The Firecracker’s kid and my kid had a grand time.
With us taking the light rail…
…and PATH afterward, which both boys got a kick outta.
As for me, I liked the rando artwork everywhere in Jersey City and Hoboken.
Me: Did you have a fun time? Him: Yes! Can we do it all again next week? Me: (laughing) It’s not really up to me, but I’m sure we’ll find something fun to do, yeah? Him: Yeah!
Him: Whoa, you’re really good at that [move]. Me: It only took me 22 years. Must be a natural.
My elbow injury was the first one that I’ve had in a while.
Since I couldn’t go to the gym, I’ve been catching up on work – Scenic Fights and otherwise, as well as watching a few videos.
This fella named John Danaher – whom I used to run into alla time back in my club days – is probably the most well-respected BJJ coach on the planet.
He’s made a lotta the biggest names in the sports.
Anywho, I came across the below video of him explaining his teaching methods and it really made me think.
My very first coach would regularly completely flip out – I mean screaming in the gym like a madman, making grown men cry in front of everyone, physically assaulting his own students – when you didn’t do the move exactly as he did them or any one of a thousand little offenses to him.
Spent (well) over a decade with him with almost nothing to show for the time – a ton of other people had the same experience.
Recently, however, my skill has been expanding by leaps and bounds, precisely because I just started doing things that felt right to me.
Danaher even mentions that the goal isn’t to make robots that fight just like the coach but express themselves their own way – that’s the “art” side of “marital arts.”
That’s what my old coach never seems to have gotten.
Don’t think he realizes just how many people absolutely despise him for how much of their time he wasted.
While he certainly wasted a ton of my time, I don’t hate him.
Her: You got injured?! Again? Me: Yes. But in my defense, I’m getting injured less often…ish.
Was at the gym the other day and this younger fella, whom I’m friendly with, just ripped my arm and almost broke it.
The last time we rolled, I could tell I was frustrating him, so he was intent on winning this round.
That’s the thing; I care a lot less about winning and more about just improving in general, so this was annoying, to say the least.
Afterward, the instructor came by.
Him: Is anything broken? Me: I’m not sure yet. Him: (laughs) That’s the perfect answer. Get some ice on it.
So, I did.
It wasn’t broken but it was super sore and swollen.
It also meant that I had to sit around at home for about a week-and-a-half.
Whenever I can’t go to the gym, I actually have to try and eat well since I gain weight pretty much immediately when I can’t work out.
My Scenic Fights producer even commented the other day:
Him: You’ve been gaining a little weight. Me: Wha?! Cameraman: (shaking head) Logan? You’re outta your mind.
Anywho, as for eating well, I made a slew of roasted spicy chicken hearts the other day.
Someone convinced me to try some years ago and I got used to making them as quick and easy protein snacks.
Honestly, they taste oddly good since they’re pure protein and meat, but I get that it’s an acquired taste.
The Firecracker, for example, is not a fan.
Me: Hey, do you wanna try some of these roasted chicken hearts I made? Her: Baby, the only heart I want you to give me is yours. Me: But these are roasted with lao gan ma.
In any case, soon enough, the below poor food choices will all be mine once again.
As soon as I can move my arm.
Location: planting strawberries with the boys on the windowsill
Mood: ache-y
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After I got insanely sick in the Bahamas, I told him that I’d – respectfully – probably not drink any more tequila nor mezcal.
Luckily, he’s been experimenting with rum and I’m hoping that I have another convert.
To wit, he mixed us all several different iterations of a Hemmingway Daiquiri.
Me: Oh, we had this on our first date! Her: Yeah – you told me to eat that dried lime and I almost gagged. Me: …sorry?
He even made a Japanese Yuzu Hemmingway Daiquiri.
The Surgeon made such absolutely killer drinks that I spent a solid few hours just passed out on the sofa as other guests came and went.
In fact, this was my view most of the night.
It was a really nice night, like always.
And I didn’t feel like death the next day, so win-win!
Me: Oh man, I ate and drank waaaaay too much last night. Her: You’re like Cookie Monster, except you’re not as selective as he is. Me: What? Her: Well, he just thinks of eating cookies all day and you just think of eating all day. Me: Fair.
The kid got invited to his friend’s birthday party the other day, so we all headed down to Chelsea Piers again.
Like I said before, it’s always nice to be included.
Felt bad this time around because we had the four of us – the kid and me, and the Firecracker and her kid – but the hosts were super kind and told us we were all welcome so off we went.
The kids had a blast…
…and my own kid ate his weight in…stuff.
Now, in the middle of it, some other kid ate some of the fruit with the serving tongs, which he put into his mouth.
As soon as he put the tongs down, I grabbed it and asked one of the helpers to replace it, which he did.
Unfortunately, I might not have caught it in time.
See, later on that night, he got hit HARD with a stomach bug.
Can’t say for sure that it was because of that kid, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter.
In any case, I’ll not post pics but just trust me when I tell you that it was spectacularly gross.
It was a pretty rough three days for both of them and they both had to miss a day of school – the Firecracker and her kid (luckily) didn’t get sick.
Oh, I should mention that the Firecracker – after 10PM, which is when the kid had his worst bout of grossness – immediately donned some gloves and kneeled into the thick of the grossness to help me clean it up, something she absolutely didn’t have to do but I was deeply grateful that she did.
Me: (in between dry heaving) I’m so sorry about this. Thank you for helping. Her: (cleaning) Of course. I used to be a schoolteacher. This stuff doesn’t bother me.
Speaking of knees, it’s stuff like that that makes me think she’s just the bees’ knees.
Most of the time.
Me: I think that I’m pretty chill these days because I’m… Her: …old. Me: (shaking head) That really wasn’t necessary.
Location: the supermarket for the third time in one day because I’m so forgetful these days
Mood: fat
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After the Firecracker and I came back from her surprise shower, we then dashed off to our local dive bar – Malachy’s – and met up with my old roomie, Buckley.
We actually lived in the same dorm waaaaaay back in 1991 (!) and kept in touch after I left.
When he moved into the city, he and I became roomies and, after a few years, he and I bought our apartment together.
I remember that my dad had questions.
Dad: You…and Buckley…are buying an apartment? Together? Me: Yeah, why? Him: Well…is there anything else you wanna tell me? Me: (puzzled) No, why? (thinking) OMG! No, we’re just friends. And poor. We’re poor friends. We can’t afford a place alone, so we need to pool our money together. Him: Oh… Me: (quickly) Not that there’s anything wrong with that. We’re just poor.
This is us in 1998, right before we bought the place.
I dunno what we were thinking with those sweaters or my goatee.
In any case, we met up at Malachy’s because that and Big Nick’s – which is where the main picture was taken – were the two greasy spoon dives that we always went to.
It’s weird. He looks like him just…older. And I’m the same.
We were literally kids when we met – like 17. And now his son is not that far off from the age when we first met.
And I’ve been chatting with Rain a lot these days.
He’s just dealing with some real estate issues and that’s kinda what I do.
That’s a pic of us back in 1998 downtown. I think at a joint called Stingy Lulu‘s (or Yaffa Cafe).
That means that every time you remember thing, there’s a (high) chance you’ll alter that memory a bit and those alterations keep piling up until you can’t trust your own memories anymore?
And that’s why I wish I had better pictures/videos to remember my possible pasts with.
Luckily, I have my friends to help me remember those memories.
Me: He was a quant at Long Term Capital, right? Him: No, he was a programmer – he was on his way to being a quant when it imploded. Me: Gotcha – I didn’t know that.
Unfortunately, I don’t have Alison here to remember the memories that mattered the very most to me.
Ah, fuck…
This is what my room looked like when it was just me and Buckley – two bachelors in the city.
A dragonfly from this entry in 2008. I have questions about that day but no one to ask.
Her: What are you writing about? Me: Peter. Her: Oh, did you know him well enough to write about him? Me: Well, his life is his story to tell. I’m just gonna write about my life and his role in it.
Pausing the usual nuthin again.
Almost exactly 17 years ago, I wrote about my buddy Mike, who was a regular in my kali class.
Older fella, I still remember that Mike had a six-pack at 65+.
Mike was the first guy that I knew as a friend that died.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t the last.
Mike died before social media so I’ve forgotten what he looks like.
But he was my friend, and I miss him.
Peter Moretti was like Mike in that he would always come to class and be a bit confused and not get certain moves because, like Mike, he was older.
But he never stopped coming and never stopped trying to be better.
This is him just a few days before he died.
His dedication, plus his incredibly easy-going and kind nature, was how I always saw him.
His Facebook feed was/is fulla things like him feeding birds like woodpeckers and ducks.
After knowing Peter a few years, I found that he was a karate instructor and fighter who could do things that I only dreamed about being able to do.
In fact, he just posted a buncha photos of himself as a young man two days before he died.
I realize now that Mike and Peter are essentially me.
They were both skilled and dangerous fighters that were once in peak physical shape.
But time takes its toll on alla us.
I figure that, in a few years, I’ll be the guy that people have to help with certain moves or things.
And they too will be surprised that I was once anything but an older fella.
In any case, I just saw Peter maybe two weeks ago. I worked with him some.
We weren’t close, at all, but we got along well.
He died in his sleep and left a buncha people that loved him and will miss him.
That’s a good way to go, if you’ve gotta go, I say.
Goodnight, Peter.
You’ve worked hard enough, and you’ve earned your rest.
Her: You don’t want to make his death about you. Me: I get that, but I also don’t ever feel right telling someone else’s story. Her: That’s true. Me: It’s a delicate balance. I suppose the main point is that the people in our lives are part of the fabric of it and Peter was a part of mine. I’ll never see him again and he was someone that I always liked seeing.
They had hors d’oeuvres, champagne, sandwiches, salads, and a ton of desserts…
…including some homemade cupcakes to boot.
They played some games…
…and also handed out prizes.
I won a scrunchie, as did she.
Considering my quantity of hair, I’ll most likely give her mine.
We ate our fill and then headed home because later on that night, I was supposed to meet up with my old college roomie and buddy, Buckley.
I’ll tell you about that in the next entry.
Her: Five? You ate FIVE sandwiches? Me: Well, no one else was eating them, so… Her: What do you have, a hollow leg? Me: In my defense, I only ate like half the bread.
It’s a place that George Washington supposedly utilized as a headquarters for war planning.
While we were there, I got a really good mead – for the first time, ever – and she just had some wine.
We chatted with the bartender for a bit before walking around downtown.
There were so many cool shops and restaurants downtown that we had difficulties figuring out where to eat.
Ultimately, she decided she wanted a lobster roll so we found a place downtown that had an excellent one.
She was very excited.
It felt luxurious to be out and about in the middle of the day.
This meant that we had time for some important and deep conversations.
Her: Have you ever considered that maybe Rasputin was a real wizard? Me: OK, where to begin with that statement…?
Afterward, we walked around a bit more downtown…
…before we called it and went home.
Her: This is one of those things I like best about New York City. Me: What? Her: There’s just so much to do and see. Me: (nodding) Yeah. I’ve been here my whole life and still think there’s so much I’ve not seen here yet.
Location: in front of six tacos, wondering if I should have a seventh
Mood: exhausted
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Met up with Kung and my buddy Brando for lunch the other day.
The last time I ate with both of them, I was a complete mess as Alison had just died and I was doing whatever I could to stay sane and alive.
This time around, enough time had passed that I was able to just chill out and joke with them.
Me: Is there light beer happening at the dumpling joint? Him: There better be!
While Kung is Chinese, Brando is Australian, which is a country that has the most Chinese in the world, outside of Asia.
This is relevant because they wanted soup dumplings for lunch and Brando suggested this one joint near his gym.
Me: Kung, as the only other true dumpling connoisseur of the group, do you agree? Brando: He LOVED the dumplings. Me: Kung, don’t let the white man unduly influence you; what did you think? Brando: How dare you assume I am not an expert in soup dumplings? It’s because I’m white, isn’t it? Kung: Legit!
So, I went to their gym first and rolled around on the mats for the first time in ages and then we made it to the restaurant where we ordered six trays of soup dumplings.
Waiter: SIX? (holds up his hands with six fingers) Six? Me: (nodding) Six. We’re hungry. Brando: And we need some garlic bok choi. Me: That too.
Another buddy was supposed to eat with us, but he’s got this insanely demanding job and literally had to fly out to another state last minute, a few hours before we were supposed to meet up.
Him: Hey boys, so sorry I missed lunch the other day I severely underestimated what [my bosses needed me to do]. I haven’t seen daylight since Thursday morning!
Him: Are you really gonna take a picture of your food? What are you, a Millennial? Me: Clearly not. (shrugging) I just like taking pics of food for myself.
It was nice seeing them; we met some 15-20 years ago and we’re still friends even now.
The older I get, the more I value the people that chose to stick around.
Location: home with the boy and dealing with literal growing pains
Mood: concerned
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