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Good is the enemy of Great

Sometimes I wonder if I’m settling for my good life


Was driving the other day when I saw the food cart above. We have these tiny little cafe carts all over Manhattan in the mornings from 7AM to about 11AM that sell coffee and breads – like croissants, donuts, and muffins.

In any case, this enterprising fella took it a step further by offering office work. If you can’t read the sign, I’ve blown it up for you below.

It reads, “Photo Copy” – evidently he’s a one-stop shop for all things coffee, biscuit, and Xerox.

While it’s funny, I’m not mocking him. I always respect the people that dream bigger than the fish bowl they’ve been given.

After all, it’s why I like aged rum. It’s the little things we do have big impact in our lives.

Sometimes, though, I wonder if all my drive has left me. I used to have all these grand plans but my life is quite good. But, as Jim Collins put it inĀ Good to Great:

Good is the enemy of great. And that is one of the key reasons why we have so little that becomes great. We don’t have great schools, principally because we have good schools. We don’t have great government, principally because we have good government. Few people attain great lives, in large part because it is just so easy to settle for a good life.

As for me, sometimes I wonder if I’m settling for my good life.

Suppose the fact that I’m sleeping regularly for the first time in a while is a major reason why I’m not sure I should even want more out of life.

Everything has a price tag. It’s all about what you’re willing to pay.

Location: waiting for the summer heat to return
Mood: anxious
Music: Slow down my beating heart, a man dreams one day to fly
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Woodwork and a stay in Manhattan

We’ll take any excuse for a staycation

Had some carpenters come into the pad to fix some flooring. They were supposed to come at 8:30 on Saturday but instead they showed up at 11:30.

That’s the thing with a lot of service people; they’re very flaky. I find that if they’re very responsive, I’m their customer for life.

Having said that, they did a seriously bang-up job on the floors. Essentially, part of it was damaged a long time ago by a previous occupant. They came in, tore up that entire section, replaced the wood, and stained/sealed it so that it looks exactly like the old wood.

Because we weren’t really sure that they’d get it all done in a day, the wife and I booked a hotel a few blocks south of us called On the Avenue.

Turned out that we didn’t need to stay there since the work was done so quickly but we like being tourists in our own city neighborhood. We had an early dinner at Serafina, an early night at the hotel and were back at home with our need wood floors the next day.

And more pizza the next day to boot.

Her: Oh, did you put that slice of pizza into the oven for me?
Me: (pause) Yes?
Her: (suspicious) Really?
Me: (pause) Yes?

When I’m hungry, common sense is the first thing to go.

Location: waiting for the summer heat to return
Mood: anxious
Music: everybody’s gotta get there somehow and I won’t wait
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Remembering the Northeast Blackout of 2003

10 years since the East Coast Blackout

Me: Today’s the 10 year anniversary of the 2003 East Coast Blackout.
Her: Really? Wow. 10 years. Time goes by so fast.

I remember what I was doing that day/night well since it happened just under a year since the 9/11 attacks.

Was actually in a real estate closing when I realized that I was missing a check. So I made a mad dash to my office to get it.

On the train ride back to the meeting, the train got stuck in the tunnel. Was already panicked as this was only my third real estate closing so I remember that when the AC shut off in the subway car, I was already a sweaty mess. I also remember the subway car windows steaming up because of the humidity.

Hours later, the car doors opened in the middle of the tunnel and we worked our way in the dark to the station – we used our mobile phones for light. When I finally got out, I was a mile or so from the closing so I ran there with the check.

Was so absorbed in getting to the meeting that I barely noticed that there were no lights.

Arriving, I banged the door repeatedly when the building manager finally came and opened the door. “I’m…here…for the closing. Checks.” I said, breathlessly.

People walking in New York City during the bla...
People walking in New York City during the blackout (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“Closing?” he said, “There’s a ___ing blackout. There’s no closing.” And the slammed the door in my face. Only then did I look up and think, Well, that’s weird.

Eventually, I made it over to Rain’s apartment where we ended up BBQing on his roof since his fridge was stocked. I remember sitting on his roof ledge in a rumpled suit, dirty from my tunnel run.

Hours later in the dark, finally managed to grab a $80 cab ride back to my pad. We went at like three miles an hour up to the Upper West Side because of all the pedestrians and lack of light.

When I got home, found my sister waiting for me since she couldn’t make it to her home. Back then I had a car so I lent it to a buddy to go check up on his mom in Philly. End up eating everything out of my fridge for a late dinner.

Two things happened that day:

  1. I have a checklist for closings now so I never forget another check.
  2. Got this here story to tell people now.

All education’s expensive. Some, though, come with worthwhile memories.

Location: enjoying the strangely cool August weather at my desk
Mood: nostalgic
Music: It’s been a long night in New York City
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business personal

Waiting for the chime that tells me to get back to work

Either insanely busy or not-at-all and little in-between

Her: Do you want some ice cream?
Me: Nah, I’m good. (five minutes later) Actually, that looks pretty good, can I have a few bites of your…
Her: Touch it and I’ll kick you in the face.

Finished up with this massive project last week so I’ve had a bit of downtime again.

With how my work is structured, I’m usually either insanely busy or not at all. There’s scant in-between.

I’m also at a age/position in my work life where I don’t actually have to show up anywhere as long as the work’s done. It’s a plus of being 40, I suppose.

Because of that, it takes me a little while to get used to having time to myself; feel almost guilty that I’m not doing something work related.

But then as I finally get used to downtime, I’ll get an email from a client that goes, Logan! Hey, I have a question for you.

Still, for the next three days at least, my plans are meeting up with a friend for drinks, working on some rapier/dagger fencing, some wrasslin, and a stack of magazines.

All the while, I’m listening for that sound that my computer makes when that email inevitably comes in telling me to get back to work.

!Ding!

Location: my apartment, waiting for it
Mood: rested
Music: Maggie advances to the final. Who knew that she had the goods?
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More than the applause of the multitude

The respect of those you respect is worth more than the applause of the multitude


I write mainly because I have things in my head that I need to put somewhere.

But the reason I write publicly is because of three people: Mrs. Meltzer, Dr. Shapiro, and Stewart O’Nan.

The first two were my grade school and high school English teachers. They thought I was good but considering that my classmates weren’t exactly Hemingway, this was flattering but only so much so.

Stewart O’Nan was my college English teacher and he said I was good also – not great, but good. That meant a little more. But it wasn’t until I saw him on talk shows and read book reviews from him it became a source of pride for me.

Stewart O'Nan Read
Stewart O’Nan (Photo credit: Literary Gal)

I’d tell everyone. Like I’m telling you now.

Perhaps he said it to all his students. I like to think he just said it to me.

This fellow named Arnold Glasow once said that The respect of those you respect is worth more than the applause of the multitude.

Man, isn’t that the truth?

On a related note, my wrasslin coach Rene invented and perfected a move called The Rat Guard. It’s the go-to move in our gym.

And this absolutely brilliant and eccentric coach named Eddie Bravo actually made note of it – and my coach – recently on his podcast. Eddie Bravo’s a guy that changed everything about the game of fighting and mixed-martial arts. In fact, in my coach’s video below, which he did years ago, he specifically mentions him by name.

I’ve won a number of awards in my life and have done many things of which I am proud.

But the throwaway line O’Nan said to me as he hurriedly grabbed his stuff and ran out the door 22 years ago at the close of the year, is perhaps one of my most cherished.

It works in reverse too, doesn’t it?

Everyone may say that you’re the best at this or great at that, but if the one person that you value more than all the others says something unkind, the rest falls on deaf ears.

When parents say something to a child that’s cruel, it cuts the deepest.

That’s when you remind yourself that someone else’s opinion of you is none of your business.

Signal versus noise; it’s always signal versus noise.

Location: back from the gym
Mood: proud
Music: there’s certain things in life you cannot change
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Goodbye Big Nick’s, you’ll be missed

Change is the only constant in life


I first moved into my neighborhood 17 years ago.

Back then it was kinda dive-y but I was younger and stupider then. Back then, the legendary P&G Bar – which you might know from the Runaway Bride or any number of other films – and the Yogi’s Bar were typical for the neighborhood.

Al Pachino’s Needle Park took place just a few blocks from my doorstep and the film the Warriors had shots all over my hood including the 95th Street Station exterior shots.

The Panic in Needle Park
The Panic in Needle Park (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

After Trump moved into the area and fixed up the pier and they installed the new subway station at West 73rd Street, the place really took off.

As you know, I don’t lament the passing of old New York all that much; after all, no one that was born poor wants to stay poor.

But last week, my old haunt, Big Nicks closed. Their menu was as big as a book and if you wanted a bagel, slice of pizza, foot-long hotdog, and a side of gyro with chili at 2:34 AM, they had it. With a Fosters beer, for some strange reason.

As an insomniac, wrote a lot of stuff there; a lot of The Men Made of Stone was done in front of greasy plates there.

That leaves me with two dive bars left in the UWS.

There’s this poem in Chinese I like that goes:

shao xiao li jia lao da hui, xiang yin wu gai bin mao shuai.
er tong xiang jian bu xiang shi ,xiao wen ke cong he chu lai.
少 小 离 å®¶ 老 大 å›žļ¼Œ ä¹” 音 ꗠ 改 鬓 毛 č”°.
儿 ē«„ 相 见 äø 相 čÆ†ļ¼Œ 笑 问 客 从 何 处 ę„ļ¼Ÿ

Basically, this dude leaves his hometown and comes back an old man for the first time in decades. He sees children playing and laughing – like he did with his childhood friends – but they’re not him, and they’re not his friends.

But they’re just like him and them when they were kids.

And they call out to him: Hello stranger! And it’s nostalgic and sad in the sense that he’s now a stranger in his own hometown – it doesn’t recognize him and he doesn’t recognize it.

I think one day I’ll leave here and everything will have changed and be like I remember it, but not.

Suppose that’s true anywhere.

More practically: Dammit, there’s no place else now to get a bagel, slice of pizza, foot-long hotdog, a side of gyro,Ā  with chili and a Fosters Beer at 2:34 AM.

I wish some things stayed the same.

Not all. Just some.

In other news, went to see the folks last night. It looked and felt like spring.

Location: the UWS that’s changing too fast for me
Mood: busy
Music: Try imagining a place where it’s always safe and warm
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A daiquiri is not a frozen daiquiri

A daiquiri is completely different than a frozen daiquiri – also a pic of me with a hi-top fade

Her: What the…?
Me: Well, I did ask for a hightop fade.
Her: You did?
Me: Of course I didn’t! Look at me! I look like Kid from Kid ‘n Play.

Because of the insane heat in New York the past few weeks, been trying to do whatever I could to keep cool.

One thing was to go out with my buddy PB to a place around me called the Gin Mill and ask for a daquiri.

Like always, the waitress said, “We don’t have a blender.”

For pete’s … let’s clear up something right now: A daiquiri is as different from a frozen daiquiri as a yogurt is from frozen yogurt. As different as chocolate is from hot chocolate.

They’re completely different things.

Don’t know when it started that people think that the only daiquiris that exist are the frozen kind. At it’s most basic, a daiquiri is limeade and rum. That’s it.

Caipirinha, a Brazilian daiquiri
Caipirinha – essentially a daiquiri with sugercane rum.

Here’s my version of it:

  • Shot of light rum
  • Juice of one-half lime
  • 1/3 to 1/2 shot of sugar syrup or agave
  • Ice-filled glass
  • Top off with seltzer or water

And when it comes to beating the heat, that plus a fan is the classic way to do it.

A recent Esquire article titled, In Defense of the Daiquiri had the exact same issue with the blender and noted that, “It’s one of those cocktails that’s hard to make well because you can’t hide.”

I’ll tell people that’s why I drink them.

But that’s a lie.

You and I know that the real reason is that I just like to get rum into my fat belly.

Her: Oh, it doesn’t look that bad. Bring your big head over here.
Me: Hey…
Her: (hugging my head) It’ll grow back. (thinking) What’s the circumference of this thing?

Kid 'n' Play

Location: 21:00 yest, thrust, parry, thrust on the UWS
Mood: tired
Music: Pretend the water is champagne and fill my glass again and again
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I’d rather have a king or emperor than a Weiner or a Palin

In praise of kings

Town Crier for William and Kate's baby

My brother went to London a little while back and it turned out to be during the Queen’s Jubilee celebration and he wrote the following: Celebrating 60 years of non-merit-based ultra-lavish living by hereditary entitlement.

Now, if you’ve ever met my brother, you know that he’s far smarter than me. But I think that there’s more to royalty than simply that.

When I was a kid, I remember reading once that Alexander Hamilton, and to a lesser degree, John Adams, argued for an American king. Hamilton envisioned that George Washington would be made king for life with the ability to veto all congressional bills.

For those of you that don’t know much about Hamilton beyond him being the dude on the $10 bill the guy that was killed by Burr, he’s a fascinating – rum-drinking – fella.

The current arguments now about states rights (Republican/Jefferson) versus federal rights (Democrat/Hamilton) were essentially started between him and Jefferson and continue to this day.

I’ve always believed as my brother has, which is that non-merit based leadership is wrong. But Hamilton was a brilliant man, so I wondered how he could have stumbled so much on this topic.

Now that I’m older, I see things differently.

You see, Hamilton was a founder of the Society of the Cincinnati, which honored Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus – a man who did not want to lead Rome, but did in one of its darkest hours, and then immediately abdicated after he had done what he needed to do.

Yes, there are centuries of stories about rulers that simply took from the population, but in modern times, are the people that have nothing but naked ambition any better?

Are Anthony Wiener or Sarah Palin any better to rule just because they have over-sized egos and ambition? Are they really any better than two exceptionally educated men that lost their mother in youth and put themselves in harms way like Princes William and Harry?

I’m not advocating a return to a monarchy. But if there’s one thing I know to be true – and that history has shown over and over again – it’s that power corrupts.

And some of the best leadership humanity ever had was had by people like Washington, Cincinnatus, and Gandi; people who never really wanted power in the first place but did it because it was their duty. What was the film The King’s Speech about if not about a man who did not want to lead but had to?

Baby Prince George VII will never lead in the pure sense of the word, but I hope that he “leads” as King George VI did, and as his grandmother Diana did, through service, grace, and a sense of duty.

In fact, King George VI’s wife, when asked why the family didn’t go to Canada during the Axis bombings said, “The children won’t go without me. I won’t leave the King. And the King will never leave.”

I suppose what I’m really saying is that good souls come from all parts. By extension, good leaders.

A friend on Facebook once wrote scathingly of Alice Walton – who essentially gives away much of her fortune – purely because she was born a Walton, as if she had any control over that.

In other words, she detests Alice because of original sin; that she was even born.

I say we judge people on what they’ve done with the life they’re given not on the life their given.

To do otherwise makes about as much as sense as being super proud that one is right-handed.

Location: enjoying the weather finally
Mood: stuffed
Music: My life’s become as vapid as a night out in Los Angeles
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Everyone has their thing

Here’s what I think of the royal baby being born

Town Crier for William and Kate's baby

I don’t like football. Considering that – amongst other things – a professional player gets between 900 to 1,500 blows to the head in a single season it strikes me as the closest modern analogy to gladiator battles.

Of course, I love MMA/UFC matches and I make excuses for it all the time: the amount of blows are different, the ability for someone to defend himself properly is different, the fact that a participant is encouraged to “give up” when in danger add to the safety, etc.

But I realize that, while it makes sense to me, it makes little sense to someone else.

For that reason, while I don’t like football, I wouldn’t go online and bash it just to bash it. Everyone’s got their thing, yeah?

Which brings me to this royal baby business.

My Facebook feed is exploding with people that are just angered by how much coverage it’s receiving. Almost none of them realize how much money this kid is going to inject into the British economy – up to $400 million according to some estimates.

Now, I don’t get it. Not even a little. BUT I don’t begrudge anyone their joy. If someone finds joy in watching grown men hurl themselves at each other while chasing a leather ball or cheering the birth of a singularly lucky (lucky) child, so be it.

Also, I realize that people have their fates tied up to odd things.

Like that dude in the picture above – for all I know, this is his shining moment, the greatest thing he’s ever done: Announce the birth of the next king in a funny hat. I don’t know, nor do I really care that much.

But someone does and that’s all fine and good. I’ll turn the channel just like I do when football is on.

We all have our weird things and we should let others have their weird thing too.

Speaking of weird things, I believe I’m due for some more chili for a midday snack.

Location: off to the gym
Mood: praying for rain
Music: Is there room for one more son
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Picasso and his napkin art

Effortless things take years of effort to accomplish

Female client: This bill is outrageous! Who do you think you are?
Me: I think I’m someone that needs to get paid for the work I do.
Her: For four pages of work?
Me: Let me tell you a story: Picasso was sitting in a cafe one day when someone asked him to draw something on a napkin. He did and asked for $12,000. Like you, the man said that it was outrageous because it only took him a minute, to which Picasso said, “Actually, that took me 40 years.”
Her: So you think you’re Picasso?
Me: No, but I did spend the 15 years learning how to write that four page document you’re holding in your hand. If you could have done it, you would’ve. You came to me, not the other way around. You don’t work for free, why do you expect me to?

It’s a never-ending thing in the service industry: explaining the difference between value and price.

Igor Stravinsky and Pablo Picasso collaborated...
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Location: back from the gym
Mood: irritated
Music: my brush would take me there But only If I were a painter
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