Come with me

The emperor of all maladies

Her: I like room temperature soda.
Me: I only realized now that I’m dating a psychopath.

Not been sleeping well for a while now. It’s a long story.

Been thinking about Alison and my dad a lot lately for a whole buncha reasons we don’t need to get into, but one small reason is Princess Kate.

The fact that she and King Charles both have cancer should be a wake up call to everyone for a simple reason:

If two people that have the best of everything – healthcare, food, trainers, etc. – can get cancer, anyone can.

You definitely can.

In the 1970s, a fella you never heard of named Kotaku Wamura was the mayor of a Japanese town you never heard of, Fudai.

When Warmura was a kid in 1933, he saw a tsunami kill 439 people in Fudai and made a kid’s promise to himself – he would prevent this from ever happening to Fudai ever again.

When he became mayor in 1970, through sheer force of will, he convinced the town to erect a 51-foot-high gate as a public works project.

He, and his supporters were mocked mercilessly as fools.

Fast forward some 40+ years to the Japan earthquake and tsunami of 2011, which I wrote about before, and killed over 19,000 people and destroyed at least 45 towns and cities.

Except Fudai.

Because of one person, almost nothing happened to the town. One unfortunate man died, and their port was nearly destroyed.

But the village and almost all its people were almost completely unscathed.

Not a day goes by without someone saying something chiding about what I eat, how I live, or what I do.

“You eat that much peanut butter?”
“Sardines? Fish, out of a can?! Disgusting!”
“Do you really need to roll around with sweaty men every day?”
“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”

Essentially, the argument I hear is always something that starts with, “Everyone…”

“Everyone eats carbs, Logan.”
“Everyone microwaves plastics, Logan.”
“Everyone eats late, Logan.”

Yeah, and everyone is getting cancer – greater than 1 outta 3 these days: If you’re a dude, the chance is 41%, a woman, the chance is 39%.

That is fucking insane.

Something is fucked in our lives and we’re all dying of cancer. I dunno what it is but I’m trying to go where science is telling me to go.

And I still might get it because the odds are shit.

But I’m gonna do everything I can to try to avoid it if possible.

You should too.

Wamura died in 1997 at age 88 and never saw that he was right. But he was right.

And I think I’m right here; just like Wamura didn’t know when the next tsunami would be, he knew it would come eventually just like I know cancer will touch alla us at some point if it hasn’t already.

Cancer doesn’t give a shit if you’re a king, a princess, a new mother, or a nobody.

It’s here to end – or at least massively fuck up – your life, if you don’t do something about it.

I’m not the one that’s living an extreme life, IMHO.

To me, the people living an extreme life are the ones that know that there’s a close to 50/50 chance at getting the emperor of all maladies and doing nuthin meaningful about it.

Location: Winston-Salem, North Carolina, getting sugared-out
Mood: baffled
Music: I had to rock the boat so I could ride the wave (Spotify)
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Still ever the skillest and killest, Pt 1

Burying dead things

It’s been an odd week.

Some relatively recent friends (formally) exited my Venn Diagram while others came back for a visit.

Years ago, the Devil told me, “We’re not friends. We’re friendly, but we’re not friends. There’s a difference. Don’t get it twisted, kid.”

Found myself saying similar those exact words to someone else at a Japanese restaurant this past week and – for a moment, at least – I was my old self again.

Me: For what it’s worth, it was mature of you to reach out to me to talk. I never woulda myself because it’s not in my nature.
Him: (slowly nodding) I only know you after Alison…died. I’m still getting used to who you really are.
Me: Gotta be honest, I don’t care. But, our interests are aligned: What you want and what I want are the same. Let’s just get the job done. Whatever personal feelings we have towards the other are irrelevant. (later) To be clear, I felt I owed you a debt. I consider the debt paid – in full. I don’t owe you shit. But, it cut both ways, you don’t owe me shit either. I just wanna come in, do my shit, and leave. We’re both professionals, let’s act as such.
Him: As skilled as you are with a knife, you cut better with words than anyone I know.

It was perfectly eloquent and cruel, but I suppose it was true and I deserved it.

After all, he’s right. I’m ever the skillest with my sharp objects, the killest with my blunt instruments.

Fuck it. I’m getting tired of apologizing for and hiding who and what I am.

A woman I dated briefly dropped me a line earlier this month and then again this week.

She made me laugh.

And then Rain hit me up to chat about stuff. Oddly, someone just asked me earlier today if he and I were still in contact.

There’s definitely something weird in the air. In any case, it was good catching up with him.

Me: Jesus Christ – you have hair! And it’s grey!
Him: Man, you look exactly the same. I can’t believe you still have all your hair and it’s black.
Me: I’m as surprised as you are.

We got onto the topic of buying some grass-fed beef together because…of course we did.

Weirder still, a girl I met on the train three years ago randomly dropped me a line recently as well.

What on earth is going on?

It’s was Pac’s birthday this past weekend.

Had a hangover for the first time in over a decade but I’ll tell you more about that tomorrow.

Location: earlier today, my kitchen, baking two dozen cookies and a pan of lasagna for my favourite tiny human
Mood: Same as the song
Music: Well, fuck ’em, fuck ’em, fuck ’em all (Spotify)
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Whipping around Red Hook

This was a mistake

Me: We have a car!
Her: (laughing) It’s your car! You’ve always had it.

I’ve had a car for the last 35 years. Dunno if I ever told you that. Normally, that’s not a big deal but I live in Manhattan.

I had two beaten up BMWs and a brand-spanking new (at that time) Honda Accord that I loved and I kept in a local garage in Manhattan.

But in 2007, after the theft and a buncha other crazy things, I gave up the parking spot and brought the car out to Queens to stay at my mom’s house, where it’s stayed for the past 13 years.

Alison gave up her beloved Civic because the idea was that we’d just use my car when the time came for us to leave the city and get a place in the burbs. Of course, none of that ever happened.

So this car I loved sat at my mom’s place all this time with 56,000 miles on it – that’s 3,733 miles a year.

When I saw my mother-in-law the other day – after Mouse dropped me off for the umpteenth time – and I mentioned the car to her, the first thing she said was, “Why don’t you just give Mouse the car?”

My mom had said something similar, despite her and/or my sister using it on occasion all this time (and paying for the insurance and upkeep all this time).

I told my mom and she immediately cleaned it out and handed me the keys and the title. Mouse refused to accept it as a gift though and offered to pay me a little something for it, which I appreciated.

Then she promptly drove me to NJ, and then back to the city, yet again. But that’s another story for another time.

After we picked up my whip, though, we were driving around Brooklyn when I suggested that – since we had a ride – we should celebrate. We rang up Cho, who suggested that we hit up the Red Hook Lobster Pound, which we did.

Her: (after eating everything) I’m still hungry.
Me: I have a rack of ribs at home.
Her: Sold. Let’s go.

We ended up heading home and eating another half rack-of-ribs between the two of us.

I would say that it’s brought us closer together but that’s not entirely true.

Me: Oh, this is a good song (on the radio).
Her: I see we’re listening to the oldies station.
Me: Clearly, this was a mistake.

Location: home – like, really home
Mood: happier
Music: we can swim far away from the wreck we made (Spotify)
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All that glitters is not gold

Playing cards with friends

Her: “All that glitters is gold.”
Me: (laughing) The saying is, “All that glitters is NOT gold.” You got that precisely wrong

Gymgirl’s gone again. The details are unimportant.

She’s great; I adored her, really. We just don’t see the world the same way.

Despite my reservations, three buddies of mine just showed up for drinks by mine…

…along with food, which I had to decline because of personal reasons.

Him: Man, you really didn’t eat anything.
Me: I told you, I’m a rock. I’m a goddamn brick wall.

Now, I desperately need sleep – see the convo below – which is another entry entirely, but I couldn’t say no to them.

I’m pretty touched that my friends always show up to see how I’m doing. Although they made their feelings about her clear as well.

Him: We all liked you with her, man. How much sleep have you gotten this week?
Me: Nine hours in the last 96.
Him: Are you sure you should be making decisions like this right now?
Me: (shrugging)The die is cast. We make our choices in life and accept the ramifications. Both of us. Alla us. These are the cards she dealt me and I, her. So we play them as we do.

Perhaps they’re my friends because I’m old as dirt and have learned a thing or two along the way.

Or maybe there’s just something in my life that makes some people wanna stay yet others not.

Death and f____ing cancer notwithstanding.

Although some of them could be a bit more supportive than others.

Me: What are you talking about? I’m the best looking Asian from our old gym.
Him: No, that’d be your cousin.
Me: (thinking) OK, that’s fair. She’s lovely.

Location: in the world, doing some work I’ve not done in a while
Mood: accepting
Music: Now, all I know, I know all these things
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Attraction is not a choice

You can’t choose who you find attractive

I’m honestly not trying to be controversial to get readers but it is interesting to note that my last post and some of the ones before that have garnered more comments and emails than usual.

This fella named David DeAngelo is a fairly well-known pickup artist that once said that Attraction isn’t a choice. I think know that this is true.

And of course someone will mention pedophilia and incest but both are different scenarios – in the former, it’s not between two two consenting adults and in the latter, there’re biological implications on top of the societal and legal ones.

Got another email from a female friend who tells me that she has a guy buddy she hangs out with all the time and they share a lot in common – she’s just not attracted to him.

I hear that story a million times from both men and women. People often find themselves in the friend zone where the other party goes, I don’t know why, I’m just not attracted to him/her.

It’s because you have little to no say in the matter. Either you are or are not attracted to another person and there’s little you can do about it.

However, I did get one comment in my last post where my very loyal reader Paolina (who has an amazing photography blog) wrote:

Dating someone from a different race/nationality is completely different from dating someone from a different age range. On a very shallow perspective, what do you think of a 60 year man dating a 20 year old? I’m sure that thought would’ve touched a nerve on a lot of women. Most of us would’ve probably thought you were a dirty, old man trying to score an clueless, immature chick or something to that effect. But again, nobody knows the whole story and as mentioned, it is none of our business. I always say, whatever floats your boat, buddy

OK, I have to admit that that has merit.

However, the girl is an adult in that situation and telling her that she’s doing something stupid – which she probably is – is indeed her own adult choice.

And what is life if not making our stupid choices and living them. The other thing is that there should be someone in her venn diagram that does know her and know the situation that can and should tell her what’s what.

All education is expensive. Some far more than others.


For those of you that never click the comments – or leave comments (damn you all) I do get some of the best ones.

For my reader Paul, I hope you don’t mind that I put this up – tell me if you do.

He commented about my poor hair and clothing choices by saying: First off, you had excellent hair and clothing choices. I know.

Here’s my pic from that older entry 17 Again.

Here’s his pic.

That literally made me laugh out loud.

And this is just one of a million reasons why I can never run for president.

Location: behind a deadline and running to catch it
Mood: guess what? crazy busy
Music: crossed the sea to find a brother
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Living your own life is hard enough

Everyone has an opinion as to how someone else should live their lives

Me: And what do you want?
Him: It doesn’t matter what I want. My father wants me to marry a Korean girl.
Me: If he wants a Korean girl so much, he should marry one.

So an interesting subset of my post from last week on writing a dating profile was communication from about four different women noting that on the profile, I was 39 years old, looking for women that were 25-30.

What none of them seemed to realize was: in order for me to get that screengrab of my profile, I had to log into my old profile, which I did last week – at 39 years of age.

I’d not touched that profile since September 2008 – when I was 35. The site merely updated my age to 39 when I logged in in August 2012.

But here’s the thing: Even if I was 39, looking for women that are 25-30, isn’t that my business?

In other words, suppose I told someone I was attracted to black women. How revolting would it be if someone said, Logan! You’re a Chinese-American man. You should be ashamed of yourself, trying to date a black woman.

An actual message from someone except the person said I was a “39-year-old man” and instead of “black woman,” she said, “25 year old.”

Let’s take it a step further.

Suppose I said, I was looking for a black man. Sudden people get incensed one way or another.

The thing is my wife and I would probably have had issues 30 years ago with us being a mixed-race couple.

Why does everyone have an opinion as to what one adult finds attractive in another adult?

More mind-boggling, why do people think their opinions matter to anyone but themselves?

And when did they learn that their opinions are better than someone else’s opinions?

I know Asians that think I’ve “sold-out” by marrying out of my race. In fact, I was one of those people in my teens.

But I was a stupid kid – as evidenced by my admittedly poor clothing and hair choices. These are adults writing this.

Perhaps the most powerful thing I’ve ever learned in my life isn’t a fencing or a wrestling move, but rather this: What other people think of me is none of my business.

The moment you believe that statement – not just know it intellectually but truly believe it – you are separate from everyone else in the world.

You gain a membership into a cadre of thinkers and dreamers that live their lives in the world but unaffected by the world.

And it cuts both way: What you think of someone else is none of their business.

Then again, if someone isn’t living their own life, perhaps you should say something.

Me: Living one’s own life is hard enough. Doesn’t your father get tired of living your life too?
Him: (laughing) He means well.
Me: I’m sure he does. But – and this is admittedly none of my business – long after he’s gone, you’ll be stuck with the choices he makes for you. Your father lives his life. Your mother lives hers. You should live yours, yeah?

Location: in front of a cuppa joe and Mamma Lo’s carrot cake
Mood: you guessed it, crazy busy
Music: picture the scene, filming and screening, dreaming of me
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Shocked at how late it is

View of NYC from the rear

Me: I’ve been practicing.
Him: (shrugging)

Haven’t been doing much beyond working although I do find time to hit the gym. My fencing instructor had me work on something call the Contradas (counters). Been a while since I’d done them so I was surprised that I remembered them.

My instructor rarely speaks much, much less give any compliments; know I’ve done something right when he doesn’t say anything. He’s kinda an old, crotchety, silent-type. Then again, don’t do anything for the accolades. Only to be better than I was the day before.

Have all these French and Chinese books around the house. Always figured I’d learn them again but never got around to it.

If I could live for a thousand years, I imagine all the books I’d read. After all, I value the acquisition of knowledge above all else. There never seems to be enough time.

And every time I look up, am always shocked how late it is. In more ways than one.


Me: (opening a jar) I spend a lot of time saying, “I wonder if that’s spoiled?
Her: And then you get sick.
Me: (getting spoon) Hopefully not today.

Got a little sick.

Location: in front of the computer, all day
Mood: rushed
Music: it’s clear I’ll always be the same Until the end of time


Getting heated in NYC

Glass of rum at Salute, New York City NYC

Him: I should drop you right here.
Me: OK.

There was a major flood in my area this weekend so traffic was routed in fronta my pad. This huge truck started blasting it’s horn like crazy in the early AM so I went out to ask him to stop.

Got pretty heated pretty quick and this guy just charged out of his truck at me. Think he expected me to run or something. Unlike last time, however, Heartgirl wasn’t around to remind me that I’m not 20 anymore. Per usual, told him that just cause I didn’t wanna fight, didn’t mean I wouldn’t.

The thing is that I can deal with loudmouths and a fair fight. What I can’t brook is a coward. This guy was plenty brave in his truck but less so outta it. Anywho, it ended up with him just doing a lotta shouting and then walking away.

HG told me I should have just called the number emblazoned on the side of his truck, which in hindsight woulda been the smart thing to do.

Man! Hate losing my cool. It’s embarrassing – how mucha my past I bring with me to my future. Even after all this time. Thought I outgrew this long ago.

Him: (walking away) If I wasn’t working, I’d kill you.
Me: Yeah, y’keep telling yourself that. Maybe you’ll believe it. I think you’re just a coward. (admin note: not actually the word I used).

Coffee at the DTA Down Town Association New York City NYC

Been meeting up with friends and clients downtown for breakfast a lot these days at a private club. It’s nice having a civilized cup of coffee undisturbed with the morning paper.

My buddy who owns my pad with me’s talking about selling it someday soon. Move out to the burbs and live a quiet life, if I’m lucky. But I’ll miss the little tings like this the most.

Suppose the honking horns and random chances of violence will be less missed.

Location: getting ready to head out
Mood: disappointed
Music: You remind me of a reason had by someone so many years ago
YASYCTAI: Enjoy the little things while you can. (60 mins/1.0 pts)

business personal

Justice isn’t blind, she chooses not to see / Don’t go to law school

Portrait of justice in the Musée du Barreau in Paris

To continue my odd fixation on things that have that have an air of truth but no real truth to them, y’know that saying, Justice is blind?

That’s completely wrong.

Not only is it completely wrong, it completely misses the point. Justice is not blind, she chooses not see.

Look at every statue, every portrait, and you’ll see she wears a blindfold. For example, the picture above is from the Musée du Barreau in Paris. Blindfold.

She has the ability to see, to judge with her eyes, but instead, she judges with her ears; listening to the facts and deciding. The problem with most things in life is that most people judge far too quickly on far too superficial data. Judgment without processing any true information is the key to injustice. Taking it all in and changing one’s mind in light of new information should never be a bad thing.

On an unrelated point, an election year is coming. Let’s see what’s for sale.


On the topic of lawyers and law school, don’t go to law school. First of all, when I went, the job market was crazy-good; now it’s crazy-bad.

But if that’s not enough, don’t go cause you could start Facebook instead.

In fact, I started Facebook in 1999. Well, I started a website that let you post pictures, leave comments, write stuff, etc, called “” But it never really took off causa a number of boneheaded moves on my part and cause I was going to law school.

While I do love the law and my particular field of it, there’s a sense that my life might have been radically different if I had never gone. Perhaps it woulda been far worse, or far better. Never know.

Think that law school’s a honeypot; it’s a place that many people go cause they haven’t figured stuff out yet. It’s one thing to spend three years of life and $150K if you’ve been dying to be a lawyer your whole; quite another if you’re just trying to be “safe.”

Especially cause it’s not safe.

With my love of my practice, I still mighta gone knowing what I know now. Not sure.

If you’re thinking of going back to school just cause you’ve got no other idea, consider paying back the aether instead. If you’re lucky, you’ll change the world and make a mint while you do it.

Just remember to hire me when you need some legal advice.

The above may potentially be seen as advertising for a real estate attorney in Chicago per NY Rule 7.3(a)(1). See what a pain being a lawyer is? Imagine you’re just writing something for your blog, which no one reads, cept maybe your mom hoping that this time, someone will see the genius that is her progeny, but no, mom, only you think that) and you’ve got to throw up a disclaimer. A disclaimer! It’s the height of ridiculousness. Between my mom and me, and occasionally Heartgirl out of pity, I’ve got three readers. And yet…disclaimer. I should have just stuck to building networks. Are you still reading this? If so, I’m thinking of killing the portion of the blog and just doing this at my regular blog. What do you think? Again, not that anyone reads either of them (mom, there’s no need to write a comment as “anonymous” as I’ll know it’s you. I’m fine, although under the weather; married life is great and the the house is spotless). Also, I’m contemplating selling canvas prints of my photos do you think there’s a market for them? What if I include a recipe for chili? Ok, I’ll stop now. Don’t go to law school.

Location: getting dressed for work while hoping not to pass out
Mood: really sick
Music: everybody’s got a price, I wonder how they sleep at night
YASYCTAI: Don’t waste your time, you have less than you think. (time/3 pts)


Just cause I don’t like to fight, doesn’t mean I won’t

Me: (turning to face him) I gotta punch him.
Her: Don’t.
Me: Fine.

Went to have dinner to celebrate my buddy’s 30th. On the way there, this guy said something mildly racist – which I don’t actually ever hear any more in this day and age. Felt a strong urge to do the fella grave bodily injury and said as much but then I was reminded that I’m a 37 year-old lawyer fulla injuries. So I decided to get to the party and focus on some pernil asado, which was probably a better choice.

This’s all comedic cause I’m about the opposite of pugilistic. Unless you step up to my girl. Or if you’re a side of delicious Cuban roast pork.

At which point, I’d watch myself.

Wrestling coach: (in middle of class) Wait, you never saw Alien?
Me: No. (pause) Scary movies scare me.
Coach: (shakes and drops forehead into hand)

Location: Renting another car
Mood: productive
Music: call out the KKK, they’re wild after me
YASYCTAI: Know what you are. (60 minutes/1 pt)