Tag: family

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personal

Ziggy and the kid

Diddling around Chinatown

Me: Man, that is one small laptop, can I see it?
Her: Sure, you can diddle around on it.
Me: I haven’t diddled around with anything in a while, lady.

RE Mike shot me two top-tier tix to Midsummer: A Shakespearience the other day but I’ve been so cloudy lately that I declined.

Him: Bring a date!
Me: (laughing) No one’s made the cut to meet you yet, man.

He sent me the below to show me what I missed out on. Alla my days and nights are blending together again so it woulda been a waste anywho.

I’m always dreaming again.

Or at least, sleepwalking.

Friends and almost friends have been asking me to head out with them and I’ve said yes as often as I’ve said no.

That’s a lie. If I’m turning down RE Mike, I’m turning down most people. But some people make the cut. Some.

Gotta say, though, that my most memorable night recently has been with the kid.

See, he’s been taking Chinese class and this week’s lesson was about Chinese food so I decided to take him downtown to eat dinner with me.

So, right after his class, whisked him to Chinatown to try out the dishes he learned.

On the way down, we ran into zombie Ziggy Stardust…

Son: Did you know him?
Me: No, I just met him now.
Him: Then how did you know his name was Ziggy?
Me: (laughing) That’s a long story. But he was nice, wasn’t he?

..before we got to Chinatown…

Him: There’s so much Chinese [writing everywhere]!
Me: Hence the name, kid.

…and worked our way to the restaurant to try out some steamed veggie dumplings, pan-fried dumplings, scallion pancakes, and soup dumplings.

Waiter: Are you expecting anyone else?
Me: Nope. It’s just the two of us. We’ll eat it all.

I was pleasantly surprised how much he enjoyed the steamed vegetable dumplings. Not everything was a surprise, though.

Him: (making a face) What is that?
Me: Tea.
Him: I don’t like it.
Me: It’s only the second most popular beverage in the world. (leaning over and whispering) It’s ok, I prefer coffee myself. Shhhh…

We killed everything and he was still hungry afterward. He’s definitely my kid.

A group of women lawyers were in the the table next to us, talking shop, and I locked eyes with a pretty brunette.

But, like I said, I’ve been so fuzzy lately, I figured it’d just end up as another date to nowhere.

So, I tossed her a wink, the waiter two Jacksons, and walked the kid around the place.

Him: Can we do this again?
Me: Anytime, kid, anytime.
Him: Tomorrow!
Me: (laughing) Strike and withdraw. Lemme rephrase that…

He’s getting the shot tomorrow.

I may be muddled-headed these days but the only thing that’s crystal clear is that I gotta keep him safe, any way I can.

You see, he’s my only treasure…

Location: earlier today, being told he was special
Mood: grey
Music: I had to phone someone so I picked on you (Spotify)
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personal

Typically what one does

Hey, kid

Him: Great, now *I’m* paranoid.

This was probably one of the busiest Halloweens I’ve ever had, mainly because of the kid and some other things that I don’t want to discuss, publicly.

Speaking of discussing things publicly, I mentioned to some people in my gym the the other day that I almost never say the kid’s name out in public.

Because I have zero desire for the world at a whole to know my son’s name. It’s the same reason that I don’t put up pics of him and his face.

Look, this kid’s gonna grow up with the least amount of privacy the world’s seen to date – and it’s only gonna get worse.

There are almost no pictures of me between the age of 14 and 25 years of age, beyond what my family has. Because, my dream job throughout college was to be an analyst (not a field agent) at the CIA. I actually made it through two rounds of interviews before I got a rejection.

Never did find out why. But that’s neither here nor there.

Find it so odd when parents emblazon their kid’s name on their backpacks and put up endless social media photos of them. That strikes me as a bad time waiting to happen.

I’d say I was paranoid but my luck is of the stripe no one wants so, really, I’m just acting on the information I have.

Me: Honestly, this kid is only thing that really matters to me. So, fuck everyone and everything else.
Him: Seriously though, I agree with everything you just said.

Still, I can’t keep him at home alla time – especially since he didn’t get a real Halloween last year – so we did make it to one house party where he was Chewbacca…

…one street party where he was a Ninja Turtle…

…while stopping by stores to get even more candy…

…and the usual group next door.

Me: Thanks for inviting us, as always!
Him: (laughing) I heard a bunch of people invited you.
Me: It’s the kid, not me. Everyone loves the kid.

On another matter entirely, our producer for Scenic Fights just told me that we have more subscribers (148,000)  on our channel than Esquire does on their channel (147,000).

And Marie Claire for that matter…

Plus, I got the funniest call the other day.

Him: Hi, I’m calling about the kali class for Paxibellum.
Me: Sure. (explains to him the procedures) When you get there, my business partner, Chad, can set you up.
Him: Wait, Chad from Scenic Fights? Is Logan going to be there as well?
Me: Logan will not be there. Because Logan’s with his kid that day. I know this because, I’m Logan.
Him: WHOA! I’m a huge fan. You answer your phone?
Me: (laughing) Yes, that’s typically what one does with one’s phone.

Fans. Chad and I have fans. Don’t even need huge fans, tiny fans will do.

What a kick in the head.

It’s the first good kick in the head I’ve had in a while.

Location: earlier tonight, the gym for the my first Monday
Mood: curious
Music: think it’s finally, finally, finally, finally, finally safe (Spotify)
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I believe in you

For the want of a hairdryer

I had a hairdryer installed in the gym the other day. One of the female students mentioned that it would be a good idea so I ordered the parts and had one of our buddies install it.

And because I’m fucking psychopath these days, that started my brain on a two-week downward spin.

In onea my favourite books, On Writing, Stephen King talks about writing a story about a teenage girl undergoing puberty and some horror (of course) that came along with it.

He didn’t think that he – as a middle-aged man – could or should write about such a thing, so he crumpled up his nascent story and tossed it into the trash.

His wife found the papers, pulled them outta the dustbin, smoothed them out, read it, walked over to him, and said something like, “You have something here. You should finish this.”

It ended up being Carrie, which is the first story he sold for anything substantial.

King and his wife were living in a trailer park at the time and he was washing blood and shit – and the accompanying maggots thereof –  out of hospital laundry when he got the call that he sold it.

King said, he was so broke, he didn’t know how to celebrate so he walked into some drugstore, asked what was the most expensive thing they had for his wife, and walked out with a hairdryer.

He goes home and gives it to wife, breaks down, and tell her that they finally made it.

They made it, because he’d still be some dude living in a trailer park washing shit, blood, and maggots outta bedsheets for hospitals if his wife never pulled those pages outta the wastepaper basket.

Team effort. Yay, team.

Years ago, Alison and I sat down to have an honest talk about what we wanted to do and be to have the best environment to have a family.

Her: I’d like to work for myself, like you do. Go into non-profits, and help them be as efficient and productive as possible. Help people. What about you? If you could anything?
Me: I don’t know.
Her: My mom and I always felt you’d be a great law professor.
Me: (laughing) I’d love that. But who’s gonna hire me? I’m a nobody when it comes to that.
Her: You lectured in Paris! You won awards. You beat [a fortune 100 company]. If you want to be a professor, you’d be a great one. (smiling) But no pretty TAs, ok?
Me: That would never matter to me.
Her: I know. Do it. I believe in you.

Got a call from a buddy of mine. A small law school here in the city is looking for a starting professor in my field of the law. Honestly, I’m a perfect fit.

But, I’m not that guy anymore. 10-12 years ago? I woulda killed to even be considered for that position.

Now, I have zero desire to be a professor. It would just remind me that that part of my life is over.

The only teaching I do these days involves the stabby-stabby, slashy-slashy.

Me: Thanks, I don’t think I’m going to apply for it.
Him: Why not? I’ll put in a good word for you. Just try.
Me: No. But thank you for thinking of me.

Years ago, told you about a fella named Arnold Glasow that once said, The respect of those you respect is worth more than the applause of the multitude.

In my fevered mind, late at night, when I can’t sleep, I wonder if Alison would be proud of me and alla these crazy things that I’ve done after she was taken – like Scenic Fights and Paxibellum.

She thought I was the greatest things ever – she never saw all my faults.

In my entire life, I’ve only cared about my family being proud of me and two, maybe three, women.

My dad’s gone and my remaining family is always proud of me, no matter what I do. Alison’s gone from the universe, while the other(s) are just gone from my life.

It’s nice that Scenic Fights is doing so well – 28,000+ views on our latest video in just two days.

And I’ve got a great group of guys from Paxibellum including, not just Chad, but a world-famous actor, an almost billionaire, a brilliant lawyer (not me), and a respected director.

But, to me, they’re just “the guys.” Ditto for my law firm. Ditto for the other professions I never talk about.

In the end, I have the respect of those I respect and I’m grateful for that. Truly.

But, I have no one that I want to be proud of me, that is proud of me. It’s been so fucking long since someone believed in me. That I was someone to be proud of.

Well, that’s not completely true.

Him: That’s you!!!! Papa, that’s you and Uncle Chad!
Me: (laughing) Thanks, kid. I needed that.

All this, because of a hairdryer. And the job prospect.

I’m clearly starkers. The insomnia’s back.

Everything’s turning grey and soupy again.

Location: nowhere
Mood: lost
Music: Stay awake, stay awake, stay awake with me
/a> (Spotify)
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business personal

Whatever, whenever

No dental, but we’re working on it

We had another all-day shoot for Scenic Fights the other day.

Pez showed up at my pad mad early to help watch the kiddo. The morning was an unmitigated disaster because I left TWO of the shirts we needed for the shoot at the gym. So the three of us piled into a cab heading to Paxibellum.

The cabbie forgot to switch on the meter and started cursing.

I was gonna say something but the kid was there so I just handed the driver $15 and he shut up. Then he drove us down to see Chad at a diner local to him.

Me: (to son) What do you want?
Him: Pancakes!
Me: Big surprise there.
Chad: What are you getting, Logan?
Me: (shrugging) Chili, what else?
Chad: For breakfast?! You’re gonna be running to the bathroom.
Me: Nah, I’m a man. (laughing) Seriously, though. I remember my mom telling me as a kid that she thought it was odd that Americans have food that they only eat at certain times. We grew up eating whatever, whenever.

The shoot itself went pretty well. Hopefully, you’ll see the fruits of that coming up later.

We actually got a sponsor so Chad and I shot our first commercial, which you’ll see in the next few months.

Me: We’re selling out! This is everything our forefathers dreamed of!
Him: (laughing) We need to sell out more.
Me: Yeah, we’re not in this for the mental masturbation, man.

Our Punisher breakdown just came out and – in 12 hours – we hit 10,000 views and 320 comments. Not too shabby.

I rarely put up – in fact, I don’t think I ever have – a picture of myself as the main pic but I liked how this one looks so I figured, eh, screw it.

Her: So, what do you do?
Me: Violence, darling.
Her: (laughing) How’s that?
Me: No dental but we’re working on it.

Location: home all day, doing physical therapy
Mood: back-and-forth
Music: My heart is broken and broken and broken and broken (Spotify)
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personal

So Boring

Dealing with the aftermath

It’s been a strange few weeks. On the one hand, I’ve been more social than I’ve been in ages. On the other hand, I forgot how sad being social can be.

To wit, I had three women cry with me recently. One was professional – and super strange – the other two were personal. It was all quite…sad and puzzling. I suppose I’ll sort that all out and tell you about it at some point.

If I manage to sort it all out.

I’m still dealing with the aftermath of the accident. I suppose I should get my noggin checked out because, while I do want to forget things, I’m shocked at how much I’m forgetting these days. Then again, I suppose some things I wanna forget.

On that note, I met up with a physical therapist. You see, the other day, my kali coach felt I was good enough to do some stickwork with my right hand and I though I was good enough to roll with people that weren’t on my safe list.

We were both wrong.

PT Steve: Your neck is essentially fused together at two vertebrae, and almost totally straight. Your wrist’s tendons are either totally snapped off or really stretched out. And your left shoulder is completely locked. You’re going to be pretty messed up when you’re in your forties.
Me: I’m 48! And I was just in a pretty bad accident.
Him: You’re 48?! In that case, you’re actually not that bad. But yeah, you need to stop doing what you’re doing at the gym for a while.

Goddammit.

Me: Are you sure you want to go to the Haunted House by yourself?
Him: It’s fine, papa. I’m not scared.

The boy’s been incredibly social too. I recall going to two birthday parties as a kid. This kid has an event every single week and it’s exhausting.

Case in point, just this past week, he had three play dates, two birthday parties, one fall event, two late night dinners out with my friends, and brekkie with Pez and Chad just today.

And this is him being chased around by a princess.

Man, I hope he doesn’t peak at grade school.

Speaking of peaking, this UFC fighting, movie-producing, partner at a large law firm named Titus came by the gym the other day and then came by my pad for some drinks.

We met years ago at Paul’s wedding. He’s not really on social media so he only just heard about Alison recently when he stopped by.

Him: It feels like yesterday.
Me: (nodding) Alison didn’t come [to the wedding] because she was pregnant. We lost that kid, anyway. We kept losing fucking kids and then she got cancer and died. It’s all fucking bullshit. Our entire life since the day [you and I] met has been a shitshow.

Me: …and that’s what happened.
Titus: Dude, I feel like crying myself.
Me: It’s weird. It’s like I look at that past version of me and I feel sorry for him and Alison. I don’t feel like me anymore. Maybe that’s a good thing. I gotta be ok for this kid.

Paul, his wife, and his kid stopped by afterward and we all ended up going to one of my favourite local joints for a super-late midweek dinner with the kiddo.

Like I said, super social.

Titus had never seen Scenic Fights either.

Him: This is great! I’m actually buddies with the choreographer of Captain American: Winter Solider and I worked with the guys that did John Wick and Nobody.
Me: (laughing) Show them our work but tell them that we’re not jerks.

We had another Scenic Fights shoot today today, hence the early brekkie with Chad and Pez. But I’ll tell you all about that tomorrow or something.

Son: (after another late night dinner with an unexpected guest) That was fun! So many people come to see us! Will we her again?
Me: Probably not.
Him: Awwwww, why? She was so nice and pretty.
Me: I just need you, kiddo. You and me.
Him: That’d be SO BORING!
Me: (laughing) Not for me, kid. Not for me.

Location: earlier in Brooklyn, being told to say it again
Mood: rough
Music: All I need is room for you (Spotify)
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The Imposter

Hold my girl

Him: Dude, get an MRI.
Me: I can’t do it, man. I can’t go back to another fucking hospital.
Him: You gotta get checked out.

Chad’s worried about me. Diving headfirst into a concrete divider – even with a helmet – can’t possibly be good. My insomnia is back with a vengeance and I feel cloudy in my head again.

Plus my neck and wrist aren’t getting any better. Everything about me feels…off.

Was walking to the gym the other day when this song came on and it gutted me.

Dunno if it’s the season, the lack of sleep, or the accident but I don’t feel exactly like myself anymore.

I walked into my first kali class, with my then girlfriend, 17 years ago. Even know the exact date: Tuesday, February 17, 2004.

A major reason why I never really told anyone about my doing kali was such a strong sense of imposter syndrome. For example, the Scenic Fights guys asked me to do their series but I turned them down for over a year before we shot our first episode.

Turned them down mainly because I was taking care of Alison. And then I was busy drinking and womanizing. But also because I didn’t feel I was the right man for the job.

Yet for some reason, they kept asking me so I finally gave in. I tell them all that I’m touched that they thought I was worth waiting for.

Yet, even now, I still feel like an imposter. Like, What am I doing teaching this stuff?

So much of my life – being a lawyer, being a teacher, being a network analyst, being a writer, working the clubs – I felt like an imposter.

Still feel that but that’s taken a back seat to my newest imposter neurosis:

I’m a father? I’m it? He’s got no mother, no brothers, no sisters. I’m it?

This has all gottta be some cosmic joke.

Shit, I can barely take care of Harold. And yet, I’m all this kid has. We can’t even go to Alison’s family’s this coming holiday because COVID’s still not under control.

And, again, this whole time was supposed to be bonus. Instead, it’s just shit.

When I thought I was dying of COVID,  when I went sailing through the air, headfirst into a concrete divider, all I thought was:

I’m all he’s got.

Like I said, I was walking to the gym and this song came on. And it gutted me.

I’m sorry, kid. I’m sorry, I’m all you got. You deserve a real family.

But, FWIW, I love you like a fat kid loves cake. I love you more than all the gold in the world.

Hopefully, that’s enough. I suppose it’s gotta be.

Location: earlier at the gym, telling him that I’ll be ok
Mood: cloudy
Music: I’ve been dreaming ’bout us (Spotify)
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It is what it is

Some bright spots

Her: What do you mean, “You’re good at it?” How is one good at dating?
Me: There’re steps to dating: Meeting someone, building enough comfort with them that they’ll meet you again, and then want to see you again. Etc. I think I’m pretty good at each step.
Her: (dismissively) You mean like everyone in NY.
Me: If you say so, darling.

It’s been a rough week. Been in my head a ton, which is why I’ve been trying to go the gym as much as possible, despite my injuries.

RE Mike sent me an invite to yet another one of his ridonk parties and I was going to go but I feel like I’m being too social these days instead of focusing on the boy.

Plus, it’s a lot more exhausting than it was back in the day. Besides, the last one left a decidedly bad taste in my mouth for a variety of reasons, unrelated to him.

Man, RE Mike never slows down. Dunno how he does it.

As for me, heading to the gym instead was the right choice, despite my injuries. Been really careful with whom I decide to work with so I’ve managed not to make anything worse.

But I think it’s more the emotional turmoil that’s keeping me up. Well, no less than the whiplash and messed up knee and wrists.

Note to self: Slamming sticks together several times a week with an injured wrist is probably not a good idea.

Maybe that’s why I’m not that guy anymore. It was never easy to cut someone loose, but it’s even harder now.

But there are some bright spots here and there, with some old and dear friends.

Professor: I remember your dad and his cooking up a storm. A huge plate of tofu and giant prawns.
Me: Thanks. (sighing) It’s sweet that so many people remember him fondly.
Him: To be honest I’d rather trade places with you in terms of dads – then and now – poignant memories of a loving deceased dad is far better than miserable memories of a distant alive dad who I’ve heard nothing from for years. On the other hand there are dads way worse than mine, so there’s that.
Me: Yeah.
Him: Whatever – we’re almost 50 and theoretically should be past this kinda stuff – but emotions are what they are. Is what it is.

Yeah, it is what it is. Just wish it wasn’t so shitty.

Location: Earlier today, 14th and 6th, looking for carbs with my favourite tiny human
Mood: pensive
Music: been dreaming of you to come wake me up (Spotify)
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He would have been 83

More than all the gold in the world

Saw a buncha kids around my son the other day cause he was telling them a story.

Laughed to myself as I approached them because I find him so amusingly social.

But then I heard him what he was saying.

Him: She died when I was a baby. I was only a few days old.
Boy: Were you sad?
Him: (nods)
Girl: How did she die?

That’s when I had to turn back. This is not how it’s supposed to fucking be. Shit. Piss. Fuck.

He’s in fucking first grade. This is not what a first grader should be talking about.

Speaking of painful, my dad woulda been 83 this week.

It hurts that my son will never know him. That he’ll never know Alison.

My dad took us back to Taiwan when his dad, my grandfather, died. I was the same age as the kid in the photo above, about two?

So, I have no recollection. Suppose I turned out fine but I realize how much this must have hurt my dad because I feel the loss myself now.

Whenever we would talk, he would want to cook me something. I suppose that was his love language: Food.

When I was doing keto/Atkins, he made it a point to keep steaks in the freezer so he could make me a steak with broccoli on the side. I eventually got tired of steak – a wild thing to say, I realize – but I never said anything because I knew he bought an army’s worth of steak for me to have.

If you have both parents and all grandparents, consider yourself very lucky in that regard. I never knew my dad’s dad, just like my son won’t know his dad’s dad.

Him: You miss your daddy? Because he died?
Me: (slowly) Yes. I miss my daddy.
Him: I’m sorry, papa.
Me: Thanks, kiddo. You’re my favourite, you know?
Him: Even mommy?
Me: (thinking) We both loved you more than anything else in the world.
Him: More than anything?
Me: (nodding) More than anything. More than all the gold in the world.

Location: this fucking place
Mood: heartbroken
Music: the beautiful thing You’re doing is making new things out of ruins (Spotify)
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personal

A night on the Virgin Revvel

Alesya Yelisow Alesya Yelisowa

Not the wurst night

RE Mike invited me out to a party on a ship – which is vastly different from a party on a boat – and comped me two extra tix.

I’d always thought that my SIL and Mouse would get along so I invited both of them expecting that one, or both, would demur. Surprisingly, they both said yes and the three of us had a great night.

We were supposed to link up with RE Mike and my buddy from around the way but we only saw them briefly because (a) we got there much earlier than them and (b) there was some scheduling issues.

It was the first time we were hanging out since April of 2019.

But it ended up being fine. We headed first to the restaurant.

Her: We should leave a tip.
Me: It’s all taken care of.
Her: We don’t leave a tip?!
Me: It’s all taken care of. Trust me on this.

Again, I don’t think I ever taken out my wallet a single time for anything that RE Mike’s ever invited me in all these years.

RE Mike and our buddy around the way both showed up to say hi during dinner and they accidentally took my jacket, which led to me hunting them down all night – a harder task when there’s an open bar involved.

Speaking of which, afterward we went to the bar…

…then a club…

…then a show…

…then more bars…

…before ending the night at a diner on the ship.

Her: God, that was the worst sausage ever.
Me: It was definitely the wurst. (no one thought that was funny, but I still entertain myself, no end)

I was thrilled to hang out with both my SIL and Mouse at the same time. It made me think of all my possible pasts – for better or worse – all night.

Told Mouse to be herself that night because of her last entry in her blog.

Always hated when people were cruel to Mouse, although I’m sure she’ll point out that we were cruel to each other.

The last face she makes in the video below is essentially how she looks at me whenever we’re fighting.

Later on at home that night, I had a dream. In it, a woman that I didn’t know called me and told me that an old friend of mine was looking for me.

Me: Why doesn’t he call me himself?
Her: You know him. He said you’d understand and that he needed your help.
Me: (thinking) No, he didn’t.
Her: What do you mean?
Me: Because, he would never say that. Demons in the night know their own.

Location: my childhood home for dinner
Mood: confused
Music: Wasting time and stuck inside a broken dream (Spotify)
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personal

Trying to be better

The kid is in first grade

It’s weird having the kid back in school again. I feel as if no time has passed this summer but so much has.

And yet, here we are, in a new grade, with new classmates and teachers. Picking him up the first day, I met his teacher for the first time.

Me: So how did he do?
Her: Well, you obviously know how social he is. He made a lot of new friends pretty quickly.
Me: Yup, that sounds like him.

He does have some social anxiety when we first show up to anything, but I encourage him to feel whatever he feels.

Him: I’m sorry I’m scared, Papa.
Me: (shaking head) No. Don’t ever apologize for your honest feelings. You’re always entitled to your true feelings, kid, and no one – not even me – is allowed to tell you that you can or cannot feel something that you honestly feel.

This actress named Charlotte Cushman once said, To try to be better is to be better.

Suppose I tell the kid these kinda things in the hopes that he’ll try to be ok and, maybe, that will be enough to make him ok.

I just want him to be ok.

Alla that sounds very sensible but the truth is that I question my own feelings about any number of things.

And yet, I try my best to not get down on myself for feeling what I feel.

And what I don’t feel.

Her: Why?
Me: I don’t know. I just know I’m not your guy.
Her: Well, thanks for telling me, I guess. (later) I didn’t even want dessert.

It’s still a work in progress. I’m trying.

Looking back at women I’ve dated, there are at least three women that I know that married the very next guy they dated after me.

That’s just off the top of my head.

Suppose, after me, it became very clear what they did and didn’t want in their life, for better or worse.

Writing that made me laugh. Perhaps I’m just so awful that some people needed to marry the very next person to get me outta their systems.

Maybe trying to be better isn’t enough after all.

Someone just rang my doorbell from my building. He found a crowbar on the floor in the hallway and it’s pretty clear, someone was trying to break into one of the units here.

I should really move to the burbs.

Location: in my apartment building
Mood: exhausted
Music: been feeling lazy, I’ve been going crazy (Spotify)
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