Tag: discussion

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personal

The purpose of life is…

Lake in Central Park

Let’s play a game; finish this sentence and then I’ll see you on the other side of this quick post:

The purpose of life is ______________.

———-

Got an email the other day from out of the blue from someone I dated.

…and i know this is random, but for what it’s worth, thank you for never having sex with me, when we were seeing each other. i wish i could expand on that further, but something tells me that i don’t really have to, i know you understand.

Also got an email and $40 from my friend 0utre cause I sent her slim coin for a paring knife a few years back when I had some spare scratch.

I took that paring knife with me everywhere. I won’t ever forget your kindness to me then and now, may we meet someday so I can return the kindness once again in person in a more human manner. Kindest Regards.

Finally, someone else wrote me and said,

Logan, you don’t know me – well, that’s not completely true. I met you once and you mentioned the blog so I read you. And keep reading. The funny thing is that I find myself saying things that you said in your blog in conversations with other people. And I wanted to say thanks because you make me think of good things. Most things I read don’t.

———-

Everyone finishes that sentence differently. Here’s the thing – how you finish that sentence shapes how you live your life (or vice versa).

Consider how differently these guys live their lives:

  • The purpose of life is to have a good time.
  • The purpose of life to become closer to God.
  • The purpose of life is to raise good members of society.
  • The purpose of life it to get what you can, when you can.
  • The purpose of life is to live for the moment.

My answer?

Well, suppose that’s a post for another time. Do wanna say that it was very different not that long ago when I was friends with the Devil and didn’t have to unwrap my food. In fact, it was onea the above.

Which one? That too’s a post for a different time, yeah?

But I wanna say thanks to the girlie I dated, Outre and my anonymous fan. Maybe I’m on the right path to fulfilling my true purpose.

Location: 18:30 yest, watching geese in the Hudson
Mood: grateful
Music: hold on, hold on let me get the words out before I burst

Categories
personal

Purpose

View of the Queensboro/59th Street Bridge from the tram

Been dealing with this accountant who seems to know nothing about accounting. Reminds me of a conversation had with AAA a few years ago.

Me: I need someone to come tow my car.
Her: We can’t do that right now.
Me: Miss, that’s like my going into Burger King, asking for a burger and you saying, Oh we don’t have burgers. It’s your purpose.
Her: S’cuse me, what?
Me: Sweetie, it’s your purpose. It’s like a condom. It only has one purpose; should it fail in that purpose, it’s raison d’etre’s moot.
Her: (annoyed) I don’t get it and I’m not your sweetie!
Me: Well, not with that attitude, you’re not…

I’d call this accountant a *complete* idiot, but that’d give him too much credit.

———-

Met up with my friend Steele for lunch. He’s getting married. Asked him if he was ok with being with one person for the resta his life.

Him: Well, in addition to finding her attractive, I get along with her and her family.
Me: Is that enough?
Him: (thinking) Think of the hottest girl in the world.
Me: OK, done.
Him: Somewhere out there, there some guy thinking, I’m totally tired of ____ing her.
Me: (laughing)
Him: Getting along well…that’s a lot right there.

Location: 14:00 yest, having sushi on Amsterdam
Mood: damp
Music: Hold Tight. Oh, she said, any way you want it.

Categories
personal

Jail Debt

A rainy view from NYC

 

Her: Oriental Avenue, $100. Do you want to buy it?
Me: Yes. I am Asian, after all.

Went to see the musical Rock of Ages this past weekend as an escape from the rain in NYC. Was packed.

Was also one of only two Asians in the whole crowd and don’t think I saw a single black or Hispanic in the lot. Dunno why.

Good show.

Next night, played Monopoly for the first time in over a decade. One would think that it would be impossible to end up in jail six times in a row and nine times overall. One would be mistaken.

You and your luck, she said.

Lost a lotta hands. But won the game.

Maybe my life’ll be the same, yeah?

———-

Just walked in the door after helping a little old lady fix her computer somewhere north of the city. Cost me three hours of my life.

But she helped me out some a little while back. Hate being in anyone’s debt and I never forget a favour. As a bonus, she gave me a bowl of ravioli and a Coors Light.

Dinner of champions.

Location: 23:00 yest, hurtling down 9A
Mood: puzzled
Music: I’m a cowboy, I got the night on my side (Spotify)

Categories
personal

How’d you not know?

You knew what I was when you picked me up

Me: You home? I’m by your pad.
Him: I’m sick, bedridden, and vomiting.
Me: What’re you trying to say?

A story goes that a snake wants to cross a river. So he asks a frog to carry him across. The frog goes, Screw you. You’re just gonna bite me. So the snake goes, Nah, we’ll both drown if I do that. So the frog figures that makes sense.

Midway, the snake bites the frog, who goes, #@$! Why’d you do that? Now we’re both gonna die.

As the snake goes under, he goes, It’s in my nature. You knew what I was when you picked me up.

Thought of that story this past weekend, when I told someone about the SA in Nazi Germany. Before the SS, the SA were the guys that brought Hitler to power. If the SS were the well-dressed executioners of the Nazi party, the SA were the fat, meathead brawlers.

After the Nazi party seized power, Hitler had them all killed, in the Night of the Long Knives, including one of his best friends, Ernst Roehm (who was also gay).

Thought of this again this morning on the train to have lunch with my dad and sis. Headline in the paper read, Taliban feel Pakistani Wrath. It’s about how, after the Taliban blew up a Pakistani mosque, Pakistan realized these guys were a buncha sick scumbags.

To Ernst Roehm, the Pakistani government and that frog, I gotta say, Cm’on…it’s in their nature – how’re you surprised? You knew what they were when y’picked them up.

———-

Finally finished cleaning my new pad. Found a switchblade I got when I was a kid.

Always kinda surprised I made it to 36.

———-

Here’s a pic of the Shuttle Atlantis against the sun.

Any douchebag can break stuff down. But this kinda stuff, this kinda stuff’s the stuff of God.

The shuttle atlantis against the sun - copyright NASA

(c) NASA

Location: my clean room
Mood: accomplished!
Music: Earth below us, drifting, falling, Floating weightless, calling, calling home

Categories
personal

Drums, Guilt and Shame

Shame is hating what you are. Guilt is hating what you’ve done.

Astor Place, New York, NY

A guy named Arthur Koestler once said that, The most persistent sound which reverberates through men’s history is the beating of war drums.

But during WWII, he was onea the people few that kept insisting that Nazis had killed 3 million of his fellows. Took another 2.9 million to die before someone someone stopped them.

I’m against war; only a madman is for it. But someone’s gotta do something about evil men.

Maybe Memorial Day isn’t so much about the kids that marched to the drums so much as it’s about their families who can’t help but hear them pounding.

American flag on Wall Street, NY

Bryson and his wife swung by the other day and brought me out to dinner. She’s pregnant and he’s trying to get his fourth world title in Brazil as a grappler. He’s black, which is important to understand the convo below:

Me: Hey – imagine if he came out Chinese.
Him: I’d kill you. (she laughs)
Me: Please…I’d be long gone and by then you’d be blessed with a handsome son that talked a lot with his hands.

Spent most of the holiday days with Heartgirl walking. To the grocery store, to the pier, to the park. And at night we talked. Like we always do. Told her a bit about myself.

Not to give you back-to-back vocabulary lessons, but do you know the difference between guilt and shame?

When I was a kid, was fat, ugly, and dorky. Then I wasn’t and I became shallow, mean and vain. Then in my 30s, I was humbled.

Shame’s hating what you are. Guilt’s hating what you’ve done.

Told Heartgirl that I spent my younger years dealing with the former and the recent years dealing with the latter. Don’t anymore. Not as much, anywho.

On my arm’s a vaccination scar. Remember getting it. Hurt like hell and I cried like a baby (in my defense, I was a baby).

Now, the purpose of a vaccination, natch, is to trade a small pain in your youth for a better lifetime. But when you’re a kid, you don’t know that.

Think that that’s where we’re all at. The pain’s what we gotta go through to become the person we’re meant to be. But we don’t see it until the pain’s long gone. It’s the forest for the trees.

Told her that sometimes, life has to break you to make you better.

She nodded, kissed me on my cheek, and told me I should go to sleep.

I’m moving. Not far.

Location: 14:00 yest, paying the toll and driving home
Mood: pensive
Music: hear the drums echoing tonight But she hears only whispers
YASYCTAI: Spend just a sec thinking about those drums. (sec/2 pts)

Categories
personal

Logan’s 36/Say Anything

Location: noon, yest, midtown
Mood: stressed
Music: don’t know if our fate’s already sealed

Airplane Window at sunset

Two observations: (1) Got no fewer than four friends with relationships on the rocks; (2) I always get hit on more in the spring.

Think they’re related: it’s spring cleaning. People wanna be out and about maybe, capitalize on the weather, see what else’s out there.

As for Heartgirl and me, well, last weekend was just perfect. And we both know that perfect and I don’t work well together; she’s still tired of hearing me talk. But I’d like to see how our story goes.

There was a time when bad things happened to you, you put on a black mourning jacket as a quiet testament to your sorrow. Nowadays, it’s a lotta status updates, vitriol and poor grammar.

That’s why I try to sort things out before I write about them. Waited almost a month before I told you about the theft. And three months after my initial breakup to tell you about it. Need time to make sure something’s actually something and not a whole lotta nuthin. Wonder if I can still tell the diff.

Everyone’s got a place where they go to sort things out. King Midas had his reeds. Lloyd Dobler had his friends.

Me? I keep thinking that I’d like to go elsewhere, and still not necessarily somewhere and tell them my story. Cause who’d believe it? But since I can’t, suppose I got this here blog. Write it for me more than anyone.

But it’s my birthday and I get to make a request, yeah? I don’t ask for much, don’t think: world peace, some soup from time-to-time, the occasional call…

My request is this: who’s still reading? Yeah, I’ve got my stalwart group of people that comment and drop by with regularity (thanks guys) but I’m curious if it’s just them.

In my head, I imagine there’re people that never comment yet read me regardless.

So, just like last year and the time before: wish me a happy birthday and say something, all of you bastards that read me but never say anything.

Logan Lo

YASYCTAI: Comment. (5 mins/0.5 pts)

Categories
personal

God the Car Salesman

Location: a green couch she hates
Mood: optimistic
Music: Hey, he said, grab your things, I’ve come to take you home.


Her: How can you believe in a religion where some people are saved and others aren’t?
Me: I don’t make the rules, I just try to follow them.
Her: What about girls that are raped and killed for just being? And children murdered for being children, where’s your god then?

It’s hard being a Christian in the big city. People look at you like you’re nuts. They expect me to be or act a certain way. A weird form of reverse prejudice.

I doubt my religion all of the time. But I doubt it hoping, really hard, that it might be true. S’ok to doubt, I think. Everyone does it. Abraham, Mary, Thomas.

A girlie I dated once called religion: a nice fairy tale. But fairy tales, and most religions, tell you that if you’re a good guy, you’ll do fine. Like god is some sorta used car salesman you gotta bargain with just right to get the best deal.

Unless I’m reading it totally wrong, what I believe seems to say that if you’re a good guy, you still get screwed. In fact, the gooder you are, the harder you get screwed. Consider:

  • John the Babtist did everything right and got beheaded.
  • Job did everything right and lost everything, everyone.
  • Peter, the head of the first church, was crucified upside down.
  • Mary, essentially a 16 year old kid, is a virgin and gets knocked-up only to live to see her son get killed as a criminal (I sorta feel she got screwed the most).
  • Joseph finds out that his first born son isn’t his either.
  • Jesus did everything right and gets nailed to two planks of wood.

So what’s the point of even trying then? I dunno. I also don’t know the answer the questions above. I’m not a theologian. Not anything, really.

But maybe we should go do good, not cause there’s a reward for our work in the end, but a debt we owe for our chances in the beginning. We owe it to the aether.

Her: I don’t think I need god. I’m a moral person.
Me: But we’re still just people and people fail all the time. I wanna believe in something bigger than my own imagination. Something bigger than my own strength of will.

What the human heart, if afforded one wish, truly wants is a do-over. A chance to get those chances again.

Spring, Easter, it’s all about rebirth. S’why we got all the pansy coloured egges. All about the do-over. My year always starts in Fall, yeah. But something about Spring, makes me hopeful.

Happy Easter for those of you that read the same book as me. For those that don’t, hope the sun is sunny where you are, you’ve got someone hot to make out with, and there’s something grand on cable for you to watch.

Actually, if you read the same book as me, I wish you the last three also.

YASYCTAI: List the good things you’ve got. (60 mins/2 pts)

Categories
dating personal

Did you know?

Location: two hours ago, leaving the office
Mood: drained
Music: right here, right now

Went on a day trip recently with Heartgirl to a place out in the burbs. I’d gotten up in the middle of the night per my usual insomnia and made a racket looking for the bathroom door.

Me: (silence)
Her: (silence)
Me: I think I’m in the closet.
Her: (wakes up laughing) I can’t…breathe…(laughs harder) I thought…I was dreaming that…

Another three feet in, pretty sure I’d be somewhere in Narnia telling Mr. Tumnus that I was just looking for the bathroom.

———-

My friends think I’m a bit paranoid cause I tape up my notebook’s camera in case someone puts in a trojan that let’s people video me. It’s very true.

———-

Me: …the usual. What’s shaking with you? How was your weekend? And can I borrow $24,938? Answer the third question first.
Her: I have $13 and a lot of couch-cushion change. Does that help?

Been chatting with my friend KC and it seems that one outta eight marriages last year came from online dating. The way I see it, it’s like you got a friend named Match or whatnot that says, “Hey, I’ve got a girlie you might like.”It’s just another medium to meet someone. Onea Heartgirl’s friends and I also got into a similar conversation about dating over the weekend.

Her: Where do I go to meet someone that I’ll actually like?
Me: We live in NYC – there’re all over the place.
Her: The guys I want to talk to me, don’t. And the guys I don’t, do.
Me: You should talk to the guys you wanna talk to. Cause people’re lonlier than you might think.

S’funny. She too wondered if I spent all my time watching The Pickup Artist. The pickup is actually more a question of guts than anything else, IMHO. My feeling is that, if you’re a dude and just a little less broken, a little more sober, and just slightly more interesting than the dudes around you, you’ll be fine.

To be more sober, drink more water. To be slightly more interesting, say the first thing that pops into you head all of time.* As for not being broken, now that’s hard…

*Note, this does not work if you’re an idiot or if you’re a douche – consider faking being smart and non-douchey.

YASYCTAI: Take an improv class already. At the worst, you’ll have fun. At the best, you’ll be faster on your feet. (6 weeks/2 pts)

Categories
personal

Tom, Helen, Paris, and Ray

Location: four hours ago, in a Honda driving home
Mood: busy
Music: Bad news comes don’t you worry even when it lands

Don’t come, it was two years ago (whoa) – I’m not at my place and don’t have a pic for this entry so I’m reposting – you can watch it at 72canal.com if you want.

Me: What do you think it is?
Her: (thinking) I think it’s a self-selecting industry. I mean, you have to be somewhat greedy and self-centered to enter the profession. So when you give a bunch of greedy, self-centered people a ton of money, is anyone really surprised when they give themselves million-dollar bonuses for “retention” even though there’s no job for them to go to?

Normally I never write anything political but I just gotta say this.

The problem with tossing out all these numbers like million, billion and trillion is that they all kinda sound the same – lemme put it in some perspective:

  • A million seconds ago, was 11 days, 20 hours, 4 minutes and 4 seconds ago. I was still a 35-year old nobody.
  • A billion seconds ago, was 31 years, 8 months, 6 days. I was a 3-year old nobody.
  • A trillion seconds ago, was 31,688 years 269 days 17 hours 34 minutes 25 seconds. Nobody was anybody.

Y’know that quote from Edison? He was asked how it felt failing all those times while making the lightbulb – he replied, I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.

There’s this insane fear of failure. And it is very, very insane. Spending a lotta A‘s dough, to bail out B just seems wrong to me. Even worse, spending that much money, knowing, knowing that they’re just going to spend it on themselves, as they have before, is just more insanity.

The worst part is that it keeps happening and the economy keeps getting worse.

Rough times cut away the fat of our lives to see the muscle underneath. I truly believe that. Failure and death are ugly things but ugly things are part of the natural course of the world.

I meet so many young people that think spending coin’s the way to solve things. It isn’t.

The world needs more people like Helen Keller who have nothing and made something of themselves and less people like Paris Hilton who have everything and make nothing of themselves.

YASYCTAI: Read about Ray Kroc. He was a failure until he was 50-something. Then he wasn’t. (60 mins/1 pt)

Categories
personal

It’s personal

It’s just business was supposed to mean exactly the opposite of what it means

A metro station in Washington DC

 

Me: Man, it’s like 2Pac said, That’s just the way it is.
Heartgirl: But Logan, in the original song, he says, But don’t you believe them.

Told Koreanjohnny to read The Godfather cause he’s young enough and old enough to appreciate it. Read the book before I saw the movie so I looked at it differently.

While I loved the movie, Coppola made two changes to the story that always bothered me. The first one is that line everyone tells you right before they screw you at work or business or something: “It’s not personal, it’s business.”

But the truth of the line never made it to the movie; it happens in a conversation between Mike and his brother, Tom, who says that Mike’s taking it all too personally:

Tom, don’t let anybody kid you. It’s all personal, every bit of business. Every piece of s__t every man has to eat every day of his life is personal. They call it business. OK. But it’s personal as hell. You know where I learned that from? The Don. My old man. The Godfather. If a bolt of lightning hit a friend of his the old man would take it personal. He took my going into the Marines personal. That’s what makes him great. The Great Don. He takes everything personal Like God. He knows every feather that falls from the tail of a sparrow or however the hell it goes? Right? And you know something? Accidents don’t happen to people who take accidents as a personal insult.

Just over a year ago, I told you that we live in a Cliff’s Notes society – where we think we know something, but we don’t know the whole thing.

People always make excuses for screwing others over. But I like that last line: Accidents don’t happen to people who take accidents as a personal insult.

If they tell you otherwise, don’t you believe them, don’t let’s anybody kid you.

Man, it’s always personal to someone. That’s the truth of it.

Me: You’re right. I forgot.

Location: a large blue bed
Mood: awake
Music: Belief Makes things true Things like you