Saving the day

More fried fowl

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.

Now I want some more fried fowl

Location: at an Italian restaurant with Pez, the boy, Chad, and the NFL Player
Mood: fat…sooooo fat…
Music: Believe in me. Believe that life can change (Spotify)
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Old lions

Parenting’s hard

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.

Although, to be fair, I’m like a weird old lion…

Location: West 77th and Columbus on a conference call trying to sound cavalier
Mood: parental
Music: devil’s on my shoulder stirring up trouble (Spotify)
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Donuts and bruises

Family of two

The pastor wrote me recently about a concert in November but it’s hard for me to plan out my schedule that far in advance.

On that note, I’m reminded that he stopped by with some high-class donuts the other day for some coffee and conversation.

I’m wearing the glove because I had some cuts on my hands for reasons we don’t need to get into.

Gotta say, there was a world of difference between my usual whole wheat donut and these bad boys.

Think I’m gonna have to hit the gym hard again.

Although I did have it with my portable peanut butter because I like to ruin things.

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.

Location: last night ~11PM on 8th St, telling him about sheep, wolves, and lions
Mood: concerned
Music: wish that I could build a world for two (Spotify)
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Two unexpected silent dance parties

He’s in second grade

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.

Location: this morning, pancake brekkie with my favourite little human
Mood: tired, but oh so happy
Music: You’re my little piece of summertime (Spotify)
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A Bohemian Biergarten Bday

Great skin

The thing about Scenic Fights is that I actually like alla the people involved in its production.

And there are a lotta people involved in it; I think you’d be surprised if you actually saw the entire crew. I suppose that’s why it looks so polished.

In any case, Tom is the main cameraman and he turned 30 this past weekend so, after the gym one night, I went to Astoria to the oldest biergarten in New York to celebrate.

The last one I’d gone to was with my college friends but I actually came to this one with other friends from my gym a while back. This time, I went with my friend, Katrina, from my current gym.

Me: (at the gym) Wait, what on earth is in your bag, lady?!
Her: Broccoli. What?! I needed to get groceries.
Me: OK, you’ll need to stay 10 feet behind me at all times.
Her: Are you serious?
Me: Kinda.

The train took forever to get there so we just chatted. One thing I learned about her is that she has 200,597 unread emails.

Me: How is that even possible?
Her: Well, a lot of them are junk mail and…
Me: (interrupting) Jesus Christ, I don’t even know where to start. First of all…

Getting back to her groceries, once we got to the joint, the guy at the door wouldn’t let us in.

Him: No outside food.
Me: It’s groceries, man.
Him: No outside food.
Me: It’s raw broccoli! Trust me, we’re not gonna be whipping this out to eat in a bar.

He was grumpy but ultimately let us in.

I would totally whip that out and eat it in a bar.

Immediately bumped into Tom’s best friend, who works for Scenic Fights as well, as soon as I walked in.

Me: Which group is ours?
Him: This whole section is ours; all of these tables are for Tom.
Me: Whoa, we own this joint.

I was starving so the first order of business was buying some fries and a kielbasa plus drinks for me and Katrina.

In terms of just the food, this is what $19 will buy you in NYC.

For serious.

For some reason, I was in the mood for a cranberry vodka but she wanted the hard seltzer.

Me: Can I try that?
Her: Sure.
Me: Oh, that’s pretty good. I’ll have that later.

After we had gotten some food into us, we started to relax and socialize.

Tom’s super tall so I always joke for him to not be taller than me. He obliged, as the good friend he is.

Him: Honestly, there are a lot of drawbacks to being tall.
Me: Oh, yes, tell the old, short Chinese man how awful it is to be 30, white, and tall in America.

Also met his girlfriend and another buddy’s wife. After a while, they started offering to set me up with their friends, which I found both funny and flattering.

Girl1: What about her? (shows me her phone)
Me: Super cute. How old is she?
Girl1: 27.
Me: Oh, man…
Girl2: Wait, here’s my best friend. You’d love her.
Me: Also super cute. How old is she?
Girl3: Younger! 26.
Me: Wait, [that’s the wrong direction] how old do you think I am?
Girl2: I dunno. 33?!
Me: (to friend) MARRY THIS GIRL! (to her) You are my favourite person at this table. The rest of you can go pound sand.

Tom’s girlfriend and another girl took my phone because they wanted to give me suggestions on my dating profile.

Me: Anything you don’t like?
Her: Honestly, that’s a really good profile and good picture choices. And you’re lawyer? I thought you were a martial arts teacher.
Me: Ivy-league educated lawyer. And you should see me cook, lady.

Tom sat at another table with some other people, and motioned me over.

Him: Come meet some of your fans, Logan.
Me: Wait, my mom’s here?

The people at the table also thought I was about 33 and when I told them how old I was, two women immediately asked me what my skin care regime was.

Me: I dunno. I stay outta the sun and eat mostly protein, fat, and fiber.
Her: You don’t moisturize?
Me: No. I’m a dude.

Now that I think about it, women that find out my age generally ask me my skin care regime. I should have a better answer.

In any case, Katrina and I stayed out pretty late. There’s a funny(ish) silent dance party video I need to dig up to show you.

Now, I have an app that tells me when the next train is and it turned out that that one was coming in 5 mins and the next one was gonna be 23 minutes later so we made a mad dash for the station.

Me: (running, then stopping) Dammit, I dropped your broccoli. Again, who buys…
Her: (running) NOT NOW, LOGAN! LET’S GO!

It was a fun night and nice group of people. But the kid’s back soon, so I’ll be back to daddy duty this week.

Which is fine, cause I miss him like crazy.

Location: Penn Station, yesterday, off to go get my treasure
Mood: happy
Music: I’m starting to forget all of the ridges of your spine (Spotify)
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You want some Yellowfin Tuna?

OK, steel it

The Counselor dropped me a line outta the blue and we had a relatively nice conversation, which I’ll just keep to myself.

She may be the only woman in NYC that hasn’t told me to go fuck myself.

Then again, it’s early in the week, yet.

My buddy Steel hit me up too.

Him: Can you come by and pick up some yellowtail tomorrow?
Me: Heck yeah!

The last time he gave me fish from one of his massive fishing trips was almost a decade ago. Still remember it well; it was right around my old gym.

Me: Waking up at two am to go out in the middle of the ocean in a small boat? That’s like my nightmare. Then again…tuna!

I had a wife and no kid then. And I was hanging out with a completely different set of people.

It’s like that was a different me altogether.

Same for him.

This time he went fishing with a couple of dot com millionaires and his chief surgeon brother. They dropped six figures for the two-day trip.

Him: Yeah, they had serious fuck-you money. This bottle of wine was $1,200 and we had three of them.
Me: Dammit, why can’t we have fuck-you money?
Him: We became lawyers.
Me: Man, that was dumb. Well, at least we hang out with people that have fuck-you money.

Like I said, we’re the average of the five people we hang out with the most. There was a time I made it a point to be the least successful outta the people I hung out with.

Been reassessing what I’ve been doing with my time and with whom. I feel like I’ve been sleepwalking through the last couplea years.

Anywho, they ended up catching THREE yellow-fin tunas; he caught the 65 pound one.

This is him with it; I should note that he’s six-foot-two and looks like Clark Kent so this fish was massive.

We went out drinking and eating in his hood. I chatted up the Irish waitress who had this really cool brogue.

Me: You know, my son’s part Irish. I should bring him by here to hear what his people sound like.
Her: You should, sweetie!

She then asked if we had lost a sandal.

Who walks outta a bar missing a sandal? NYC’s a strange town.

Sorry so blurry. We had been drinking for a while and that dude pounds.

Steel just bought an apartment in a brand new building on the UES and we walked by it. It was gorgeous.

Me: OK, I need you to do me a solid. If I ever have a date around here, I’m gonna bring her by, tell her this is my pad, and you and the fam have gotta jet.
Him: (laughing) Sure.

Not (necessarily) his pad, but you get the idea.

He ended up giving me like six pounds of tuna or so, which I tried my best to do justice to.

This was attempt number two. Man…you don’t wanna see attempt number one.

My dad used to make me sashimi/sushi all the time. Since I was a little kid.

Was always embarrassed that I had to eat raw fish when my friends got to have pizza. What a dumb kid I was.

Steel and Bryson were amongst the last of my friends to ever have seen him. I’m glad it was them.

I’ll tell you about that someday.

I wish I learned how to make sushi from him. I wish I did a lotta things with him but we ran outta time.

Shit. When you love someone, there’s never enough goddamn fucking time.

I miss him terribly.

Location: earlier this week, someplace called “the Upper East Side”
Mood: on high alert
Music: bring back the water, let your ships roll in (Spotify)
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business personal

So, what’s your deal here, anyway?

My rusty gears

My son was in his day camp the other day, trying to squeeze between a pipe and a column. He ended up getting wedged between the two when his leg went through the wall.

Evidently, he was hysterically crying and they couldn’t extricate his leg so they had to call the super to cut the drywall around his leg. That made him even more upset because he started telling them he didn’t want them to cut his leg off.

Ultimately, they cut him out and he was fine.

The end.

Her: So…what’s your deal here, anyway?
Me: (shrugging) Brilliant but lazy lawyer. I show up when there’s food to be eaten or pictures to be taken.

I’ve not been regularly practicing the law in over five years. I stopped after Alison lost the third baby figuring I’d come back when things got better. You know how that turned out.

Was just trying to save my family so billing hours, giving lectures, and writing memos seemed…silly.

All the more so when I failed in saving my family.

But, through it all, my boss would send me a random legal question or just simply straight-up check in on me. When we did chat, I could feel the rusty gears of my legal brain start to move again.

Him: Do you still remember it?
Me: Yes. It’s somewhere in my head. I just have to wake it up.

A new legal assistant at the firm wrote me asking me to schedule myself for updated firm pictures.

Gotta say, getting the email was touching. It’s funny being valued for something when you question your value all the time.

In any case, I went and was greeted by all these new and old faces.

Regarding the former, the new lawyers in the firm were curious about me because I suppose they never really discussed me.

Why would they? I’m a depressing story.

Her: Wait, how are you semi-retired?! How old are you?
Me: Ah, we’re playing the game. You have to guess.
Her: 33?
Me: (laughing) Well, that’s encouraging.

Afterward, my boss brought me and another attorney out to eat at Benjamin Steakhouse Prime, where I had an Old Fashioned and some food.

Me: …for example, in the Simpsons, there’s a product called Duff Beer. In Australia, someone produced an actual line of Duff Beer. What does the property holder have as an action? It’s not copyright, as it’s not possible to copyright two words. It’s not trademark because there’s no real-world product related to it by the Simpons’ owners. It’s not trade dress, not trade secrets, not patent. That leaves licensing. So, the legal question is: Does an IP holder have a cause of action for licensing when no previous licensing matter existed. Last I looked, the answer was no.
Him: (grinning and turning to the other attorney) One drink and the old Logan returns with ideas. Go on.
Me: Well, regarding the search for Alex Jones’s phone, there’s a legal question if a cell phone should be thought of as…

I felt the most like my old self than I had in a while. It was as if the last six years went away.

Like I always say, thank goodness for the good souls.

I also saw my mother-in-law the other day with the kid for a quick visit and return.

She made us some strip steak…

…amongst other things.

Thank goodness for the good souls bearing steak and drinks.

Location: earlier today, having a burger with my favourite little human in Union Square
Mood: happy
Music: Lately I’ve been thinking about things I shouldn’t (Spotify)
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You would have been proud of me, I think

Some celebratory dinners

We were all pretty hungry after the meet. Some people wanted to eat out in Long Island but I told them that Flushing was a better bet.

I piled into Panda’s whip along with Randi, while everyone else got into their respective rides, and we all headed to Flushing to 1392, a seafood joint.

It was pretty hard getting around with my bum knee but I somehow made it work.

Panda, Randi, and I got there first and we ordered up a ton of seafood.

Everyone else came afterward and we inhaled all the food we ordered.

But the thing is that Panda wanted dumplings so we ended up going to a second place to get that, which was the mall that I usually hit up.

Afterward, Randi wanted a drink so we went to a really cool rooftop bar on the other side of the block. I’d never been.

There were some pretty interesting looking drinks.

Since I was still in diet mode, I got the “low-calorie” cucumber drink option that was good, but not great. You can see it below with the wedge of cucumber.

Ended up getting a second drink later on which I can’t remember but was even better.

The waitressed noticed me hobbling around so I asked her for a bag of ice and she was super sweet and gave me this for my knee.

Me: You’re my second favourite person here!
Her: Who’s the first?
Me: Oh, me. I think I’m just lovely.
Her: (laughs)

This is pretty much how I spent the entire time at the bar.

Afterward, we all split up and Panda drove Randi and me to the Barclays Center so we could grab the 2/3 to head home.

Me: Can someone gimme a lift to a 2/3 train station?
Him: You can take the 7-train right here.
Me: I know that and, normally, I would. But there’s no way I could make it up and down alla those steps for transfers and stuff.

Randi and I were on the train after a bit and we just chatted about the day before I finally hit my stop and made it home.

My housekeeper let herself in earlier in the day so, when I opened the door, it smelled like it used to smell when I was out late working and Alison was home and cleaned.

Me: (to no one) I’m home! I won one match.

I shuffled my way to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of rum.

I think I did pretty ok, I said, to my empty apartment. You woulda been proud of me, I think.

No one answered so I downed my glass and slowly poured myself another.

Location: meeting up with a huge Seinfeld fan out in Astoria for a drink
Mood: happy (enough) but missing the boy terribly
Music: Every time you look my way I can’t even handle myself (Spotify)
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SOGI Pt 1: Making weight with beer, lamb chops, and skirt steak

But I want to!

As I mentioned in my last entry, I did my second competition this past weekend.

Pez told me a while ago that she was gonna compete for the first time herself and I told her that, if she did, I’d go to support her – of course, she encouraged me to compete myself.

I considered it; in my last competition, I was woefully unprepared for leg attacks because my old gym just never focused on them.

Plus, I also got almost no sleep the night before, so that led to me losing the only match I had that day.

Still, in the past two years, I spent a lot more time learning about leg attacks – both attacking and defending. I figured I would make a decision last minute but only if it made sense.

Welp, the stars aligned in a way that made it hard for me not to compete:

      • I’ve been dieting for some Scenic Fights things coming up and have been walking around at 148 pounds. The cutoff for my best level was 145 so I figured I could quickly make weight, which is usually the hardest and most taxing thing for these types of competitions.
      • I’d been training pretty consistently four days a week so I feel good about my conditioning.
          • In a way, my getting injured – and being out of training for a few weeks – made me really amp up my training schedule because I felt I needed to catch up.
      • My son was originally supposed to go to his grandparents the day of the competition but he actually wanted to see them earlier so I relented, opening up that Sunday for me to compete.
      • Here’s the best thing: This competition was two hours away from me by train in Long Island BUT it just happened to be eight minutes from my college buddy’s house where we joined them for a pool party over Memorial Day Weekend.
          • Even better, my college buddies Gar just happened to be having another all-day pool party the day before the competition and said I could crash there, saving me from having to wake up at 5AM the morning of.
      • This particular competition allowed video weigh-ins the day before. This meant that I could weigh myself the afternoon before, send them video evidence, and then stuff my fat face with abandon with my college friends.

This is all precisely what happened. Well, almost.

See, on Friday, I trained with most of the other competitors and then planned to skip coming in on Saturday and, instead, head to Gar and Wynn’s to have BBQ and daydrink until night, crash, and then wake up bright and early the next day for the actual comp.

But my buddy Miller roundly – and publicly – criticized this idea.

Him: Dude, if you’re gonna do that, you’re gonna lose. Just don’t go to the party or don’t go to the competition.
Me: But I want to!
Him: Then just don’t drink.

Ultimately, I compromised and went into the gym on Saturday.

Partly causea Miller and partly because I woke up at 147.6 pounds and I needed to work off 2.6 pounds.

I only enrolled in the competition about six hours before the window to enroll closed so I wasn’t sure I’d even make weight and be able to go and compete although I woulda gone to support Pez, Mouse, and everyone else that was competing.

So, I went in on Saturday and worked out. After 1.5 hours, I was still 146 pounds. So, I stayed another hour or so and everyone told me to go pee.

Me: Why is everyone telling me to go pee?
Her: Because it works!

And it did. Finally…

With just 25 minutes to spare to get to the train, I dashed off to Penn Station, just barely caught the train to my buddies and got picked up by Cappy and Gar.

They waited for me to start grilling up the lamb chops and skirt steak. Because I already made weight I ate everything there – including various donuts from Doughnut Plant.

Managed to hang out with my friends – and both alcohol and carbo-load – for a while before I called it night and crashed.

Unlike last time, this time, I got a solid 8+ hours of sleep.

When I woke up, both my friend Panda and Pez were ready to grab me and bring me to the comp.

I’ll tell you the rest tomorrow. Or soon.

Her: I don’t want to make you sit around and wait for me.
Me: It’s fine. I’m injured anyway and you sound like you’re a having a really bad day.
Her: Yeah. I could use a hug, to be honest.
Me: I think I can help you there.

Location: the Upper East Side in a studio apartment
Mood: happy (enough) but missing the boy terribly
Music: I get by on happy enough (Spotify)
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Cyrano de Low and the Siege of Melos

Yo-Yo, the Philosopher

Back before I met Alison, I recall writing emails to women on behalf of my friends, or – at the very least – editing them.

Now, with everyone texting these days, I find myself being asked by friends to respond to messages from women. It’s all pretty amusing for me, gotta say.

I was trying to explain to one friend that communication isn’t just what you say but what the listener/reader hears.

To further drive the point home, I told him something that I tell my friends alla time but also gave him two versions of the same concept: The first is by Thucydides during the Seige of Melos and the second by a kid called Yo-Yo in my junior high school.


On a related note, a young woman in my gym is going back to college – an ivy league – and wondering what she should pick as her major if she wants to go to law school.

Been telling her that, if that’s the case, she should really consider philosophy and read more from people like Thucydides – although, admittedly, he’s more of a historian than straight philosopher.

I actually never took any philosophy classes as an undergrad and it’s a regret of mine.

As for my own dating life, I saw the Acrobat and the Counselor recently, which is always entertaining, conversation-wise and otherwise.

Me: (noticing her ordering an open drink) Aren’t you concerned about roofies?
Her: With you? No. Not even sure I’d object. No wait, I would. I’d want to be awake for that.
Me: Noted.

The Counselor was actually in my area doing a cold sauna, for people with inflammation (everyone has inflammation to varying degrees).

The concept is to step into a super cold – negative 140 degrees Celsius – room and just be there for three minutes.

She was part ice cube when I met up with her.

Her: It was so cold, Logan!
Me: (laughing) I can imagine.

We ended up going to the Dublin House, which I’ve actually never been to, despite it being only a few blocks south of me and one of the oldest bars in NYC with a really cool neon sign that was recently rehabed.

Me: You should take advantage of me while you can. These looks won’t last forever.
Her: (shrugging) I figure that if you were going to fall apart, it would have happened already.

The Dublin House was cool but without air conditioning so we went to another of my usual bars around the way.

This one had both air conditioning and candy all over the place. Unfortunately, I’m dieting for a couple of things coming up so I ended up trying to hand the candy to other people so I wouldn’t be tempted.

We’ve both been so busy that we’ve not actually seen each other in a while so we ended up chatting most of the evening.

Her: My last boyfriend was closer in age to my dad than me.
Me: No kidding. What was the age difference?
Her: (thinking) 15 years?
Me: Wait, that’s the difference between us.
Her: Oh! You’re right. I forget.

Location: sitting in front of a 14TB external USB drive at 5400RPM and an 8TB external USB drive at 7200RPM with a USB-C hub and wondering if I should shuck both, and then swap the internals.
Mood: super tired
Music: Fell in love with a girl who’s a few years younger (Spotify)
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