Tag: conversations

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Staten Island, Ferries, Pigeons, and Horse heads.

My home’s a strange town, but it’s home

Relaxing on a summer day in Central Park
Went to Staten Island to meet up with a client. Was the first time on the ferry since the turn of the century.

As I left the terminal, a pigeon was on his way in.
Pigeon in St. George Ferry Terminal in Staten Island

Stopped to snap some pics of artwork.

Painted egg artwork in George Ferry Terminal in Staten Island

It’s peaceful there. Whenever people talk about New York City, they usually just mean Manhattan.

But New York City isn’t just Manhattan, it’s also The Bronx, Queens, Brooklyn, and Staten Island.

Heading back into Manhattan from Staten Island on the ferry

Headed back in to Manhattan and finished up the work week.

Over the weekend, the wife and I went to Central Park where we saw a woman in a suit wearing heels and a horse head while playing an accordion.

Her: Is that a woman in a suit wearing heels and a horse head while playing an accordion?
Me: I think so.
Her: Well, that’s something new.

A woman in Central Park wearing a suit, heels and a horsehead playing the guitar.

Location: home
Mood: good
Music: I’d go black and blue, I’d go crawling down the avenue.
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The disappearing watercooler

Emerging from winter

Sushi on the UWS
The weather’s been slowly getting better so I’ve been emerging from my winter shell.

Met up some college buddies for sushi around the way the other day and, yesterday night, headed over to my local tailor with my buddy Paul to get some clothes fixed.

Regrettably stopped off at Grey’s Papaya after dinner to get a dessert of two hot dogs.

Her: TWO hot dogs? After you had a dinner of ribs and potatoes?
Me: I’m not proud.

Rum on the UWS
The post I wrote about the HIMYM finale seems to have struck a chord with people because I received several emails and a few mentions by others in social media.

It’s interesting because an opinion just came out in the NYTimes where the author notes that the water cooler is disappearing, both literally and figuratively.

It’s disappearing on the figurative front because there are just so many shows to watch and we all have such divergent interests.

So to find something that so many of us can actually discuss is rare.

On that note, I’m finding that more and more people are reading this blog, but less and less are leaving comments here – when you do comment, it’s either to an email to me, a comment on FB or somewhere else, or no comment at all.

I miss the old LiveJournal account mainly for that reason; because people were such active commenters there.

Leave a comment below from time-to-time!

Location: Staten Island
Mood: rested
Music: all right, I got no time for private consultation
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Caught a fight between two middle-aged men

The body should serve the mind

Men at Work Sign
My AMA on Reddit went pretty well.

There were some good questions and interest in The Men Made of Stone; if you’re curious about some of the backstory behind the rise and fall of organized crime between 1980 and 1993, you can check the AMA for details.

Speaking of writing, I’m working on a a quick little thing about online dating profiles that I’ll probably either just give away or sell inexpensively.

Been fitting in a few lines here and there between work; hopefully, I can finish it up this week.

About 11 years ago, this relatively unknown fighter named Eddie Bravo fought one of the most well-respected fighters on the planet named Royler Gracie and won. Many people thought it was a fluke.

After all this time, a rematch was arranged over the weekend between the two so I went in the rain to my gym on Saturday night after fencing class to watch it with my coach.

The interesting thing about these two fighters is that one is 43 and the other 48. Don’t think there’s ever been so much excitement over two very middle-aged men fighting.

And yet, they aren’t what one would think of when one thinks of a typical 43 year-old and 48 year-old. Probably because they don’t more or act like most others.

The body always says, “Quit” before the mind does.

Because – for most people – the mind is subservient to the body, when the body quits, the mind quickly follows.

But there are those for whom the body serves the mind. The body only quits when the mind allows it. Like these two men.

If being a fat kid ever taught me anything, it’s that that is the way it should be: The body should serve the mind. For as long as possible, I’d like to be that way.

On that note, I’m going to be 41 next month. I can’t really believe it.

Wife: You should just tell everyone you’re 37. People would believe that.
Me: That’s not a bad idea.

Location: before my tax papers
Mood: focused
Music: Don’t stop, no, I’ll never give up
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Some…ok one…foods never expire

Expiration dates results in tons of wasted food


There’s one food that never expires. What is it?

———-

Went out to see the rents yesterday because I was in their area and stayed for dinner.

Suppose it’s a by-product of growing up poor but there’s very little I won’t eat. Probably also a cultural thing; the Chinese have a history of mass starvation so we’ve never been really picky with food – that’s a picture I took walking around downtown of a Chinese restaurant called Taco Tortillas King that sells both Mexican and Chinese food. Sounds like my kinda joint.

In any case, with the exception of about one nasty bout of food poisoning every decade or so, it’s never really been an issue.

The thing is that since I’ve gotten married, I’ve been more conscious of what might be considered less-than-entirely safe food safety standards.

Wife: Are you going to eat that?
Me: Sure, why not?
Her: It expired two years ago.
Me: I’m sure it’s fine.

But the reality is that most food expiration dates only results in us wasting tons (literally) of food.

I came across an article that noted that honey never expires – in fact, they found jars of honey thousands of years old that were still edible. It’s the only food that is ready to eat when you find it, whenever you find it; dried rice also lasts forever but you have to cook it first to make it edible.

I’m fairly certain that this can of emergency chili I recently found is still good, despite the 2012 expiration date. An article that just came out today says that I can still eat it.

What’s the worst that could happen?

RedditJust FYI, for next week’s Reddit Ask Me Anything, I’ll be dropping the prices for both The Men Made of Stone and A Great First Date on Monday so pick up a copy!

Location: last night, kitchen making more chili
Mood: good
Music: Wheels are turning in the bed you make
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It’s the Ides of March again (and again)

Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose


My brother’s in town again so he stayed over the other night.

For over 15 years, he’s been reading Will Durant’s The Story of Civilization – he’s finally on the very last volume of the series (11). The author spent his entire adult life writing the series from 1935 to 1975; he died in 1981.

We both like history because it’s fascinating just how much it repeats itself. You could take the news about the latest scandal on cheating, double-dealing, and influence from the Roman Senate and change it to the DC Senate and no one would notice.

We’re such predictable creatures. There are the occasional surprises, though.

Right about now are the Ides of March so it was 2,058 years ago that Brutus killed Caesar.

Roman historians like Plutarch commonly note that most people – including Brutus himself – thought that Caesar was Brutus’ father.

So Brutus wasn’t just killing a politician, he was killing his father. It makes Caesar’s last words all the more pitiful, “Even you, Brutus?”

Was pretty young when I learned this and found it completely unbelievable that something as mundane as politics would drive someone to kill his own father.

But just recently an article called I lost my dad to Fox News, which talks about how politics split a father and son. It’s not really so unbelievable now.

As for me, I’m reading about the 1683 Battle of Vienna and the struggle between Muslims and the west.

There’s this French saying that goes, Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose – the more things change, the more things stay the same.

There’s something comically  tragic about that.

Me: What are you going to read after you’re finally done with the series?
Brother: I have no idea.

RedditOn a different point entirely, next Thursday, I’m doing a Reddit Ask Me Anything on the first book I wrote about gangs in the 1990s, The Men Made of Stone.

If you’re a Reddit user and/or have read the book, stop on by here and support!

Location: last night, kitchen making more chili
Mood: good
Music: Wheels are turning in the bed you make
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A lot to fit into one week

An anniversary and a funeral

Him: Hey, do you remember Jim? He came all the way from Virginia!
Jim: Hi.
Him: And that’s Logan. He came all the way from…midtown.
Me: In this weather, that’s a trip!

Went to another funeral this past weekend. A buddy’s mom, whom I’ve known for over 20 years.

The sad thing about all funerals is how similar they all are. Grief is a universal constant, I suppose. It’s also sad how familiar I am with the process now.

Afterward, took a long cold walk to the train station and stopped by a local dive to get some dumplings, which were great on a cold winter’s day.

Two Chinese women sat next to me talking about their Caucasian husbands. Part of me wanted to join the conversation but I decided against it.

When I got home, called my wife to meet me at the door and toss salt over me before I crossed the threshold.

My dad used to have me do it when he came back from a funeral. I would stand outside with a handful of salt and throw it high into the air so it landed on his head and shoulders. And then he’d trudge in, sadder than when he left.

And so I do the same, not really understanding why, but doing it because that’s what he does.

Me: Thanks hon.
Her: Sure.


We did manage to go out to celebrate our three year anniversary though and went to a local joint around the way.

It struck me that I had so many milestones all grouped up recently; a birth, a death, and an anniversary.

Me: Hard to believe it’s been three years already.
Her: Three years? It feels like a lifetime.
Me: …hey!


Location: at my desk again
Mood: pensive
Music: when we were young things seemed so perfect, you know?
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Grateful for my adversaries

The Cartoon with Ralph and Sam, the Coyote and Sheepdog

A Great First Date is finally out on Amazon!

It came out Friday and I was going to write a post on it, but work got in the way. In any case, now it’s available on all platforms including Barnes & Noble Nook, and Apple iBooks.

If you like this blog, you’ll probably like the book as it’s essentially one long entry about one narrow topic. More on this later.

Me: You just elbowed me in the head!
Him: You just slapped me.

Was telling someone recently about this Warner Brothers cartoon I used to watch as a kid where there was this sheepdog named Sam and a coyote named Ralph.

Evidently, they’re not just friends and roommates but also co-workers. What makes the cartoon interesting is that between the hours of 9 to 5, they are mortal enemies – each trying to outwit, and even kill the other. But once the bell rings to signal the end of the day, they put their differences aside and go home.

I have a regular training partner when I wrassle and we’re pretty good friends. But the moment we hit the mat, we each expect the other to bring his best, which means a lot of relatively controlled violence.

Then the bell rings and we go home.

I’m grateful for my adversaries in life; the ones I count as friends and the ones that I don’t.

They make me anti-fragile.

And these days, I find that I need that more and more.

Him: Oh man, what have you been eating, you weigh a ton.
Me: Chili, what else?

Location: at the end of several deadlines
Mood: hopeful
Music: be brave with what you want to say
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The broken and the baked

A tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards, broken things, and deep fried foods


Headed out to Queens yesterday to see another doctor.

Ended up grabbing lunch with my brother, who’s in town for the week. The thing about the two of us, and my sister, is that we have pretty strong stomachs, which I think is direct result of us growing up poor. My parents tried their best to give us a rounded diet but we essentially ate anything we could get our hands on.

Him: (picking at fish) This is terrible. Do you want to try it?
Me: No! (thinking) On second thought…

There’re all these dishes that are the result of poor people taking scraps and making something amazing out of them: oxtail soup, collard greens, liverwurst, broiled bone marrow, and fried rotten tofu (as seen above).

People are no different from the food they make.

In Game of Thrones, Tyrion Lannister says, I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards and broken things.

I think I’m similar, for similar reasons.

Some of the most broken things in the world aren’t easily seen as such. A good tailored suit can cover up almost anything.

But I suppose that if you had some device that could look and see what we look like on the inside, I’d be a patchwork of duct tape, splints, and glue. All baked in steady childhood of beans, canned tuna, caned ham, white rice, and slightly stale bread.

I have a tender spot for those of people patched together and baked in a similar way.

My brother’s a doctor and I’m a lawyer, but there are few things that give us as much simple pleasure as eating at a local dive.

If I meet people like us in the world, I’ll ask if they want to grab a $5 meal at the local dive around the way.

And if they’re members of my tribe, they’ll have no problem sitting down to a meal complete with plastic forks and sticky condiment bottles.

Me: We probably shouldn’t have eaten all that.
Him: Yep. (standing up) I’m going to get some caffeine.
Me: Good call.

Location: snowed in again
Mood: full
Music: I can’t be free from all of the things that I used to be
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We’re titanium

Riddle me this


A riddle from Good Riddles Now:

Something all men have,
but all men deny.
Man created it,
but no man can hold it.

What is it? – the answer here.

On that note, last week was quite possibly one of the worst weeks of my life. And I’ve had some bad weeks. Got two separate calls for two separate issues; one was horrible, the other merely terrible.

Call 1
Her: It’s the doctor.
Me: S___t.

Call 2
Him: So it’s not good, it’s not any worse than we thought, but it’s still not good.
Me: Let me sit down.

But at some point, you just get tired of being sad/anxious.

So my brother went out to drink, and my wife and I went out to dinner around the way. We sat next to an actress we’d seen a few times on television who was very friendly (good) and very loud (bad).

Afterward, my wife and I took a short walk around our neighborhood.

She also made me some oatmeal cookies, so that’s a plus.

Finally got to have some rum again, too.

Me: We’ll be ok.
Her: We’re titanium, Logan. We’re frick’n titanium.

Location: -3 hrs, shoveling the walk
Mood: deflated
Music: Shoot me down, but I get up
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Gradually, then suddenly

Hemingway summed up the human existence in three words


Went to the doctor’s again this weekend. Not for me but it was just as stressful.

The thing with life is that you expect everything to happen to someone else. Injuries, disease, general misfortune, etc., these are things that happen to other people and not you.

And when it actually does happen to you, you think, What the … ?

Ernest Hemingway had a character in The Sun Also Rises that was asked how he became bankrupt.

“Gradually, then suddenly,” he replied.

And that’s why Hemingway was a brilliant writer. Because in three words, he summed up the totality of human existence.

You live your quiet, banal, little life when suddenly:

Or whatever personal little hell you have to deal with.  And you have to drop everything to deal with it.

And there’s not much else to do but deal with it. Some days you deal with it better than others.

Him: How’re doing?
Me: Well, I broke down crying like a 10-year-old girl on the 7 train the other day; which I don’t recommend. Because of a whole other list of craziness, I haven’t had a drink for 45 days and won’t be able to until next week – when I’m gonna drink the CRAP outta my rum stash. And my insomnia is kicking up so I slept one hour last night. But besides that, not too bad. You?

However, there’s hope.

Because joy also inevitably comes.

And it comes just as unexpectedly and just as suddenly. And so I wait for it.

For the time being, without my rum, but still…

———-

Did get a tiny piece of good news last week, which is that a Facebook Fan site I created for A Great First Date hit over 1,000 likes in less than ten days.

Take a look and maybe hit that LIKE button yourself.


Location: an hour ago, in front of a large needle
Mood: anxious
Music: Someday all this mess will make me laugh, I can’t wait, I can’t wait, I can’t wait
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