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personal

All sheen and no substance

Bet

Me: Sit down to eat your orange.
Boy: Why?
Me: I don’t want you to run around and choke on it.
Him: (rolling eyes) That’s never happened!

Don’t think things in the past are dispositive of things in the future, but I do think that they show probability.

Case in point, a month ago, wrote about the Empress Dowager and how the political corruption seemed eerily reminiscent of what’s going on in Ukraine now.

Back then, China’s navy – called the Beiyang Fleet – was supposed to be the largest fleet in Asia and the 8th in the world at the time.

According to all reports, it looked awe-inspiring.

But the basic purpose of a navy is to fight battles on the sea and, in this regard, it was all show. Because all the stuff you don’t see – ammunition, navigation tools, even basic training – was all lacking.

In other words, the Beiyang Feet was all sheen and no substance.

So, it seems the same with the Russian military machine.

Visually, its military looked formidable with modern looking tanks and such, but the less showy but equally important stuff was/is lacking.

Simple stuff like basic training, communication equipment, even navigation tools were all missing, which could explain how alla these career politicians like Putin could afford $700 million yachts.

Russian pilots are using store-bought GPS taped to their dashboards to navigate and Russian leaders are shooting their own wounded troops because they don’t have the basic medical supplies needed to save them.

And therein lies the problem with corruption, it hollows-out things of value from the inside so that everything looks good but it’s all for show.

Like I said, I don’t think things in the past are dispositive of things in the future, but I do think that they show probability.

Me: Past performance is no indication of future results. Sit down, eat your orange, and then you can play.
Him: Fiiiiine.

Me: Totally random but I’m gonna be taking my kid to Central Park on the east side on my bike today at around 5:30 or so if you’re out and about and want to randomly run into us.
Her: OMG, that sounds like so much fun!

Been biking around the city with the boy and we ended up on the East Side at some random playground not too far from the Counselor.

While we were there, the kid made friends with a little girl and they were having a pretty good time when I asked him to come over to do something for me.

He did and, presently, the little girl came over, put her hands on her hips, and exclaimed, “What’s going on here?! What’s taking you so long?”

That part made me laugh.

Counselor: I like her style.
Me: I can see the type of woman he’ll attract [in the future].
Her: Might run in the family.

It turns out that, of course, Heidi ended up going to Paris.

What’s with everyone heading to Paris, randomly?

Then again, I was actually planning on heading to Paris myself a few years back for some reasons that you wouldn’t believe if I told you.

I’m not even sure I believe it myself.

I laughed as I wrote this line because, man, I’ve been pretty starkers the past few years, lemme tell ya…

Pac: “Spam” stands for “specially proceed army meat.”
Me: Nope. It stands for “spiced ham.”
Him: Bet.
Me: $20 bucks says I’m not.
Tom: (looking it up) It stands for “spiced ham.”

As I said, I’ve been really busy lately, especially with Scenic Fights.

But, completely unrelated to it, Pac came by late two nights ago for me to fix up his laptop.

It was try number two, since the first time, we didn’t have the right items due to alla Apple’s proprietary nonsense.

We ended up trying to fix it for hours, without success. The thing about Pac is that he’s a man of his word. Without even asking, he Venmoed me $20 because of the Spam bet.

So, I told him I’d keep trying to fix his computer until it was done. It’s a gift for his dad, you see.

I know all about wanting to do stuff for people you care about.

Especially, when it comes to your parents.

And people that are more substance than sheen – like people that follow through with their commitments – get from me the most valuable thing I got besides the kid: My time.

Location: earlier tonight, just off Union Square, trying to rip off a friend’s lower leg
Mood: slightly less crazy
Music: Un peu naïve mais pas trop Pour ne jamais perdre la tête (Spotify)
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I’m a bitter person

Heidis

Last week was super busy. By design. Didn’t wanna have time to think.

We had a double shoot of Scenic Fights and will again this coming weekend. It’s been exhausting.

Brought the kid out to a diner and had brekkie with the ABFF around the way.

Her: You’re both having a burger for breakfast?
Me: (shrugging) It’s the breakfast of champions. Protein, fat, and fiber. What more do you need?
Boy: Burger! Burger! Burger!
Her: Wait, you gave it to him on whole wheat toast?! (to the boy) You know, in the real world, you have burgers on these fluffy, delicious…
Me: (interrupting) Stop undermining!

We almost had to reschedule the Scenic Fights shoot because I couldn’t find anyone to babysit the kid while we did the shoots but Pez came in and saved the day.

Her: Your kid is a RIOT!

He does have his moments.

After one shoot, we grabbed a quick drink before she left.

Me: I’m gonna warn you that it’s super sweet.
Her: (tasting the wine) Whoa, that is super sweet.
Me: Well, I’m a bitter person so…

She’s dealing with a whole raft of stuff, but that’s her story to tell. It was nice to catch up.

Which is less than I can say about the Counselor because we were trying to catch up most of the week. But, either something comes up with her or something comes up with me and we have to change plans.

We’re just two too busy people. Maybe this week.

Speaking of stuff to deal with, that girl Heidi, I mentioned, is dealing with some really crazy ones.

To the point that she dropped everything and high-tailed it to Europe for a spell.

Didn’t wanna pry but I’m gonna guess that she didn’t head to Ukraine.

Like Daisy, she’s dealing with a whole mess of things all at once but is trying to be better.

Me: Someone once said, “To try to be better is to be better.” So, I’m glad you’re trying.
Her: Thank you. I have a long way to go and I’m afraid I’ll never get there.

I give credit to people trying to be better. There’re few things more soul-crushing than to try and be told, repeatedly, that nothing is good enough.

Speaking of Heidis, I know a number of women with that name.

One is pretty well known in the cosplay circuit under the name Cosplay Kitten.

Her issues have been leaning towards horror; normally, I wouldn’t tell someone else’s story but she recently put up a GoFundMe for hers, which is cancer. It’s legit crazy how many people I now know with it or had it.

Anywho, if you want to toss some scratch her way, she’s a doll and could use the help here.

Getting back to Scenic Fights, there’s actually video connected to the podcast that mentioned last time, which you can see below.

It’s embarrassing because you literally just see the top of head for most of it.

But, it’s still better than nuthin, which is what happened earlier. See, this was actually the second one we did with these guys; the first one – which was better, IMHO – didn’t record properly so it was lost.

So, if you’ve not heard our podcast yet, here it is again in video. Enjoy my enormous head talking about nonsense.

Location: earlier today, just off Union Square, getting slammed to the ground by Pac
Mood: exhausted
Music: Let’s leave before we eat each other alive (Spotify)
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I found treasure

Aloha Teahouse

Mother’s Day was hard. Alison would have been 43 this week.

That’s all I have to say about that.


Counselor: How was your Mothers Day?
Me: It started off pretty bad but ended really amazing.
Her: Oh, why?
Me: (excitedly) I found treasure! Hold on, lemme show you!

While I saw my mom and sister’s family for Mother’s Day, my head was fulla Alison and my dad.

My sister asked that I help clean out the basement, which was mostly my dad’s stuff, but also some of mine and my brother’s randomness here and there.

I’ll tell you more about all that later but do you remember when I told you about the paper umbrellas and my dad?

Well, there’s a coda to that story: He had alla these scary, but cool looking, mugs and glasses that we weren’t allowed to use. Those were for the customers.

Only discovered when I was older that they were tiki mugs and my dad’s restaurant – called Aloha Teahouse – was fashioned after a Japanese hibachi restaurant and tiki bar.

Fast forward to last week. My sister wrote my brother and me that she found a whole box of these.

Sister: Finally giving away these mugs from Aloha Teahouse that dad kept in the garage.
Me: (shocked) Wait! Is there one I could have?! I didn’t realize we had these!

Evidently, they’ve been sitting in our garage since 1984 and I never knew.

Asked her to hold onto four of them for me and she did. My book bag was already stuffed to the brim with things to bring back to my pad, which I’ll tell you about later.

Mom: Just bring back the cups next time.
Me: I can’t. I’m worried they’ll break or they’ll be lost. I gotta bring them back now.

Took my time getting home because I had to manage the kid, all the junk I was hauling back, the food my mom and sister gave me, and the treasure in my bag.

After getting the kid settled and putting away the food, I gently washed each one of the cups and dried them. Once the kid went to sleep, I put all four of them onto the kitchen table and stared at them.

The last time I laid eyes on them was in 1980, 42 years ago.

I had never drunk out of any of them because my dad wouldn’t let me since we were so young.

Somehow, they gave me comfort. I still haven’t drank out of them yet but I will. Maybe in 42 years.

They made me feel like my dad was still around.


I’ve not seen nor spoken to Mouse in months.

But we used to have this thing that we used my little cubby in the gym as a dropbox; I’d leave her things like stuff she left in my house and she’d leave random things for me, like a magazine she knew I loved to read but never bought.

A few months ago, I came in and found these paper umbrellas there.

No real reason, she just decided to leave them there for me.

I asked her why later on – she didn’t leave a note or anything, but I knew it was her – and she said that she just wanted me to have them so I could make the kid a Shirley Temple and tell him stories of my dad.

And that, in a nutshell, is Mouse.

As for me, I think I will use them for exactly what she suggested.

Maybe even with these cups/mugs. Maybe.

Him: Why can’t I touch them?
Me: Because they’re from my papa. He’s not here anymore and I miss him so much that just having these make me think he’s here. Because they were his, so they’re special to me.
Him: (sadly) I don’t know why but that makes me sad. I’m sorry your daddy isn’t here. (thinking) Can I give you a hug?
Me: Heck, yeah – c’mere, kid!

Quick little admin note, Chad and I are in a podcast this Friday the 13th at 11AM so tune in and check us out?

Here’s where you can go:

 

Location: 1979, a barstool in a hibachi restaurant on New York Route 141, drinking a Shirley Temple from a highball made by my dad
Mood: gutted
Music: I just wish I could have told him in the living years (Spotify)
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What gets wetter the more it dries?

Unseeing things

Him: What gets wetter the more it dries?
Me: A towel.
Him: Correct!

It’s been a weird week, which sounds about right. Like always, I need to sort it all out.

Her: I just want to be normal and boring: A job that I sort of hate, two kids that have too many activities, and a husband that knows that when I make a certain favorite dinner of his, it’s my silent I Love You.
Me: Let me get the kid down and I’ll give you a quick ring. 
Her: Not best time to speak.
Me: OK, then we’ll try at some point. I’m sorry things are so hard.
Her: Thank you. I feel like you understand better than anyone else
Me: Like I said, grief and I are old friends. Take care of yourself.

For all the other single parents out there, I honestly don’t know how you do it. I’m tired all the damn time. Him getting COVID and missing a week of school didn’t help matters.

Still, I’m grateful that his COVID experience was radically different than mine. He was happy as a clam and at full energy levels.

Him: What was the tallest mountain in the world before Mount Everest was discovered?
Me: Hmm, I don’t know.
Him: Mount Everest!
Me: Clever…

He’s so full of energy and curiosity that it’s hard to manage. But I’m trying to see the world as he does – full of wonder and mysteries to be solved.

Him: (walking outside with me) How does water get into our apartment?
Me: (stopping) Do you see that wooden barrel on the top of that building? Ok there are two pipes inside, one small pipe that sends water up to the barrel. The second pipe is bigger and…
Him: (later) There are wooden barrel everywhere, papa!
Me: That’s called the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon; once you see something, you can’t unsee it.

Therein lies my problem with life. I’ve seen way too much. I know too much.

As much as I’d like to unsee things, most times I can’t. Which is why I value the ability to forget so much.

I spend a lotta my time actively trying to forget things and people. To survive everything I’ve survived, I have to leave so many things I once loved in the past.

Man, to be like this kid and see the world for the first time. To get a do-over.

Him: What are those lines in the street for?
Me: It’s so the cars don’t hit each other. They’re called “lanes,” and people try to stay in them to keep everyone else safe.

I’m not sure how I could possibly be more jaded. Shit, the entire month of May is a reminder of things I’ve lost and try to forget.

Him: What do you have to break to use?
Me: Eggs.
Him: Correct!

As much as I take care of the boy, the boy takes care of me as well.

I can be coldly dispassionate about things but, with children, that’s not healthy. So, I find myself trying to be in the moment with him as much as I can – with optimism and joy, which is pretty much him in a nutshell.

Him: What has four legs, is green and brown, and would hurt you if it fell off of a tree?
Me: (thinking) I don’t know.
Him: A pool table!
Me: (laughing) Well, that’s just silly.
Him: (giggling) I know! A pool table!

I know he doesn’t know that I’m faking it.

But I worry that, someday, he will.

See, while I know a shitton of nonsense, people escape me.

I don’t get people. While I’m great with people, I don’t understand people.

That’s a whole entry in itself.

In some ways, I’m great with the kid because I talk to him the way I talk to most of the world, for better or worse.

Few people get my full dispassionate cerebration, otherwise, I’d just be alone again, like I was when I was a kid.

Him: What eats apples and books?
Me: A bookworm!
Him: Correct!

I remember watching Dexter with Alison in Bermuda and wondering if she made the connection that both that character and I (to a much lesser degree) fake so much of being normal.

If she did, she never let on.

Suppose, in the end, it didn’t matter.

As for the kid, all I really want is for this kid to be better, and happier, than I. At the very least, I hope and expect that he’ll get along with people as well as I do but he’ll understand them in a way I don’t think I ever will.

If wishes were horses, yeah?

Him: What building has the most stories?
Me: A library!
Him: You’re good at these, papa!
Me: (nodding) I spent a lot of my life thinking, kiddo. A lot of time alone with my thoughts. Something that I hope you won’t have to do.

Location: the basement of my brain again
Mood: dreading Mother’s Day
Music: Are we out of the woods yet? (Spotify)
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Cupcakes for brekkie

A small kindness

Been doing all sorts of activities to try to keep the boy entertained.

He’s happy to not be in school but misses his friends.

So, I just baked a whole crapton of almond flour chocolate cupcakes and cake for him, just to cheer him up and so he would have something tasty and, relatively speaking, nutritious.

Several of the boy’s classmates also have COVID, so we’ve worked out our own little pod system where they rotate time with each of us.

It’s better than nuthin.

Little girl: I’m bored.
Me: Wonderful! I have math problems for you to do.
Her: Noooooo! We’ll read.
Me: Good choice.

As always, May’s a pretty awful month for me in general. I still hate May.

Alison was born in May. She died in May. Mother’s Day is May.

It’s like, one hit after another.

On a smaller, but more annoying, note, it turns out that allergy season peaks in May as well. Of course.

Somehow, though, I feel that this May will be more manageable – emotionally, at least – than previous Mays.

One thing that really gave me a sigh of relief was when the kid’s teacher wrote to say that they wouldn’t be doing Mother’s Day or Father’s Day this year but “Family Day.”

Evidently, I’m not the only parent in the class that has an unconventional family.

I wrote her a short thank you and she wrote back that she was glad she could help in some small way to give me one less thing to stress about.

It’s the small kindnesses that I think I value the most.

Him: Can I have a cupcake for breakfast?
Me: A muffin is just a naked cupcake so, sure, why not?
Him: You’re the best papa, ever!
Me: This may well be true.

Location: in the gym for the first time in a while
Mood: hesitant
Music: you are my sunrise on the darkest day, got me feelin’ some kind of way (Spotify)
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It’s always something

But at least he’s happy

Client: Did you finish [the work]?
Me: Shoot, no, my entire weekend and this week got shot. I can get it to you this afternoon. I’ve just gotta get a few things done right now. Is 4PM too late?
Him: That’ll be ok.

The kid’s eczema is somewhat under control in the sense that it’s gone from pretty darn bad to just bad.

Whereas before, it was the entirety of his lower back, arms, and back of legs, it’s now somewhat localized to just his arms. It still keeps him up at night, scratching, though. It’s painful for both of us – in very different ways.

Found myself sitting outside his room, hoping that he won’t call me to come in and help.

Fortunately, the oatmeal baths, a crapton of homemade oatmeal cookies/bars/pancakes/cereal and constant moisturizing seem to have helped matters a great deal.

But, of course, it’s always something.

He got COVID.

I’ve been taking COVID tests every few days because I’ve been coughing my head off for months. All negative.

I think that – back when I got COVID in 2020 – it really messed up my lungs without my realizing it. Had really light allergies that basically meant a consistent but light cough and that was about it.

Now, when the pollen count is high, I’m in misery. Coughing, sneezing, itchy eyes/throat, etc.

Misery.

To the point that, during gym class, Chad literally has to stop teaching for a moment because I’m coughing so much.

Him: I’m trying to time it.

Of course, considering that my dad died of lung cancer, there’s that concern as well. But I note that, when pollen counts are low, I tend to be fine.

When they’re high, sometimes I’m fine, most times I’m not.

Right now, I wanna crawl into bed and just sleep everything off.

Anywho, regarding the kid, I wasn’t planning on having him take a COVID test because – eczema aside – he’s just totally normal: High energy, bright-eyed and bushy tailed.

But he was supposed to see the ABFF’s kids over the three-day weekend so, outta an abundance of caution, I gave us both a test.

As always, mine was negative but I was floored when his was positive.

That set off a flurry of emails, texts, and calls to rearrange a whole bevy of things and give notice to a raft of people.

Me: I have to cancel this week, I…
Her: If you don’t want to see me, stop wasting my time.
Me: It’s not that, I… <CLICK> Well, that worked itself out…

Least of which is the Counselor as we’ve been playing phone, text, and date-tag for the past few days because we’re both so busy.

Me: I’m on daddy duty all week as my son’s not allowed back into school until Friday. COVID. So, XXXX may well be out. I’m hoping he’ll be negative for my sitter at [some point]. We’ll play it by ear?
Counselor: Woooow. Sheesh it really is everywhere again. And it’s fine.

Chad and I had a podcast to do just the other day, which I arranged for the kid to be safely away at that time, and we did quite well, I thought.

Him: I got bad news.
Me: Oh no, what?
Him: The video didn’t record. Something happened on their end. We gotta do it again.
Me: Well, of course we do.

Dammit. It’s always something.

At least the kid’s happy.

Him: No school?! All week?! YAAAY! No school! No school! No school!
Me: Yeah. Yay.
Him: No school! No school! No school!
Me: (nodding, slowly)

Location: home, obvs
Mood: so damn tired
Music: gimme some sign. I think that we’re supposed to be (Spotify)
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Bringing the kiddie gang to Koreatown

Shoehorned

Because I’ve been out so much lately, I decided that I should take the boy out with his friends at least once.

To this end, I invited my SIL and ABFF and her kids to head out to eat Korean food in Koreatown.

Chose Koreatown because (a) I love Korean food and (b) it was kinda the middle point for alla us.

Unfortunately, because we all met up at 6PM, the place was packed so we had a choice: We could either sit upstairs on the fifth floor sans alcohol and be seated immediately or sit on the second floor, get alcohol but wait 45 minutes for a table.

We chose the former. And by “we,” I mean “they.”

Her: You know, you can eat without drinking, Logan.
Me: Tenuous.

It was pretty nice, though. We essentially had most of the floor to ourselves, save for a couple here or there.

The kids were pretty well-behaved, all things considered. Think they found the whole idea of having a BBQ in the middle of a table kinda interesting.

Her: Why don’t you just order for us?
Me: Way ahead of you.

I ended up ordering waaaay too much food. Forgot that half the table was comprised of children so, for the first time ever, I brought some food home.

Her: Wait, there’s more food?
Me: It’s fine.
Son: Papa will eat it. He eats everything.
Me: Thanks?

Afterward, we went to get pastries across the street.

Pac’s mom has a noodle shop – Noona Noodles – on the ground floor there and I was going to stop by to say hello but the whole place, including her restaurant, was a madhouse.

Suppose people are just super jazzed that the pandemic restrictions are easing substantially.

But, back to the story, it turns out they food court we ended up at shoehorned two small karaoke rooms off to the side.

My son heard the music and couldn’t help but go, watch, and sing along.

Me: Can you imagine if you were singing and you looked down and saw a little boy looking at you sing through that window?
Her: That’s hilarious.

Everyone was full and happy at the end.

As for me, I was totally sober, which was the first night in a while where I could say such a thing.

But there’s always tomorrow.

Me: Well, my major issue’s that Trump’s such a pussy.
Purple: Ugh. Why would you use that word? “Pussy.” It’s vulgar and sexist.
Me: (rolling eyes) It’s derived from the word “pusillanimous,” which means “timid” or “weak.” Google it.
Her: (later) It’s not clear. It either comes from that or from the word “pussycat.”
Me: Both of which have nuthin to do with the female anatomy.
Her: See! You knew that’s what people think.
Me: (shrugging) Most people think that we have five senses, they’re wrong.
Her: Wait, what?

Location: this past weekend, spending $60 for 18 dumplings around the way and wondering why
Mood: hungry for dumplings or Korean BBQ
Music: [see above, this song doesn’t exist anywhere but Spotify, which I find hella annoying]
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Taking it apart

My pretty but dead dreams

I built that crib with Alison on September 13th, 2015. She was in her last trimester at the time and insisted that she help but I had her just direct for the most part.

Seven years later, I finally took it apart.

Well, not me, a fella from my gym that helps us out with stuff. I couldn’t do it.

Just like when my friends came by to paint it at the height of COVID two years ago, it was just something that I kept putting off.

Alison took that picture above, almost as a joke. I didn’t know she had brain cancer at that moment.

Put it off for two things, really.

One was Alison, of course. She was a part of that crib, just like she was a part of how that room used to look. The other was that I think I was hoping that maybe Mouse and I might have a kid of our own.

But they’re both gone now and the kid deserves to have a bed that matches his age instead of me clinging onto all my pretty, but dead, dreams.

When my buddy left, I sat down to finish the bottle of rum I’ve had sitting on my countertop.

I always have a bottle of fine aged rum on my countertop.

But, I decided against it and put it back. Had a cup of tea instead.

Baby steps, yeah?

Do you see the little boy’s outfit hanging on the closet knob in the background?

For a while now, I’ve been giving a lot of the kid’s clothes to Mouse to send off to her relative in the Ukraine.

The kid last wore that in December of 2019, when we went to that Christening in NJ. I always thought the kid looked adorbs in it.

That was something that I’d been meaning to give her for some time now, along with some other stuff for them, but I just hadn’t gotten around to it.

The thought that there’s some little boy running around in Ukraine, scared and confused, younger than my own kid, wearing my kid’s clothes, bothers me in a way I can’t fully express except to say that it’s fucking bullshit.

He’d be the same age as my kid was in that pic above.

It’s bullshit that some innocent kid has to pay for a billionaire’s greed for more fucking money.

I wonder if he’s dressed in one of my son’s outfits now. It bothers me because – but for time and tide – that couldn’ve been my kid.

Well, I guess I could express it, after all…

Doesn’t make it any less bullshit. Maybe I should have that drink after all.

 

Her: Why didn’t you tell me you were in LA? I would have seen you.
Me: I know. I had a lot going on. Have.
Her: What’s new? You’ll see me next time, though, yes?
Me: Of course, darling. Promise.
Her: (laughing) You and your promises.

Location: earlier today, waiting for the pool shower
Mood: trying to stay in the golden mean
Music: I don’t really feel bad news anymore (Spotify)
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My silly little blog

I’m Home

Her: OK, here’s the deal. You can have your silly little blog, just don’t mention me. And if you do want to mention me, just…don’t.
Me: (nodding) My silly little blog and I appreciate the accommodation.

It feels weird writing about my silly little life in the face of truly jaw-dropping world events.

Don’t recall being glued to the news as much as I have recently, outside of when 9/11 happened.

Things feel the same. I suppose that’s a post for the future but I just wanna wrap up a few loose ends from my last few posts.

I’ve had some version of this blog since 2005, with 2006.09.17 being my first entry here.

In that time, I’ve had a handful of people mad at me for something I wrote about them but that would happen like once a year, if that. Alison got mad at me for maybe one or two entries, total.

But in the past two weeks, I’ve had no less than four people mad about something I wrote. Even when I use pseudonyms and don’t post identifiable pictures, they’re still upset.

So, unless I get clear OKs to write about someone, I’m just not going to mention other people at all.

Him: Yeah, I’d appreciate that.
Me: Hokay.

Part of the reason I went out to California was to try and track down a friend that disappeared after COVID went down.

He’s pretty wealthy and well-connected, but intensely private, and just *poof* disappeared one day.

I’ve tried all my regular means of reaching him to no avail so I ended up heading out to LA to try and meet up with a woman I know he orbited around once. That didn’t go well.

Me: I’m in LA, if you’re free.
Her: Good for you. I’m not. You should have thought this out better.
Me: Evidently. Look, I just wanna know if he’s alive.
Her: How would I know, Logan? Let it go.
Me: This is going well.

On the flip side, a fella I knew from NYC was also in LA, purely by happenstance.

Me: What are you doing here? I thought you were in Nicaragua.
Him: My buddy called and said the house next to his was on the market so I bought it.
Me: Man, it must be good to have that kinda scratch. You free for lunch on Monday?
Him: Sure, let’s do it.

We ended up meeting around my brother’s pad. He’d never been to that part of the town so we met up and ordered a plate of food called “The Family Table” that was supposed to feed a family of four.

Me: This is not gonna be enough food.

We ended up ordered The Family Table, two large specialty rolls, and two other dishes.

 

He’s a guy that sold several companies to Google and Facebook but studied a lotta philosophy.

We spent the entire time arguing about the ethics of having children.

It was one of the more interesting and enlightening conversations I’ve had in my life but, in light of everyone that got mad at me for writing about them in my blog, I’ll just leave it at that.

Was still hungry afterward and ended up buying some pastries before heading back to my brother’s.

Spent the rest of the time eating and working on some things that’ve been percolating in my brain for a while.

I just needed to get somewhere else to figure it all out.

The morning I was going back, I order $40 worth of food at Lucky Boy, including a foot-long chili dog with chili and onions, another large bag of onion rings, a breakfast burrito with carne asada and a fish burrito for my brother.

This was my brekkie; those yellow logs are like 10 inches long.

It was the first time in ages – ages – that I couldn’t finish everything.

Also, I realized that I was gonna be in a tube for the next six hours and eating all that food was probably not the best idea.

Me: I have made a terrible miscalculation here.

BUT the trip back ended up being uneventful. I wrote my mother-in-law that I had a cast-iron stomach.

Even I couldn’t believe I didn’t have a gastronomic accident in the air.

Ended up hopping the LIRR back and was home in less than an hour.

Me: I’m home! (sighing) I’m home.

Location: earlier today, playing tag with the boy
Mood: gutted
Music: I just thought I would have you all my life (Spotify)
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Categories
personal

The Golden Mean

A last-minute weekend trip out to LA

Me: I have to go away for a few days.
Her: Why?
Me: I need to quiet my head. And see about a friend.
Her: You’re going to travel across the country for that? Are you insane?
Me: (shrugging) Depends on who you ask.

Before meeting Alison, I spent several years working on the Golden Mean, which is a philosophical pursuit where you try and cut out the highs and lows from your life.

Lisa Simpson summed it up best:

Obviously, you understand why one would want to cut out the lows but cutting out the highs is also necessary because, well, what goes up, must come down.

Man, that crash is rough when it happens. And it always happens.

Anywho, after meeting Alison, the Golden Mean was all but impossible because our lows were so very low. The past six or seven years have been a rollercoaster of emotions.

It’s time to get off.

Too much was happening in NYC: I just got injured (again), several people were mad at me (again), and I was dealing with too much emotion (again).

So, I rang my brother, hoping to reset.

Me: Can I crash with you for a few days?
Him: Sure.
Me: OK. I’ll catch the next flight to you.

A few hours later, I was up at 5AM. The night before, I spoke to a friend.

Her: You’re going to take a cab to the airport, right?
Me: Well…
Her: Logan, you’re not taking the subway to JFK that early. You read the papers. Take a cab.

Of course, I took the subway at 5:30 AM.

But, because of track-work, it turns out that the train I needed wasn’t running. At all.

So, I transferred to another train, and then another one, and then another one.

Finally, because of my latest injury, I gave up and hopped out somewhere in Queens and a cab was literally right outside the station when I came out – not another soul about.

It was kismet.

Him: Where to?
Me: (hopping in) JFK.
Him: Oh, where are you going?
Me: To see my brother, maybe find an old friend of mine, and see the California sun.

Made it to the airport and past the insanely long security check with just ten minutes to spare.

That’s not entirely true; my flight was delayed.

Which is fine because my ankle was very unhappy with me. Eventually, I boarded and sat next to a pretty lady and we chatted for a bit.

Her: What do you do?
Me: Drink and daydream about my possible pasts. You?

Six hours later, I arrived in LA. My brother picked me up.

Him: How was your trip?
Me: (hopping in) Not the best. But I’m glad to be here.
Him: Wanna pick up some Lucky Boy? Onion rings?
Me: Sure. Get the large onions rings.
Him: That’s waaayy too many onion rings.
Me: It’ll be fine.

It was waaayy too many onion rings.

That white bag is fulla huge onion rings. Huge.

Location: earlier today, trying to pass a guard in Union Square
Mood: in the Golden Mean
Music: LA – I’ll stay long enough to say I tried (Spotify)
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