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personal

What’s my name?


This song came up in a class I’m taking – I couldn’t believe two people never heard it before.

My fav lines (which seem to resonate even now):

I watched with glee
While your kings and queens
Fought for ten decades
For the gods they made

Thought it was kismet because of my last post. Looking at the lyrics, I always thought the devil’s us.

Then again, I thought my 1990 BMW would run forever and that 2006 was going to be a great year for me.

Shows what I know.

Location: @12PM, in the Bronx getting wet
Mood: okay
Music: I laid traps for troubadours who get killed before they reach Bombay

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Kindness is valuable because it is rare

Liver anyone?

I believe that people are bad at heart. What with historical events (like Nazi Germany, the Inquisition, the Great Leap Forward), psychological evidence (the Zimbardo and Milgram experiments), and current events (pick up a paper) I’m fairly disgusted at our species as a whole.

However, that’s not entirely a negative sentiment. I think a bit of kindness is nobler against the backdrop of our craptastic-ness.

So I had four recent bits of kindness:

  1. I met a girl that lives in France a while ago who shot me a sweet email. She’s seeing a French guy now. It’s ok, the late night conversations were enough for me.
  2. I got another very personal email from a co-worker wishing me a happy holiday. It was nice to get because, while we work closely together, we’ve never actually met (like you and me).
  3. I met a girl tonight that I found refreshingly honest about life. Honesty without meanness is so rare.
  4. Finally, today, I got an Xmas card from a reader amidst my usual bills. As an aside, she looks completely Caucasian but she’s got a Chinese last name. It turns out that four generations ago, her grandfather was Chinese. I find that so cool.

Regarding (4) I think we’re supposed to meet up for coffee (just coffee – she’s in love with a boy from Indiana) but I’m reminded of a quote from Margaret Atwood:

Wanting to meet a writer because you like their books is like wanting meet a duck because you like pate.

Eh, I’ll risk it.

Location: the basement of my brain
Mood: pleased
Music: And so and now I’m sorry I missed you

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Notes to Self

Tequila is not your friend; rum is your friend

It started going downhill when Mikey bought a round.

  • Post a pic and edit this entry tomorrow.
  • Rum is your friend.
  • Tequila is not your friend.
  • Buy a new hat.
  • Tequila is not your friend.

I feel terrible.

However, I did manage to find my hat. Also made another related post and an unrelated post.

Location: at home, drinking lots of water
Mood: Thirsty
Music: The devil is alive I feel him breathin’

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On your knees

Life gives us blows and we do what we can to survive them

(c) AP Photos

2 Samuel 12:22 tells of when: David had a kid with his buddy’s wife, killed said buddy, pissed off God, God took David’s son.

Now here’s why I like the story: David’s a wreck while the kid is sick; David won’t eat, won’t sleep, etc. But when the kid finally dies, he picks himself up and begins to live his life again.

When asked why he was such a wreck when the kid was alive but much better when the kid dies, David goes, “When the kid was alive, there was hope that he would live – that God would be gracious to me. But He was not and I can’t change what’s passed. My son can’t come back to me but I can go to him.”

At times, Life brings you to your knees.

Those phone calls you never want to get:

  • “It’s about your younger brother…”
  • “I’m sorry to have to tell you…”
  • “I thought it best that I be the one to tell you…”

Been brought to my knees twice in my life. I’m lucky because it was only twice.

Dreading the next time.

Thought about this because I went to a wake yesterday. It was my second third funeral experience; sadly, I’m sure they’ll be more.

Today is also the 65th and last official anniversary gathering of the Pearl Harbor veterans. And I’ve also been keeping up with the story of CNET editor James Kim; he wasn’t there when I was there but still…

Despite all the ugliness, we move through life with a balance of hope and acceptance. At least we try to.

Location: @2AM, missing someone I barely know
Mood: Contemplative
Music: you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but it’s sinking

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78,000

Dreaming of somewhere else

Taipei Subway Station – I wish I were there now.

Another sleepless night for me.

I’ve gotta get the hell out of here. It’s been heavy on my mind again. I’ve not slept well in a few days now.

My week went from bad, to worse, to…this. Too much to get into but in a nutshell: saw my ex, fell out of love, fell in love, fell out of love. Crazy, I know.

I actually had the start of a good night. But now at 3:something in the morning, I’m checking my miles (78,000) and seeing what the weather’s like in Australia and New Zealand.

It’d be nice to open the door and not run into anyone that knows me for tens of thousands of miles.

My brother said that all of life’s problems can be divided up into health, wealth and relationships. It seems as if I can only get one out of those three going at any time.

I’ve been thoughtless with other people’s hearts and people have been thoughtless with mine. I suppose it’ll all just work out in the end.

At least I hope so.

In the meanwhile, 78,000 miles.

Where to go?

Can I stay with you?

I’m an excellent cook. And I tell stories.

Crazy little Logan stories.

Location: @8PM, laughing at dinner; @4AM, not so much
Mood: Disappointed
Music: on the telephone line I am anyone, I am anything, I want to be
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More Traveling

I’m just south of nowhere and east of limbo

I’m here right now – about 350+ miles from home. This place is so remote that there’s no airport nearby so I had to drive. You do a lot of thinking driving 350+ miles.

The last few times I drove so far, I thought about the ex constantly. I thought of her again, of course, but I also thought about other things.

A few years ago, a friend asked me to set him up with a Vietnam visa on arrival for him and his girlfriend from China. I started the paperwork.

A month or so later, I got a slim letter from him with a check; the letter read:

“We’re not getting married; here’s $600 for your time. Thanks!”

I didn’t know what to say. I had already starting being an impoverished writer so I cashed the check (I’m not a good person), gave him a quick call, confirmed he was ok and moved on. That was four years ago.

We spoke a little while ago. He told me that he spent two, three years casually dating but, in his heart, he thought that she might come back. They spoke occasionally. He got a call from her and she said that she was coming to visit America and would like to see him for dinner.

He was excited, of course, but when they sat down, she said that she came because she heard a bit of hope in his voice the last time they spoke. It bothered her that whole time so she flew 24+ hours to give him closure.

He said it was the nicest thing anyone ever did for him. He knew where he stood – that made him free.

I think he’s doing well now.

Anywho, I think about the ex a lot less and I think I’m almost at the point that I want to do something like that for her. The last time we spoke, I heard in her voice something like hope and I’m not looking for that right now. She’s not the girl I loved and I’m def. not that guy anymore. Oh, but what do I know?

I’ve become bland and malicious.

I’ve been doing a lot of things I’m not…oh you know…

So that’s where I am right now, just south of nowhere and east of limbo.

The weather’s crappy.

Location: South of nowhere and east of limbo.
Mood: Tired
Music: I’ma scuffle and struggle till I’m breathless and weak

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Grace is Gone

Dusting off my typewriter

Stuffed from too much turkey to really write anything about me (nothing much happened beyond my gorging myself silly anyway).

I did want to say that I met up with a friend of mine for dinner the other day and, while I was waiting for her to arrive in the bookstore, I overheard a boy say to his girlfriend, “I’ll never let you go.”

That prompted me to dust off a pencil and write this because I’m a bitter, bitter, little man:

Grace is Gone

“I’ll never let you go,” the mother said,
and baby Grace cooed and stretched out her arms.
“I’ll never let you go,” the young man said,
as Grace smiled and kissed him.
“I’ll never let you go,” the husband growled,
as Grace inhaled and shot him in the head.
I’ll never let you go,” the judge said,
as Grace screamed and collapsed.
“I’ll never let you go,” the young woman said,
and Grace smiled and breathed her last.
“I’ll never let you go,” the mother said,
and baby Grace cooed and stretched out her arms.

Location: @9AM – on the couch, eating leftovers
Mood: Full
Music: It’s 2 am, I’m drunk again, Its heavy on my mind

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Second story, first thoughts

The one where I met another blogger

Heart in hand, I made my way to the west side uptown line. I haven’t taken a cab by myself in a while and I feel it’s somewhat wasteful. Plus the walking always clears my mind.

I was in the subway and this very small woman had a bag covering her hand so that she didn’t have to hold onto the railing.

Not that I blame her, I would do the same thing; there’s 4.7 million subway riders a day. That’s more people than most cities have. You’ve gotta figure someone has something nasty.

But the thing was that this woman had a tiny, tiny sandwich bag around her tiny, tiny hand. I looked at her, then at this pretty blond sitting across from she and we both laughed. The blond took out a pen and a pad and wrote out something. We then reached my stop and the blond exited also.

I had to ask.

Me: Did you write about that woman?
Her: Yes, not that I blame her, I would do the same thing. I have a blog about the subway…
Me: Funny you say that, it just so happens…

We exchanged blog information, which I think is so comically modern (note that this is all at two or three in the morning). If you’re at all interested, her blog is here.

Yes, I am a complete dweeb. But, I would like to point out that you are reading the blog of a complete dweeb.

Oh my.

The lack of sleep is making me rude.

No excuse…

Sorry.

Location: knee-deep in computer parts
Mood: Amused
Music: I just couldn’t take the hurt again, What a feeling

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Lost heart in the big city…

Dusting off the typewriter

My insomnia is maddening but this means I can tell you a quick story (one of two for this night):

I was walking home late tonight and pulled my jacket around me because I was cold. A young woman smiled as she brushed past me and I smiled back. She tripped and fell down, embarrassed, and her heart fell out from her jacket.

I saw it fall so I leaned over and picked it up and called out to her but the wind drowned me out. She had already crossed the street. After the light changed, I ran after her but she disappeared.

So I stood there in middle of 14th Street and 3rd Avenue holding onto something that didn’t belong to me. I decided to put it in my pocket in case I ran into someone missing a heart in the big city.

As always, I took the long walk home. For some reason, I wasn’t as cold.

Location: @1:30AM – 14th Street and 3rd Avenue, just past R&KW
Mood: Awake
Music: My heart was broke, my head was sore, what a feeling

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Five Days…eh…

The insomnia begins again. Well, five days of good sleep is something.

At least I’ve got entertainment – my brother sent me this and I found it funny. At 2:34 in the morning, few things are.

(I’m not saying what my political slant is and it’s most likely not what you think it is).

Oh man, I’m not looking forward to another two weeks of insomnia.

Dammit, I’m going to make myself a BLT…

Location: about to step into kitchen to check for bacon
Mood: Awake
Music: If I could change your mind, I’d really love to break your heart

2:41:14 AM