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Unkindness, Pt 2

Running into people

Like I said, a buncha people from my past have been making a reappearance in my life, in a manner of speaking – either they actually have or I thought about them, which I’d probably not done in a while.

First is someone I’ll call the Cellini Coach whom I last saw out in California.

I call him Cellini because, like him and Jason Everman, he’s insanely successful in some seriously disparate fields:

  • He sold a buncha companies to Google and Facebook – you’ve absolutely used his stuff if you’ve been on either of them – and might be a billionaire. I’m not sure.
  • He’s also a ridonk fighter – fourth degree black belt in BJJ from Gracie Barra, great boxer, and trained shooter and wrestler – and is kinda my private coach on certain things (see below).
  • He’s also getting his master’s degree in philosophy a Oxford.

Despite alla this, though, he’s a pretty quiet and down-to-earth kinda guy.

Him: Don’t put up a picture of me.
Me: It’s ironic that a fella that helped invent the internet doesn’t wanna be on it.

Plus, even though he’s a super busy and successful guy, he’ll still take the time out to answer questions that I’ve got regarding certain aspects of fighting which I always appreciate.

Like most kindnesses I get, it’s a kindness that is neither expected nor warranted.

Below is him acting as my coach, which he totally doesn’t need to do, and yet he does.

We met up just this past week a mutual friend’s physical therapy joint – Recalibrate PT, which is probably one of the best PT spaces in the city IMHO.

There, Cellini he took two hours outta his super busy schedule to give me a private lesson to help me fix a buncha issues I’ve been having with my game.

I also ran into a whole raft of friends while there that I’d not seen in ages, including my buddy Sawyer – who was training with my friend Cotton (whom I also recommend if you’re looking for a personal trainer).

Me: Dude, we loved Masters of the Air, whatever happened to your character (Lt. Roy Frank Claytor)?
Sawyer: In the show, he just disappeared but in real life, he survived WWII and fought in the Korean and Vietnam Wars, which he also survived.

On a somewhat related note, I recently had a phone call with someone whom I was unkind to ages ago.

He said I never apologized to him for being unkind to him, but he seems to have forgotten that he wouldn’t let me apologize to him.

Still, I suppose that’s really neither here nor there; I could have apologized again but chose not to again.

In any case, I figured that, since I was the one originally in the wrong, I’d just go ahead and apologize again to him, again and did that.

I’m hoping he took it to heart just because I would hate for anyone to suffer because of something I did, but that’s really his decision to make and not mine.

I suppose we all do unkind things as much as we do kind ones and, when we do unkind things, we should try to fix things when given an opportunity to do so.

This actually reminds me of something else entirely, but I’ll tell you about that later.

Location: my freezing pad
Mood: possibly sick with a broken toe
Music: I thought it was just another fight (Spotify)

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Unkindness, Pt 1

Reliably unreliable

Was supposed to see A-SIL our in NJ today, but the weather was just gross so we just all stayed in, although my brother did come by because he’s in town from Cali.

It’s just as well, we’re all feeling run down around here.

Me: Are you sick?
Her: I dunno. I just feel like I’m fighting off something.
Me: Same. I don’t feel sick per se, I just feel…rough.

Think I said a dozen times just in this blog that the trait that I find the most attractive is kindness.

So, it logically follows that unkindness is the most unattractive quality, at least to me.

Before Alison, I once briefly dated a wealthy lawyer. She was attractive and very nice to me.

Just…not to everyone else.

She was rude and curt to waitstaff, always late to everything, and never – ever – did what she promised she’d do. Not for me or anyone else.

She was reliably unreliable.

One day, a rude event on an escalator followed by another one to a waiter in a restaurant was enough.

When we broke up, I remember Cappy asked me why and I remember saying, “Attractive is temporary, douchebag is forever. She was a douchebag.”

When we broke up, her sister – a successful lawyer in her own right and whose personality I liked more than hers, actually – told me that she and her husband would buy me a new Porsche if I reconsidered.

Remember telling them, “I’d rather have a Metrocard and be alone, than have a Porsche and be with her.”

Because, at some point, you just tired of making excuses – to yourself and others – for someone’s poor behaviour. It’s exhausting.

It was with her that I came up with the term, “Something a lot like love.” Cause, at one point, I really thought I loved her as she was attractive, smart, successful, and nice – but only to me, which wasn’t enough.

But I obviously didn’t love her, because I left her.

And I never once regretted it.

Bring this up for two reasons:

The first is that I’m so regularly pleasantly surprised with just how kind Sara is, along with all of her other good points.

I honestly don’t think that character trait can be overstated enough when it comes to just having a life partner.

Because looks and so many things can go away and, in the end, you’re stuck with who they are deep down inside.

Who Sara is is just as nice on the inside as she is on the outside.

There’s a second reason, though, which is that a whole raft of people from my past have been making reappearances in some fashion in my life and I’m reminded about how much I value this trait because some of the reappearances were very kind while others were less so.

But this is already a longer entry than I had expected it to be, so I’ll wrap it up in the next one.

Location: wet and gross NYC
Mood: cough cough
Music: all over everybody seems unkind (Spotify)

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Fat Logan and the Bouba–Kiki Effect

The shape of our lives

Her: I can’t imagine you as a fat kid.
Me: Oh, trust me, I was.
Her: I just can’t picture it.
My mom: Do you want to see pictures of him when he was chubby?
Her: Yes!
Me: Oh god…

If I said the words: Spike, Crack, Snip, or Kick and asked you to imagine that the sounds the words made had a shape, what shape would they be?

What if I said the words: Gooey, Balloon, Smooth, or Marshmallow?

If you’re like most people, the former comes across feeling kinda hard and pointy while the latter comes across as soft and rounded.

This is called the bouba–kiki effect.

Basically, words give us a certain feeling and have a “shape” to them in our heads.

Thought about this the other day because I’ve been telling everyone for years that I was fat at 14 but I only recently realized that was inaccurate.

I was fat in 5th grade so I would have been 10 then.

That was the most traumatic time of my childhood.

Childhood traumas stay with us for so long because of how time works relative to our age.

Case-in-point: I was fat for four years, from 10 to 14.

For a 52-year-old, that’s not that big a deal – after all, it only comprises approximately 8% of my life (4/52=0.08).

Unfortunately, when you’re 14 years old, those four years comprise almost a 1/3 of my entire life up to that point (4/14=0.29).

But it’s more than that, isn’t it?

Like, you don’t really remember much before you’re eight years old.

So, when I was 14 years old, I only remembered six years of my life, really.

This is actually the THINNER version of me.

That means that, those four years of my life – ages 10 to 14 – felt like most of my life, about 67% of it, to be exact (4/6=0.67).

My point is, if words have a shape and feeling, so too do periods of our lives.

I submit that periods of our lives have a weight and shape to them as well, and only we can see and feel them.

When people say, “Just get over it,” or, “That was ages ago,” they’re not being honest with how everyone processes their youth differently from everyone else.

For me, my fat years feel soft, heavy, slow, and oversized – everything was a drag and depressing.

Even now, if I had to describe my overweight years, despite their only occupying 8% of my total life, it FEELS closer to 33% of my life.

And this is why I try to remember that the kid is processing the world very differently than I am.

Yes, he’s 10, but he really only remembers stuff and people from when he was about seven or eight, so he’s really only lived maybe three years or so?

He doesn’t truly remember much beyond that, although he has a sense of things, like the bouba–kiki effect.

Like he has a sense of loving being in NJ with his grandparents and Queens with his cousins.

He just knows they make him feel good in one way or another.

That’s why, even some 40 years later, I still know exactly what it feels like to be a fat, friendless, kid.

It’s always why I’m always obsessed with food and being fit.

Because even though it was (several) lifetimes ago, deep down – well, probably not even that deep down – I’m terrified that I’ll wake up trapped in that fat kid’s body once more.

Which, let’s be honest, is only a few poor carbohydrate decisions away.

Me: Hit a new milestone today.
Her: What’s that?
Me: Welp…somehow, I’ve eaten four pounds of peanut butter in five weeks.
Her: You’re kidding.
Me: If only. (thinking) Now I gotta go out and pick up more peanut butter.

Location: my dry-as-a-bone room
Mood: stressed
Music: I paint a picture of the days gone by (Spotify)

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36 years of Indian food

My brother’s created (food) monsters

When I first met Sara, she said that she liked most cuisines – except Indian food.

We had this conversation when we first met.

Me: Wait, what? Why?
Her: I dunno. I tried it once and whatever I had was just awful. I couldn’t do it.
Me: You musta had a bad dish at a bad joint. Indian food’s some of the best food on earth.
Her: (shrugging) I’m always open to trying it again – I just wouldn’t know what to order.
Me: Oh, I got you.

I get it.

It’s very foreign a food to most Americans and even for the Chinese, it’s pretty different from what we’re used to.

I had it first with my brother.

He’s always been the most influential person in my life – probably still is to a large extent.

Anywho, I went to visit him while he was still in medical school, sometime in 1990.

I know the year because I was still dating my first girlfriend at the time and crashing at his pad.

He told me I would just love Indian food and I told him, essentially, thanks but no thanks.

But he insisted and off we went; he ordered a ton of food.

Now, if you don’t know already, I tend to eat more than most people.

Always have, I don’t know why.

Well, the thing I remember about that night was that the food was so delicious that I ate so much I got sick.

It wasn’t the food, it was that I literally stuffed myself to the point of massive pain, which – for me – is a rarity. I usually simply can’t get full.

Anywho, my bro ordered:

    • Chicken tikka masala
    • Chicken korma
    • Saag paneer
    • Naan
    • Samosas
Went to visit my bro back on 2015.07.08 and I literally ordered the same thing.

He’s now a vegetarian but, to this day, those are my go-to dishes, even 36 years later (Jesus Christ, I cannot believe that was 36 years ago).

And, now they’re Sara’s go-to dishes and Indian food has become some of her fave cuisine.

Me: (after eating at the joint around her old pad) See, you musta had a bad dish at a bad joint.
Her: Looks that way, god, it’s so good – and look at all these pretty serving dishes.

See, same things…

In fact, she loves Indian food so much now that she’s found a killer chicken tikka masala recipe of her own.

She made it for us a few times now AND we also recently went out to the joint that was across the street from her old pad the other day while the kids were away.

Me: What do you think?
Her: Everything’s really good! But…
Me: What?
Her: I dunno…I kinda like the chicken tikka I made better. Everything else is great, though.
Me: (laughing) I’ve created a monster.

Well, technically, my brother’s created four, since she loves it now, and both of the kids love it now too.

It’s funny how the little things we do in life reverberate way after we do them.

Location: home, having Indian food yet again
Mood: achy
Music: I will follow anywhere in any way (Spotify)
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I despise Disney

They never shoulda taken off Kimmel

I’ve owned stock in Disney since I was 23.

“Owned” being the operative word as I sold alla it back in September when they took Kimmel off the air.

Still, that doesn’t stop me from despising them.

From a legal standpoint, they are probably one of the most evil companies on the planet from an intellectual property attorney standpoint but that’s a wholly different conversation.

I have a tattered and torn copy of The Brothers Grimm, read every story there at least twice.

And The Little Mermaid was one of a million books I read as a kid.

Girls I dated in high school and college always wanted to watch Disney films for some reason and I remember watching The Little Mermaid and its saccharine plot and being so pissed off.

But the film I find most offensive is The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

See, I read that book when I was like…13? Way too young.

I think my dad had a copy, so I read it exactly once. But, holy shit, that book fucked me up.

It was the first time that I understood the cruelty of people to other people.

Never really got that before reading that book.

Seeing how Disney sanitized it and made it into a completely different thing upset me, so much that I never did see the end of it – probably never will.

Later that same year when I read the book, I learned about the holocaust, like really learned about it.

I get why people deny it even happened; the cruelty of it all seems unbelievable.

And yet, that’s exactly why people need to know about it. So that we can steel ourselves against ever allowing such a thing to happen again.

Even though it does, indeed, keep happening.

In today’s news cycle, the cruelty of people to other people is just sickening.

Can’t help but think that maybe it’s because companies like Disney spend all their time feeding all these syrupy stories of nonsense when life is poor, nasty, brutish, and short.

There are ways, I think, to entertain but also let the truth of things settle and change people.

 

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Location: my apartment, which smelled like freshly baked bread
Mood: dry
Music: At least I know what I make-believe (Spotify)
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Worth keeping around

Just show them a great first date

Me: Wait, you have how many unread messages from guys?
Her: (checking phone) Hmmm, 1,021?
Sara: (laughs) That sounds about right.
Me: Man, it pays to be an attractive blonde female.

When Sara and I met up with Amanda the other day, we – like always – asked about her dating life.

Because now that Sara and I were married, it’s nice to live vicariously through her, the ABFF, A-SIL, and others.

Us: So…what’s the latest?

On a related note, the other day, I posted the above image on Facebook that someone sent me from rando reddit post (which I’ve since lost).

Didn’t think much of it – four friends of mine commented and I went to bed.

When I woke up the next morning, I had several hundred comments and, a few days later, over 400 comments.

Some were fine, with many of my female friends commenting how bad it is out there for them.

But the number of questionable – and I do mean questionable – responses from men really floored me.

They ranged from whiney and excuse-filled – somehow, a short, old, arthritic, minority widower is anything but average…

…to angry and…jealous?

I’m not sure how to understand this fella below, who seemed to be upset that I even went on 180 dates in 18 months, which is about 10 dates a month, or 2-3 dates a week – something I told you is totally doable if you just…do it.

It’s all so profoundly sad because men want to meet women and women want to meet men, but they are clearly speaking very different languages.

And what I found most shocking is that so many men were offended by the demonstrably true things I said: Which is that whenever a man goes on a date with a woman, he runs the risk of wasting his time and/or money.

But whenever a woman goes on a date with a man, she runs the risk of wasting her time and/or getting assaulted, raped, or worse.

And yet, men will say this kinda stuff without a hint of irony:

Did you know that ladies? That “men are assaulted at a much higher rate than women?”

It’s news to me – and, I’m sure, news to you as well.

In any case, he obviously doesn’t know that I met Alison after I got robbed of all my money, or that I met Sara after I gave up most of my clients and got robbed (again).

It *MUST* be because of money or something else that women like about me but not actually me – not because I’m actually a decent human being who can talk to a woman because that would mean, well, maybe it’s you, dude.

The funniest thing about that guy’s statement is that my oldest readers know that my fave thing to do while out and about was to see how many women I could get to buy me a drink in a night.

One night, I even got a girl to get guys to buy her a drink to give to me. That, my friends, is how you afford to go on a ton of dates without going broke.

No one ever dated me for my money.

Honestly, I’m not that good-looking, I’m old as dirt, I talk a lot with my hands, my back is just crap and the rest of my body isn’t far behind, I’m overly pedantic, etc.

And yet, I have zero problem meeting and dating women, probably because of two major reasons:

    1. When I was single, I put in the time. I got shot down, repeatedly. I most likely got turned down 2-3X more than I succeeded.
      • But when I failed (beyond her having a boyfriend), it was always my fault: I was too nervous, I was too forward, I was too hesitant, something.
        • That’s how you get better at anything – by not blaming someone or something else but by fixing the only thing you can control and change, yourself.
        • Do you remember when Alison rejected me? I accepted it and told her I hoped she’d reconsider…and then I immediately picked up three other women, two within the hour. It’s never the other person’s fault.
    2. The other reason? I respected the fact that women take a chance every time they went out on a date with me or anyone else.
      • That meant that when a woman did go on a date with me, I was always grateful they took a chance, and I rewarded them for taking that chance by being a decent human being and showing them a great time.

That’s it.

That’s the big secret, fellas:

Stop complaining, put in the time, and be a decent human being.

Being interesting and non-needy helps.

This singer named Craig David had a line in a song that I always told myself whenever I felt like whining: Instead of me feelin’ sorry for myself, gonna get me somethin’ tonight.

Because you can’t whine or anger your way into someone’s contact list.

Show someone a great first date, and they’ll come back for great second date.

You’d think this would be pretty easy.

You would, clearly, be mistaken.

Women have to go through thousands – thousands – of men to find one worth keeping around.

You gotta be worth keeping around to be worth keeping around, man.

Location: the gym, trying to survive against 20-somethings
Mood: annoyed and embarrassed
Music: it’s so late, yet, I’m so up for it (Spotify)
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She’s on to my tricks

A week of guests, food, and shows

Sara and I spent New Year’s Eve at home, watching television.

Actually, let’s back up a bit.

A few days before NYE, the Pittsburg Radiologist stopped by, so we went out for a drink at my usual dive bar…

…but the waitress was overwhelmed and being a pill, so we left to get food and drinks a few doors down at my fave Chinese spot.

Him: Have you ever been to Times Square for New Year’s Eve?
Me: God no, that’s strictly for tourists. I don’t even like being there on regular days.

Then, the day before NYE, our friend Amanda – whose home we stayed at in Vienna – came round.

So, we took her out to eat at an Italian joint near our pad.

The food was great. And, as much as I wanted the pasta, I stuck to my usual burger and swapped the fries for spinach.

Sara: It’s the holidays, have the fries.
Me: With the amount of bread I’ve been eating lately? No way.

Amanda’s the type of friend I like to go out to eat with in that she always tries to pay, which is in contrast to some people we know that simply never even offer.

Her: I wanted to take you two out to celebrate your marriage!
Sara: Too late!

But we went to our local upscale Irish pub for drinks afterward, and she grabbed the check before I could.

Amanda: I’m on to your, “I need to make a phone call,” tricks, Logan!
Me: (laughing) Fair…

The main pic of this entry is the two of them cracking up over Amanda’s dating life – and Sara’s and mine prior to meeting – which is something for another entry.

Because we had gone out so often this week, Sara and I didn’t feel the need to head out again for NYE.

Ergo, we stayed home watching shows, which is also another entry since I so rarely watch television or anything like that.

If you’ve not seen The Terminal List or Slow Horses, both are worth a watch.

After NYE, my son and hers came back home so Sara’s sister and family swung by for hot pot and to drop off gifts.

We were so busy that I forgot to take any pics, but it was fun and looked something like this.

All-in-all, it was a good way to ring out the old year and ring in the new one.

Here’s hoping that 2026 is a good one.

Or, at the very least, not a bad one.

Location: earlier today, a church with a million kids playing soccer
Mood: fatigued
Music: Keep your vodka on ice while I disappear (Spotify)
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Breaking Sourdough Bread

Our sourdough adventures

Her: Do you wanna watch something?
Me: Sure, what were you thinking of?
Her: I dunno. (thinking) Hey, Tony Shalhoub has that new show, Breaking Bread.
Me: He’s great, but the only issue with that is that it’s gonna make me wanna eat carbs.

We ended up watching the first episode and were pleasantly surprised to see that we’d gone to several of the places that he mentioned, since the first episode took place in the UWS.

In fact, one of the places that he went to was right across the street from Sara’s old Manhattan pad.

It got me thinking about how we could incorporate homemade bread into our diets and still keep it relatively low carb.

Ergo, I turned to ChatGPT/CoPilot and here’s what I found:

So, I figured that if made our own sourdough bread and also did it with partial whole wheat bread, and froze it, it should be relatively low(ish)-carb.

Obviously, we’d have to start by making some sourdough starter.

This took me about three days: I just left some 1/2 cup of flour and 1/4 cup of water on my countertop overnight and, each morning, tossed half of it, and put in the same amount of flour and water.

After three days, it was bubbly and looked like this.

Now, some fifteen years ago, I tried to make sourdough bread for the second time in my life.

It was a disaster because I tried to make it with 100% whole wheat bread but this time around, we did 1/3 whole wheat and 2/3 APF.

Plus, I made sure the starter was super active, which it was, as you can see.

The whole time the kids were away, the house smelled amazeballs.

Her: How do you want them?
Me: Remember when we were in Vienna and we had those cute little sammies? Like that.

And that’s exactly what she did.

Her: What do you think?
Me: My god, this is delicious. This is exactly what I was hoping it would look, smell, and taste like.
Her: So, you approve then?
Me: (mouth full of food, nodding)

She didn’t just stop there, though.

She also made some regular loaf bread as well, which were perfect (tasting – we’re still working on making them look nicer).

This was, honestly, the most carbs I’ve eaten at home in a while, so if I end up blowing up like a whale, you’ll know why.

But I’m hoping that I’m right.

That by :

    1. making it at home with only three ingredients – water, salt, and flour,
    2. using homemade sourdough starter,
    3. using 1/3 whole wheat flour, and
    4. freezing it and then reheating it

it’ll be less impactful on our glycemic index.

We were so serious about this whole endeavor that we even bought a bread slicer contraption, which is what you see below, and an electric knife.

If I start looking like my 13 year-old self again – which is to say a fatty-fat-fat – then you’ll know that this was a complete disaster.

But I’ve been enjoying homemade bread every single day this past week and it’s been glorious.

Me: What do you think of Sara’s bread?
Son: It’s so good!
Me: I was thinking that we could get some of the “Everything Bagel” stuff from Trader Joe’s and add that to the next batch.
Him: Yes!

So far, so good…

Location: the back room, trying to make some hard apple cider
Mood: so. cold.
Music: I’ve been there, done that once or twice (Spotify)
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Happy (?) New Year, 2026

A start is enough for now

Her: What are you thinking about?
Me: (sighing) 2015 into 2016 – ten years ago.

Another year’s passed.

When I was a kid, the new year was always filled with so much excitement and hope.

These days, it’s a lot less of that.

This was my room decades ago.

It’s pretty wild that it’s 2026.

I remember in 1999 how crazy it was that we were turning to a new century and millennium.

Over a quarter-of-a-century later, that seems like a distant memory.

In 2015, I had a pregnant wife I adored without end, both parents, a smoking hot career, and was in peak health.

And then, in a snap, it all turned to shit.

This was the view from Alison’s hospital room at midnight on 2015.12.31, exactly 10 years ago today. That was our wedding reception picture on the windowsill.

But I couldn’t even mourn all that I lost because I was suddenly legally, morally, and ethically responsible for another – tiny, helpless – human being for the first time in my life.

What happened the next few years was a lotta madness and haze that I’m still working through now.

On that New Year’s Eve between 2015 and 2016, I sat alone with my dying wife on the top floor of a hospital on the East River and had this exact view in the lounge area.

I remember how beautiful it all looked and, while terrified, still felt hopeful.

2016 into 2017, I felt a lot less hopeful.

In 2017, when I thought my life couldn’t get worse, it got so much worse.

And here I am in the start of 2026 with my son, who’s now old enough to be really interact with me, and Sara, who has been nothing but a gift since the moment I met her.

I struggle still with all of the darkness both in and surrounding me.

But I feel a bit more hopeful, now that I have the two of them as companions.

It’s not much, but it’s a start. And a start is enough for now.

Me: Happy new year!
Him: Happy new year, papa!

Location: an Indian restaurant, trying to warm up
Mood: hopeful(ish) and freezing
Music: Gotta find my way (Spotify)
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Harry Potter and the Taiwan Bear

Broadway and Chinatown

Her: I got tickets to see Harry Potter on Broadway!
Me: Oh, nice! Who are you going with?
Her: (puzzled) You?
Me: Oh…

I never read any of the Harry Potter books and only saw the first movie with Sara relatively recently last year with the kids.

It was fine but not really my thing.

When the books first came out, I was dating the Reporter at the time and she was super into it, and I tried reading it a few times but just couldn’t get into it.

So, when Sara told me that she got tickets, I was less than enthused.

Still, Sara was really looking forward to it because the actor (Tom Felton) that played the blond kid Draco Malfoy returned to play the same character as an adult.

So, when the day that the play rolled around, I just shut and up went.

It was snowing like mad when we left.

But it was a quick ride and we were there before we knew it.

She told me it won several awards for its special effects and, I gotta say, I was pretty impressed with the show overall.

It was kinda like a play and a magic show rolled up in one.

The story itself wasn’t bad – at all. But the special effects were really impressive.

In the end, I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Her: So, what did you think?
Me: Honestly? It was pretty good. I’m glad you got the tickets. Thanks!
Her: Sure, thanks for coming.

Afterward, we stepped out to Times Square where I almost lost her as she took a little video.

That’s her in the pink below.

Later on that week, we got a hankering for more Taiwanese food again.

Because the kids were away, we headed to a new – well, new to us – joint downtown called Taiwan Bear House.

It was good but not as good as our usual dive that we loved.

We had decided to do a mini-food crawl so, afterward, we went to get Vietnamese coffee, a bánh mì, and some pho.

The bill was actually cheaper than the listed menu price.

Me: Oh, we got the Chinese discount!
Her: There’s a Chinese discount?
Me: (laughing) Sometimes. This is one of those times.
Her: Sweeeeeet.

We both miss our kids but it’s still nice having some times to ourselves, even if it’s just for a little bit.

Location: Canto in the UWS
Mood: chilly
Music: people need a melody to open their eyes (Spotify)
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