Tag: friends

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personal

Glory Days

I know something you don’t know

Inigo Montoya: I admit it, you are better than I am.
Man in Black: Then why are you smiling?
Inigo Montoya: Because I know something you don’t know.

When you get beat up as often as I did as a kid, you either get all decked out in black and go Columbine, or you just learn how to fight. And for those of you that know me, I never do anything half-assed.

Bryson’s one of my best friends and was a striker like me. He outweighed me by 20-40 pounds but I was fast and flexible. We were always toe-to-toe. Until he started grappling. So I started too.

Then, a little after 9/11, I got injured. A kimura gone horribly wrong. Doc said I could either get surgery and lose 10% of my range of motion or rehab it and lose as little as 2%. Chose the latter. He said it’d take up to four years. It took seven. Stopped watching NHB stuff cause it made me sad. Didn’t wanna be one of those guys that spent his time talking about his glory days.

During those seven years, Bryson worked to the point that he’s a Pan-American Bronze Medalist. And he knew something his opponents didn’t – that as good as he was on the ground, he was even better on his feet. I knew that. My jaw knew that. Me? I stopped. Got fat. Settled down with a girlie.

The only place I’m still better than Bryson’s with a sword. But even then, he’s almost my match. We both know he’s better than me, he’s just too polite to ever say it. Some days, forget that I’m 35. Then my body reminds me. The last time I felt good about my right lead was in the mid-90s.

We spoke recently and he told me that he just got a similar injury. He finds out next week if he can roll again. I understood. Told him that he got seven years on me and he agreed. Small comfort, I know.

After we got off the phone, sat back and remembered when we weren’t old men. Instead, we’re in the muddy backyard of my college house. He’d swing on by, we’d laugh. Then we’d knuckle up and roll.

Man in Black: And what is that?
Inigo Montoya: I…am not left-handed.

Location: my parent’s living room
Mood: nostalgic
Music: hope when I get old I don’t sit around thinking about it

Categories
personal

Jbell and something completely different

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Distracted

Location: home
Mood: in pain
Music: Once again I found myself with my friends

Her: Home on a Friday? Want some company?

Me: (pause) I’m…I don’t think that’s a good idea.

Stayed in on Friday; just tired and irritated. Saturday morning, saw PCD for brunch. We ended up cooking and I made a frittata. Since she was a pro, I was flattered that she thought it was good. Went off to class and got a beatdown. I’m quite literally COVERED with bruises (do not click if squeamish). Should take up yoga. Or at least something that doesn’t involve people stabbing, slashing, kicking, choking, strangling and punching me. Yes. Yoga.

Spoke to Heartgirl afterward. She confided in me something and I was a bit touched. We’re more alike than she knows.

Saturday, LisaV invites me to a house party downtown. It’s a literal and figurative sweatbox. An hour in, a girl grabs me and sticks a huge bottle of tequila down my throat and, later, kisses me on the cheek – of course she’s 22. Before I leave, another girl leans in and kisses me too. Huh. Must be the tequila. Close out the night with this cool blonde that boxes and threw me a nasty uppercut. Impressive.

Note to self: Hang out with LisaV more often.

At 2:00, walk LisaV home across the LES. Woulda been terribly romantic if she wasn’t seeing someone and I wasn’t…so damn distracted.

Him: You didn’t get anyone’s number? Did you even ask?

Me: No…I’m very distracted.

Him: Dude, you gotta fix that.


Categories
personal

Under advisement

Just walked in the door from a wedding of one of my oldest and dearest friends. We’re all different but ever the same. Aren’t the best friends the ones where you can just pick up where you left off – even it was years ago?

———-

A building around the way caught fire. HEI stops by for brunch but we’re captivated by the heat from flames. Quite something, those firemen.

Her: There’s always something happening around you!
Me: I like to keep you on your toes.

Friday night, meet up with PCD.

Her: Why do you have so many different types of plates and cups?
Me: (shrugging) Had lots of failed relationships
Her: (pause) That’s a lot sadder an answer than I was expecting.

End up walking around Columbia for a slice of Koronet Pizza and lounging on the steps to the library.

Her: I like you but…I’m seeing other people, you know…
Me: (nodding) I’ll take that under advisement.

Saturday, wrestle. PCD’s a little freaked out that I’m pretty much constantly covered with black and blue marks; I look like an abused child.

Saturday night, meet up with Heartgirl and some friends downtown. We end up alone, just after midnight, and chat.

Me: I’m sorry, I’m not up on the young people speak – what does that mean, Don’t catch emotion with me?
Her: It means don’t fall for me. (pause) I’m looking to date other guys.
Me: (nodding) I’ll take that under advisement.

I kiss her goodnight and she hops into a cab. We’re supposed to meet up Saturday but she’s always ditching so I don’t expect to actually see her. As I turn around, I lock eyes with two pretty blonds, smile and start chatting with them.

Me: …everyone’s got their front-runners and back-burners. But that’s my story with her (Heartgirl). Why don’t we talk about our story?
Her: (sarcastically) Well aren’t you confident?
Me: (grin) Quite.
Her: (laughing) I like that.
Me: (nodding) I’ll take that under advisement.

The wedding was beautiful. I’d like a wedding like that. Suppose, I’d have to find a girlfriend first, though…

Location: 23:00, walking alone down Broadway
Mood: fat ‘n content
Music: She’s my Brandy Alexander always gets me into trouble But that’s another matter

Categories
personal

Armed and Dangerous

There are three types of people in the world – maybe four

Me: There are three types of people in the world. Single, sorta single and not single.
Her: Not true, there’s a fourth.
Me: (puzzled) Really, what’s that?
Her: (laughing and flashing a ring on her left hand) An MBA – Married But Available.

We all carry our homemade weapons with us. The everyday items that, when against the wall, we flick out and stab others with.

My intellect instantly becomes arrogance; wit, sarcasm; focus, aggression. Faster than the blink of a teary eye. It’s parta why I don’t curse – that’s just gas on a fire.

At some point in every relationship, you got that split-second choice on whether or not to draw those weapons. Once those daggers come out, man, there’s no going back. There’s no putting toothpaste back inna tube.

A monster, No. 6 once said of me. We’d such a bloody end; I said things no one should ever say. Then again, so did she. Just spoke to her not that long ago. My fine handiwork’s still in her voice.

Cause I’m the skillest with my sharp objects. The killest with my blunt instruments.

Every fencer knows to take care when drawing. Cause you’re always just as likely to cut yourself as your adversary. I don’t recall a time I ever drew first and didn’t cut myself more. Not once. And I’m never unarmed.

The skillest and killest. It’s a horrid gift.

Me: I think I should go now.

———-

A different girlie:

Her: Hey Logan. (pause) I’d like to be friends. I think we could be friends.
Me: I’d really like that.

Location: my childhood bed
Mood: wicked once again
Music: another evil force tellin’ me to do what I gotta do

Categories
personal

Elsewho

Dreaming of my possible pasts

© Roy A. Hammond/WLIW New York

Rain: Can I borrow your phone?
Me: (absentmindedly) Sure.
Rain: Here you go.
Me: Thanks. Hey – what’d you do?
Rain: Nuthin! So paranoid…

My mind’s elsewhere, and elsewho, again. At least it’s the weekend.

I’m in a 300 year old building in Passau that’s been converted to apartments. The ceilings are high with wooden floors and painted on the entire far wall is a pop art portrait of a blond girl crying. Honey and Katherine are there. We’d just gotten back from Vienna. A woman I love is there too. She whispers her nonsense word into my ear and I whisper mine back. We’re having an early dinner of pasta when Marvin Gaye comes on.

Honey shrieks, and jumps onto the table to dance when my girl pulls me up and says, “You too” as I laugh and follow. She smiles, turns back to me and says – (phone alarm rings, it’s 5:15AM in NYC)

Me: (sit up and look groggily at phone) Dammit Rain…dammit…

Fall back into bed and plot revenge against Rain. Sigh. Toss off covers. Flip on Ghosts of Goodbye and start doing situps as ghosts fade away.

Eins, zwei, drei…

Location: 19:00 yest, Malachy’s with Heidi and Buckley
Mood: sotted
Music: I used to go out to parties and stand around

Categories
personal

NYC Boy

Rain and Scottie invite me to to a party uptown. Since he never heads uptown, had to say yes. Going there, meet a blue-eyed girl named Gwen who said she can’t tell who’s mad and who’s wearing a bluetooth headset. Contemplate giving her my number but we didn’t hit the pivot point so I don’t.

At the party, make my way across to my friends and run into pair of long legs before I find Rain.

Me: I just picked up the prettiest girl for you (turn to long legs and wave; she smiles and waves back)
Rain: (laughs)

We bounce into the bar in the pic where Scottie and Rain tell me that there’s something wrong with me cause I don’t sleep with the women I date.

Me: Guys call it “getting lucky,” right? I hate that. It’s a pathetic statement from pathetic men. Women don’t “get lucky” but men do. That’s ridiculous. Boys like me sleep with a girl cause we choose to, not cause we “get lucky.”
Her: I don’t approve.
Me: (shrugging and turning to Scottie) OK, I’ll sleep with you then.
Her: (pause) Take a number.
Me: Sheeyah…
Bartender: (interrupting and pointing at me) Your friend’s right. The guys that try to get lucky never do.

Soon, we pile into Scottie’s whip. When we hit Central Park, Rain jets. Earlier, mentioned I liked Rain’s leather jacket so as he exits, he takes it off and hands it to me. It’s yours, he says. Before I can protest, he’s already in a yellow going downtown.

He’s a good fella, that one. I’m wearing it below.

Once home, I get a message that Pretty Jenny and some others’re around the way but then onea my stories I thought ended drops me a line.

You should stop by here for a spell. It’ll break your heart, NYC in the Spring.

But it’s totally worth it. If only for the people and the violets in Central Park.

 

Location: 22:00, 1409 York Avenue
Mood: touched
Music: Take me on a trip, I’d like to go some day – take me to New York

Categories
personal

Just OK

Location: 22:08 yest, running home in the rain
Mood: wet
Music: Oh, how I try to be just okay. Yeah

Gshok sent me the above for absolutely no reason. Those are the best kind of gifts.

It’s nice to open the mailbox and get something that’s not a bill or junk. Or a letter from the IRS.

———-

Seemoore thinks I’m older and more somber in this blog, yet more friendly and effusive in person.

I often wonder how I come across. I don’t mean to be somber, I assure you.

Life has been somber lately, though.

Although punctuated with the occasional chance meeting and whatnot.

Man, I live for the occasional chance meeting and whatnot.

Categories
personal

Remembering Snow Angels and Lynda

Location: 10:00 PM, yest, fencing in Manhattan
Mood: contemplative
Music: and I say goodbye na zai jian

My college English teacher, Stewart O’Nan was a good fella and an amazing teacher. He once said to me, “Your stuff is good. Just…work on it.” I still remember. His novel, Snow Angels was just made into a film with Kate Beckinsale. I was lucky, I think, because I had a string of really good English teachers people in my life.

Paul used to have a B-Team of friends that were fun but he learned that you should only have an A-Team because you only got so much time and energy.

Remember when I said that your friends are mirrors to yourself? If you’ve changed and your friends haven’t, maybe it’s time to start cutting. Or call the ones that matter.

I should have called Stewart. Had his digits – just never got around to it. He was a good guy. Probably won’t remember me now.

But I remember him.

———-

Thomas Mann once said that A man’s dying is more the survivors’ affair than his own.

Lynda was murdered ten years ago by a guy in my college circle of friends. My friends who knew her well never talk about it but it’s always there.

She and I only met a few times so it was more consoling my friends than anything else. But I did want to write something – if only to confirm that what the reporter wrote was true. She was beautiful.

Yeah, call your friends that matter.

Categories
personal

Terribly Romantic

 

No slappage, guys, sorry.

Hazel crashed on my couch the other night and we grabbed brunch the next day. The weather? The conversation? The morning? Perfect.

So over some freshly baked Portuguese bread and steaming coffee:

Me: This would all be terribly romantic if either one of us was even remotely attracted to the other person.
Her: (laughing) It’s ok, I like what we have. Speaking of which, you should meet my friend…

We’re gonna keep looking, she and I.

Wonder what her friend’s like.

Location: 17:00 yest, church
Mood: doubting
Music: You’ve got to push all the doubt to the side of your mouth