Tag: discussion

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personal

Can you hold this for me?

Location: my black chair in my pad
Mood: awake
Music: I know I’ve got to let it go and just enjoy the show

It appears that the weekend life of a reforming womanizer’s pretty boring and may involve: leaving parties at 12:30, picking up women for friends, cleaning the house and eating one’s weight in blueberries. Alla which are far more entertaining with a Dark ‘n Stormy.

Told you before that I’ve done some awful things in my life. Most I can’t talk about. But one thing I’m deeply ashamed of is the number of times someone gave me their heart and essentially said, Here, can you hold this for me? And take carea it, willya?

And I nod and immediately turn around, stomp the crap outta it and hand it back a wreck. It’s a jerk thing to do. And I did it way too often in my 20s.

Course, someone did it to me two years ago and nuthin realigns your thinking faster than eating the stuff you make someone else eat, yeah?

That’s why I keep thinking of Caligirl and if she’s right. What if I really do screw everything up so I don’t have to go through it again? Sir Edmond Hilary once said that, It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves.

It’s not easy, trying to be a better than you once were.

YASYCTAI: Get your shoes shined. They’ll last longer and you’ll look better. Hurry, before it’s winter. (10 mins/1 pt)

Categories
personal

Hoops

 

Saw my parents the other day and my mom was still outta sorts. So, she picked herself up a hula-hoop.

She said that she hadn’t used one in like 40 years. But she’s proud cause she can do it like 200 times. Gotta say, I was impressed.

As I write this, my mom’s singing What A Wonderful World in the other room. I smile cause she’s getting better and I shut off the TV to listen.

Read all the comments from my last post and Sarcasticserum said that I have my own little internet cheering section. That made me laugh.

It’s a fair trade: I give the you spectacle of my ridiculous life and you sit and read. A comment or two couldn’t hurt.

Still, what’s more boring than a non-womanizing, womanizer? But, hope you stick around anyway. Cause it’s always the supporting cast that really makes the show worth watching living.

Hazel: Good luck, Logan. I’m hoping that whatever you have with Heartgirl is…exactly what you want it to be. (pause) You should put away my toothbrush. You need to make room for hers.

Blue: I wish you were my person…mostly because I want to meet him already. But if you’re not my person, maybe you’re my people. It’s hard finding good people.

You can never have enough good people. And it’s worth going through all the hoops to find them.

Thanks for reading and being on my side.

Location: 19:23 yest, Riverside Park doing taiji and not picking up a blonde
Mood: grateful
Music: on the faces of people going by I see friends

Categories
personal

Jbell and something completely different

Location: 2:10, spit please
Mood: puzzled
Music: I am likely to miss the main event If I stop

Woke up at an ungodly hour to drive all over the city. Still didn’t finish what I had to finish. Also went to the dentist today for the first time in four years. Two dentists in 11 years – no cavities.

Her: I am curious as to why two of your teeth on your left side are cracked.
Me: Mstpoplererihndedsowen…
Her: I’m sorry, what?
Me: (taking tube outta mouth) Most people are right handed. So when I get punched in the face, I get banged up on my left side.
Her: Does that happen often?
Me: More than y’might imagine.

Got into a very perplexing conversation with Heartgirl today so I’m distracted yet again. It’s onea those things that I need to figure out myself before I write about it.

Breaking with tradition for the second time, HEI has a blog. So readers, please meet: JBell.

She came by for dinner the other night to borrow Syd. We chatted over some rum. It’s nice when people stick around your Venn Diagrams no matter how screwy y’are. You can read her take on me if you can figure out which one’s me.

On that note, someone’s wondered if I’m nicer in this blog than I am in real life, so in addition to Jbell, the girlie from Sunday said she’d write her view of what happened in my last entry – she said she wrote it in my style (yes, she knows about this blog, no I didn’t meet her from it). I never considered that I have a style, but I digress:

Me (the girlie): Are you alright?
Him (Logan): I’m always alright.

He did his fake smile with all the teeth, but the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. He’s not always alright.

And then the thing happened with George. I didn’t scream because screams are not words.

Him: (on phone) Pick him up! Put him back in!
Me: You pick him up! I don’t want to touch him! Pick him up!
Him: (scooping up George in a paper towel) He’s dead! Do you think he’s dead?! I think he’s dead!
Me: Put him back in! Put him back in anyway!

Then George swam, in a perfect zigzag, to the bottom of the tank. He must have been caught in a current because that was it — he was just there, on his side on the rocks. But we didn’t take him out. The empty tank would be too sad. Logan says there’s one more George in there, he just hasn’t seen him for a while. I’m not so sure. So we left this George in, just in case.

Logan told me some sad stories, but they’re his to tell. I have my own.

The sleeping pills he takes scare me. But so do his sad eyes. He looks like a little boy. His shirt’s too big, and his hair’s sticking up all over. He’s not the womanizer he pretends to be. He’s a lightweight when it comes to his rum. He deserves to be happy.

And suicidal George’s swimming around like a miracle fish. He’s a little banged up on one side, but I think he’s ok for now.

YASYCTAI (hers): Convince Logan that covering the fish tank is worth losing the automatic feeder.

YASYCTAI: Get your teeth cleaned. I wanna make out with someone if only cause my teeth feel amazing. (60 mins/2 pts)
Categories
personal

Our trespasses

 

In any relationship, there’s always the time when you’re faced with two competing, equally valid, points of view.

  • On the one hand, you should never accept piss-poor behaviour.
  • On the other hand, you should forgive people their screw-ups.

Friday, was supposed to see someone but she just completely flaked. Not even a text saying, Not showing up. Her explanation was that this is her reality – this is acceptable behaviour for her and her friends. Which only makes me believe more than ever that you are the company you keep. Should point out we got into what I thought was a minor disagreement but what she thought was a full on argument prior to the evening.

When we finally spoke, I was livid.

But here’s the thing: after all was said and done, she pointed out one time that I showed piss-poor behaviour. And she said she forgave me.

You know, every night, every single one, I ask to be forgiven our trespasses as we forgive those that trespass against us. These can’t be empty words. Cause, I gotta believe you’re more than just your thoughtless screw-ups. Cause, I gotta believe that I’m more than my awful things.

———-

Saturday, in the midst of a hurricane, see LisaV and her friends downtown at onea my favorite joints, a hidden bar called East Side Company. No signs, no lines. Just the number 49, baby. Meet her friend, a tall, hella attractive Asian girl and ask for her info – but it’s not for me; she’s exactly my buddy’s type. Sometimes, you take one for the team, yeah?

Sunday, meet up with Heartgirl for a last minute thing. Stop by her place and help her bake cookies and discuss Scrabble. We had The Talk but it was nuthin I didn’t already know. Put our shades on and we’re off to a BBQ in Brooklyn where we hung out with her friends. Nice group but more on that some other time.

Get home Sunday night with a belly fulla charred meat, fatty carbs and beer. Nice but in my head I think, Man, summer’s really not my season.

But fall, man…fall’s my season. Cannot wait to see my fall blue sky again.

Location: 16:20 yest, eating burger #2 in Brooklyn
Mood: beat
Music: I know enough to know when someone trusts you

Categories
personal

Aether Apologies

 

Her: Why do you always get so mad when I apologize?
Me: Cause you should only ever apologize for what you do, not who you are. You should never apologize for being what you are.

 

People used to believe in this thing called aether, which was an unseen gas that was supposed to envelop everything in the universe. No such thing but the literary concept of it still exists.

Heartgirl went on a date not that long ago and said the guy immediately apologized for being Indian. That irritated me so much.

I’m acutely aware of people apologizing for who they are. And when you put that out into the world, into the aether, it’s hard to kill it. The moment you let out a breath of, I’m not good enough because of what I am, or I’m so XXXX, it’s so very dangerous. Cause you can never be tall enough, thin enough, smart enough. And you are what you believe you are.

It’s subtle isn’t it? The idea that you’re not worthy of your three feet of space in this world. Here’s the thing, you gotta be. If you’re not, the world’ll roll right over you. Then again…

Her: I thought you said you weren’t broken.
Me: Maybe I’m just bruised.
Her: That makes me sad.
Me: Don’t be. It’s why I have the rum.

PCD’s…gone from this blog, per her request. But she said we’d stay in each other’s Venn Diagrams. I hope that’s true. Cause I could never tell if her eyes were grey or blue and would like to know.

I hear Caligirl’s laughter my head – wondering for a second if she’s right and I’m all just hot breath and lies. I gotta believe I’m not. Gotta.

Otherwise, I know the world’ll roll right over me. So I gotta believe I’m not. I just gotta.

Location: the basement of my brain again
Mood: pensive
Music: sometimes a man must awake to find that really, he has no-one

Categories
personal

Public Service Announcement

How to do well in college

 

Had quite the weekend involving PCD, WM, a pool in Jersey City and copious amounts of charred meat and meat products.

But enough about me, let’s chat about you. Realized that I’ve got a lot of younger readers – which isn’t too hard as I’m ancient. School’s about to start so, thought I’d let you know about how I did college. Graduated cum laude from an Ivy League; this is not to brag but to let you know that what I’m about to tell you worked for me and might for you:

  1. Took mostly lecture classes.
  2. Crammed all my classes into M-Th.
  3. Never missed a class and wrote down almost everything the teacher said. (1x)
  4. At night, transcribed all my notes into a computer, rearranged and sorted. (2x) Any questions I had, I cleared up with my TA and rearranged my notes again. (3x)
  5. Printed out all my notes Friday morning, and headed to NYC. Read notes on bus. (4x) Used time to write any reports that needed to be written.
  6. At Penn Station, put notes away and meet girlie. Work. Go to clubs. Limelight, Paladium, Red Zone, Mars, Nell’s. All gone now. So sad. I digress.
  7. Sunday, took bus back to school, read notes again on bus ride up (5x). Watched Simpsons.
  8. Last weekend of month, reread all notes from the month. (6x)
  9. Weeks before finals, read notes again. (7x-100x)
  10. Repeat for remaining semesters.

Man, I knew that stuff cold. It’s what happens when you re-live a lecture class 7-100 times. Still remember that the acceleration of a free falling object under the influence of gravity is 9.8 meters per second, per second.

Added bonuses

  • Always had a three-day weekend.
  • Always had those weekends free.
  • Didn’t read the books. Stopped buying textbooks when I realized that teachers just wanna hear their own words when they read essay exams (be careful with this one – I dunno what your teachers are gonna be like).
  • Didn’t do the homework. If it wasn’t graded, I didn’t do it. Just knew my notes, cold.
  • You actually learn what you’re supposed to learn.
  • Could sell my notes for $50 a pop.
  • Can have interactions 17 years later like this:

Me: Did you know that the acceleration of a free falling object under the influence of gravity is 9.8 meters per second, per second?
Her: I’m sorry what?
Me: Ah, nuthin, just geeking out. But enough about me, let’s chat about you….my name’s Logan. And you are?

Location: 15:00 yest, Port Liberte, NJ
Mood: accomplished
Music: Oh academia you can’t pick me up

Categories
personal

Lukewarm

Location: 9ish yest, 23rd and Broadway
Mood: excited
Music: love me or hate me, it’s still an obsession

Me: I’m not that guy – I don’t pine after people.
CaseyI: “I don’t pine?” Logan, darling, your whole blog is one big long pine.
Me: OK, I pine a little….wait, what? No it’s not! Is it?
Her: Have you read it?

Onea my favorite quotes is So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth. My pastor just spoke of it. Said the word earnestness in that passage is the Greek word zēlos, from which we get zealous. Funny, right? Earnestness and zeal are related. In other words, honesty and passion are related.

I submit that we love sports because of that passion. Champions fight with every fiber in their body for what they want. Step into a ring distracted and you get your block knocked off. And I’m no longer distracted. I know if I’m the button, needle or thread again. It’s such a relief.

Y’know, Heartgirl once said we’d never get along cause I’m dispassionate about certain people and things. But, I’m only dispassionate when faced with the lukewarm. If you look at the quote, lukewarm is nauseating – even to God.

I’m tired of feeling lukewarm about everything. I wanna be hot or cold again.

And y’meet so much lukewarm in the big city. The random boring conversations in the random blue nights. Whaddya do? Whodoyaknow? Blah, blah, blah. Man, just keep your lukewarm to yourself. Gimme some hated or love. Some passion, some zeal. Something. Hate me? Then wind up and swing. Want me? Then throw me down. Don’t talk me to death.

Fall’s around the corner and I feel my teeth again. I’m excited. Maybe there is a SING or a girl on the east side missing a heart. Might happen. Give it to me. Gimme some honesty and heat.

Knuckle up and swing like y’mean it. C’mon…hit me already.

Categories
personal

Broken and Bendy

There’s a vast difference between broken and bendy

Him: (joking) No offense Logan, but if I were a hot chick, I’d wanna be with an I-banker or doctor. Why would she pick a guy like you?
Me: (laughing) Cause I may be broke, but I’m not broken.

About six years ago, a blondie lived in my building. She was broken. Bad job, bad relationships, etc. My roomie and I tried to be nice to her but she took that to mean something else. Before we knew it, we’re ducking in and out of our own home. Took about a year, a lotta drama, the sheriffs and the courts to get her out.

Fast forward to this past weekend, to this old guy, who coincidentally took the same room as the blondie. He’s certain everyone and everything is against him. Tried to be friendly with him with some recent issues with his apartment but drew the line when he turned to his Chinese wife (he’s Caucasian) and said, “Talk to him in his native tongue.” To which I said, “I’m an American, this is my native tongue” which really bothered him for some reason. Like he was gonna stab me, bothered him. So I bounced.

The next day he calls me a queer when the owner and I try to take pics of repairs to his room. Luckily, he’s not just old, bitter and crazy, he’s also racist and homophobic.

You know when they say about a whacked out young person, Oh he’ll grow outta that? That’s not true at all. Young, broken people grow up to be old, broken people. It’s like a bullet going on a trajectory, a degree off center from the barrel means yards from the target down the line.

As an aside, you might not think it’s much, but I’m realizing that not being broken’s a HUGE selling point as a single-guy in NYC. It’s better to be an old 6 and not broken than a young 9 and broken – I should know.

And as an old guy, a word of advice: don’t ever think you can fix a broken person. They gotta fix themselves. It’s the only way. All you can do is avoid.

On a completely different point, met another gymnast this weekend. the ex, SX, Blue Jean Eyes, and PCD, were all of that bendy ilk. Broken is quite uncool. Bendy, however, bendy’s quite cool.

Location: bed
Mood: irritated
Music: Now you’re broken and you don’t understand

Categories
personal

The button, the needle or the thread?

Location: 21:00 yest, getting stabbed in the throat
Mood: contemplative
Music: Walking by myself down avenues that reek of time to kill

No 6 landed this book deal a while ago and I helped her edit it – she gave me a credit on the acknowledgment’s page. When her book came out, I was traveling a lot so I’d stop by the local BN in town and buy up a few copies. Ended up buying ’bout 50 $!#@$ copies.

I’ve not been sleeping so I’ve been reading it. It’s weird cause I never read the finished product. It’s like I hear her voice and some words of mine in the pages. But it’s not bad. I know how the stories all end.

Diogenes the Cynic was this whackjob that used to walk around in the daytime with a lamp looking for one honest man. Never found one. Honesty’s easy when you got nuthin on the line. Y’find out who’s honest and who’s honeytounged when you do.

Now, even when I don’t wanna hear the truth, I wanna hear it.

Me: Why do I feel you’re not being honest with me?

Her: (pause) Because I’m not. I’ve got to go. (pause) Don’t be angry. I wish everything were easier.

Man, who doesn’t? With the exception of Heartgirl, I never know if I’m making time, killin time or spending time. Can’t be a hypocrite, it cuts both ways. Still, never know if I’m the needle, the thread or the button til it’s all over.

Speaking of Heartgirl, she’s going away for a bit. I’ll miss her. Interestingly, she may actually have said something nice to me recently.

Me: It’s not like you like me for my brains.

Her: It’s why I like you.

Me: For the first time ever, I’m confused as to whether or not you’re being sarcastic.

Man, I wish I knew how my stories end.

Categories
dating personal

Waiting for the Right Scene / Hardest way to Travel

 

 

PCD: (turning to me) That’s not true, I haven’t kissed anyone else in a long time.
Me: Really? How long?
Her: A whole week.
Me: (quizzical look)
Her: (turning back to TV) When you stop kissing other people so will I.

My friend Joanne said once that dating past your 30s is like that board game Scene It. In the first part of the game, if you get something wrong, there’s no penalty. In the second part, you’re penalized for each wrong answer. She said that dating up to 30 is like the first part and dating past your 30s is like the second part.

Spoke to Heartgirl recently. Like HEI, she’s become what I’d consider a close friend. Well, as close a friend as I guy like me has. She thinks I’m going about this wrong, the random dating and whatnot. But I’ve done the serial monogamy thing for 16 years. It doesn’t work for me.

Without a hint of arrogance, I believe that whomever ends up with me is a lucky girlie. Cause I’m whip-smart. Given lead time to prep and the right jeans, I’m easy on the eyes. Have fairly good manners. Can cook.

Most of all, though, I’m loyal. For that girl, I can say, I’m yours. I’ve gotten it outta my system. 130+ dates later, I’m good to go. I choose you.

And yeah, I’m old, weird, clumsy, nerdy, insominatic – the list goes on. No lie, whenever there’s money left over for rum after a mortgage payment, it’s like Christmas morning.

But I know what I bring to the table. SX once asked me what entertainment I’d provide and responded, “I am the entertainment.”

One should know one’s value. Cause if your cup of self worth is only half full, why would anyone else see any more than that, y’know?

In other news, the woman I love the most in the world is on a plane to bury the woman she loves most in the world.

There’s no harder way to travel than with a broken heart. It takes 22 hours to get from here to there. That’s a long time to spend with your thoughts. If I could take that cross from her, I would.

 

Location: in front of a glass of rum
Mood: sigh
Music: Got no place to go but there’s a girl waiting for me