Tag: discussion

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personal

Nuthin like it was for someone else

You pay to be left alone

Her: Hey, are you free to join some work colleagues for dinner?
Me: Sure – where and when?

The Firecracker had a fancy work dinner to attend, so I gave her some suggestions, including the really nice restaurant that I took her to on our first proper dinner date years ago.

She booked a reservation but then one person couldn’t make it, so I showed up in his stead.

It’s funny because someone mentioned on the Firecracker’s social media why we would want to eat in an empty restaurant, and we talked about that exact topic that night.

Me: (to the guests) The thing about living in NYC is that when you pay a ridiculous amount of money in a restaurant for food, you’re really paying for people to not be on top of you.
Firecracker: Yeah, most places are crowded and loud. You pay for space and quiet.

In any case, I got my usual burger…

…and a drink.

Afterward, I gave some of them – who were in town visiting – a tour of the St. Marks area.

Along the way, we walked by some old haunts of mine, including:

Spent most nights there with my friends Francis and Rain but that’s a story for another day.

We ended up at Criff Dogs…

…and Please Don’t Tell, the speakeasy that we didn’t make it into last time and actually made it in this time.

I may or may not have ordered some hot dogs.

Firecracker: I swear to god, he has a wooden leg.
Me: I’m a growing boy.

Afterwards, we all went our respective ways but I actually, sent Rain a shot of Cafe Orlin/Marlou Bistro…

…and his response was typically him.

Without telling his story, I think part of the reason he left New York was that the New York that he loved left him.

I think that’s why a lotta people leave this place.

There’s almost nuthin left of the New York City that I once knew.

But that’s ok for me.

Because I gotta figure that the New York City that I knew is nuthin like it was for someone else who came before me.

And it’s time for someone else to have their New York City.

Me: I miss the kid.
Her: He’ll be back this weekend.
Me: (nodding)

Location: 10AM, shooting a shirtless video for Scenic Fights and then eating $58 worth of carbs immediately afterward
Mood: so. so. so. so. full.
Music: In New York, you can be a new man (Spotify)
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The humblest, even

Two sets of friends

Despite my loving French onion soup – which is definitely in my top five soups – I only recently discovered that the Firecracker never had any.

Me: You never had any?!
Her: Why do you do that, Logan? You ask me something, I answer, and you are always shocked at my answer.
Me: Because I’m always shocked at your answer!

Realizing this, I spent a little too much time trying to find a joint around me that made some, to no avail.

So, I figured since I couldn’t find it for her, decided to try making some.

Me: Well? Whaddoyou think?
Her: OMG, this is so good!
Me: Yeah, you seriously hit the jackpot with me – easy on the eyes AND I can cook, too.
Her: (rolls eyes) And so humble.
Me: The humblest, even.

Been home more lately just because my back has just been killing me.

That, plus some idiot at my gym torqued my ankle with a hyper-aggressive lock and probably tore some part of my instep.

I don’t recommend it.

I’ve noticed that for years decades, really, I’ve had two sets of friends:

    • The injured
    • The uninjured

At any given moment I will have (most of which are because I’m clumsy):

    • A herniated disk
    • A broken finger (I’ve broken seven outta ten)
    • A cracked rib (3x)
    • A torn shoulder
    • A hyperextended elbow (20+x)
    • A sprained ankle (20+x)
    • A broken tooth (6x)
    • A broken toe (2x)
    • A torn knee
    • A ripped lip
    • A cracked jaw

Considering that X percentage of my friends fight regularly and Y percentage don’t, this makes sense.

Yet, recently, I’ve been slowly realizing that I have almost no uninjured friends left.

It’s not so much that I’ve got more fighter friends, it’s that age is breaking down the bodies of my non-fighter friends.

And yet, I also see that they deal with these injuries very differently.

Most of my fighter friends are more what I might term “bummed” that they’re injured while my non-fighter friends seem more upset that they’re dealing with this sorta thing.

Anywho, merely an observation.

Him: Logan! How have you been?
Me: Still topside and breathing, although my back is crap.
Him: Don’t even get me started on my back. Oh, and I ate a nasty wrist lock the other day.
Me: Yeah, this idiot at my gym…

Location: hanging with Buckley et al a little north of here
Mood: ex-haus-ted
Music: Baby, I’m cookin’ with gas (Spotify)
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Tribute

Its name is *not* “Bear”

Him: What is it, papa?
Me: You tell me.
Him: It’s a bear! A little bear.
Me: Actually…


A song I’ve always enjoyed was Tribute by Tenacious D.

If you don’t know the conceit of the song, essentially the lyrics tell a story about the band meeting a demon that demands that the two play the best song in the world—or risk losing their souls.

So, Tenacious D improvises a tune that is so good that – miraculously – the demon’s defeated.

Unfortunately, however, they later forget how it went, leaving only a pale shadow memory of that legendary performance, which they call Tribute as it’s merely a tribute to a much better song.

Now, did you know that the word “bear” isn’t the word for the animal?

The animals we call “bears,” were such a horror to Europeans, they would never say the actual name of the animal, only calling it names like “The Honey Eater,” “The Destroyer,” or – and I love this – “The Brown One,” or…”Bear.”

And guess what they never wrote down?

The actual name of the animal they called, “The Brown One,” out of fear that it would be summoned when it heard its name.

So, when you call something a “bear,” you’re not actually calling it the name that those people who coined the word actually called the animal, you’re calling it the codeword of that name.

It’s a tribute to the actual name of the animal.

My point is that there are so many things that we think we know that aren’t actually what we think they are, like penguins and bananas.

Her: Your son was really nice to my daughter, tell him thanks. You and your wife are doing a great job raising him.
Me: Oh, that…she’s my fiance. My wife died not soon after he was born.
Her: (shocked) Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I…
Me: (interrupting) It’s ok. We don’t need to dwell on it.

I think I’m doing an ok job raising the kid mainly on my own, with help from my family, Alison’s family, and the Firecracker.

But, in the end, how I’m able to raise him is all just a tribute to the life he coulda had if things were different and Alison and my dad were still here.

It’s not the actual life I wanted for him but – if he’s a good, happy, and healthy kid – I think it’ll be good enough.

Well, that’s the hope, anywho.

His life is my tribute to her and my dad.

So, here’s hoping it’s an amazing one.

Location: my kitchen, quickly cooking dinner so I can get back to work
Mood: like college-finals-level busy
Music: You gotta believe it – and I wish you were there! (Spotify)
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Witty Staircases

L’esprit de l’escalier

I pride myself on being able to say the occasional witty retort.

Like when I was arguing politics with someone…

Him: You know, you should just admit that he has some good points.
Me: Well, then we’d both be wrong.

…or when I was dating this super clumsy girl who was essentially battering me every time we got together.

Her: When you are a klutz, you get hurt. When I’m a klutz, you get hurt.
Me: Have you considered *not* assaulting me.
Her: No.
Me: Well, at least you’re consistent.

But there are plenty of times where I think of the perfect thing to say waaaaaay after the fact.

The French call that L’esprit de l’escalier or staircase wit.

It was coined by an 18th-century French philosopher, who described the phenomenon as thinking of the perfect comeback or response only after the moment has passed, like when you’re walking away, down a staircase – hence the name.

Case-in-point, I recently, I had a conversation with the Firecracker.

Her: Can you put the cantaloupe away?
Me: It has to ripen.
Her: Put it in a cabinet.
Me: You want me to put a cantaloupe into a cabinet?
Her: (slowly nods)

What I shoulda said was: Well, I can’t…ya dope.

I would never call her a dope, but it sounded funny

Or when we were discussing heading to Boston.

Her: They have a really good transit system, we won’t need a car.
Me: I thought you said it was really old?
Her: It is, but it’s still reliable. Like you – old but reliable.
Me: Blargh.

What I shoulda said was: Joke’s on you – I’m both old AND unreliable.

Or the time I made a comment about her dancing.

Me: Are you having a seizure?
Her: Aw, just get a few drinks in you and you’ll think I’m doing a great job.
Me: Tenuous.

What I shoulda said was: Define: “A few,” and “great.”

But I tease her because she is so great, so I have to take her down a peg or two from time-to-time.

Which brings me to my old friend Katsmw, and something a bit related to l’esprit de l’escalier.

Well, kinda.

I just forgot to mention two funny little things in my last entry that she pointed out after the fact.

See, Katsmw was at the last Memorial Day with us and noted that I forgot to mention that Cappy, Gar, and Duck taught her how to play the card game, 鋤大弟 (pronounced chor dai di).

Man, we used to play that game for hours; there was one time that I played it with Bobby and the fellas through the night until it was dawn.

In any case, the Firecracker won the first hand she ever played.

Then, she won the second one as well, something that amused Katsmw no end.
Should also mention that she reminded me that she had this following conversation with my son.

Her: Are you sure you want to go back into the pool? It’s cold today!
Him: It’s fine. I run hot.

The boy knows how to turn a phrase, that’s for sure.

Hopefully, he’ll keep his comedic timing as he gets older.

Location: a terrace in my building, watching the workmen do their thing
Mood: still sore (shoulder)
Music: Dur dur d’être bébé (Spotify)
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Showerheads and Siblings

Main Character Syndrome

Reading about the psychopath that blew up the IVF center in California gave me so many mixed emotions, least of which this asshole decided his opinion of the world trumped everyone else’s opinion of the world.

I don’t get how people think it’s ok, or even reasonable, to force their worldviews on others.

Like, that’s the ultimate in main character syndrome I can imagine.

But I digress.

Perfect Circles dropped me a line recently.

Her: Pregnant again! Number three joining us in August. Plainly we’ve lost our minds but it just felt like the gang wasn’t all here yet.
Me: That’s amazing, congrats!! Oh man, that was my dream, to have three kids. Alison only ever wanted to have two. Sigh.

Told her that I was thrilled for her, which is true.

But then that got me thinking: I’ve got a few embryos out in the world that I’m still struggling to figure out what to do with.

I’ve always wanted another child but that doesn’t appear to be in the cards.

In any case, one idea was to donate them to couples in need – ie, a couple that can’t produce a child on their own.

I seriously considered it in the past, but there’s an interesting phenomenon where people that are biologically related – a fact that they often don’t know initially – find each other and fall in love.

There’re a buncha stories like this:

    • Reddit reported revealed that a woman found out her six-year relationship with her boyfriend was really a six-year relationship with her biological brother after taking a DNA.
    • A Mississippi couple found out that – not only were they brother and sister – they were also twins!
    • A lesbian couple have suspicions that they might be half-siblings but plan on remaining a couple.
    • A couple from Brazil – with a six-year-old child – found out that they were actually brother and sister, both of whom were abandoned by their mother as children. The kicker is that they found this out together and live on the radio.

It’s not hard to see how they might fall in love; after all, we’re equal parts nature and nurture.

In fact, you can see how a hypothetical conversation might go:

Him: I love 80s music.
Her: Me too, my favourite band is Duran Duran.
Him: OMG, me too! I went to their last concert in London back in 2022.
Her: Wait, I was there too!

I’d read about this phenomenon ages ago but I was recently reminded of it when I visited my sister the other day.

I never told her that I fixed my bathroom but when I went to use her newly renovated bathroom, I found out that:

We both picked the same shower head – in the same colour to boot!

The one on the left is my sisters and mine is on the right. They’re the same colour – it’s just the lighting that makes it look different.

AND we picked the exact same tiles!

These are hers…

…and these are mine.

Again, we both did our bathrooms without discussing it with the other.

Anywho, yeah, I don’t think I’ll give those embryos away…

Location: the wet rain
Mood: brrrrrrr
Music: Tell me all the things that you like (Spotify)
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Glazed with rain

They were delicious

Speaking of poems, the Firecracker and I discussed our favourite ones, and we discovered something…

Her: My favorite poem is, This Is Just To Say.
Me: Mine is Red Wheelbarrow by William Carlos Williams.
Her: That’s who wrote This is Just To Say!
Me: What a coincidence!

You would be surprised at the regularity that she and I have exchanges like that – a “Wait, me too” kinda moment.

And I told you once that that’s the basis of all good relationships, romantic or otherwise – a shared sense of the world.

And we still share things in the world.

Me: What would you do there?
Her: At Arizona Tom’s? Two step with older guys so they’d buy me a drink.
Me: Kinda like what you’re doing now?
Her: Nothing’s changed.

Poetry aside, it’s not like the Firecracker and I see eye-to-eye on everything, English related…

Me: I think the next thing they’ll try to get rid of will be Alcohol, Tobacco, and Fire…
Her: Wait, did you just say “Ta-bock-oh?” Like “Chewbacca?”
Me: What?
Her: You just said, Alcohol, Ta-bock-oh, and Firearms. It’s Alcohol, Tuh-back-oh, and Firearms.
Me: Well, that’s just ridiculous.

 

This Is Just To Say
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

The Red Wheelbarrow
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens

 

Location: home, worried about the weekend
Mood: concerned
Music: I got sunshine even when it’s pouring rain (Spotify)
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I was born before…

…a lot of major historical events

With the warming weather, the Firecracker and I hit up TikiChick for drinks and their killer chix sammies recently but the place was packed, so we just ordered three chix to go.

We went to another of our fave dive bars, Jake’s Dilemma, and realized they only gave us two, so I had to head back to get the missing one.

The lady there was so apologetic that she gave us three freshly made ones that were hot, so we had five total.

I may or may not have eaten alla them.

Told the kid recently that I was born before Google. He was floored.

So, that got the Firecracker and me to talking.

Me: I was born before all websites.
Her: I was born before mp3s.
Me: I was born before the Metrocard.
Her: I was born before streaming shows
Me: I was born before flat screen TVs.
Her: I was born before mobile phones.
Me: I was born before the Russian Federation.
Her: I was born before The Backstreet Boys.
Me: I was born before the third brakelight was a thing, man that was stupidly controversial as a kid.
Her: I was born before wifi.
Me: I was born before the Euro.
Her: I was born before the Czech Republic.
Me: I was born before the UFC.
Her: I was born before the Berlin Wall fell.
Me: I was born before the Challenger explosion.
Her: Oh, I was not!

The above is the first commercial for a flat-screen TV.

I believe that it’s at least $20,000 if adjusted for today’s dollars.

It was released in 1998, when I was still working at Cnet and I remember (a) this commercial and (b) speaking to LG about their plans to make their own flat screen TVs.

Crazy, alla these things were years/decades ago, and yet, they feel like just a few years ago to me.

Me: I was born before Diet Coke.
Her: WHAT?! When did it come out?
Me: Early 80s? The only real option before that was Tab. (thinking) Wait, *THAT’S* where you draw the line at my age?!
Her: (shakes head) I cannot believe you’re so old…

Not my pic – this is the original can of diet coke that someone is trying to sell for $425.

Location: home, with an impromptu kid’s pizza party
Mood: achy
Music: I know we’ve changed but change can be so good (Spotify)
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There’s no limit to skill or knowledge

Zero is plural

Me: Is zero singular or plural?
Him: I dunno.
Me: Use it in a sentence.
Him: “There are zero apples.” (thinking) Plural?
Me: Yes. All whole numbers are plural except for one – negative one is also plural, which is weird but here we are.

I spend a lotta time in my head, mainly because that’s where I’m the most comfortable.

Family aside, my entire childhood was essentially spent alone. Grade school, middle school, high school, etc.

College was different, though, which I found odd but nice.

I had a lotta friends, several close ones, and yet, I spent most of my time either at a girlfriend’s or by myself in the city when I’d come down by myself.

You get used to things.

Was chatting with Rain the other day and we both commented how similar we are when it comes to enjoying our solitude.

We’re good with people; we just choose not to interact with them unless there’s a good reason.

My son is different.

He not only doesn’t like to be alone, he craves human interaction.

I wonder if that will make his life better, worse, or just different.

The hope is for him to be happy and productive, whatever either of those two things mean to him.

In my younger years, being alone was hell.

But now that I’m older, I think being with random people is hell.

The more news I read, the more I think I want to just stay home with the Firecracker and the kid and never walk out the door.

Him: Why do I need to learn all this?
Me: Because there’s a limit to strength, power, or money. There’s no limit to skill or knowledge. You can always make yourself a little smarter every day.
Him: But why?
Me: Because it’ll mean that you can always be better tomorrow than you were today. That’s a powerful thing.

Location: my back bathroom, wondering if green tile is the way to go
Mood: slightly nauseated from too much cheese
Music: Should I try to do some more? Twenty-five or six to four (Spotify)
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Meathearts

Hearts, but not the chicken kind

Me: Has there ever been a thing I’ve made that you truly disliked?
Her: The chicken hearts.
Me: Was it the flavor, the consistency, or the general thought of them?
Her: Yes

Had to pick something up from someone in my nabe the other day and I laughed when I got to her door.

I live on the upper level of a small building and I’m always telling people to go UPSTAIRS and not DOWNSTAIRS to deliver or pick up anything.

Nine times outta 10, they’ll ignore or miss that information, and I’ll have to come to outside to get them from the downstairs area.

I’m guessing that this lady had something similar with people ringing the wrong doorbell.

The Firecracker is getting used to being with someone that enjoys cooking.

We have this arrangement, similar to mine with Alison, where one person cooks and the other cleans.

It’s been working out well.

Made her some Chinese tomatoes and eggs the other day and she was skeptical, but she and the kids loved it.

On that note, I’ve been watching this channel called Made by Lau, which I use to supplement the recipes that my mom and dad taught me.

Like all home cooks, my parents never had any recipes – they just knew how to make dishes, so the website gives me better measurements and ideas for changes.

Speaking of food, I forgot to mention that the Firecracker got me a heart-shaped box for St. Valentine’s Day last month.

Except – like the previous year – it was fulla dried meats.

Man, that girl knows me so well…

Location: the kitchen, making some killer ribs with her
Mood: stuffed and content
Music: There might be a part of me that I won’t let you keep (Spotify)
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Where’s my flying car?

A Skybridge to Nowhere

Him: What is that?
Me: That’s a skybridge. When I was a kid, people thought that – by 2025 – we’d all have flying cars so they would build these bridges between buildings so people could get around easier if we were all flying around. There are still a few left in NYC.

The kid noticed the below skybridge one late night when we were out with the Firecracker just outside Penn Station.

Now we’re on a quest to visit some of them if we can.

From ScoutingNY

Learned how to speed read around middle school.

I’d already read pretty quickly but I read something once that said that the simplest way to speed read is to read with your finger, but for a peculiar reason.

Take the sentence:

The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.

Most people don’t read it like that, they read it like this:

The quick quick brown fox fox jumped jumped over the the lazy dog dog.

They go back at least one word, sometimes two.

You probably do it too. Try it.

Just read a sentence with your finger and force your finger to constantly move forward.

At first, it’s a bit disconcerting but you get used to it after a few weeks.

That alone should increase your reading speed, significantly.

Nowadays, I probably read normally around 650 words a minute with full comprehension and as much as 750 if I really focus.

Now, I’m not telling you this to brag but to say that I was sitting bed one day watching this clip of Bill Barr commenting on meeting flat earthers.

It allowed me to finally answer the question: Where’s my flying car?

By Mr.choppers – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=152037030

See, I assumed that, by now, I’d be flying around in my car. Instead, we got this monstrosity.

What happened?

I think that humans take two steps forward and one step back.

Constantly.

Like we got rid of the measles.

Because most people have no memories of just how horrific the measles were.

Then fucking morons like RFK Jr come along and say that measles aren’t a big deal because they have no fucking clue.

Then a lotta people die.

Then we gotta figure out the measles again.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

The Arabs were once some of the most brilliant people on the planet, giving us algebra (al-jabr) and the House of Wisdom, among other things.

Then religious zealots took over and burned books and so much knowledge was lost.

Although, to be fair, this happened everywhere: China, England, Nazi Germany, even right here in the good ole US of A.

The US even had one just last year.

That’s why people, particularly the willfully ignorant ones, are such a disappointment to me.

There’s no end to stupid people doing stupid things and other stupid people cheering them on.

Him: Why don’t we have any flying cars, papa?
Me: Because there are so many stupid people in the world, kid. For every two steps forward, we make as a society, we take one step backward.
Him: Awww…a flying car would be cool.
Me: It really would be.

As I was writing this entry, this article just came out about almost all Tesla Cybertrucks needing to be recalled.

You cannot make this stuff up.

Location: The sunny upper west side
Mood: disappointed
Music: Boy, I don’t understand (Spotify)
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