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personal

The Algorithm

Critical thinking

I try to understand the world through three things that I used to call to call “The Machine,” but my buddy has re-termed, “The Algorithm.”

It’s essentially how I try to understand information. For me, it’s the basis of critical thinking.

      1. Occam’s razor – The simplest explanation is probably correct. This is the first because it’s the most important.
      2. Cui Bono – Literally, “who benefits?”
      3. Is it true? Alternatively: Does this make sense?

Not all three are always applicable but one invariably is. Fox News, for example, violates 1 – credulity – on the daily, and coupled with 2, and 3, doesn’t seem to be very reliable.

Of all three, the third is the hardest one when it comes to yourself. If someone says to you, “You’re selfish,” you have to really try to dispassionately examine the data. Ignore the messenger and listen to the message.

It’s easy to avoid (3) because (3) is the most painful but it leads to the most growth and overall happiness. It’s like any exercise, no pain no gain.

I recently found out that an ex of mine just had twins with her husband last month during the craziness of COVID. For a long-time, she was my favourite ex.

While we were together, there was a co-worker (not her current husband) that was always doing these little things to put me down. Nothing that rose to a full insult but just little things, like making fun of the colour of a tie for example, back when I wore ties.

And my ex not only never said anything about it, she would laugh along.

Me: I just don’t understand what’s so funny about a green tie.
Ex: I don’t know, it just is. He’s married and weird; stop being crazy.

I ran it through the Algorithm but refused to believe the results. They ended up having a fling together.

I learned from that experience to believe in the Algorithm – although not always – and I’m grateful to her for the lesson. Education’s expensive.

Had a long chat recently with someone who knew both her and her co-worker.

Her: I remember once that he called you an insecure nutcase.
Me: Well, he wasn’t wrong
Her: (laughing) Really?
Me: I was trying to buy a building then, and sleeping maybe three hours a night. Nutcase wasn’t inappropriate. As for being insecure, she broke the trust covenant by ______, _____, and _______. Wouldn’t you be a little insecure if you were me? If your husband did even *one* of those things, let alone all?
Her: (thinking) I never thought of it that way.
Me: “Insecure” means “likely to break”. That’s true in two senses: Personally, she and I were together at a time when I was likely to break. Regarding the relationship, she broke the trust covenant, repeatedly. When something’s broken once, it’s likely to break again unless changes are made. We both didn’t wanna change. I can say I was insecure in that relationship. But, that’s because I was asking questions she refused to answer.
Her: What questions?
Me: (shrugging) Why was he talking about me in the first place? Was he obsessed with me or something I had that he wished he had? I never talked about him but he always seemed to be talking about me. For both of them, it’s always easier to do something shitty to someone, if you soften them up first.

I’m not always right. But everything is obvious once you accept the answer.

And, in her defense: I was clearly mad from the insomnia and she still stayed. Everything went down when I didn’t get better.  She gets a lotta slack from me for that.

Now, she’s got a two fatties of her own and a family. I’m honestly happy for her now. Thrilled, really.

To be even more candid, I’m slightly jelly that she has the only thing that I ever truly wanted and can never have.

Me: Should I send her something?
Her: That’d be a terrible idea, Logan.
Me: Yeah. (nodding) Yeah. Good point, good point…

Podcast Version: The Algorithm
Location: my empty apartment, post ribs and dumplings
Mood: insecure about the next seven days
Music: all out my hands when you pulled the trigger (Spotify)
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personal

Travelogue: Museum miles

You’re my main company

Me: You should bring her to the Museum of Natural History. I once took a girl there on a five-hour date. Oh, wait…

Someone I know met a girl several women recently and was trying to figure out where to take them (FWIW, he has the antibodies too). Told him that I loved museums before I remembered they’re a no go. 

But I got nostalgic and, after one really sleepless night, I hopped the scooter to go around town. There weren’t as many people out.

Any really.

Went to the Natural History first. Was last there in September 2018 when Gradgirl was in town but she didn’t want me to mention it for reasons I finally understand.

After the AMNH, went across the park…

…to 97th Street and then down Museum Mile past the Cooper Hewitt…

…to the Guggenheim…

…through the trees of the Met…

…past the Met…

…down Fifth Avenue, which was still pretty deserted at this time,…

…and then across the park again.

The Whitney Museum moved, which is probably for the best for my mental health.

Made it back home and fell asleep, dreaming of the other side again.

This lockdown is  a once in a lifetime thing and you and my demons are my main company so I figure I’d just show you what I see here.

That girl I went on a five-hour date with wasn’t my person and I wasn’t hers. She’s happily married with two beautiful kids. I’m happy for her.

Family’s everything.

(Earlier…)

Him: Are you gonna be ok there by yourself?
Me: Define, “ok.”
Him: Logan, stop fucking around.
Me: Don’t worry. I’d never leave the boy in this shitty world alone. I just need to sleep it off. I’ll be better tomorrow.

Location: my empty apartment, post shawarmas
Mood: under pressure and hating this fucking month
Music: Why can’t we give love that one more chance? (Spotify)
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A litmus test

Under Pressure

Him: I didn’t realize how broken it all made you. You know, you don’t have to be a high-functioning alcoholic.
Me: That’s like saying you don’t have to eat cake. I *want* to eat cake. If nuthin else, I’m a good cautionary tale.
Him: Well, you’ve become something else to me now.
Me: And what’s that?
Him: (thinking) The standard by which I measure another person’s decency. How people treat a guy that lost the person he loved most in the world, his father, and his career all in one shot tells me everything I need to know about him/her. I think you’ve earned some kindness from people.
Me: Great. That’s what I’ve become: (sighing) A cautionary tale and a litmus test. I just need to know that I’ve earned some rum.
Him: At least that. You’ve earned at least that. Fuck everyone else.

Eight years ago, Alison gave me a bottle of Ron Zacapa XO Rum just because.

There was just a little bit left when she got sick and I refused to have any more. When I found the bottle late last year, the cork had deteriorated and I had to transfer it to another bottle. It was one of my most special things.

Before she exited my venn diagram, I asked Mouse to share the last glass with me because I felt she earned it, unlike some weird rando, but she declined. Which is fine.

So, yesterday, a friend stopped by and we had it together in honor of Alison’s birthday, along with a lot more rum.

Speaking of randos, I met someone that also had COVID antibodies at Pier 64 today as I tried to clear my head and sober up for some meetings.

Me: It’s like we have superpowers!
Her: (laughing) Kinda!
Me: Well, since we just met, I suppose we should keep to safe topics like politics and religion, yeah?

I hide my real face well, I think. I work well under pressure.

Fake it till you make it, right?

Podcast Version: A litmus test
Location: my empty apartment, with no rum
Mood: disgustingly sober
Music: Keep coming up with love but it’s so slashed and torn. Why? (Spotify)
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Dear Alison…

Today is your birthday


Dear Alison;

You would be 41 today. I’m sure, like always, people would still wonder why you were with me. I still wonder that.

I gotta say, life’s so meaningless without you but I stay for the boy and the occasional happy moment when it comes. It does come from time-to-time, but the demons are always close behind.

They’re my main company these days again. At least you’re not here any more to worry about me. It’s ok, the boy’s away and even the Devil takes pity on me. There’s no profit in cruelty to a broken man. Plus they’re not bad company, as company goes.

Speaking of the boy, he’s doing well. He’s with your parents right now. You were right, a backyard makes all the difference. I bought him a bike and he loves it. It’s blue and yellow. Between that and the unlimited carbohydrates out there, he may never come back.

He’s been there for a while because…well, you wouldn’t believe what’s going on and I wouldn’t know where to start. I suppose we’d be debating again; I think I’d win this time, though. Humanity’s just as awful as always and getting worse by the moment.

If given the choice, I think I prefer my demons. At least I know they want to hurt me. The honesty’s refreshing.

I wish you were here. Selfishly. Because I’m lonely and alone. Without you and your optimism to keep them at bay, they’re hollowing me out again. Life without you and your hope is singularly soul-crushing. They come when I’m on my knees and I find myself there more often than not.

I’d wish you a happy birthday but, since you’ve gone, it’s always anything but.

I’m sorry you’re not here and that I am. It’s so perfectly unfair. You loved the world and I hate it and yet there you are and here I am.

What a cruel joke life’s played on our family.

I would’ve written sooner but it’s taken me three years to be able to write you this. I’ll do better. Been trying to get off my knees. Really.

I have to go. They’re back again. They’re my only lifelong companions, it seems. Another cruel joke on us.

The boy will sing you a song in a bit, along with his classmates. I can’t join him because I don’t want him to see my real face. I’m hiding it as best I can, but he’s smart like you. It’s only a matter of time.

Oh, Alison. I would do anything to trade places with you.

We’ve missed you so much.

I’ll love you until the end of the world.

The Hubs

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personal

Giving me a chance

I hate May

Me: Man, it’s been ages. I gotta ask, so are you gay or bisexual now?
Jaerik: (laughing) Gay. I told you this about six years ago, it wasn’t a long conversation, but I told you.
Me: Sorry, my memory is so bad these days after everything that’s happened. The last I remember is your female ex? I have no recollection of you coming out.
Him: Ah, yeah, I told you. It’s fine. You’ve been through a lot.
Me: You know what my first thought when I found out? It was: “Thank god. The last thing I need as competition in life is a single, attractive former male model that’s making bank as a lead programmer for Amazon. As a straight man, thank you for being gay and giving guys like me a chance.”
Him: (laughs)

Now that I’ve gotten the coronavirus under control, I’ve been catching up with people I’ve not spoken to in ages.

I’ve also been meeting a lot of new people for reasons that aren’t really important. Although, honestly, being a guy with antibodies during a lockdown is…interesting.

On that note, the grey-eyed writer has a dog. I can’t do dogs in my apartment. It’s one of my rules.

And that’s why I hate dating in NYC. The disappointment is one thing but disappointing other human beings is another.

Then again, some disappointments are things you don’t even see coming.

Me: Are you here for the COVID test? I just got it.
Girl in a green mask: Really? How long was the wait?
Me: 30 minutes from where you are to the door, then 30 mins inside, and 15 minutes in the exam room?
Her: Oh, that’s great. Did you find out yet?
Me: Yup, just last night. I’m positive for the antibodies. It’s weird getting a medical exam and being excited for a positive result.
Her: (laughs, pulls down mask) You’re funny, what’s your name?
Me: Logan. And you?
Her: Alison.
Me: (nodding slowly) Of course it is. (stepping back) Well, it was lovely meeting you, Alison. I hope everything goes your way.
Her: Oh…
Me: As an aside, you have a lovely name. I think that “Alison” is just about the prettiest name there is. I wish you every good thing.


It’s Mother’s Day on Sunday.

Then it’s my Alison’s birthday.

And then it’s the shittiest day of the year.

I hate May. I hate May more than I can express.

Podcast Version: Giving me a Chance
Location: my empty apartment, now with tons of pizza
Mood: fulla pizza but still very empty
Music: I try, I really do (Spotify)
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It’s something

Rolling around my apartment

You’ll be seeing my coach Chad in this blog a lot while we’re on lockdown for two simple reasons: (1) We’re both totally alone, and (2) we both miss doing what we do.

Him: I’m 180 right now.
Me: I’m 155, but I’ve definitely traded muscle for fat. Do you wanna come over and roll? I’m dying to roll. Plus, I’m 99.9% sure that I can’t give you COVID. No promises though.
Him: (thinking) Let’s do it.

Honestly, having the COVID antibodies is maxing out my social card in really unexpected ways. I digress.

He’s easing into actual and virtual privates and cut me an amazeball deal for the first couple of lessons since I’m his first private student post pandemic.

It’s always good to be first.

I went down via the Hudson River Greenway to get him a helmet and sunglasses so he could rent a Citibike.

He’d never done it before. While we were getting his bike, Chad turned around.

Him: Hey, look!

It was an old gym buddy of ours that was just jogging to get a workout in. We chatted for a bit before we headed up to my pad.

It was a beautiful day and he’d never ridden a bike in the city before so I led the way and showed him a few sights too. Honestly, we couldn’t have asked for a nicer day.

Him: Man, that was awesome.

Once we got in, we got cleaned up and I laid out the mats. They’re the kid’s mats but he’s not here and we’re pretty desperate.

As soon as they were down, Chad immediately got down on them and started rolling around.

I had to laugh. Like I told him, in a world where bullshit is the norm, the truth is refreshing; he was like a kid in a candy store. He’d not been on a mat in almost two months.

Me: You’re like Aquaman back in the water for the first time in months.
Him: (rolling upside-down) Oh man, this feels so good.

We rolled for only a little bit; maybe just over an hour? My knee was bothering, as usual, and I easily ran out of breath.

Me: While I’m cooking, can you clean the mats? You know what a germaphobe I am.
Him: No problem.

We then devoured two large bowls (each) of pasta. Afterward, I lent him a bike to head back down so he didn’t have to rent another Citibike.

Me: We’ll do this again when the weather’s good?
Him: For sure.

It’s not our normal routine but, it’s something.

I suppose right now, “it’s something,” is a far better than a whole lotta nuthin.

Me: Man, I’m glad we did this; I was gonna be a chubster for sure. Not that anyone would see it.
Him: Yeah, but still, this is great.


Admin edit:

Chad Andrew Vaźquez and I have gotten some feedback about our training – from people concerned about our safety and those around us, which we appreciate – and I wanted to address it.

Yes, we understand that my having the antibodies is not dispositive that I’m immune, but it’s a calculated risk and one that the country is currently relying on since a vaccine isn’t ready for at least a year. Yet all states – including NY and CA – are slowly opening again.

In for a penny, in for a pound, I say: Either having the antibodies confers *some* safety, so we open things up carefully, or they don’t, and we stay in lockdown.

Chad and I are picking what the (reasonable) leaders are picking.

Note that he’s *only* actually rolling with me, as I’ve documented antibodies, and offering virtual privates (via video) to others. Neither he nor I are around any high-risk groups and we continue with the standard social distancing protocols out there.

/edit

 

Podcast Version: It’s Something
Location: my empty apartment, which had company for just a bit
Mood: exhausted
Music: Busy doing damage, instead of repairing you and I (Spotify)
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Trading our sad stories

One man’s search continues

I saw my son the other day. I wore a long-sleeve shirt over my shirt, pants over my pants, a hat, and gloves. The only thing exposed were my eyes. I didn’t want to chance getting my in-laws sick.

My sister-in-law picked me up from the train.

Her: You’re being ridiculous, you know.
Me: Nope! If your parents are getting sick, it’ll be causea you, not causea me.

I didn’t tell my son that I was going to see him so it would be a surprise. When I finally saw him, I wouldn’t let him hug me until I got cleaned up. Then I practically tackled him.

It was the first time I touched him in well over a month. After a minute or so, he finally demanded I let him go.

Him: (laughing) Stop! Stop!
Me: Never!

It’s been raining a lot lately so when the sun broke out the other day, I continued my quest for deep-fried chicken. Kinda.

This is what I tool around with, BTW:

I went up Central Park West to West 96th Street and then across the park to 5th Avenue. Normally, there would be crowds in front of the Museum of Natural History but it was completely empty.

Made my way to 103rd Street and  Lexington. The thing is, I was actually heading to the White Castle on West 103rd Street and 1st Avenue.

I know, I know. I need help.

Now, I was going east-bound on a west-bound street when I found myself in front of this store: Texas Chicken & Burgers.

Well, I thought, this is kismet. I should try and stick to my low-carb, high-fat/protein diet anywho.

So, in I went and I bought an assortment of a dozen pieces of fried chix.

Treasure in hand, I went home.

Definitely the worst of the lot compared to KFC and Popeyes.

Good god, I’m now gonna be known as a connoisseur of deep-fried fowl fast food.

Seriously though: Kentucky>Texas.

Not because the Kentucky governor’s a democrat but I’m sure that doesn’t hurt.

Found out that I’ve got the COVID-19 antibodies for sure.

Because of this, I met a grey-eyed writer from Bensonhurst. In some ways, she’s my normal type, in others not so much; I always felt purely artsy people were a bit weird.

But she has potential. I suppose that’s all you can ask for in the world right now.

Her: Do you mind if I ask what happened?
Me: We only just met. (pause) Let’s not trade our sad stories just yet. There’ll be time enough for that. 

Podcast Version: Trading our Sad Stories
Location: my empty apartment, which feels a bit emptier
Mood: can’t look at another piece of fried chicken
Music: Just wanna go home (Spotify)
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Damaged people are dangerous

They know they can survive

Well, my neighbors are back. So much for the afternoon screaming.

Years ago, I was casually talking to someone at my gym and I mentioned that I grew up poor.

A fella there overheard and scoffed.

Him: Nonea y’all know what it’s like to be poor.
Me: What do you mean by that?
Him: (shaking head) You’re not poor unless you’re black and’ve gone hungry.
Me: Well, one of those two applies to me. I’ve had sleep for dinner plenty of times.

I grew up before the microwave. Or, at least, before the microwave was affordable.

Both my parents worked, so I’d come home, alone, and unlock the door to our tiny apartment and go to the sink.

I’d go to the sink for two reasons: (1) To wash my hands, and (2) because my mom would always put two unopened cans of Chef Boyardee in a pot with hot water trickling out of the faucet to warm them up.

Ideally beef ravioli but, really, whatever was on sale; cheese ravioli was always such a disappointment.

Then again, I grew up wearing homemade clothes. My grandma knit those hats my brother and I are wearing in the pic above.

Anywho, my mom always left a note that said something like:

Please try to save some for your sister – I love you!

It was then that I realized that “serving size” was a joke. That was dinner. She wanted me to put it in a bowl but that just meant something else for me to do so I’d just eat it outta the can and tell her I washed the dish.

In hindsight, the canned spaghetti and meatballs were the worst.

I mean, I still ate it, but, yeah…

Watching the news these days, I’m reminded of things like that. People waiting in lines for food at the food banks.

I remember all the goddamn lines we stood on, growing up.

One fall day, my mom bundled my sister and me (my brother was away) in our warmest clothes and we stood in line for hours for something. I complained the entire time. Finally, she grabbed me by the shoulders and said:

They’re giving away free vaccine shots and we can’t afford to get you two shots any other way. If you want to eat tonight, you’ll wait.

And then she turned away and tried to hide the fact that she was crying.

Man, I felt awful at that moment.

I was 12? I’m 47 now and, while I don’t remember how the shot felt, I remember how making my mom feel inadequate felt.

As a parent now, I feel it all the more. I do what I can. They did what they could.

Realize it’s a luxury that I don’t have to worry about my next meal any more. If I want a party pack of tacos, I buy myself a goddamn party pack of tacos.

I have sleep for dinner these days outta choice, not necessity.

This lady named Josephine Hart once said something like: Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive.

This pandemic is filling my head with such sad thoughts, I cannot even begin to tell you. But, perhaps that’s for the best.

Cause, I know I’m damaged.

If nuthin else, I survive shit, even when I don’t really wanna.

Podcast Version: Damaged People are Dangerous
Location: my empty apartment, now with lots of cheesecake
Mood: can’t look at another piece of cheesecake
Music: Man, I was dealt these cards and I played dem out (Spotify)
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Yes, really

How is anyone ok with this?

Doctor: So what do you do?
Me: I’m a high-functioning alcoholic.
Him: (laughing) No, really.
Me: (nodding) Yes, really.

I finally got my COVID-19 anti-body test. It took about 90 minutes of waiting but I got it at the local CityMD – the same one I went to when I got my earache.

Nurse: Do you have any idea where you contracted it?
Me: Yup. Here.

Just a few days ago, the amount of people in the US that died from COVID-19, 58,355, surpassed the number of people that died from the Vietnam war, 58,220.

The Vietnam War lasted from November 1, 1955 to January 15, 1973, or 6,285 days. That means 9.26 people died each day in some faraway land.

The first case of COVID-19 here was on January 21, 2020; that’s 99 days to April 29, 2020. That means that 589.44 Americans died each day here, not on some foreign soil.

This is a picture of President Johnson listening to a tape of his son-in-law, a soldier in Vietnam.

Some reports say he was just tired. Others say that he couldn’t bear knowing that all these Americans were dying. I like to think that it was the latter.

589.44 each day. Each one of those numbers was a person with a mother and father. Maybe a sister and brother. Maybe some kids.

Alison and my father are numbers too. In 2017, 600,920 Americans died of cancer.

One of those numbers was named Louis Lo. He loved his three kids and his wife more than anything. He worked chopping fish in a tiny fish store and went to school at night so his kids could have a better life. He bought himself a harmonica when he felt extravagant.

He was my dad. I loved him.

Another number was named Alison McCarthy. She gave up a high paying job in a financial institution to travel to Africa to try and help people. It was lonely, hard, and dangerous but she wanted her life to mean something. She was beautiful, in every sense of the word. She was my best friend.

She loved her husband and son, like a fat kid loves cake. The first thing she ever said to her son was, “We’re best friends for life, you and me. Best. Friends. For. Life.” She died trying to comfort her mom and me telling us we’d be ok.

I don’t know if she’s right.

589.44 families, just like mine. Every. Day.

I try not to drink. It’s hard.

My mom wanted to come see me because I was alone. I told her she couldn’t. That’s what this thing does. It kills people extremely efficiently and cruelly. You die alone. Away from every one and everything you know and love.

But, there’s always some small positive, because now, you can drink all day, every day, if you want.

I don’t know how anyone is ok with this.

I don’t know how anyone is ok with any of this.

Podcast Version: Yes, Really
Location: my empty apartment
Mood: sub-optimal
Music: She’s gone (Spotify)
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Lunch by the river

Noticing things

Me: Yo, what are you up to? I can’t do any more work and I’m going stir crazy here.
Him: Screw it, come on by. Do you have any extra gloves and masks?

I’ve been trying to catch up on work, but it’s hard being here with the sheer emptiness of it all. I miss the boy terribly.

So, like I said in my previous entries, I hopped onto my scooter and zipped down from the UWS to the LES to take Chad out to eat.

Here’s a quickie vid on what it’s like out there.

It was honestly the perfect day to be out and about. It took me twice as long to get there as it should’ve because I kept stopping to take pictures or video. Once I finally got there, we tried to figure out what was for lunch.

As you know, I’m a sucker for a gyro, so that’s what I got.

He got a gyro burger, which makes no sense to me but he’s an adult so…

Me: OK, where we going, man?
Him: It’s a nice day, we can eat by the river.

My lungs are mostly ok but, honestly, walking those few blocks was difficult. Not necessarily bad, but noticeably not normal.

This thing is truly a bear. Being audited while you’re trying not to die is a new experience, lemme tell ya.

And I’ve had a lotta shitty experiences.

We finally got to the river and it was just perfect. More people were out than probably should’ve been but definitely less than the normal crowd. It was nice to be in society again.

And the food was so good that we both agreed not to speak for five minutes as we enjoyed it shoveled it into our pieholes.

Afterward, we chatted for a bit when I locked eyes with one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen in my life. She was stupid attractive.

Me: Hi there.
Her: (laughs) Hi!

Chad commented that I should have spoken to her more.

Him: Whoa, she was hot and that was a huge smile she gave you, why don’t you talk to her?
Me: (laughing) How do you know she had a huge smile?
Him: (puzzled) What? I saw.
Me: (nodding) OK. Yes, she was beautiful, and, yes, that was a big smile she gave me. But here’s what I noticed….
Him: (afterwards) Oh, that’s really interesting. I never thought about that.
Me: I have my rules. I always have my rules.
Him: (shaking head) I don’t get it but, ok. Man…

It’s a little party trick of mine; noticing little things and trying to make sense of what they mean. Hopefully correctly.

All my senses have been dulled for so long but I feel a little bit of the old me from so long ago.

After a bit, we headed back to his place but stopped off at a local bodega.

Me: Hard seltzer. I’m secure in my manhood. Do it?
Him: (laughing) Sure.
Me: Oooooh, mango…

We kept some good social distancing in his tiny pad.

Honestly, it was good to see and speak to another human being again. I didn’t realize just how cruel and harsh solitary confinement is. And this is nuthin compared to that.

Me: Well, I guess I should go.
Him: Are you ok to get home?
Me:  (getting up) Well, we’re about to find out.

Podcast Version: Lunch by the River
Location: a few days ago, the John V. Lindsay East River Park
Mood: hungry
Music: I notice every single thing, that’s ever happening (Spotify)
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