Author: Logan Lo

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Travelogue: Bermuda 2024 Pt 2 – Dressing up, Teppanyaki, BRATTY, and the Beach

In Bermuda and my head

Finally emerged on day three still feeling pretty off but less like death warmed over so I ventured out with everyone to brekkie.

Him: Wow.
Me: What?
Him: I’ve never seen you eat so little before. And you never eat this much bread.
Me: Mommy told me that, when your stomach hurts, you have to eat BRATTY foods, which are Bread, Rice, Applesauce, Tea, Toast, and Yoghurt.

And that, my non-nauseated friends, is a list of alla the foods I’d been eating up to that point.

It’s good that I was feeling better because the Firecracker booked us all a table at teppanyaki for dinner, so we went to that.

The chef we got was a nice guy, and the food was delicious, but he was obviously still in training because he messed up the egg tricks three times.

Still, it was good, and the kids were entertained.

And I, for one, was certainly happy to have something other than bread and carbs.

Afterward, the Firecracker and I separated to do our own things.

Now, a guy was supposed to play the Rolling Stones at a bar that the Firecracker and I hit up earlier.

I didn’t have any tequila, mezcal, or anything beyond soda water so my bar experience was pretty different than it usually is.

The kid was super excited to have a small, private concert.

Unfortunately, the guy never showed.

Me: It happens. (shrugging) Whaddyagonna do?
Him: (nodding, shrugging) Yeah, whaddyagonna do?

But there was another band that was playing the Beatles, so we went to that.

The Firecracker was able to join us, so that part was pretty nice.

We also got to dress up all snazzy, like.

The next day, we arrived in Bermuda, but – like I said – there was that new hurricane developing so we were told that we only had from 9AM to 4:45PM to be in Bermuda.

So, we made the most of it and headed to Horseshoe Beach for the pink beaches.

Because the Firecracker and I had been to Bermuda (many times) before, we just hopped the bus to get there.

The last time I’d been on the bus was a decade earlier with Alison.

The last time I was in Bermuda, I was so irritated because I just wanted to remember her, but the idiot driving wouldn’t stop prattling on about nonsense.

It still makes me mad thinking about it.

This time, though, I sat with Alison’s son in the back while the Firecracker sat in another row with her son. So, I finally had my time with my thoughts and our son.

Me: Mommy and I once walked this exact route.
Him: Really?! This far!?
Me: It wasn’t my smartest idea, but mommy was nice enough to support me.

I won’t bring up Alison again in this because it fucks with my head.

In any case, after a spell, we finally arrived at the beach. The boy was underwhelmed but enjoyed being in the water.

Me? I was in and out of my head a lot for a bit.

But I did get to show the kids where I liked to go on the beach – years ago, I saw a tree growing outta rock there and found it again.

It was doing well and, somehow, that made me feel better.

We didn’t get too much time there but that’s fine.

I was just happy to be able to sit and read for a few minutes. And be in my head for a bit.

We made it back to the ship with hours to spare and stopped by the dockyard for a bit before the kid and chilled out on our balcony and had lunch together.

It was a good day, all things considered.

Location: back in the hood
Mood: less gross
Music: Suffer in the morning, but that taste is all I wanted, me and tequila (Spotify)
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Travelogue: Bermuda 2024 Pt 1 – The Grossness

Mezcal is not my friend either

Since both the Firecracker and I like cruising, we were keeping our eyes out for any last-minute trips that worked with our schedule since we didn’t get a chance to bring the kids anywhere over the summer.

Well, we came across the MSC Meraviglia, which left just from Brooklyn.

Interestingly, it was the very same ship we saw when we were on Governors Island, last.

Unfortunately, all the mezcal from the previous night hit me HARD the next morning.

It turns out that mezcal affects me even worse than tequila and I woke up feeling like death.

And that’s when I started my hourly trips to the bathroom.

Imagine your worst trip to the tiniest room times 16.

And then place at least half of those trips took place in very questionable public bathrooms.

Literally, every hour, on the hour, I had to scramble – heavy with luggage and feeling as weak as water in the rain – to find a bathroom and do my (very gross) duty.

Her: Listen, you gotta rally. They’re not gonna let you on the ship if you look like you’re sick and they won’t believe it’s alcohol poisoning.
Me: I’m not unaware. (pause) Annnnnd, I gotta go again.

Somehow, we made it onto the ferry where I tried my level best not to leave my DNA.

I was resolutely unsuccessful, although I did manage to leave it in the proper area within the bathroom.

The boy, however, was completely unfazed and still pretty excited for his second cruise.

Managed to put on a stoic face long enough to make it onto the ship where I entered my room, despite being told it wouldn’t be ready for another three hours.

Attendant: I’m sorry sir, your room isn’t ready yet.
Me: Is it possible for you to just clean around me? I just want to nap on the couch.
Him: OK, sir.

I was hoping he wasn’t gonna narc and he didn’t.

The Firecracker took care of both kids the first two days as I just stayed in the bed and went to the bathroom.

Again, every hour, on the hour for 48 hours.

She did manage to enjoy herself without me, which I found shocking.

I literally ate nuthin but bread and water those first 48 hours.

Boy: I’ve never seen you eat this many carbs.
Me: (eating another roll) This is how papa’s gonna be for a while.

This is pretty much all I ate for the first two days. It was carbtastic!

Well, I did try to have some French onion soup.

That was ill-advised.

Now, I thought that I did a pretty good job hiding how rotten I felt.

Me: (weakly but proudly) I don’t think anyone could tell.
Her: (laughing) Are you kidding me? The waiter immediately asked, once you left, “Is your husband feeling ok?”
Me: And there I thought I was doing some Oscar quality work. (shaking head) I’m a terrible liar.

The next night, I felt ok enough to hit up a show…

…or two…

…but it was a struggle.

I’ll write more tomorrow but not mention the unpleasantness.

Until then, enjoy the Firecracker almost killing the second performer; prior to this, the kid was the star of the show – the emcee selected him to talk about his trip to the ship and, man, did he have a lot to say – but I didn’t record it because I was laughing so much.

Shame really…

I’ll end with a sunny shot of the Firecracker.

Still felt like death while taking it.

Location: back in the hood
Mood: less gross
Music: Sick of rainy weather but I know we’ll be fine (Spotify)
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It started off all so well

Anything from Bibigo is solid

We were supposed to meet up with the Surgeon and his family for some hot pot the other night but that shifted to a party at their pad, which was actually even better since the kids could play.

Wanted to bring something so I asked Pac if he could recommend something to buy at H Mart now that it was in the UWS.

Me: Heading to a dinner party tomorrow and don’t wanna schlepp alla way to Chinatown for Chinese dumplings.
Him: Anything from Bibigo is solid.

So, we went and got a bag of beef dumplings and a bag of pork ones.

While the pork was definitely good, the beef was killer and we chowed through a lotta that before the other guests even came.

The Surgeon was mixing drinks all night and said – at the end of the night – that we kicked an entire bottle of mezcal with the four of us (him, his wife, me, and the Firecracker).

I didn’t think that it would affect me the same way as tequila does, but it turns out, it’s much, much, much worse on me than tequila is, which is saying a lot.

More on that in the next entry.

You may wanna skip that one.

In any case, the Surgeon and I popped out so he could pick up some sushi for everyone as well.

When we got back, more people were there, including a student of the Surgeon’s wife, who’s a professor of music and pretty talented in her own right.

Somehow, we got onto the topic of Scenic Fights and he immediately connected that I was the Logan from it.

After we posted the below pic on IG, his friend wrote him and said, “What?! How!?”

I’m regularly legit shocked at how much I get recognized these days.

Anywho, the party was great but we had to leave early(ish).

We were catching a ship to Bermuda early in the AM.

That’s where the mezcal makes another appearance.

Repeatedly.

I’ll fill you in alla the grossness in the next entry.

It started off all so well but, after all these years, I have to remind myself that tequila/mezcal, is not my friend…

Location: Back in the UWS
Mood: hangry
Music: Now I’m taking sips of your potion (Spotify)
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Tacos make everything just a touch better

I’d like a roof deck too

The above was just a great shot by my friend Ricky when we went to see him the other day and I wanted to post it before the weather got too cold and it looked outta place.

I’ll never move, I don’t think, but if I ever did, I’d like a roof deck as well.

I had a friend watch the boy recently because I needed to do that Scenic Fights shoot the other day and the Firecracker wasn’t around to help out.

Although the shoot was cancelled, I still had her come by because it wouldn’t be fair to suddenly cancel on someone because I screwed up.

I’m glad I did because I found out when she came by that she just had a loss in her immediate family and if there’s anything I understand, it’s loss.

Me: Do you want to have dinner with us? If yes, I’ll pick up a buncha birra tacos?
Her: Oh snap! Sounds good!

I actually finished up everything I had to do earlier that day and was gonna head over to the killer taco truck I told you about when I figured she could use some amazeballs tacos herself.

It was a small thing but I gotta say that all the small things that people did for me added up in big ways.

I’m grateful for that.

Plus, let’s be honest, (good) tacos make everything just a touch better, if only for a little bit.

Location: somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean with two kids and the Firecracker
Mood: disconcerted
Music: I howled at the morning driving rain – but it’s all right now (Spotify)
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Thanks, Kymberly!

I’ve decided to be happy

Me: I just wanted to say thank you for working with me for this past year.
Therapist: Logan! You think we’ve only been talking for a year? You mentioned looking forward to your date with the Firecracker, and that was at least 20 months ago.
Me: I cannot be trusted with things related to time these days.

I had my first therapy session with my therapist, Kymberly, on 2021.06.03.

She was the third regular therapist I had but the one that I’ve seen the longest and most consistently.

That’s for a buncha reasons: On the practical side, my insurance covered alla it and I could do alla my sessions at home on Zoom.

On the personal side, I knew I needed to talk to a professional, but I suppose that I didn’t realize just how much I needed to talk to one.

The first few sessions were not great as I was pretty belligerent, but she stuck with me and I her.

As time passed, I began to notice that I was less angry – still angry, just less so.

Me: There’s this joke I heard once where a man says to the other, “What would you say if I gave you a million dollars but only on the condition that the person you hate most gets two million?” And the second man replies, “Of course, why wouldn’t I want three million dollars?”
Her: You hate yourself?
Me: More than anyone, sometimes. (thinking) It’s a good joke, though.

Chad once said he felt that I was clinging on to a wrong relationship with a death grip because I’d lost so much already and was loathe to lose anything else.

Think that was the most accurate and sage thing he ever said.

With the passage of time, and Kymberly’s help, I was able to accept my new reality, though.

Me: Losing Alison and my dad was a bit like losing a leg. I know I’ll never be complete again, and I’ll always remember the days when I had them both here as my happiest. I know I can be happy again, I just also know that it won’t be the same because I will never be the same.
Her: But this version of Logan can be happy, can’t he? Maybe not the same as before, different, but still good?
Me: I suppose that’s the hope.

Unfortunately, she’s moving to a different office and one that doesn’t take my insurance. So, we have to part ways, at least for now.

She was a good therapist – and I’m well enough now, a good deal thanks to her, that I’m not in a rush to replace her.

Thanks, doc.

I’m feeling much better now.

Her: I like that analogy of your losing a leg. But, I think you can be happy again. If you’re nicer to yourself.
Me: I’ll try. It’s not easy, but I’m gonna try. I’ll never be happy like I was when Alison and my dad were still alive. But…it’d be nice to be happy again.

Every so often, I’ll hear a song, and it’ll feel as if it was written just for me.

To wit, here’s a song called Decide to be Happy by a band called Misterwives.

There are several lines that I feel I’ve said here myself in some manner or another:

Been feelin’ like a stranger in my body.  I haven’t been myself in a while, I’m sorry.

Got to decide to be happy ‘Cause it don’t always come naturally.

I particularly really like this line:

I’ve been down on my knees, prayin’ things I don’t believe

…because I’ve been on my knees so much since you’ve known me.

You know what?

Here’s the whole song and alla the lyrics – it’s worth a listen, I think.

Music, it saved me
But it drives me crazy
‘Cause it forces my eyes, to take a look and see
Got to decide to be happy
‘Cause it don’t always come naturally
Been feelin’ like a stranger in my body
I haven’t been myself in a while, I’m sorry (I’m sorry)
Got to decide to be happy (happy)
‘Cause it don’t always come naturally

‘Cause flowers, don’t grow without the rain
And goodness, don’t grow without the pain
Flowers, don’t grow without the rain
Goodness, don’t grow without the pain

I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy

My mind, it can be a scary place at times
So I hide under my bed and close all the blinds
And I cry (and I cry)
And I cry (and I cry)
Waste the day away, so I turn on the lights
And I search for a sign or a rhyme or a reason
Why I’m unsteady as the seasons

‘Cause flowers, don’t grow without the rain
And goodness, don’t grow without the pain
Flowers, don’t grow without the rain
Goodness, don’t grow without the pain

I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy

If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands
If you’re sad and you know it, well now’s your chance to dance
If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands
If you’re sad and you know it, well now’s your chance to dance
Well now’s your chance to dance, now’s your chance to dance
(Now’s your chance to dance, now’s your chance to dance)

I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy

Location: not where you might expect; a tiny room with the kid practically on top of me
Mood: soooooooooo sick – you would not believe how sick I am
Music: I decide to be happy (Spotify)
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SAFE on a rooftop

She and her granny cart

Me: Why don’t I just carry everything, so we don’t have to bring your granny cart?
Her: I LOVE my granny cart! Besides, how are you gonna carry everything.
Me: Hold on. (thinking) If I have seven cans of oil-based paint, and a gallon of oil weights approximately 7 pounds, that means I’m carrying around 50 pounds. (sighing) Fiiiine, bring your granny cart.
Her: You’re gonna be so happy I brought it when you realize how much we’re gonna be carrying.

The Firecracker proudly using her granny cart to haul away a hoverboard and a buncha paint cans.

The first time I went to the Firecracker’s pad, I asked her why she had a vacuum cleaner and a kid’s hoverboard in her bedroom.

Her: They both have batteries in them that I have to wait until the city will take them.
Me: How long have you been holding onto them?
Her: A year?

I understood.

I’ve had paint and tar in my basement for at least the last 25 years and some were there when I moved in, meaning that two or three cans were like 35 years old.

We kept waiting for the next NYC SAFE (Solvents, Automotive, Flammables, and Electronics) Disposal event – something usually came up each time, so she was closing in on three years of holding onto the hoverboard and vacuum.

This is what the SAFE Event looked like.

This latest one was right by my gym BUT we were filming on the day of it, and I had to carry a whole boatload of costumes down from my pad for it, so we figured we’d miss this one too.

That is, until I got whacked in the face by my buddy Prin.

Her: Hey, we can go to the SAFE Event now!
Me: OMG, you’re right!
Her: See! Always look on the bright side.

So, we packed up her granny cart and headed downtown to do just that.

That was pretty quick, so we hit up a clothing store as the Firecracker needed some new gear.

Afterward, I rang up my buddy Ricky – as we were near his pad – and he said he was actually in a cafe just around the block from where we were.

We ended up walking over to his pad and chilling out on his gorgeous rooftop deck.

I brought some pork rinds, and he brought a bottle of sweet Moscato.

Honestly, I’m not sure life in NYC gets better than this.

Me: That’s what we like the most, random cool meetup with friends.
Her: Especially friends with roof decks!
Him: (laughing) Well, I’m glad you called then.

Location: this morning, an early ferry to Red Hook with the fam
Mood: excited
Music: You and me is more than a hundred miles (Spotify)
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Saying goodbye to summer

With the help of Mr. Softie

Honestly don’t know why anyone reads this here blog as it’s so…boring.

To wit, I’ve recently been entertained that all 12 eggs in a single carton of eggs has given me double yolks every single time.

And these were just normal/typical eggs from Trader Joe’s.

This is what counts as high excitement in the Lo household these days.

Him: What’s the equinox?
Me: It’s when the sun crosses the equator and day, and night are pretty much exactly equal in length. For our purposes, though, it’s the end of summer and winter and the start of fall and spring.

The kid’s been getting used to his new school and afterschool life.

I did, however promise him ice cream from the ice cream truck.

I also got one for the Firecracker just so she didn’t feel left out…and so she knew what a proper ice cream truck was/is.

Plus, ice cream trucks have been struggling lately so I figure it’s good to support them while we can.

In NYC, Mr. Softie has always been a mainstay – it’d be a shame if they didn’t make it.

The Firecracker was happy to get her own cone, which was a basic soft-serve vanilla.

That’s one thing we both share in common – a love of the simple things in life like ice cream from an ice cream truck and drinking wine on a city stoop.

Me: I’m really looking forward to that Chinese food.
Firecracker: I’m really looking forward to this – sitting on a city stoop drinking wine with my favourite person.
Me: Screw you, I’m here.
Her: Well, two outta three ain’t bad.

Well, that and finding a carton fulla double-yolk eggs…

Me: Is it lame to write about eggs?
Her: Hmm, well, you could reference rebirth and new beginnings?
Me: Nah, I’m just gonna write about double yolk eggs and see how that goes.
Her: Well, I think it’s cool.
Me: And that’s why we’re together.

Location: the kid’s gym, watching him try to do a double-leg. It’s a process…
Mood: ueber productive
Music: It feels like letting go. Oh, it smells like summer (Spotify)
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Logan with a ‘stache

Tom Sellecking my way through life

Firecracker: Someone at work thought I just graduated from high school.
Me: High school?! That was a really, really, really long time ago.
Her: (icily) One “really” is sufficient, Logan.
Me: (nodding) Noted.

The Firecracker’s been coming with me to kali class here and there.

She’s never done any type of martial art before so it’s a whole new world for her.

But the fact that the Frenchman and his wife go, and the people are so nice, she fell right into it.

Unfortunately, because of my herniated disk and because my wrist is still bothering me, I’ve only been able to do it at far less than maximum ability.

A few weeks back, we started up with some sparring, which I had to do with my left hand because my right wrist was so bad.

This week, my back was still rough but my wrist felt better so I took a chance and sparred.

That was a mistake.

My buddy Prin – who’s also a doctor – got a clean hit right in my face.

The Firecracker, who has never seen this level of violence close up, was pretty worried about me.

However, since I’ve had:

    • two broken ribs
    • at least seven broken fingers
    • at least four cracked teeth
    • a torn ACL replaced with a cadaver ACL
    • herniated disk
    • countless cuts and wounds

This was pretty much another day in the gym.

Except…

Firecracker: But you have a Scenic Fights shoot in two days on Sunday.
Me: Oh, shit!
Boy: Daddy!

OK, that part wasn’t good.

My producer ended up cancelling alla my shoots for that day, which I felt terrible about, so I tried to think of ways to make it up to him.

But that’s a completely different story altogether.

Prin also felt terrible, but it really wasn’t his fault as I had a herniated disk and messed up wrist still so I shoulda just said no to sparring.

I keep forgetting that I’m 51.

On a related note, I spent the next few days trying to keep the cut clean and not get infected.

To this end, I’ve been rocking a Magnum PI porno ‘stache.

Not everyone is a fan.

Firecracker: (laughing hysterically) I can’t…I can’t…
Me: (sniffing) Your jealousy is palpable.
Her: (continues to laugh uncontrollably) I can’t breathe…

Location: back at the gym for the first time in a week
Mood: Tom Selleck-y
Music: I’ve caught all the scars and turned them into stars (Spotify)
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She didn’t come this far…

…to only go this far

Speaking of advice, a friend asked me to go with her to court to help her with a case she was involved in.

Well, a case she had to restart because of things way outta her control.

I’m not a court attorney but I know enough to at least tell her where to go and what to say.

We all need help finding our way, sometimes.

It’s good to have a friend during those times.

To this end, we went down to the courthouse the other day.

Me: I used to come here with my buddy Steele when we were both clerking for the same judge.
Her: That was a while ago.
Me: A lifetime ago, really.

The building directly in the center of the main picture is where Alison and I got married.

Now that feels like several lifetimes ago.

Going to court in NYC is a bit like going on a scavenger hunt, because, invariably, you gotta go to several different offices and speak with different people to get anything done.

While she didn’t get to accomplish everything that she intended that day, she got a bit closer to her ultimate goal, which is always a positive.

Afterward, we walked over to Chinatown to get some lunch – Taiwanese food over at Taiwan Pork Chop House.

Her: I never realized how close the courts are to Chinatown.
Me: That’s why there are so many lawyers that have lunch there.

Along the way, ran into not one but two Scenic Fights fans.

The first one was on the train ride down there.

Him: Excuse me, but do I know you? You look super familiar.
Me: Do you watch Scenic Fights?
Him: Yes!

The second was after we were done with court and went to Chinatown to get food.

Stuart: I love Scenic Fights!
Me: OMG, will you take a picture with me?
Him: Sure!

In the end, my friend didn’t get everything done that she wanted to get done, but it was a (good) start.

Court stuff is difficult, for sure.

But all difficult things are overcome, as long as you start – it’s the starting that usually the hardest part.

Her: Thanks for coming.
Me: Happy to help, although I’m not sure I did much.
Her: You did – we have a contact now and a plan.
Me: That’s more than you had before.
Her: Absolutely.

She didn’t come this far to only go this far.

Location: earlier today, a rooftop with Ricky and the Firecracker
Mood: fatty-fat-fat
Music: Knee deep in a muddy trench (Spotify)
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Free advice seems to be worth it

There’s your answer

Me: I dunno, man.
Him: Well, what would you do here?
Me: (sighing) That’s the thing, I guess. She’s controlling you right now. If nuthin else, I wouldn’t allow that. I can’t allow myself to be controlled by another person unless I wanted to be controlled. And I don’t think you wanna be controlled, do you?

There’s this small coffee shop a few blocks south of me that I used to go to when I did my dry cleaning as my dry cleaner was just next door.

The coffeeshop was a tiny joint but my dry cleaners lost their lease (boo!) but that meant that the cafe could take over that space and expand (yay!).

Lately, I’ve been meeting people there for coffee and meetings since it’s so much nicer now.

Now, the reason I’ve been going there – besides occasional visits with neighbors and my buddy the Pastor – is because, for some reason, people keep asking me for advice.

Personally, I only like to give advice when I’m 100% sure about something.

Like, I tell people to try to drink as much green tea as possible because of all of its document health benefits.

Other things, though, I’m less certain of, ergo, I’m hesitant to offer any advice.

Like, there are no less than three people I know of that are going through divorces.

As a lawyer, I know little to nuthin about the topic, but I started doing some research to try and help them here and there.

I think it’s more dangerous to give advice when you have no idea what you’re talking about than to say, “Sorry, man, I don’t know anything about the topic, I wish I could help.”

But they’re in a pickle so I try to help however I can.

My old buddy Johnny – who got a divorce himself decades ago and took none of my advice – used to drive me crazy by always offering advice on topics he had zero background in.

He was probably my third wealthiest friend, so I think that wild success makes people think that they’re qualified to give advice in all fields rather than the one that they actually are qualified in.

That’s one of a million reasons I decided to stop being friends with him.

Getting back to my friends, some of them insist that I give them some opinion, so I do when pressed.

But I wonder if I’m truly helping or harming sometimes.

Then again, free advice is probably worth what you’re paying for it.

Him: Fuck no.
Me: (shrugging) Well, then there’s your answer then.

Location: this here coffeeshop
Mood: puzzled
Music: There’s a stain on my notebook where your coffee cup was (Spotify)
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