Tag: discussion

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personal

Writing from the future

…and you’re doing ok

The kid’s trying out for another talent show this year – I think he’ll make it, but you never know.

He’s already got a song picked out, which is a rock classic; I’ll post it after he does the show if he makes it in.

I try to show him all the songs that were meaningful to me when I was a kid because I think those songs stay with you in special ways.

A more modern song that I’ve been listening to is one called Dear Me by a fella named Eric Hutchinson.

I think I’ll play it for the kid one of these days, soon.

Whenever I hear it, I think of alla these different versions of me that are as real and immediate to me as if I were still them.

That’s a whole entry in-and-of-itself.

In the meantime, here’s the song, give it a go?

Dear me, you’ll be older one day
I’m writing from the future and you’re doing ok
I said now, dear me, hold on to what you’ve got
Things are gonna change, but change is better than you thought
Dear me
I know you’re scared as hell of everything right now
But don’t get lost and where you’re going
Dear me
You’re gonna fall in love with the girl that you live next door to
And you have no real way of knowing
You don’t know who you are
You don’t know who you are
You don’t know who you are
But I know you’re trying
You don’t know who you are
You don’t know who you are
You don’t know who you are
But you’re multiplying
Dear me, you’ll be older one day
I’m writing from the future and you’re doing ok
I said now dear me, hold on to what you’ve got
Things are gonna change, but change is better than you thought
Said you gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
You gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
Dear me
Don’t keep people in your life that treat you like crap
And don’t lose sleep over them either
Dear me
Never give up on the good that rests inside of you
And don’t believe the non-believers
You gonna make mistakes
You gonna make mistakes
You gonna make mistakes
But they will fall behind you
You gonna make mistakes
You gonna make mistakes
You gonna make mistakes
But they won’t define you
Dear me, you’ll be older one day
I’m writing from the future and you’re doing ok
I said now dear me, hold on to what you’ve got
Things are gonna change but change is better than you thought
Said you gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
You gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
Take care of family and the ones you love
Put all your energy into human stuff
Staying young is hard to do
So, when life’s getting serious just don’t take it so serious.
I said dear me, hold on to what you’ve got
Things are gonna change but change is better than you thought
Said you gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
You gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
Keep growing up, but don’t get old
Take care of what you can’t control
Respect the heart that you’re gonna break
Forgive mistakes that you will make
If I were you I would not care
But some old messes to beware
So you probably won’t listen to a word I say
You probably won’t listen to a word I say
You probably won’t listen to a word I say
You’re doing ok
Dear me.

Location: home, chatting with the Firecracker who’s stuck at the airport
Mood: nostalgic
Music: get yourself together (Spotify)
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personal

A new daily driver

Nuthin but steel and oil

Steel and the Surgeon, since at least the late 90s, have turned to me for advice on all things tech.

But when it comes to food, I generally speak to Steel first, then Bryson and Pac, although I mainly hit up Bryson for Japanese food tips and Pac for Korean.

Now, when Alison first got sick, one of the first things I did was to toss/donate alla our Teflon cookware and replace it was “safer” ceramic cookware.

It’s dented on one side, but no metal utensil has ever touched it so it’s remarkably slick/non-stick. I’m loathe to toss it.

The above is a “safe” ceramic pan and was the pan I pretty much used daily for just about everything since Alison got sick.

It’s slicker than a greased pig running downhill BUT I still don’t trust it completely, despite it being ceramic.

Now, the last time I was at Steel’s he showed me his daily driver – a seasoned carbon steel pan.

20 years ago, I had an old cast iron pan that I loved and lent to Rain for our Bachelor Cooking series.

That was the last time I ever saw it.

A few years later, I picked up these two enameled cast iron pans and generally use those for steaks and burgers.

They are buttery smooth to cook with – I’m exceedingly proud of the season that I’ve gotten on then.

Look at that black glossy sheen on these pans – they are incredibly non-stick.

But I was intrigued with Steel’s super lightweight carbon steel pan.

Me: How do I use it?
Him: (shrugging) Just like cast-iron. You wash it after every use with salt and hot water, apply some oil, wipe it down, and put it away.

The idea of using a pan that’s naturally non-stick, but doesn’t weigh a ton like my cast-iron, really got me.

I just cooked eggs with it so excuse the messy stove.

To this end, I picked up my own lightweight carbon steel pan and have been using that regularly.

The above is what it looked like day 1 after I cooked once with it and then gave it a quick scrub.

And below is after at least six-seasonings and daily cooking; I’m proud to say that it’s pretty much the same level of non-stick as my original daily driver, above.

Because it’s carbon steel and not cast iron, it’s far less porous than cast iron and I can’t seem to get the seasoning to look even like it does on the cast iron.

But, looks aside, it’s just as non-stick as my old regular cooking pan and I know that there’s nuthin there but steel and oil.

What I love the most about it is that it should last forever and I can give it to the kid someday.

Here’s hoping he’ll be as nerdy about these kinda things as I am.

Her: …guess his name!
Me: I don’t think…
Her: It’s the best name for a chef. Are you ready? His name was…Chef…Bacon!
Me: (amused) That is a good name. The next best name? Chef Cured Meats.
Her: Or Chef Spiral Ham?
Me: We can stop this now.
Her: (claps and rubs hands together) I’m just getting started.

OK, maybe I shouldn’t hope for that.

Location: W 72nd and Broadway, watching the kid cross the street by himself
Mood: super anxious
Music: My sugar’s the sweetest around. (Spotify)
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Not everybody

Two good samaratins pulling a guy off the tracks at Times Square the other day.

Joan Murray survived a 14,500 Foot Fall

Last year, I saw a guy fall into the tracks at Times Square.

Two fellas immediately hopped into the tracks to save him, which I thought was pretty admirable.

But whenever I see something like that, I think of an old joke that goes something like this:

A songbird was flying one winter day when it got so cold that he dropped right outta the clear blue sky onto a farm.

The bird lay there helpless and injured until a horse walked by and, not noticing the small bird, dropped a huge steaming pile of hot poop on him.

The poop, however, was warm and made the bird feel much better – so much better, in fact, that he started to sing. But then a cat heard him sing, found him, and dug him out.

The bird was happy to be outta the poop, but the cat didn’t give him a chance to thank him because the cat gobbled him up and went on with his day.

There are three (shitty) morals to his story:

    1. Not everybody who shits on you is your enemy.
    2. Not everybody who digs you outta shit is your friend.
    3. When you’re in deep shit, shut up.
This is a picture of when a bird pooped on the Firecracker – which happens with alarming regularity.

Now, there’s actually a real life version of this joke about a woman named Joan Murray who survived a 14,500 foot fall, which is almost three miles of free fall straight down.

See, she was sky diving and BOTH her parachutes failed.

Normally, this would be just a death sentence, but she ended up crashing into a huge ant hill – but not just any ant hill, a fire ant anthill.

If you don’t know what a fire ant is, it’s a venomous ant that can these intensely painful stings.

Normally, if you fell onto a fire ant hill, that would be at the very least, an incredibly painful experience – most likely you’d end up in the hospital.

In Joan’s case, however, the softness of the mound coupled with the intense pain of the venom kept her alive with the former softening her impact and the latter keeping her heart beating.

She ended up in a coma with shattered bones on the right side of her body and a few lost teeth, which required 20 reconstructive surgeries, 17 blood transfusions, a metal rod into her right leg, and 5-inch spikes grafted onto into her pelvis.

But she survived.

And she survived precisely because these fire ants were trying to kill her.

Joan actually died in 2022, 23 years after her accident, of cancer (unfortunately – fucking cancer…) with nary a parachute nor fire ant in sight.

(c) Unilad

I’m telling you this story because I see how the kid sees the world: In simple terms of black and white.

Children and the stupid see things so simply binary.

It’s difficult for me to figure out how to explain these subtle nuances in the world, especially in light of world events, to him and, well, generally stupid people, who are uncomfortable with grey.

Soupy grey is never appealing, but it’s still more realistic than stark black-and-white.

Him: If Donald Trump lies all the time, how did he become president?
Me: (whistling) Hoo-boy. That’s gonna take a little while to explain. Not now though.

Location: downright balmy 40+ degree NYC
Mood: not completely frozen
Music: it’s your heart, it’s alive, it’s pumping blood (Spotify)
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Sticking, for some reason

The algorithm I came up with

Did you know that Mark Twain was instrumental in the creation of the bra?

Or that Charles Darwin invented the office chair?

Or that Brian May, the guitarist and co-founder of Queen, is also a celebrated astrophysics that helped NASA land a rocket on an asteroid?

People that reach high levels of achievement in disparate fields have always fascinated me, with my personal hero being Hedy Lamarr.

The question is whether this kinda thing can be taught. Like, can a parent teach someone to be successful in many areas?

Long before the kid came into existence, I was trying to figure this out for whatever kid I might eventually have.

The algorithm that I came up with:

Lifetime curiosity + the ability to properly research + discipline = success in various fields

Because, at least for me, I try to keep my childhood curiosity alive.

With the internet and all the tools out there for research, it’s a lot easier than it used to be to find out information – although separating the wheat from the chaff is more difficult than ever what with the sheer amount of information out there.

Have no idea if this is correct, or if it’ll work with everyone, but I believe hope it will.

Suppose only time will tell.

Me: Try it. Nothing beats beets.
Him: I don’t like beets.
Me: Well, if you like candy and cake, you should like beets.
Him: What? Why?
Me: Well, most American sugar comes from beets.
Her: Is that true? How do you know all this stuff?
Me: (shrugging) I always wonder things. So, then I look it up and a shocking amount of it sticks in my head for some reason.

Location: home, trying to make sense of things
Mood: annoyed
Music: suddenly I see why the hell it means so much to me (Spotify)
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Election Day 2024 – It’s a Nailbiter

Alcohol helps

No real entry today, folks.

This whole election is a nail-biter.

I honestly cannot believe that it’s still this close between a highly educated career public servant and a lying, racist, misogynistic, whiney idiot.

It’s pretty hard to concentrate on anything else BUT the election tonight.

Thank goodness that I have the Firecracker to give me some distraction.

Her: I did pretty well in college; I only did poorly in one class.
Me: Which class?
Her: Music appreciation.
Me: Why don’t you appreciate music!?

I don’t think that she’s as easily entertained by me, however.

Alcohol is helping both of us, though.

Location: pasted to the TV
Mood: fulla carbs and cray anxious
Music: shit, I feel like Alice, woke up in a rabbit hole last night (Spotify)
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There are no penguins anymore

This is why we can’t have nice things

Considering that today was Halloween, have you ever had a “banana-flavoured,” candy and thought, “This tastes kinda like a banana but not really?”

There’s a reason for that.

Not a banana plant but I thought it looked nice. From this entry.

Years ago, I had some friends over and we were playing Scattergories and the category was: Birds that begin with the letter “G.”

Him: What the hell’s a “Great Auk?”
Me: It’s a large, flightless, extinct bird.
Him: You can’t just put “Great” in front of a bird and say it starts with, “G!”
Me: OK Google, what’s a Great Auk?
Machine: According to Wikipedia, “The great auk is a species of flightless alcid that became extinct in the mid-19th century. It was the only modern species in the genus Pinguinus.”
Him: OK, stop, stop. Just take it.

Remember that line: “…the only modern species in the genus Pinguinus.”

I’d meant to write an entry about that, but it slipped my mind.

Now, the Great Auk was a true penguin – it looked like this:

By Mike Pennington, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=13812423

I know what you’re thinking, “They kinda look like penguins.”

But that’s the opposite of the truth – the things we call penguins kinda look like them, the real penguins.

Those birds, the real penguins, completely died/were killed off some time in 1844.

A decade previously, around 1831, people started calling flightless birds in the Southern Hemisphere – far from the Northern Atlantic where the Great Auk was found – “penguins” because they kinda looked like the Great Auk.

But they weren’t actually penguins at all – again, the Great Auk was the “only modern species in the genus Pinguinus.”

Always found that so interesting: The birds we all call “penguins,” aren’t actually “penguins” at all but a completely different animal that we all assume are penguins now.

By Zwifree – I personally took this picture in my kitchen after buying approximately 30 Gros Michel Bananas.Previously published: I put it on my Facebook, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=70354204

Somewhat related, my parents (and probably yours as well) grew up with a banana that was the Gos Michel banana but those went commercially extinct by about the 1960s.

In their place was the Cavendish banana, which I, and probably you, grew up on.

The Cavendish tasted a lot different from the bananas they grew up on, the Big Mike.

And that’s why a lotta banana-flavoured things don’t taste exactly like a banana to us – because those flavours were developed to imitate the original Gros Michel and not the Cavendish.

On a completely unrelated point, the election is happening soon.

Growing up, I spent most of my young adult life voting Republican because I was always fiscally conservative whilst being socially liberal.

What I’m seeing these days is a complete takeover of what I grew up with.

The compassionate conservative, which I prided myself being, has been taken over completely by a woman-hating, “Christian,” anti-choice, subtlety racist, and otherwise hateful group that seems to be wholly different from what was once called the Republican party.

Just like the Greak Auk, and the Big Mike, I think that the current GOP has taken over so completely that no one remembers that the Republican party used to be substantially different and something wholly unrelated is now known as the Republican Party.

Oh, and the Cavendish banana may be going extinct too.

Really, this is why we can’t have nice things.

Location: a former Masonic temple
Mood: irritated but fulla carbs so, not terrible
Music: Hey, Marianna, you gotta no banana? (Spotify)
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Accidents, sciatica, herniated discs, and bird poop

Feet not toes

Her: Do you think you’re perfect, Logan?!
Me: Nah – I know I have a ton of flaws.
Her: I’m so glad you can admit when you’re wrong.
Me: Wait, no. I said I was flawed, very flawed, which I am. But I’m also usually right.
Her: (sighs, rolls eyes)

The Firecracker and I have had a pretty annoying string of luck lately.

About two or three months ago, I started doing something called Toes-To-Bar, which is pretty much exactly what it sounds like – you hang by your hands and bring your toes up to touch the bar.

It looks like this:

Except, I was doing it completely straight-legged.

Got up to as much as 15 of them before I ended up herniating a disc and it was either because of jits or, more likely, this exercise that led me to that injury.

Anywho, I let myself rest up over my cruise and came back feeling much better.

So much better that I did some toes-to-bar – just three.

Welp, that was a grave mistake.

Ended up not even being able to get outta bed the next morning.

Went to see the doc just in case it was something like cancer, though, because – with my luck – it’s not an impossibility.

Took 20 mins to get to the doc, who saw me and said, “You’re 51? And you spar and go to the gym five days a week with a herniated disc? Doesn’t sound like cancer, sounds like you have sciatica.”

The total exam took less than seven minutes.

In any case, never knew what that was and looked it up; sounded exactly like what I had.

Yay.

The Firecracker hasn’t been faring much better.

Her main mode of transportation around Manhattan is her trusty scooter – which died the other day.

So, she borrowed mine and promptly wiped out on it and had a whole bevy of minor and a-bit-more-than-minor-but-still-not-major, injuries.

To add insult to injury – pun intended – another pigeon promptly pooped on her injured arm.

Her: Cm’on!

I shouldn’t have laughed but I did.

And then a week later, a pigeon pooped on my head.

Me: This isn’t our best month.

Still, all things considered, it’s not all bad.

We’ll both probably be on our feet again – literally and figuratively – in the next few months.

The aftermath of the bird and her arm/wrist.

To be clear: Feet, not toes.

Me: What do you think about my doing toes-to-bar like this [with bent knees]?
Her: I think that’s a terrible idea, Logan.
Me: Thank you for your contribution.

Location: at home, doing my really boring PT and missing jits and kali
Mood: seven outta 10 pain so…grumpy
Music: where you go, that’s where I wanna be (Spotify)
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The most expensive grapefruit ever

It always pays to be prepared

Speaking of the law, I don’t often talk about the law (or martial arts) in this blog because it’s always supposed to be a personal blog, about my personal life.

But I’m always surprised how much my professional life/lives bleed into my personal one.

Case in point, the kid was punished for something he said he didn’t do.

So, I took time outta my day, gathered evidence, witnesses, etc, and appeared before the person accusing the kid of wrongdoing.

The issue happened at his school, not the gym, but I liked this shot of him doing his thing.

Was able to prove that he didn’t do what they accused him of, and he got an apology from an adult.

Him: But, Mr. Lo, I want to talk about your behaviour.
Me: (laughing) Wait, my behaviour?
Him: Yes. We had people there that said you were belligerent and abusive to my staff.
Me: Oh my! Well, good thing I have a recording of the entire episode – which I brought with me today. Here you go (hand him my phone).
Him: (takes my phone and then watches it) You recorded it?!
Me: (nodding) As you can see, I neither raised my voice a single time, nor did I attack your staff personally in any way with ad hominem attacks. I just told them they made a bad call, which we both agree is the truth.
Him: (after watching half) OK, I’ve seen enough. I’m glad you recorded it.
Me: Me too. I’ll send a copy to your email for your records.

And I did.

It always pays to be prepared, IMHO.

Unfortunately, you can’t prepare for everything.

OK, so one thing I read about my garbage disposal was to not put in very fibrous things – like woody stems and the like.

The other day, I had this HUUUUGE grapefruit and, without thinking, stuffed all the rinds and the interior skins down the disposal.

Ten minutes later, water came pouring outta my dishwasher.

Four days, one $80 brass elbow, one tube of plumber’s putty, two snakes, two bottles of drano, two general contractors, a professional plumber, and $1,100 later, I have a working sink again.

That was the most expensive goddamn grapefruit I’ve ever had in my life.

FTS.

I will say, though, that one good thing came out of this whole adventure, which is that the above is the pipe that leads into my wall.

You can see that it was so old – at least 40 years old – that the threads completely rusted off.

The plumber said it was wholly unrelated to the reason why he was there but that it was gonna snap off in the next year, what with alla the vibrations from the garbage disposal.

So, it was good he was there to catch it.

Oh, I bought a dashboard cam to record things as well.

Like I said, it pays to be prepared.

The people that shot the above video would agree with me, I think.

Location: in front of my disaster of a kitchen post plumber
Mood: poor
Music: I say hey, hey, hey, hey, F__ That S___ (Spotify)
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Thanks, Kymberly!

I’ve decided to be happy

Me: I just wanted to say thank you for working with me for this past year.
Therapist: Logan! You think we’ve only been talking for a year? You mentioned looking forward to your date with the Firecracker, and that was at least 20 months ago.
Me: I cannot be trusted with things related to time these days.

I had my first therapy session with my therapist, Kymberly, on 2021.06.03.

She was the third regular therapist I had but the one that I’ve seen the longest and most consistently.

That’s for a buncha reasons: On the practical side, my insurance covered alla it and I could do alla my sessions at home on Zoom.

On the personal side, I knew I needed to talk to a professional, but I suppose that I didn’t realize just how much I needed to talk to one.

The first few sessions were not great as I was pretty belligerent, but she stuck with me and I her.

As time passed, I began to notice that I was less angry – still angry, just less so.

Me: There’s this joke I heard once where a man says to the other, “What would you say if I gave you a million dollars but only on the condition that the person you hate most gets two million?” And the second man replies, “Of course, why wouldn’t I want three million dollars?”
Her: You hate yourself?
Me: More than anyone, sometimes. (thinking) It’s a good joke, though.

Chad once said he felt that I was clinging on to a wrong relationship with a death grip because I’d lost so much already and was loathe to lose anything else.

Think that was the most accurate and sage thing he ever said.

With the passage of time, and Kymberly’s help, I was able to accept my new reality, though.

Me: Losing Alison and my dad was a bit like losing a leg. I know I’ll never be complete again, and I’ll always remember the days when I had them both here as my happiest. I know I can be happy again, I just also know that it won’t be the same because I will never be the same.
Her: But this version of Logan can be happy, can’t he? Maybe not the same as before, different, but still good?
Me: I suppose that’s the hope.

Unfortunately, she’s moving to a different office and one that doesn’t take my insurance. So, we have to part ways, at least for now.

She was a good therapist – and I’m well enough now, a good deal thanks to her, that I’m not in a rush to replace her.

Thanks, doc.

I’m feeling much better now.

Her: I like that analogy of your losing a leg. But, I think you can be happy again. If you’re nicer to yourself.
Me: I’ll try. It’s not easy, but I’m gonna try. I’ll never be happy like I was when Alison and my dad were still alive. But…it’d be nice to be happy again.

Every so often, I’ll hear a song, and it’ll feel as if it was written just for me.

To wit, here’s a song called Decide to be Happy by a band called Misterwives.

There are several lines that I feel I’ve said here myself in some manner or another:

Been feelin’ like a stranger in my body.  I haven’t been myself in a while, I’m sorry.

Got to decide to be happy ‘Cause it don’t always come naturally.

I particularly really like this line:

I’ve been down on my knees, prayin’ things I don’t believe

…because I’ve been on my knees so much since you’ve known me.

You know what?

Here’s the whole song and alla the lyrics – it’s worth a listen, I think.

Music, it saved me
But it drives me crazy
‘Cause it forces my eyes, to take a look and see
Got to decide to be happy
‘Cause it don’t always come naturally
Been feelin’ like a stranger in my body
I haven’t been myself in a while, I’m sorry (I’m sorry)
Got to decide to be happy (happy)
‘Cause it don’t always come naturally

‘Cause flowers, don’t grow without the rain
And goodness, don’t grow without the pain
Flowers, don’t grow without the rain
Goodness, don’t grow without the pain

I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy

My mind, it can be a scary place at times
So I hide under my bed and close all the blinds
And I cry (and I cry)
And I cry (and I cry)
Waste the day away, so I turn on the lights
And I search for a sign or a rhyme or a reason
Why I’m unsteady as the seasons

‘Cause flowers, don’t grow without the rain
And goodness, don’t grow without the pain
Flowers, don’t grow without the rain
Goodness, don’t grow without the pain

I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy

If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands
If you’re sad and you know it, well now’s your chance to dance
If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands
If you’re sad and you know it, well now’s your chance to dance
Well now’s your chance to dance, now’s your chance to dance
(Now’s your chance to dance, now’s your chance to dance)

I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy

Location: not where you might expect; a tiny room with the kid practically on top of me
Mood: soooooooooo sick – you would not believe how sick I am
Music: I decide to be happy (Spotify)
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personal

Free advice seems to be worth it

There’s your answer

Me: I dunno, man.
Him: Well, what would you do here?
Me: (sighing) That’s the thing, I guess. She’s controlling you right now. If nuthin else, I wouldn’t allow that. I can’t allow myself to be controlled by another person unless I wanted to be controlled. And I don’t think you wanna be controlled, do you?

There’s this small coffee shop a few blocks south of me that I used to go to when I did my dry cleaning as my dry cleaner was just next door.

The coffeeshop was a tiny joint but my dry cleaners lost their lease (boo!) but that meant that the cafe could take over that space and expand (yay!).

Lately, I’ve been meeting people there for coffee and meetings since it’s so much nicer now.

Now, the reason I’ve been going there – besides occasional visits with neighbors and my buddy the Pastor – is because, for some reason, people keep asking me for advice.

Personally, I only like to give advice when I’m 100% sure about something.

Like, I tell people to try to drink as much green tea as possible because of all of its document health benefits.

Other things, though, I’m less certain of, ergo, I’m hesitant to offer any advice.

Like, there are no less than three people I know of that are going through divorces.

As a lawyer, I know little to nuthin about the topic, but I started doing some research to try and help them here and there.

I think it’s more dangerous to give advice when you have no idea what you’re talking about than to say, “Sorry, man, I don’t know anything about the topic, I wish I could help.”

But they’re in a pickle so I try to help however I can.

My old buddy Johnny – who got a divorce himself decades ago and took none of my advice – used to drive me crazy by always offering advice on topics he had zero background in.

He was probably my third wealthiest friend, so I think that wild success makes people think that they’re qualified to give advice in all fields rather than the one that they actually are qualified in.

That’s one of a million reasons I decided to stop being friends with him.

Getting back to my friends, some of them insist that I give them some opinion, so I do when pressed.

But I wonder if I’m truly helping or harming sometimes.

Then again, free advice is probably worth what you’re paying for it.

Him: Fuck no.
Me: (shrugging) Well, then there’s your answer then.

Location: this here coffeeshop
Mood: puzzled
Music: There’s a stain on my notebook where your coffee cup was (Spotify)
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