Categories
personal

Precisely the opposite

Weapons are force multipliers

For those of you that have been reading this blog for a while, you may have noticed a recurring theme, which is, What does it mean to be human?

It seems like a silly question but we’re all essentially imperfect; physically, mentally, and emotionally, we’re all lacking in something that makes us fully realized human beings.

On that note, I had an interesting exchange with a young visitor at the gym the other day.

Him: I never knew that there was such a thing like knife and stick fighting, I just thought people picked these things up and used them.
Me: All fighting is skill-based. Some require more skill than others. The argument against weapons fighting is that it’s unnatural, because we’re not always armed, and I think that’s precisely the opposite of reality.
Him: What do you mean?
Me: It’s empty-hand fighting that’s unnatural; the nature of being human is that we use tools.

Imagine you’re alone in your home and you hear a noise in your living room. Do you just saunter out to check things out or do you grab a bat, stick, or lamp first?

Or, google any uprising and lemme know how many unarmed people you see? Or any mob action, including the January 6th riot – how many people are completely unarmed?

The nature of human violence is that we want something – anything – in our hands, in times of stress. Because we all instinctively know that weapons are force multipliers.

Fighting someone without any type of weapon is unnatural, precisely the opposite of what most people think.

And that’s why I think everyone should have some weapons training.

Here’s the kicker: If you’re unarmed, you don’t get to decide if you’re in a weapons fight or not. Only the armed person gets to decide that.

On a somewhat related point, we had to cancel the children’s classes at our gym because the kid’s coach we were using got an offer we couldn’t match.

So, I signed up the boy to the local gym around me.

I’m probably a bit biased but…man, he’s so damn cute, I can’t stand it.

This is in addition to alla his other afterschool activities like swimming. He’s the lime green blur in the photo below.

Trying to get into the new rhythm of the school year. One unexpectedly sad thing I realized was that every year for the past three years is that I’m the only emergency contact for him.

I had someone as a second contact when he was pre-4K but that was a long time ago.

It’s annoying, these little heartaches that randomly crop up.

On a much happier note, while I was there at the gym signing the kid up for his new class, this young man – very excitedly – waved to me:

Him: I’m so sorry, but are you Logan Lo?
Me: (laughing) Yes! Do you watch Scenic Fights?
Him: YES! I’m a subscriber! This is so cool!
Me: For me too!

I’m a solid D-list celebrity at this point, now.

Eh, I’ll take it.

Location: out in the village with RE Mike
Mood: concerned
Music: I can’t do this again, do this again (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Two unexpected silent dance parties

He’s in second grade

Think I’ve been to one silent dance party – where people dancing wear headphones to music by a DJ, but spectators generally don’t – in my life up until about a week ago.

Then I went to two within a week or so.

The first was when I went to the biergarten last week, which I didn’t know would be happening but my buddy Katrina did…

…and the second with another friend when we went to get burgers and beers around the way…

…and we ended up staying so long that it became yet another outdoor silent dance party – again, I didn’t know that this would be happening at all.

Or, rather, the food took so long that the whole thing became yet another outdoor silent dance party.

Think that’s the coolest thing about living in New York City, though; you can go out for one activity (dinner/drinks) and end up in a completely different activity (dancing/singing) with zero effort.

Check that: The weirdest/coolest thing about the night was that this fella walked up to me and asked, Excuse me, do you have a YouTube channel?

It was actually the second guy in two days to recognize me. I’ll tell you about the first one later.

Pretty flattering, I gotta say.

Her: (after) I think his friends were encouraging him to talk to you.
Me: That’s so funny.
Her: You’re a celebrity!
Me: (laughing) A D-list YouTube celebrity, but yes.

I’ve got a buncha smart devices all over our pad and, when the boy’s here, he generally wakes me up by saying, Papa, good morning! It’s time to wake up.

Well, one day when he was away, I woke up to that same sentence. (!?)

For a moment, I wonder if I’d somehow forgotten that I’d picked him up and leapt out of bed to see if he was in his room. He wasn’t.

It turns out that he figured out how to log into the family account on his tablet and made an announcement. From his grandparents’ home in NJ.

He’s definitely gonna be a handful as he gets older.

In any case, I picked him up for real last week and the pad is noticeably more joyous now.

He just started second grade. Isn’t that a kick in the head?

Him: Papa, good morning! It’s time to wake up.
Me: (groggily) Five more minutes…
Him: That’s what you always say!
Me: Because I always need five more minutes, kid.

Location: this morning, pancake brekkie with my favourite little human
Mood: tired, but oh so happy
Music: You’re my little piece of summertime (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

A Bohemian Biergarten Bday

I joke that this is how most people react when I arrive places.

Great skin

The thing about Scenic Fights is that I actually like alla the people involved in its production.

And there are a lotta people involved in it; I think you’d be surprised if you actually saw the entire crew. I suppose that’s why it looks so polished.

In any case, Tom is the main cameraman and he turned 30 this past weekend so, after the gym one night, I went to Astoria to the oldest biergarten in New York to celebrate.

The last one I’d gone to was with my college friends but I actually came to this one with other friends from my gym a while back. This time, I went with my friend, Katrina, from my current gym.

Me: (at the gym) Wait, what on earth is in your bag, lady?!
Her: Broccoli. What?! I needed to get groceries.
Me: OK, you’ll need to stay 10 feet behind me at all times.
Her: Are you serious?
Me: Kinda.

The train took forever to get there so we just chatted. One thing I learned about her is that she has 200,597 unread emails.

Me: How is that even possible?
Her: Well, a lot of them are junk mail and…
Me: (interrupting) Jesus Christ, I don’t even know where to start. First of all…

Getting back to her groceries, once we got to the joint, the guy at the door wouldn’t let us in.

Him: No outside food.
Me: It’s groceries, man.
Him: No outside food.
Me: It’s raw broccoli! Trust me, we’re not gonna be whipping this out to eat in a bar.

He was grumpy but ultimately let us in.

I would totally whip that out and eat it in a bar.

Immediately bumped into Tom’s best friend, who works for Scenic Fights as well, as soon as I walked in.

Me: Which group is ours?
Him: This whole section is ours; all of these tables are for Tom.
Me: Whoa, we own this joint.

I was starving so the first order of business was buying some fries and a kielbasa plus drinks for me and Katrina.

In terms of just the food, this is what $19 will buy you in NYC.

For serious.

For some reason, I was in the mood for a cranberry vodka but she wanted the hard seltzer.

Me: Can I try that?
Her: Sure.
Me: Oh, that’s pretty good. I’ll have that later.

After we had gotten some food into us, we started to relax and socialize.

Tom’s super tall so I always joke for him to not be taller than me. He obliged, as the good friend he is.

Him: Honestly, there are a lot of drawbacks to being tall.
Me: Oh, yes, tell the old, short Chinese man how awful it is to be 30, white, and tall in America.

Also met his girlfriend and another buddy’s wife. After a while, they started offering to set me up with their friends, which I found both funny and flattering.

Girl1: What about her? (shows me her phone)
Me: Super cute. How old is she?
Girl1: 27.
Me: Oh, man…
Girl2: Wait, here’s my best friend. You’d love her.
Me: Also super cute. How old is she?
Girl3: Younger! 26.
Me: Wait, [that’s the wrong direction] how old do you think I am?
Girl2: I dunno. 33?!
Me: (to friend) MARRY THIS GIRL! (to her) You are my favourite person at this table. The rest of you can go pound sand.

Tom’s girlfriend and another girl took my phone because they wanted to give me suggestions on my dating profile.

Me: Anything you don’t like?
Her: Honestly, that’s a really good profile and good picture choices. And you’re lawyer? I thought you were a martial arts teacher.
Me: Ivy-league educated lawyer. And you should see me cook, lady.

Tom sat at another table with some other people, and motioned me over.

Him: Come meet some of your fans, Logan.
Me: Wait, my mom’s here?

The people at the table also thought I was about 33 and when I told them how old I was, two women immediately asked me what my skin care regime was.

Me: I dunno. I stay outta the sun and eat mostly protein, fat, and fiber.
Her: You don’t moisturize?
Me: No. I’m a dude.

Now that I think about it, women that find out my age generally ask me my skin care regime. I should have a better answer.

In any case, Katrina and I stayed out pretty late. There’s a funny(ish) silent dance party video I need to dig up to show you.

Now, I have an app that tells me when the next train is and it turned out that that one was coming in 5 mins and the next one was gonna be 23 minutes later so we made a mad dash for the station.

Me: (running, then stopping) Dammit, I dropped your broccoli. Again, who buys…
Her: (running) NOT NOW, LOGAN! LET’S GO!

It was a fun night and nice group of people. But the kid’s back soon, so I’ll be back to daddy duty this week.

Which is fine, cause I miss him like crazy.

Location: Penn Station, yesterday, off to go get my treasure
Mood: happy
Music: I’m starting to forget all of the ridges of your spine (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Two Pizza Joints, an Indian Restaurant, and a Park – Pt 3

The Cavalier’s dream

After Blond Banker left, I walked past the station and ended up walking down that, somewhat familiar, street. Vaguely remembered how to get to the GBA’s old pad.

Last I heard, she had a kid or two and is living in the City with them and her fella.

But 20 years ago, she lived around here. Somewhere. And this was the street I walked down to get to her then pad.

Walked by this Indian restaurant and remember that this was maybe our first date place? I don’t remember.

My memory’s like Swiss cheese these days. But it was definitely this restaurant where we went on one of our earlier dates. I think she paid.

Had just bought my apartment a little before I met her – maybe a year or two earlier?

Was looking into possibly getting a second place at the Majestic Theatre Condos, which was a theatre that just turned into condos. Don’t think it was open yet at the time.

But back to my story; I was still kinda lit so I just went with my instincts and ended up outside Van Vorst Park, which is where we used to hang out from time-to-time.

Couldn’t – for the life of me – remember which apartment building was hers but I knew I was on the right street.

Oddly, I remember the address of a nearby building, 285 Varick Street. This is because the owner wanted to sell us the building, which had a deeded parking spot, for $800,000.

It seems she sold it for $895,000 back in 2006 and it’s selling again for a cool $2 million now.

Wonder what my life would be like right now if GBA and I bought the building and just stayed there. We’d probably be divorced.

Because we weren’t each other’s person, obviously.

Never did figure out which one was her exact building. That’s 285 Varick Street, above, not her actual old pad.

I taught myself how to forget because of her and it seems that it’s worked like gangbusters.

Still, I do remember that, the week I met her, there was a snowstorm when I’d gone to visit her for the first time and we ended up getting snowed in that weekend.

I remember that we had a snowball fight but I don’t remember much else.

For this entry, I dug up a picture someone (her roomie?) took of us that day. I was 29, almost exactly two decades ago.

Have almost no pictures of her because I wasn’t yet into photography and no one’s camera on their phones were worth a damn.

There’s a song by Pink Floyd called, The Gunner’s Dream that has the lines:

Floating down, through the clouds
Memories come rushing up to meet me now
But in the space between the heavens
And the corner of some foreign field
I had a dream

Suppose that’s what I was expecting: To walk down the street and have my memories come rushing up to meet me.

All I could remember was that she had two cats. I forgot their names. She liked scarves and adrenaline. Struggled to remember anything else.

See, when I decide to do something, I go all out. I wanted to forget her and she’s almost completely gone from my head.

We had something-a-lot-like-love but not actual love.

Because true love is a self-proving thing; it either stays with you forever, or you struggle to remember anything you did together.

Spoke to my therapist about it today.

Her: But, it’s what you wanted isn’t it? To forget her, completely and move on?
Me: Yes, but I thought maybe they’d still be there, somewhere in my head. My memories.
Her: But it worked, didn’t it? You forgot her so was able to move on and meet Alison.
Me: Yes, but, now I’m forgetting Alison. I’m forgetting so much.
Her: You’re surviving. That’s why you do it. Because it works.
Me: Suppose you’re right. But what are we, if we’re not our memories?

In any case, I walked back to the station and headed home. I felt like I visited a ghost. It didn’t feel good, at all.

Started remembering things of a friend from years ago who disappeared. And nuthin made sense.

In the first entry of this brief series, wrote that my past came to visit me and I went to visit my past.

Suppose it would be more accurate to say that my past came to visit me and I went to visit someone else’s possible past.

Because, while I know it was mine, it didn’t feel like mine at all.

My memories are all copies-of-a-copy-of-a-copy.

Just realized now that, perhaps, I’m a copy and the real me is out there somewhere.

Man, wouldn’t that be something?

Location: Penn Station this afternoon, to go get my treasure
Mood: fake
Music: Night after night, going ’round and ’round my brain, his dream is driving me insane (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Two Pizza Joints, an Indian Restaurant, and a Park – Pt 2

The Girl Before Alison

Used to take the PATH all the time to see the ex before Alison.

You know, I started this blog 16 years ago because of that ex. How silly it all seems now.

After all these years, I never gave her a name so let’s call her the Girl Before Alison.

Anywho, I used to go to the GBA’s house alla time. Like every weekend, she’d head over to mine or I’d head over to hers. For years.

But walking up the stairs out of the Jersey City Grove Street Station, I didn’t remember a single time I did it to see her. Not a one.

Then again, I didn’t remember heading there in 2013 with Alison and I desperately wished I did.

This time around, I walked down the streets to meet up with Blond Banker, marveling at all the buildings but remembering none of them.

It’s like I peeked into someone else’s life, not my own.

Arriving at Barcade, I saw Blond Banker and immediately started chatting with her and some other people there.

Woman there: Here’s a [blank] name tag for you to write your name.
Me: Do I have to put my real name?
Her: …no?

Two women I met that night both lived within two blocks of my pad on the UWS; one lived some 300 feet from my pad.

Me: NO WAY!
Her: I’m serious. I used to live XXX.
Me: Wait, next door is where I took kali for 17 years.
Her: Really!?

Everyone was very nice but I was too in my head. After a while, Blond Banker and I were hungry so we decided to get something to eat.

We were headed to a Thai joint when she asked if I wanted to eat at the rooftop bar at Porta so in we went.

Honestly, while John’s of Times Square is cool, Porta was gorgeous and looked better than John’s. That’s something.

We ordered a plate of meatballs…

…and a pizza.

Her: You’ve never had an arugula pizza?
Me: They just put a salad on top of a pizza? (shrugging) Actually, it’s fine. I’ll eat it.

It ended up being pretty good. She only had a slice or so and half a meatball so I ate almost everything and was still hungry afterward. Of course.

We chatted about life in general and dating in the city.

Me: Honestly, as an attractive blond woman, I feel you could have your pick of men.
Her: (rolls eyes) I hate the apps.

There’s more but I’m trying to keep things to my story alone, where possible.

She called an Uber after a bit and  we sat on a bench looking at yet another pizza restaurant and chatting while we waited.

It was late when she hopped into the car to head home.

I was right at the entrance for the Grove street station to head back to my world when something compelled me to walk down the street I used to walk with the GBA.

Y’know…I don’t remember what the GBA looks like anymore. I don’t think I’ve seen a picture of her in well over a decade. I do remember her voice though.

I’d been drinking so it was a bit like sleepwalking, but I started walking down Grove Street past the station and found myself in 2002 again; two decades ago, when I was a much younger man

I wasn’t yet the story that people whisper to each other, “Oh, did you hear about what happened to Logan?!”

But I’ll tell you about that tomorrow because this is getting long again.

Location: last night, Astoria, celebrating a buddy’s 30th birthday at a beirgarten until late
Mood: so tired
Music: I wish I could hit rewind (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Two Pizza Joints, an Indian Restaurant, and a Park – Pt 1

Simple things of kindness

Recently, my past came to visit me and I went to visit my past.

Regarding the former, my buddy Ed came into town with his kid the other day. His son’s heading off to NYU this fall as a freshman.

I met him here via my then-girlfriend, the Doctor. He actually ended up living in my building for a spell, which was maybe 20 years ago?

It’s funny, we used to hang out alla time, but we lost touch after he moved back to Cali. My life is a series of endless venn diagrams.

It was such a kick-in-the-head to see him here with his almost-adult son.

Brought them to John’s Pizzeria at Times Square so they could (a) check it out since it’s in an old cathedral and (b) they wanted really good, authentic NYC pizza, which this definitely was.

The last time I went, it was October of 2017 with Gradgirl. She said it was an awful date – it might have been one of our first – and she wasn’t wrong.

Didn’t tell you about that because I was such a mess back then. Not that I’m not still starkers now.

Do think that, if circumstances were different, she and I might have had something. Maybe even a fatty of our own right now.

Fucking cancer is the awful gift that keeps on giving.

On a related note, it’s funny, for a long time, I divided up my life by the women I seriously dated/cared for.

Everything’s been such a mess since…you know…

Everything and everyone just blends together into a soupy, grey, mess.

Anywho, it was nice seeing Ed and his kid. I joked that, despite us being roughly the same age, I had a second-grader while he had a freshman in college.

Me: Give me a buzz if you need anything. I’ve been here my whole life and I’ll probably die here too.
Him: For sure, thanks! (later) Anyplace else we should head to?
Me: (thinking) Go to Hudson Yards. I always loved that place.

As for the latter, and on the topic of ex-girlfriends and my past, that’s a much longer story.

Essentially, I tried to visit an old version of myself but it didn’t pan out – at all – like I’d hoped. Lemme explain:

It all started when I hit up Blond Banker to see if she wanted to catch a show (totally as friends).

She countered with an invite to go to a mixer with some co-workers of hers for a project that she was volunteering for – out in Jersey City.

Her: I’m going to Barcade tonight. You can come to that if you want
Me: Hmm, ok, I’m down! Any particular dress code or just don’t be a schlub?
Her: Just how you’d dress for Barcade.

Since she wasn’t planning on getting there until after 6:30, I slipped into kali for 45 minutes before I hopped the PATH across the river.

On the way there, I sat down next to this one hulking dude and he turned to me and said, That’s a cool tee-shirt, man.

I got two more compliments before I arrived in Jersey City and one more when I was at the bar.

Man, simple things of kindness really make your day, don’t they?

Me: Get home safe, man!
Him: (smiling broadly) Oh, you too!

The last time I went to Grove Street in Jersey City, was May 5th, 2013 – Cinco de Mayo – almost a decade ago.

Alison and I went there for a chili cookoff and we met up with a couple from my old gym. Don’t think I ever saw them again.

Venn diagrams, like I said.

This was almost a decade ago in 2013. I have pictures of alla these randos but not of Alison.

It hurts because I keep thinking, if Alison was alive, I could ask her questions like what did we wear and what was that game we played?

Do you know how many pictures I have of her that day? Zero. Zero fucking pictures, because she didn’t like being photographed.

Sigh.

I’ll pick this up tomorrow. Suddenly got super tired.

Location: tonight, having my arm relentlessly attacked in kali
Mood: thoughtful
Music: God knows it’s not supposed to be easy (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

You want some Yellowfin Tuna?

OK, steel it

The Counselor dropped me a line outta the blue and we had a relatively nice conversation, which I’ll just keep to myself.

She may be the only woman in NYC that hasn’t told me to go fuck myself.

Then again, it’s early in the week, yet.

My buddy Steel hit me up too.

Him: Can you come by and pick up some yellowtail tomorrow?
Me: Heck yeah!

The last time he gave me fish from one of his massive fishing trips was almost a decade ago. Still remember it well; it was right around my old gym.

Me: Waking up at two am to go out in the middle of the ocean in a small boat? That’s like my nightmare. Then again…tuna!

I had a wife and no kid then. And I was hanging out with a completely different set of people.

It’s like that was a different me altogether.

Same for him.

This time he went fishing with a couple of dot com millionaires and his chief surgeon brother. They dropped six figures for the two-day trip.

Him: Yeah, they had serious fuck-you money. This bottle of wine was $1,200 and we had three of them.
Me: Dammit, why can’t we have fuck-you money?
Him: We became lawyers.
Me: Man, that was dumb. Well, at least we hang out with people that have fuck-you money.

Like I said, we’re the average of the five people we hang out with the most. There was a time I made it a point to be the least successful outta the people I hung out with.

Been reassessing what I’ve been doing with my time and with whom. I feel like I’ve been sleepwalking through the last couplea years.

Anywho, they ended up catching THREE yellow-fin tunas; he caught the 65 pound one.

This is him with it; I should note that he’s six-foot-two and looks like Clark Kent so this fish was massive.

We went out drinking and eating in his hood. I chatted up the Irish waitress who had this really cool brogue.

Me: You know, my son’s part Irish. I should bring him by here to hear what his people sound like.
Her: You should, sweetie!

She then asked if we had lost a sandal.

Who walks outta a bar missing a sandal? NYC’s a strange town.

Sorry so blurry. We had been drinking for a while and that dude pounds.

Steel just bought an apartment in a brand new building on the UES and we walked by it. It was gorgeous.

Me: OK, I need you to do me a solid. If I ever have a date around here, I’m gonna bring her by, tell her this is my pad, and you and the fam have gotta jet.
Him: (laughing) Sure.

Not (necessarily) his pad, but you get the idea.

He ended up giving me like six pounds of tuna or so, which I tried my best to do justice to.

This was attempt number two. Man…you don’t wanna see attempt number one.

My dad used to make me sashimi/sushi all the time. Since I was a little kid.

Was always embarrassed that I had to eat raw fish when my friends got to have pizza. What a dumb kid I was.

Steel and Bryson were amongst the last of my friends to ever have seen him. I’m glad it was them.

I’ll tell you about that someday.

I wish I learned how to make sushi from him. I wish I did a lotta things with him but we ran outta time.

Shit. When you love someone, there’s never enough goddamn fucking time.

I miss him terribly.

Location: earlier this week, someplace called “the Upper East Side”
Mood: on high alert
Music: bring back the water, let your ships roll in (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Punching air

All is right, once again

My son’s been wanting two things lately: (1) To head out to the parks with me and (2) to have a shwarama.

We recently accomplished both after his last day of Chinese Summer Camp.

While he’s generally pretty hilarious, it’s always hit…

Him: You know the old saying, “If you can’t beat em, join em?”
Me: I’m familiar with the phrase.
Him: Well, in [a book I’m reading] they say, “If you can’t join em, beat em!” Get it? (punches the air) With your fists!
Me: (laughing) Valid.

…or miss…

Him: What kind of pig doesn’t like mud?
Me: I dunno. What kind of pig doesn’t like mud?
Him: The doesn’t like mud-kind!
Me: (slowly) That’s not a good joke.
Him: (sighing) I know.

…when it comes to his jokes.

The purpose of this blog was never meant to hurt anyone. It was just a place for me to put my honest thoughts. Unfortunately, it’s a little too late to be anonymous so I continue.

Still, I’m trying to be mindful that, when I tell my story, I end up telling parts of other people’s stories as well. Dunno if there’s a way to remedy that.

I try to keep information as broad and non-identifiable as possible and even try to further obfuscate things where I can.

On a related note, the woman that didn’t tell me to fuck off, has since changed her mind.

Me: You equate apologizing with being subservient. That’s not healthy.
Her: You are right, Logan. And now kindly fuck off.

Honestly, at this point, I’m finding it hard to care about another person’s mental cockroaches. Our lives are self-proving things and another person’s opinion of me is none of my business.

Told you once that I found kindness to be the most attractive quality about a person. The flip is true as well. Unkindness is the biggest turnoff for a fella like me.

So, all is right with the world once again.

Location: earlier today, getting four pounds of yellowtail tuna from Steel on the UES
Mood: completely sotted
Music: Love me or hate me, it’s still an obsession (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Five years

Don’t you steal it

It’s been five years since my dad died. I’d forgotten, actually, until my sister reminded me.

Being able to forget is a good thing, I think. It hurts a lot less this year than before, because I can see that he lived a good long life, saw his kids get older, and got to meet his grandchildren before he died.

I’ll tell you more stories about him, someday.

Because he lived a life worth living. I loved him and always will.

On completely different note, Chad got injured so I’m going to end up covering three classes this week, including probably our busiest one.

I’m fine with teaching/public speaking, as you know, but the timing’s not the best.

My phone’s been ringing off the hook with work. I can’t possibly take all the work that’s been coming my way but, like I said, it’s nice to know that I’m still valued for my usefulness.

Although I do think I offer some entertainment here and there.

Me: Did you know, every nation on earth wrestles and has a dumpling? So, here’s my idea, a dumpling restaurant where you can pick a nation’s dumplings and then, before or after, wrestle in that nation’s style.
Guy 1: Wait, what about pairings?
Guy 2: Yeah, can you mix and match?
Me: Of course, this is still America.
Guy 3: That’s a cool idea.
Me: Don’t you steal it!

My son’s explaining traffic patterns to me in that pic above.

My dad woulda loved to see how smart and funny this kid is.

Location: earlier today, explaining how to strangle more efficiently
Mood: resigned
Music: That’s how you walk on a tightrope (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

I was incandescent

Belonging to someone

My brother, and another friend, once remarked that a lotta the people we’ve casually dated are still friendly with us and I asked him why he thought that was.

Him: (shrugging) We’re useful.

As always, he’s right. He and I have alla these explicit skills (lawyer/doctor) plus rando skills that are useful.

Plus, we both like helping people.

On that note, another woman from my past reached out to me for my legal opinion on something.

Gotta say, it was one of the more interesting legal scenarios I’ve come across…

Me: Whoa! That’s…insane.
Her: I was incandescent.
Me: I have to write that down.

…and I gave her my opinion…

Me: You do know why they did this, don’t you?
Her: Why?
Me: Because they thought they could get away with it. Don’t let them.
Her: But, what’s the upside for me?
Me: Cash money, yo. Plus, you’re stopping them.

…and that was that.

We then caught up because it’s been a while since we chatted.

She’s on the dating apps but she also gets so many inquiries that she ends up just not opening the app because they give her stress.

Me: Man, women’s and men’s dating problems are so different.
Her: I think I’m just going to stop altogether.
Me: (shrugging) I dunno, you might meet a gem like me.
Her: (incredulous) I have so many thoughts, I don’t know which one to go for. I need a drink.
Me: I can get behind that. Let’s do it.

We ended up chatting for a while.

Her: What about you?
Me: (laughing) Well, I just recently went on a date and called her by an ex’s name, so, yeah, it’s going great. What about you?
Her: I have over 1,000 messages on one app. It just stresses me out.
Me: You need a dating manager to handle alla that for you.

Somehow, we got onto the topic of the two of us, which was uncomfortable because there were so many layers to it.

And, she actually said to me what Alison said to me on our first date.

Her: (sighing) Oh, Logan. You’re so dumb.

Ended up cutting off the conversation early because of that and for other personal reasons that are unimportant here.

But she wrote me afterward to tell me that all was ok, which I appreciated.

Relationships are hard, even when they’re great. Add on things like trauma and such and it’s just a mess.

I wish I was her person. I wish I was a lotta people’s…person. But, I suppose I’m still looking for something I can’t put into words.

It drove Caligirl nuts when I used to say that to her; she thought I was making it up. But it’s always been true for me.

Still, it’s a bit different now. See, I used to belong to someone.

And then I thought maybe I belonged to someone else, but – it turned out – she didn’t belong to me.

And I miss belonging to someone that belongs to me.

I’m a guard without enough people I love to guard. And one that failed his last charge.

Location: the basement of my brain again
Mood: searching
Music: save me from my brain (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.