No post today, people. Just in my head for a bit.
I’ll be back on Monday, ok?
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Alison would have been 47
Growing older is a privilege
It was just Alison’s birthday.
My sister said something to me once, in reference to Alison, when she turned a major milestone birthday:
Growing older is a privilege, not everyone gets the chance.
I’m getting older with every entry.
Hard to believe I started this blog almost 20 years ago – some people that started reading me 20 years ago are still here, which I’m eternally grateful for.
And some of you met Alison when I met her, suffered with her as I did, and said goodbye to her when I did as well.
I’m definitely eternally grateful for that also. Thank you.
And, selfishly, if nothing else, I made alla you think of her for a second or two today.
That always gives me some comfort because she always wondered if people would forget her.
There’s little chance of that.
Can I tell you a story about Alison?
When I met her early on, we traded dating stories, as I always did with people I started dating.
She told me once that she went with her sister to a blind/speed date thingy and it was packed with very average guys and almost no women.
When the few women that were there saw the pickings, they all left, leaving just Alison and her sister there with dozens of dudes.
But they both stayed because they didn’t want to absolutely crush all the remaining people there.
Me: Well, you coulda just left.
Alison: I couldn’t do that, Logan. You should have seen how sad everyone looked.
Me: So, you stayed there for hours just because you didn’t want to hurt a bunch of strangers’ feelings?
Her: (puzzled) Yeah, Logan.
That was her in a nutshell – always thinking of others. Always.
I didn’t fall for her because I thought she was beautiful – which she was – but because she was so unfailingly kind.
She was such a good person.
The kinda girl you’d wanna start a family with.
Because she was built to love and take care of people.
That’s why it guts me that she’s gone.
The world is so much worse off that someone as good as her is not here and someone as misanthropic as I am, remain.
She was always better at being human than me.
Here’s hoping I can still make the kid as good a human as she was.
Him: (softly) Mommy’s not here so…can I just give this to you? (quieter) I got a flower too.
Me: I love it, thanks!
Him: I’ll still give you something for Father’s Day, papa.
Me: Sweet! You’re the best. I love you like a fat kid loves cake.
I noticed that he didn’t write “Happy Mother’s Day,” in the valentine heart on the card above.
Instead he wrote, “Happy, Happy, Happy” because…well, you know…
So, I took the card on behalf of Alison, gave him a hug and kiss, put him to bed, and waited until I could shower to cry for a little bit.
Like I do every year.
Goodnight and Happy Birthday, Alison.
We miss you terribly.
Location: uptown, with the ABFF, Sara, and the kid, looking at a picture of Alison that showed up on the ABFF’s digital picture frame and thinking she looked happy
Mood: melancholy
Music: the stars, look how they shine for you (Spotify)
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A Taiwanese Mother’s Day
Hard things to accept
Me: For Mother’s Day brunch, what’re you in the mood for? We may or may not need a reservation. Middle Eastern, Asian, Western, what?
Sara: I want a 蛋餅 (danbing).
Me: OK! That makes things MUCH easier. I’m on it. That’s it then. You just chill. I’ll handle the rest.
While we were in Taiwan, Sara and the kids go really into Taiwanese brekkies, their favourite of which was a savory egg crepe.
But, because (a) it’s Taiwanese and (b) it’s a breakfast dish, we haven’t had any places or opportunities with which to have it.
But for Mother’s Day, Sara really wanted some Taiwanese food for brunch, and I wanted to see my mom anywho, so this was perfect.
To this end, I took Sara out to the very first Taiwanese restaurant I’d ever taken her to out in Queens
There, we ordered practically the whole menu, and she had to have her stinky tofu.
Her son: The whole restaurant is gonna hate us. We’re gonna scare people off like we did in Taiwan.
Me: Nah, look around. You two are one of only three non-Taiwanese here. We’re all used to it.
Afterward, we went to go to a bookstore to kill some time (not sure what the kid is doing here)…
…before seeing my mom for a bit.
But we didn’t stay long as we took our kids and my nephews for a quick trip to the local park for them to enjoy the sunshine out in the burbs before dinner.
Sara was happy to just hear the birds, enjoy the sunshine, and smell the grass.
Afterwards, we came back to eat with my mom and my sister’s family.
Ended up getting BBQ of all things.
But my mom enjoyed it.
Mom: This is great! I really should stop cooking and just order in more. Cooking is tiring.
Me: OMG, mom, that’s what we’ve all been saying!
Talking with my mom bums me out these days.
Not that particular exchange above, just in general.
Because she’s always had a memory like a steel trap – dude, that lady’s mind was razor sharp my whole life – but lately, she’s been forgetting things more than she’s ever done in the past.
I suppose it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise for me seeing as I’m already in my 50s and she’s in her 80s but it’s still hard to accept.
Everything is harder to accept these days.
But more on that in the next entry.
Location: earlier tonight in LIC, wondering if the homeless guy was gonna throw a large rock at us
Mood: full, so full
Music: If you could see it then you’d understand (Spotify)
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The daily horrors
The Horror We Share
Sara: [My friend’s] moving back to Milwaukee.
Me: Even after her dad died?
Her: Yeah. She still has her mom. Plus, being back home made her miss it.
Me: I get that. I’ve only ever known or been in New York.
Sara and I were taking a stroll in the neighborhood recently when she suddenly jumped back.
Me: What?!
Her: (pointing) Look!
Me: What, I don’t…gah!
And that’s when I saw it – a full-sized replica of the monster from the horror film, The Nun just chilling in the passenger seat of someone’s car.
It’s just not something you see every day on the streets of the Upper West Side.
Then again, there are so many daily horrors that assault us that we barely register them anymore.
Sara has at least two friends that are either stricken with cancer themselves or someone they love dearly.
And I was just talking to a good friend of mine and he told me that another buddy of mine just left his job and moved back home to Florida to take care of his parents, BOTH of whom have cancer.
It truly is the emperor of all maladies.
It’s May again.
I think of Alison and my dad every single day but it’s always worse in May, although it’s not been as bad as it has in the past.
But even if I’m not reminded of them or their plights directly, I’m at an age where someone I know – either directly or indirectly – ends up getting cancer almost every single week and I think to myself:
Man, I know exactly what they’re going through. I hope they make it.
Really do.
Because it’s both jaw dropping and horrifying.
And yet, people just seem to go about their days as if everything is fine.
Then again, perhaps I truly am the weird one, because I’m so terrified of getting it and leaving the boy alone in the world.
Me: D’you know how many people get cancer in America?
Him: I gotta figure like…50%?
Me: Yup, you got that right. One outta two. That means, statistically speaking, you or I will get it. How people aren’t radically changing everything they’re doing in light of this information is beyond me.
My own mom is dealing with her own health issues – not cancer, thankfully, just age-related stuff.
But it reminds me that she’s mortal and not the young, vibrant woman that I picture in my head whenever I think of her.
It’s a bit like staring into the sun, I can only think about it so long before I have to turn my thoughts to something else because it’s too much to bear.
Can’t bear the thought of losing any more of my family. I’ve lost enough of them as it is.
I suppose that’s why people don’t radically change everything about their lives – because I think we’d all be paralyzed with fear if we truly thought about all the horror surrounding us on the daily.
Her: (staring at the nun mannequin) That’s so creepy. Who does that?
Me: Someone who wants to be in the HOV lane and doesn’t have anyone, I guess.
Location: home, trying to push all that doubt to the side of my mouth
Mood: horrified
Music: For when you go come in misery (Spotify)
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The last analog decade
The 90s were seminal for me
Her: Listen, you old geezer.
Me: Did you just insult me with a lame name?
Her: …yes.
Me: I don’t know what I found more offensive, the insult itself or the lameness of it.
Her: I apologize for the lameness. (pause) But not the sentiment.
Me: Fine.
Heard a fact the other day that blew my mind:
Back to the Future, which I saw in theatres, came out in 1985 and was about a distant time in the past, 1955 – which was 30 years prior.
Welp, it’s 2026 now and 30 years prior was…1996.
That was three years AFTER I graduated college.
Sara essentially grew up in the 90s but I went to college and became a young adult in the 90s.
The 90s were when I stopped being my parent’s kid (mostly) and started being my own person.
In any case, I read something the other day that echoed this about the last analog generation, which was GenX, my generation.
If GenX was the last analog generation, then the 90s was the last analog decade.
I say this because I worked – deeply – in tech during this time and I saw firsthand that:
-
- Analog media was still the default – newspapers, magazines, etc.
- Online social media wasn’t really a thing yet – Friendster came out in 2002 and was the first real social platform that anyone used.
- We shared stuff physically – tapes, minidiscs, CDs, etc.
- We communicated both digitally and analog but digital was optional.
By 2010, this wasn’t true at all.
And now, literally nuthin is analog anymore.
Everything is digital, which – let’s be honest here – is often better than what we grew up with.
But there was something about a life that was less superficially connected back then versus now, where we all seem to feel pressure to keep up with…everything and everyone.
Like, in the 90s, to have a social interaction, you actually had to walk out your door and strike up a conversation with someone or pick up the phone and give someone a call.
I met alla my good friends at that time either at college, or through people I met in college or law school.
And we all had more shared cultural experiences because we just had fewer choices available.
The other thing is that I – and a lotta people my age – grew up as a latchkey kid, which really came about in the 80s.
For those of you that don’t know what that term means, a latchkey kid was a kid that came home to an empty home after school and let him/herself in and took care of him/herself.
But that meant that we were free from supervision and were pretty self-reliant.
Compare that with how attached people are to their phones and their social circles – even if a kid did come home to an empty apartment, he would hardly be “alone.”
Nowadays, there are cameras and speakerphones for a parent to check in on their kids, and a kid has any number of friends online with which to chat with.
Being alone is barely possible these days.
I honestly don’t know how much of the 90s remains with me nor do I know how those things manifest from me.
And that means I truly don’t know how much of my old analog life comes out in my current digital one.
But I know that it’s gotta because the 90s were such a seminal part of my adult life.
Looking back at all these pictures, it didn’t feel like it was 25-30 years ago, but the numbers/dates don’t lie.
While the 90s are long gone they definitely shaped how I see, connect, and move through this modern digital world.
And even though the digital world is better in a thousand ways, it doesn’t replace the feeling of growing up in a world where you had to show up in person to matter.
Maybe that’s why the idea that the 90s were the last analog decade hits so hard for me; it was the last time most things were analog and digital was a choice and not a requirement.
And the echoes of that last decade are something only I, and those of us that lived through it, can hear.
Location: in my head, the corner of West 45th Street and 6th Avenue at 3AM sometime in the mid 90s, stumbling home drunk from a club with numbers scribbled on my palm and wondering when life would be grand, not realizing that it already was.
Mood: nostalgic
Music: I can do whatever I want, I can see whomever I choose (Spotify)
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Visiting Cypress Hills
The Cemeteries of Queens
The other day, I had to head to Queens for a client.
Not my usual part of Queens – which is typically the northeast or northwest part of Queens, but the southwest part, that I never go to.
For those of you not from here, there’s this HUGE cemetery – which are actually several contiguous cemeteries – roughly in the middle of Queens.
That’s it dead in the center of that image above, that large green mass.
Anywho, I’m rarely south of that green area and, in 53 years, I’ve actually never been inside the cemetery, although I’ve driven past it my entire life.
Think most people around here would say the same.
Because I had to travel all over that part of Queens that day, and because I wasn’t really interfacing with any clients, I did it all on my scooter, which was actually pretty fun – especially considering that it was a gorgeous day.
Afterwards, I had to get to a station to get home and decided to cut through the cemetery.
Honestly, it was one of the more peaceful things I’ve done in my life.
There almost wasn’t a soul around and it really felt like I was in a completely different part of the world.
I did see one somber group of people all dressed in black like a murder of crows but, aside from them and a few grounds-keepers, that was it.
It was weird, because I could hear the birds clearly and the roar of the cars and the city in general sounded distant, the opposite of how it normally is for me.
Even managed to come across the Chinese section.
I was only there for maybe 30 minutes or so, but it was sobering.
Figured that every single one of these headstones had a story that ended in tears in some manner.
Thought about my own dad and Alison.
It’s May again.
I’ve still never gone to see Alison and I don’t expect to any time soon.
The kid’s been asking questions, so I’ll have to address that at some point.
For some reason, seeing my dad isn’t quite as bad.
In any case, I managed to exit the cemetery and make it back to the real world not soon afterward, but it stayed with me the rest of the day.
That’s all for now, I guess.
I’ll tell you more some other time.
Location: back in the grind
Mood: irritated
Music: For their curses to be broken we go wander ‘neath the arches (Spotify)
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Nahh, it’s not funneh!
I’ve got skoool
Saw Steel and the Surgeon twice already since we got back.
The first time was an impromptu trip down to Chinatown to get some Vietnamese with alla our families.
We took over half the restaurant.
Afterwards, we walked over to the local park, where my kid promptly met some kids and engaged in a soccer match with them.
The Surgeon took alla the kids out to the Chinatown Ice Cream Factory afterwards where the kids all had the usual flavours while the adults had stuff like ginger green tea and spicy chili.
Him: Wait, they’re outta the spicy chili.
Me: Who on earth is ordering spicy chili ice cream?!
Him: Obviously people are, Logan.
Me: (grumble)
The kid was pleased with his loot.
Later on that week, we met up again at the Surgeon’s pad where I brought some food over but Steel made honest-to-god the best focaccia I’d ever eaten.
Sara: God, I’m so full but I can’t stop eating this.
Me: Me neither.
Steel: I thought you don’t eat carbs.
Me: I don’t.
Steel: Clearly, that’s not true.
I had so many that I went into a carb coma.
The rum probably didn’t help.
They did not let this oppotunity pass.
Surgeon’s daughter: That’s mean!
Steel: Before digital cameras, we woulda painted his face.
Me: This is true. As it goes, this isn’t that bad.
It really isn’t.
Location: back in grade school, evidently
Mood: amused
Music: I got you tattooed on my skin (Spotify)
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Playing by the water
Plus a PJ video
Him: Can we go for bike or scooter ride?
Me: Absolutely!
When I got back from our trip, I really wanted to spend some time with the kid so, on the first sunny day we were able to, we hopped onto my scooter and went down the Hudson River Greenway.
Ended up at the Pier 97 playground, where the kid immediately made some friends and did his thing.
Unfortunately, the whole time, he was complaining about pain in his leg, which I found stressful.
This was further exacerbated by the fact that A-MIL told me that, while my kid was with her, he was complaining about pain the entire time.
So, the next day, I took him to urgent care in the morning to get an extra in his leg just to rule out anything like that.
My friend Nikki, Bryson’s wife, is a pediatrician and she told me that it was most likely growing pains but, with my history and bad luck, I wasn’t taking any chances.
Unfortunately, the x-ray tech never showed up so the kid went to school, and we had to come back later that day.
But, alls well that ends well, it was exactly as Nikki said: growing pains.
Me: Heya, the x-rays were totally normal. The doc we spoke to agreed with your assessment that it’s most likely growing pains, although he’s never seen it quite this bad. Anywho, thanks, as always, for entertaining alla my ridic questions.
Her: Hooray! So glad X-rays were negative and you got some peace of mind.
Oh, I forgot to mention that I found this cute little video of Sara during the pajama night that always makes me laugh
We had eaten so well on that cruise, and I broke my “no carbs” rule so often that all I wanted was some New York City pizza once we got back.
Traveling’s great and all, but – really – there’s no place like home.
Mostly.
Her: What?
Me: (looking at receipt) This was almost $16 for two slices of pizza and a coke.
Her: (shrugging) That’s normal. We’re back in New York.
Me: Looks like we’ll have to rob a bank later.
Location: back in the grind
Mood: irritated
Music: we’re just made that way, made to brave the pain (Spotify)
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Choosing not to age
The best one I can make
Him: You’re 50?!
Me: Well, 53 as of last week.
Him: I would have put you at 38 or so.
Me: It’s the toupee – people think the hair’s the most important thing but it’s really the glue that matters.
Him: (laughs) Besides good genes, do you do anything special?
Me: (shrugging) I just choose not to age.
Him: How does a guy choose not to age?
The Scenic Fights producers were pretty sweet and posted a nice birthday greeting for me on the YouTube channel.
Didn’t think they would tell the viewers my actual age since I figured they would want people to believe what they wanted to believe but they listed it after all.
What’s wild is that, as of this writing, I have 560 comments on the post, mainly with people either just wishing me well or wishing me well but also not believing that I’m 53.
The thing is that getting chronologically older isn’t a choice but getting biologically older is a choice and it’s one that people make every single day.
Half of it is that, because I was a fat kid, I’ve been watching what I put into my body since I was 12 years old – the same age as Sara’s kid now.
See, you make a choice every single time you pick something to put into your body.
Like when I was in college, in Dickson Hall, I lived with a hippie that refused to have a bagel.
Asked him why and he said, “Because a bagel has 35 grams of carbs and that’s more than my total for the day.”
It was the first time I’d ever heard the word, “carbs” so I went to the library (this was waaaaay before the internet) and got some books and read up on what that meant.
And I was mindful, since that random day, about how many carbs I ate.
Likewise, as a club promoter, I’d often end my nights at a diner on 3rd Avenue called the Around the Clock Diner – it’s long since closed.
Anywho, I remember that I went with some women after event and someone ordered this huge plate of chili cheese fries and I declined to have any.
Some girl: Logan’s always on a diet.
Some other girl: He doesn’t need to be on a diet.
Me: Yeah. That’s because I’m always on a diet.
I was still out with alla my friends.
I was still living the NYC young adult life.
I just was careful with what I let into my body and life.
Still am.
The other half is what we do with the roughly 28,260 days we all get.
I never stopped physically playing.
See, we call it “the gym” as adults, but my kid just asks, “Can I go outside and play?”
When I’m waving sticks and swords around or rolling around with people trying to not get strangled, I’m not really so much doing violence as I’m just…playing.
Like football is crazy violent. It’s also a game. It’s also play.
I chose not to age because I choose to never stop playing, which keeps my mind and body young.
It’s not a chore to go to the gym.
Because it’s not a chore to go play.
It’s the opposite of a chore, in fact. My kid understands that.
Shockingly few of my peers understand that.
Alla that is why getting chronologically old isn’t a choice but getting biologically older is.
We’re choosing with every food choice we make, the life we wanna live down the line.
And it all adds up, like Jacob Marley’s chains.
And like those chains, we wear the bodies we forge in life, bit by bit, cell by cell; we girded it on of our own free-will, and of our own free will, we wear it.
So, I am careful – very careful – with what I wear eat and do.
Because I believe this is the only life we get, so I want it to be the best one I can make it.
Although, on that note, I probably should cut back slightly on all that fiber.
Her: (turning to me) What happened to you in there!? Look at your hair!
Me: (exiting smallest room in my pad) It was an experience.
Her: Yes? Should I be jealous?
Me: No, you’ll always be my number one. (pause) Although that was a number two.
Her: (bursts out laughing) OK, ok. (wipes eyes) OK, you can put that in the blog.
Location: my desk, shooting a short as an experiment
Mood: busy!
Music: This life would just be so easy (Spotify)
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Going back to baseline
Nuthin
Him: 53! You’re another year closer to death.
Me: I’m another year closer to baseline.
Him: What does that mean?
Me: (shrugging) I’ve been dead a lot longer than I’ve ever been alive. Once I’m dead, things will go back to normal.
98% of the universe is hydrogen (74%) and helium (24%); the remaining 2% is the stuff we care about and most of that is nuthin.
In fact, most of the universe is just that: Nuthin.
No light, no heat, no life.
Just..nuthin.
But on top of all the current nuthin, everything before us and after us was and will be…nuthin.
Life itself and everything we know is an anomaly.
If all of time was the following, then the entirety of all life from the Big Bang onwards – planets, stars, galaxies, people, dinosaurs, hot blondes from the south, everything that ever existed and will exist – would be a single atomic particle somewhere inside another atom, inside that green cross below.
…++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++…
And all those white crosses before and after that atomic particle would stretch out into infinity and just be fulla…nuthin.
Mark Twain once said, “I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.”
That’s probably the truest thing the fella ever said.
And, after these short 53 years, I’m not so much afraid of dying as I’m a little weary of life itself.
Don’t get me wrong, I AM afraid of dying, and I definitely WANT to stick around for as long as possible I’m able to enjoy it, but I’m also old enough to feel, well, tired.
But the kid’s not ready yet and I’ve gotta do everything I can to stick around until he’s ready to face the world alone.
Alison once said that the moment you become a parent is the moment you start worrying and never stop. She was right.
In any case, I look at people that spend their lives watching Netflix and gorging themselves on junk and wonder if they truly appreciate the astronomical odds that gave them life in a universe filled with nuthin.
Like, you’re actually sentient and have free will and what you choose to do with it is buy MAGA hats and believe nonsense.
It seems insane to me.
We’re so unbelievably lucky to even exist – we are in such an infinitesimally small minority that, if I think about it too much, I feel my own madness begin – and yet so many people, myself included, squander it.
I suppose that’s why most people seem insane to me.
Because this – existence itself – is the outlier.
Since the beginning of time, most of everything was nuthin.
And someday, it’ll all be nuthin again and never stop being nuthin.
And that’s when it occurred to me that perhaps everyone else is sane and I’m the insane one.
Not that it would surprise me.
Him: So how are you gonna celebrate?
Me: Gonna have some rum, make out with the wife, go to bed with a good book. The kid’s gonna let me sleep in.
Him: (laughing) Living the dream, man.
Me: (nodding) Living is the dream, man. Few people get the chance.
Location: here in space and time, if only for a moment
Mood: philosophical
Music: each one and the next one to arrive; the argument for consciousness (Spotify)
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