-y
Music: you’re so insane – shut up and just enjoy this feelin’ (Spotify)
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On the same page

Turning paper cuts into hemorrhages

Buckley was my roomie for decades – we lived on the same floor in college, then after school, he crashed at my parents for a while, and then we moved into my current place in 1997.

He stayed until at least 2007.

That’s him up above with Bryson. We were like in our late 20s in that pic.

Anywho, I met him because we were both interested in computers and he was FAR more skilled at me at them.

So, I was constantly asking him to help me, which – being the good soul he was – he always did.

That is, until, I hit him up one time too many.

Him: Dude, I’ve got homework and exams. I can’t do it.
Me: But I think I have a virus!
Him: Can’t, man. I’m really sorry.

Legit, I had one of the first viruses known to man – a variant of the Stoned virus.

So, not knowing what else to do, I wiped out my harddrive and reinstalled everything from scratch.

The next time I saw Buckley, proudly told him what I did and he looked at me like I was the stupidest person he’d ever met.

Him: You did what?!
Me: I wiped and reinstalled everything.
Him: (smacking his head) Logan…the worst thing that virus coulda done is wipe out your drive, forcing you to reinstall everything. You literally did its work for him.

33 years later, it’s one of my absolute clearest memories from Cornell – and one of my most salient life lessons.

One that I didn’t really fully appreciate until after the Reporter and I broke up.

See, I was convinced she was cheating on me, and I accused her of doing it.

Here’s the thing, though, I just thought she was cheating on me (she may well have been, I was just super suspicious) but, because I was already accusing her of doing so, she went ahead and did it.

After all, if you’re gonna do the time, you might as well do the crime, right?

The common thread between those two stories is that, you can easily make a bad situation much, much worse by overreacting.

I’m telling you this story because I just found out that someone I casually know – neither Buckley nor Bryson  – absolutely demolished a solid relationship by taking a tiny little thing and bringing it to Defcon 1.

Like, seriously – cops were almost involved and things were thrown.

It’d be laughable if it weren’t all so sad because, he spent a large part of the relationship terrified that she would leave him, and looked at every disagreement as World War 2.

But, if every disagreement is World War 2, why would any sane person stick around for the next battle?

And guess what?

He’s always been convinced that every single disagreement is a potential relationship ender and has finally managed to convince her as well.

At the very least, they’re both finally on the same page.

Years ago, I told you that life is a series of heartaches or papercuts, you get to decide which.

But a coda I’d add to that is to not turn a papercut into a hemorrhage.

Here’s hoping he’ll learn the lesson I learned back in 1992, and again in 2006.

Location: Not a bartender contest at Tiki Chick
Mood: nostalgic
Music: Long nights and dumb fights (Spotify)
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