We walked by there that day, and just like when the kid and I walked past the Maritime Hotel, I found my brain back a few years.
Her: We should go. Me: Yeah…
We ended up walking further down. The kid was in the mood for Mexican so we ended up at a restaurant I’d not been to before.
Him: I want guacamole! Me: You got it.
My SIL and I ended up having some killer food and some margaritas before we left.
Because my SIL is the kid’s aunt, she does aunt things, like get the boy things I wouldn’t get him.
Like a Magic 8-Ball.
To say this kid was thrilled about this is like saying water’s wet.
We parted ways right after Alison’s old block in Hoboken. I got stuck in my head again for a bit.
But I managed to pull myself out before it got too bad.
Me: Did you have a good time? Him: Yeah! (looking at Magic 8-Ball) “What’s the best place in New York?” Me: That’s not how it… Him: “Ask again later.” Me: Nevermind.
The day wasn’t what we thought it’d be, but it was still nice.
The problem I have with dating is that it’s totally binary for me. Either I don’t date – at all – or I have eight dates in a week. There’s no middle ground.
This is not sustainable.
Her: Where were you? Me: I left after 20 minutes. Her: You left?! Who does that? Me: Me. Being, admittedly, very pretty is no excuse for being rude. And pretty girls are a dime-a-dozen. Lose my number, please? Good luck with life.
On a different note entirely, the boy’s a social animal himself.
We’re not the same, he and I.
I taught myself how to be social, never having friends as a kid. My son, though, he’s a complete natural. But lemme back up a bit first…
We start out the day at a picnic at a playground where I catch a shot of the rainbow you see above.
Then we go to my gym for a quick spell, not much to say there.
Not from that day/night but this is a fun pic.
After the gym, he and I head off to another birthday party for the Surgeon’s kid at Chelsea Piers but it’s a gorgeous day, so we walk.
Ended up walking past the Maritime Hotel, which is where Alison and I had our first real date. I wrote about it here.
Never told you that she was the coke girl. She was 22 then and dealing with the loss of the man she loved, hence the drugs and alcohol. And me in her life.
Don’t think she’s ever recovered from that loss. But that’s her story, not mine.
I get it now, though.
Me: (staring at the Maritime Hotel) I went on a date with the prettiest girl here. Him: Mommy? Me: (nodding) Yeah. Mommy.
He wanted to walk along the Highline so we did. The last time I was there, I was with Alison as well.
But, let’s not go down this route. Alison and loss, that is.
In any case, the Highline was packed. We went about three blocks on it before…
Me: There are too many people here and we’re close. Let’s get off this ride? Him: OK!
Here’s the thing, I totally messed up the time and arrived at Chelsea Piers two-and-a-half-hours early.
Him: Papa! Me: (apologetically) I know, I know, I know. My memory is swiss cheese these days.
For any other kid, this woulda been a problem, but not my bright-eyed, bushy tailed kid.
But, it’s getting late and I gotta get off this ride.
I’ll tell you the rest tomorrow.
Location: in my head, the Maritime Hotel
Mood: (still) super annoyed by these goddamn hives
Music: They don’t got a pill for this (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
We had a Scenic Fights shoot a month ago on 9/11 and Pac had to do a throw. But, like I said, that throw went bad and he essentially dropped me straight down on my head.
Even though I landed directly on to the top of my head, because of the speed he was going at, and the height (maybe three feet off the ground), while it hurt like hell, I was ok enough to get up and finish my scenes.
This past Sunday, because Pez was able to watch the kid, I was able to do another shoot but, in hindsight, maybe it woulda been better if I’d not been able to make it.
First of all, I started getting an outbreak of hives. Think it mighta been a friend’s perfume because I remember my throat tightening when I met up with her.
Her: Are you ok? Me: (coughing) I’ve not been ok for years now.
It’s been a solid week since then and things are about the same if not worse.
Now have a newfound level of respect and empathy for Mouse, who’s been dealing with this kinda stuff her whole life.
Still, I decided to just suck it up and go. The director had me go buy a mock-turtleneck to hide everything.
But that’s not even why the shoot was awful.
Before everything went to hell. I should wear more purple.
See, Pac was supposed to do this joke throw and, during a practice throw, he fully picked me up, at least five feet off the floor.
He misjudged the angle – and the there was some communication issues between him and the director – and he ended up dropping me on my neck onto the crash pad.
Despite there being three inches of normal padding and six inches of the crash pad, because of the force and angle, I legit thought I was gonna be paralyzed.
Haven’t been that terrified about anything since the kid went to the hospital and, of course, Alison before that.
Screamed out in pain and Pac later told me that the entire room went quiet with mouths agape.
Chad: (later) I remember watching that and thinking, We all just watched a man lose his body right now.
Went completely into my head and, for a terrifying 5-10 seconds, could not feel my feet.
Pac later told me that I was babbling that I couldn’t feel my feet but that I was wiggling them the whole time. In hindsight, he thought that was funny.
Him: Of course, at the time, I was horrified.
It took a solid five minutes or so for me to come to my senses. Pac said he immediately came over and put his hands on my chest and neck to make sure I was alive.
Don’t remember that at all.
The entire shoot paused for a solid 45 minutes – which we never do, as we’re usually racing for 10-14 hours straight with a 30 min break for food – so I could get my bearings.
Was pretty cloudy-headed and in intense pain for the rest of the shoot, although I did burst out laughing once I realized that I wasn’t paralyzed.
Only managed to finish two scenes before I had to head home. The rest of the night was ice packs and ibuprofen.
Don’t recall what I said to Pez at all when I saw her later on that night.
Pac felt awful about it, and everyone checked in on me that night and the next day, which was nice.
It was honestly life-changing. In light of what Mouse said to me earlier the previous week, I gave Pac a ring.
Him: Dude, I felt awful for you but I was also feeling sick that I might have crippled you. Me: Yeah. (thinking) If anything good came out of this, I remember thinking, “I hope I die instead of being crippled for the rest of my life and be a burden to the kid.” But then I realized also that I really, really didn’t want to die.
Reached out to Gradgirl, in a manner of speaking. She’s not contacted me back, dunno if she ever will.
I’m not even sure it’s her getting my messages because we always communicated via this specialized app. It could be someone else entirely getting them or maybe she’s just deleting them as they come in.
But I hope maybe she’ll read one or two and maybe hate me just a little less.
She was a friend when I needed one and I hope I can be one to her, somehow, someday.
It’s funny, I thought a buncha things lying there – mainly the kid, of course.
Shit, he’s gonna be so fucked up.
In my haze, I also remember thinking, Alison’s gonna be so mad at me if I died and left the kid alone.
But I also thought of Mouse and Gradgirl too. Mainly, that I hoped I wouldn’t die with them hating me.
Him: (laughing) So, all thoughts of suicide are gone? Me: (nodding) So gone, man. I don’t want to die at all. Was thinking that there’s so much I still want to do. With the kid, with a lotta things. Him: So, you should be thanking me then. Me: (laughing) I wouldn’t go that far, Pac…
The boy’s class had an outdoor gettogether recently at the park near my pad.
It was nice meeting some of the other parents.
Her: Oh, I’m a lawyer too. Kinda, I don’t really practice. Me: Sounds like me. Did you go to law school here? Her: Oh, no. I went to Yale. Me: (laughing) If I went to Yale, I would have that tattooed on my forehead: “I went to Yale Law School.”
He had a grand time.
There’s something about seeing your kid joyous that’s gives you joy. This is him discovering a fallen branch.
It’s funny that I have to remind myself that everything is new and novel to him.
Also had a Scenic Fights shoot this past Sunday – which definitely deserves its own entry – and my normal babysitter had to bail for reasons I totally understood.
But that meant me scrambling for someone that I trusted to watch the kid while we shot our vids.
Literally called everyone I knew. Unfortunately, no one could make it – that is until Pez came in and saved the day.
Her: Yellow! I was just able to switch my Sunday, so I’ll be able to watch him for ya! Me: Yes! Thanks!
She’s actually been helping out both with the kid and with the gym, the latter being a project I’ll tell you about later.
But, to figure out the contours of that project, we got some drinks and other legal pharmaceuticals to chat about it.
After a while, we got munchy and started trying to figure out how to get some food into ourselves.
We tried to get some wings at one joint but were thwarted by technology.
Her: Wait, we can only order on our phones. Me: So, we have to download and install an app just to order food?! Her: Yup. Me: Well, that’s annoyingly dumb.
We bailed and just picked up fried fowl across the street and caught up at my pad.
Some relatively recent friends (formally) exited my Venn Diagram while others came back for a visit.
Years ago, the Devil told me, “We’re not friends. We’re friendly, but we’re not friends. There’s a difference. Don’t get it twisted, kid.”
Found myself saying similar those exact words to someone else at a Japanese restaurant this past week and – for a moment, at least – I was my old self again.
Me: For what it’s worth, it was mature of you to reach out to me to talk. I never woulda myself because it’s not in my nature. Him: (slowly nodding) I only know you after Alison…died. I’m still getting used to who you really are. Me: Gotta be honest, I don’t care. But, our interests are aligned: What you want and what I want are the same. Let’s just get the job done. Whatever personal feelings we have towards the other are irrelevant. (later) To be clear, I felt I owed you a debt. I consider the debt paid – in full. I don’t owe you shit. But, it cut both ways, you don’t owe me shit either. I just wanna come in, do my shit, and leave. We’re both professionals, let’s act as such. Him: As skilled as you are with a knife, you cut better with words than anyone I know.
It was perfectly eloquent and cruel, but I suppose it was true and I deserved it.
Fuck it. I’m getting tired of apologizing for and hiding who and what I am.
A woman I dated briefly dropped me a line earlier this month and then again this week.
She made me laugh.
And then Rain hit me up to chat about stuff. Oddly, someone just asked me earlier today if he and I were still in contact.
There’s definitely something weird in the air. In any case, it was good catching up with him.
Me: Jesus Christ – you have hair! And it’s grey! Him: Man, you look exactly the same. I can’t believe you still have all your hair and it’s black. Me: I’m as surprised as you are.
We got onto the topic of buying some grass-fed beef together because…of course we did.
Weirder still, a girl I met on the train three years ago randomly dropped me a line recently as well.
What on earth is going on?
It’s was Pac’s birthday this past weekend.
Had a hangover for the first time in over a decade but I’ll tell you more about that tomorrow.
Location: earlier today, my kitchen, baking two dozen cookies and a pan of lasagna for my favourite tiny human
Mood: Same as the song
Music: Well, fuck ’em, fuck ’em, fuck ’em all (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Before I went out with RE Mike, I picked up the kid from school and he wasn’t his usual indefatigably happy self because of his black eye.
Him: Some of the kids were making fun of me. (sadly) They called me hamburger face. I didn’t like that. I asked them to stop but they didn’t. (sighs) Me: You can’t control what other kids do or say, but you can control how you react to these things. Do you know their names?
Him: No. Me: People that you don’t know that are mean shouldn’t matter to you. Don’t care so much about people and things that don’t matter. Now, go play. Her: (woman overhearing my conversation after he ran off) That was really good advice. Me: Thanks. Parenting’s hard, isn’t it? Her (nodding) So hard.
If you don’t have a kid, it’s difficult to explain how much it wears on a parent to have a sad kid; and this kid is rarely sad.
But when he is, I’m bummed all day.
While I was out with RE Mike, I mentioned the fact that I studied weapons fighting for just about as long as we’ve known each other.
He was totally shocked because I never once mentioned it.
It’s funny, people think that because I have a blog, my life’s an open book. In many ways, it is. But I also keep a lotta secrets.
There’s so much of my life I’ve not told you and I don’t think you’d believe if I told you anywho.
After all, some secrets are (quite) good and some are (quite) bad, but all are special things.
The next morning, he texted me the following – the link is to Scenic Fights:
Anywho, after I picked the boy up late from RE Mike’s pad, we took the long walk to the west side to grab the train home.
Him: I’m scared. Me: Why? Him: It’s so dark and people are so loud. Me: It’s fine, you’re with me and I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you. Him: You’re not scared? Me: Everyone’s scared sometimes. But I’m not right now. Because these people are all like sheep, or – at most – like wolves, and papa’s neither. Him: What are you then? Me: (laughing) Uncle Pac thinks papa’s an old lion. That sounds about right. And lions – even old ones – aren’t afraid of sheep or wolves.
Still, I might have a problem going the gym as much as I want. I’ve had some health issues pop up recently, on top of tearing my meniscus.
The first is that Pac dropped me on my head in a recent Scenic Fights shoot. He was injured and tired and so was I so that wasn’t a good combo as I essentially got pile-driven into the mat.
Thank goodness that we recently just got gifted a crash pad because it woulda been seriously bad without it.
The doc said he didn’t see anything major to be concerned about but did ask me to take it easy.
But then some routine tests came back…weird. Need to run a few more tests to figure it all out.
Of course, there’s always something.
Finally, I’m not the only person in my two-person family with unexpected health issues; the kid was running in an afterschool program in the second week of class and then went face-first into a pipe.
1/2 an inch lower and he coulda lost an eye.
Alison once said that, the night before you become a parent is the last night you get a good night of sleep.
Man, that’s so true.
Him: It hurts! Me: I know, kid. I’m sorry. Him: Don’t touch it! Me: I gotta. I’m sorry. Him: Noooo! Me: I need you trust me, ok? Do you trust me? Him: Yes? Me: Good enough. Deep breath.
For those of you that have been reading this blog for a while, you may have noticed a recurring theme, which is, What does it mean to be human?
It seems like a silly question but we’re all essentially imperfect; physically, mentally, and emotionally, we’re all lacking in something that makes us fully realized human beings.
On that note, I had an interesting exchange with a young visitor at the gym the other day.
Him: I never knew that there was such a thing like knife and stick fighting, I just thought people picked these things up and used them. Me: All fighting is skill-based. Some require more skill than others. The argument against weapons fighting is that it’s unnatural, because we’re not always armed, and I think that’s precisely the opposite of reality. Him: What do you mean? Me: It’s empty-hand fighting that’s unnatural; the nature of being human is that we use tools.
Imagine you’re alone in your home and you hear a noise in your living room. Do you just saunter out to check things out or do you grab a bat, stick, or lamp first?
Or, google any uprising and lemme know how many unarmed people you see? Or any mob action, including the January 6th riot – how many people are completely unarmed?
The nature of human violence is that we want something – anything – in our hands, in times of stress. Because we all instinctively know that weapons are force multipliers.
Fighting someone without any type of weapon is unnatural, precisely the opposite of what most people think.
And that’s why I think everyone should have some weapons training.
Here’s the kicker: If you’re unarmed, you don’t get to decide if you’re in a weapons fight or not. Only the armed person gets to decide that.
On a somewhat related point, we had to cancel the children’s classes at our gym because the kid’s coach we were using got an offer we couldn’t match.
So, I signed up the boy to the local gym around me.
I’m probably a bit biased but…man, he’s so damn cute, I can’t stand it.
This is in addition to alla his other afterschool activities like swimming. He’s the lime green blur in the photo below.
Trying to get into the new rhythm of the school year. One unexpectedly sad thing I realized was that every year for the past three years is that I’m the only emergency contact for him.
I had someone as a second contact when he was pre-4K but that was a long time ago.
It’s annoying, these little heartaches that randomly crop up.
On a much happier note, while I was there at the gym signing the kid up for his new class, this young man – very excitedly – waved to me:
Him: I’m so sorry, but are you Logan Lo? Me: (laughing) Yes! Do you watch Scenic Fights? Him: YES! I’m a subscriber! This is so cool! Me: For me too!
Think I’ve been to one silent dance party – where people dancing wear headphones to music by a DJ, but spectators generally don’t – in my life up until about a week ago.
Then I went to two within a week or so.
The first was when I went to the biergarten last week, which I didn’t know would be happening but my buddy Katrina did…
…and the second with another friend when we went to get burgers and beers around the way…
…and we ended up staying so long that it became yet another outdoor silent dance party – again, I didn’t know that this would be happening at all.
Or, rather, the food took so long that the whole thing became yet another outdoor silent dance party.
Think that’s the coolest thing about living in New York City, though; you can go out for one activity (dinner/drinks) and end up in a completely different activity (dancing/singing) with zero effort.
Check that: The weirdest/coolest thing about the night was that this fella walked up to me and asked, Excuse me, do you have a YouTube channel?
It was actually the second guy in two days to recognize me. I’ll tell you about the first one later.
Pretty flattering, I gotta say.
Her: (after) I think his friends were encouraging him to talk to you. Me: That’s so funny. Her: You’re a celebrity! Me: (laughing) A D-list YouTube celebrity, but yes.
I’ve got a buncha smart devices all over our pad and, when the boy’s here, he generally wakes me up by saying, Papa, good morning! It’s time to wake up.
Well, one day when he was away, I woke up to that same sentence. (!?)
For a moment, I wonder if I’d somehow forgotten that I’d picked him up and leapt out of bed to see if he was in his room. He wasn’t.
It turns out that he figured out how to log into the family account on his tablet and made an announcement. From his grandparents’ home in NJ.
He’s definitely gonna be a handful as he gets older.
In any case, I picked him up for real last week and the pad is noticeably more joyous now.
He just started second grade. Isn’t that a kick in the head?
Him: Papa, good morning! It’s time to wake up. Me: (groggily) Five more minutes… Him: That’s what you always say! Me: Because I always need five more minutes, kid.
Him: You know the old saying, “If you can’t beat em, join em?” Me: I’m familiar with the phrase. Him: Well, in [a book I’m reading] they say, “If you can’t join em, beat em!” Get it? (punches the air) With your fists! Me: (laughing) Valid.
…or miss…
Him: What kind of pig doesn’t like mud? Me: I dunno. What kind of pig doesn’t like mud? Him: The doesn’t like mud-kind! Me: (slowly) That’s not a good joke. Him: (sighing) I know.
…when it comes to his jokes.
The purpose of this blog was never meant to hurt anyone. It was just a place for me to put my honest thoughts. Unfortunately, it’s a little too late to be anonymous so I continue.
Still, I’m trying to be mindful that, when I tell my story, I end up telling parts of other people’s stories as well. Dunno if there’s a way to remedy that.
I try to keep information as broad and non-identifiable as possible and even try to further obfuscate things where I can.
On a related note, the woman that didn’t tell me to fuck off, has since changed her mind.
Me: You equate apologizing with being subservient. That’s not healthy. Her: You are right, Logan. And now kindly fuck off.
Honestly, at this point, I’m finding it hard to care about another person’s mental cockroaches. Our lives are self-proving things and another person’s opinion of me is none of my business.
Told you once that I found kindness to be the most attractive quality about a person. The flip is true as well. Unkindness is the biggest turnoff for a fella like me.
