This is going well

Hello, Firecracker

I don’t write about most of my dates these days because social media in 2023 is a lot different than in was in 2006 and people get annoyed, even if there’s no real identifying information.

But also because they all start blending together into that soupy grey I dislike so much.

The same, “So, what do you do, who do you know, blah, blah, blah,” gets monotonous.

Me: So, Jane, what brought you to New York?
Her: Ann. My name is Ann.
Me: (nodding) This is going well.

But every so often, someone cuts through the hazy grey and gives me some colour.

I cancelled two other dates this week, although one was kinda mutual, but something about the blue-eyed blonde from my neighborhood made me not, despite my not feeling the best, what with all the medical issues popping up.

Plus, she really made everything super easy for me by agreeing to meet up at a bar just a few blocks south of my pad.

She was sitting at the bar in red with her back to me when I showed up. The seat next to her was open so I slid into it.

She turned to me and looked at me with eyes the colour of faded blue jeans. And you know I’ve always loved that.

We both looked at each other and laughed.

Her: (smiling) Hi, Logan!
Me: (laughing) Hello, Firecracker. Don’t you look nice.
Her: You too.

With some dates, conversation’s a struggle.

The actual exchanges are usually fine but it’s really the quality of the segues that make a conversation interesting or desultory.

Lemme tell you that the odds are much improved when someone has an easy laugh and upbeat enthusiasm.

Confidence helps…

Her: (mischievously) Anything you want to tell me?
Me: I take it you found the blog?
Her: (laughing) It’s the first thing that showed up when I googled you.
Me: (shrugging) I never mention it because it’s so easy to find.
Her: You date a lot.
Me: (nodding) I do. I like to say that I’m like Harvard. Anyone can apply, not everyone makes the cut.

..but like I’ve always said, the truth is a powerful thing. And true things are often funny and earnest at the same time.

Her: I’m like this dorky girl that’s attractive
Me: (chidingly) Ah, you admit you’re hot.
Her: Oh yeah, I’m hot.

Actually brought her to the same two bars that I brought my buddy, the Frenchman. Just because it was familiar and easy.

Too much of my life, lately, has been strange and difficult.

Me: Do you want to go to another bar?
Her: So, I take it this is going well?
Me: This is going well. (shaking head) Shit, I’m in trouble.
Her: Because I’m a buxom blonde?
Me: Well, yes. And you’re sweet. I like kindness. Kindness is hot because douchebag is forever.

I told her to eat the dried lime. That was a huge mistake.

We first met up at 7PM and didn’t call it a night until 3AM. Those are the types of interactions I hope for and it’s so rare it happens.

Even when it does, it doesn’t really mean anything.

Her: You’re an onion. [Every time I think I get you, there’s another layer.]
Me: I’ll take that as a compliment. (later) Thanks for a lovely evening.
Her: Same.
Me: I honestly never do this but…I don’t suppose you want to grab dinner [this week]?
Her: (smiling) Sure. It’s a date. Goodnight, Logan Lo.
Me: (nodding) Goodnight, Firecracker.

But hope springs eternal.

Location: earlier today, wondering if 9AM’s too early for a burger on Broadway. It wasn’t.
Mood: cautious
Music: me and luck had a dance but when it comes to you and me: No guts, no glory (Spotify)
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New Year’s Eve 2022/23

The Quiet

Had a very interesting and chill New Year’s Eve.

Like most of you, I spent NYE 2021 alone – completely alone – because of COVID. NYE 2022 wasn’t much better because of COVID, as well.

This year was the first proper NYE I’ve had in quite a while; it was just me and two friends.

Got there first, where I opened the door for a girl with crutches.

My friends showed up not soon afterward.

Sister1: (wearing a gold lamé  blouse) Happy New Year, Logan!
Me: Thanks, same! You know, I was just thinking that not enough people wear lamé on the regular.

It was totally last minute; we were supposed to just meet up for drinks at 6:45 and I was gonna see RE Mike, but the food was good…

…the drinks were solid, and the crowd and company were great…

…plus, there was live jazz so, before you knew it, we were toasting 2023.

Sister1: It’s 10:50PM!
Me: Welp, I guess we’re staying here. I need another drink.

The two of them are in the growing group of people that don’t want to be in this blog, which I get, which is why I’m trying to keep the conversation as non-identifiable as possible.

Still, the first sister had a list of really insightful questions which led to some pretty deep conversations I wish I could share with you.

One of which ended like this:

Me: I’m thinking 2023 might be the year I finally lose my virginity.
Sister2: (laughing) Did you go to church summer camp? Is that why?
Me: No [to the second question] BUT I did go to summer camp, once actually. Of course, because it was me, it was because of a girl, but that’s a whole ‘nother story.
Her: I think that Christian boy in you is still there, somewhere.
Me: And that’s where you’re wrong. He died the day my wife died. But we can change the subject…

Because of that, I came to a realization the next morning – and a pretty wild one at that, which deserves its own entry.

It’s part of the reason I decided to upgrade my OS in the first place.

I spoke at length with my therapist about my realization today.

Me: An acquaintance of mine told me a little while back that, in all the years he’s known me, he’d never seen my level of rage that I am these days. He said that, when it comes out, I’m a completely different person. I didn’t realize how long I’ve been angry for.
Therapist: And now?
Me: I’m still angry, of course. At the unfairness of it all. But, it’s not blinding rage anymore.
Her: I hear it in your voice.
Me: What?
Her: The quiet.

My buddy who lost his mom was 100% right, the anger never goes away. But I’m hoping the rage is gone.

Suppose only time will tell.

Y’know when you upgrade your computer’s OS, it goes like “73% completed,” or whatnot? I think I’m like 4% in.

It’s a start.

Location: earlier today, on 18th, wondering if I should roll
Mood: quiet
Music: my trust in God and man, no confession, no religion, don’t believe in modern love (Spotify)
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Upgrading my OS

I like it when we play 1950

Her: I’m sorry about your wife.
Me: So am I. All my gods look like her.
Her: What does that mean?
Me: Nuthin. (brightening) Let’s play a game…

It’s the first day of 2023.

I’m writing this on a computer that I first built when Alison was still alive and upgraded repeatedly, such that there’s nuthin left of the original computer, just like I talked about in my Ship of Theseus.

One thing that I did after the hack was to upgrade the operating system of that computer from Windows 10 to Windows 11, something I did with great reluctance.

Still working through the pros and cons of that, but I note that I went through Windows 7, 8, 8.1, and 10 on this machine before finally arriving here.

Just like the philosophical exercise of the Ship of Theseus, the question remains if there’s anything left of the original computer that I originally built all those years ago.

Speaking of philsophy, this blog has, more than anything, been my own personal repository of how I see the world, kinda like Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations.

Suppose my operating system has always been based on German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer, who was introduced to me in my 20s by the Devil.

One of my earliest blog entries spoke about a quote that served me well my entire life: With increased intelligence comes increased capacity for pain.

When Alison, my dad, and another relative got sick – all at the same time – and I essentially gave up my career(s) to try (and fail) to save them, then lost Gradgirl and Mouse, I think that the truth of that statement is why I’m here writing you now.

Schopenhauer’s worldview was that life is, at its core, suffering.

Life swings like a pendulum backward and forward between pain and boredom. – Arthur Schopenhauer

At no point in this blog – through all the highs and lows – did my baseline OS change; it was always run on some variant of Schopenhauer.

And you know my feeling about those who’s worldview never changes. I can’t be a hypocrite.

All this, despite the fact that some baseline beliefs of his contradicted directly with my own heart’s desire.

For example, I’ve always wanted family and family, by definition, requires children. Yet Schopenhauer, like my billionaire buddy, feels that “Bearing children into this world is like carrying wood into a burning house.”

Schopenhauer, as the base operating system of my life, was ill-equipped to deal with the overwhelming sadness and despair of it all, for various reasons.

For example, Schopenhauer’s world view of Wille zum Leben respected love like one respects a dangerous animal, but it doesn’t deal with love, which I both respect and submit to.

To Schopenhauer, love is an illogical means to an important end: The extension of our very species.

I understand that but, having loved and lost in the profound ways I have, I think it’s an idealized version of what humans are actually capable of.

While it’d be nice to live a life purely pragmatically, the way humans are designed, it’s not practical. Because emotions exist and aren’t going away.

I need an OS that reflects that reality.

The Devil’s gone from my life and, while I appreciate all that he’s shown me in the world, the OS he helped build for me doesn’t work with who I am now, especially given all that’s happened.

Moreover, I want more for my son. Assuming that Schopenhauer was correct, and our universe is only what we experience through our mental facilities – our operating system – then I plan on giving my son the best one I can.

After close to 30 years of working on myself, I think that answer lies in Stoicism. Not “stoicism” with a lower-case “s,” rather the full philosophy of Zeno, Marcus Aurelius, and Seneca.

The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts. – Marcus Aurelius

I don’t think, at all, that Schopenhauer was wrong, or that the last three decades of my life were wasted. Rather, I think that it’s served its purpose for what I needed for that time and that version of me. Now, I have a new purpose – the boy – and that requires a new way of thinking.

We suffer more often in imagination than in reality. – Seneca

It’s still early yet in all this. Just like it’s early in the new year.

But I spent the last month reexamining my life and need to discard the things that aren’t working for me anymore, if they ever did, and find things that do work.

Don’t think you’ll notice any drastic changes here, per se. Just little things for myself as I try to give myself and – by extension, the boy – the tools I’ll need to be the best version of myself.

Man conquers the world by conquering himself. – Zeno

I’m still me, but I wonder how much of who and what I am/was is still there or if I’m a completely new being altogether, just like this computer I type alla this out on.

On that note, let’s start the new year off with a song.

This is by a young woman named King Princess that my brother introduced to me a little while ago.

Can’t put my finger on it, but it always makes me dream that my life might be better than it is.

Maybe it’s the line that goes, “I will keep on waiting for your love,” which goes directly against Schopenhauer’s distant respect of the concept of love.

Because love’s not only something I respect, but also something I want – to both give and receive – so it’s worthy of patience and time.

Even if it never comes my way again.

Here’s to 2023 and changing for the better.

Her: (surprised) Why did you do that?
Me: (shrugging) Seemed like the right thing to do at the time.
Her: (laughing) OK. (pause) You can do it again.

Location: in the first hours of 2023, on W 97, wondering if we should sell our apartments and move to NJ
Mood: new(ish)
Music: I love it when you try to save me
(Spotify)
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The new office

A holiday dinner

Went out to eat with my office the other night over at Benjamin Steakhouse again.

They just moved offices so it was the first time seeing the new space.

The building it’s in is actually connected to Grand Central itself so I literally didn’t even leave the station to get to the office.

Which is probably for the best because winter’s here in full force these days.

I wonder if this is my last move with them.

Boss: Bloomberg News wants to talk to you about the blog entry you wrote for the company website.
Me: Get outta town!
Him: (laughing) No, seriously. We can talk about it more after dinner.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to ring them until a few days later and, by then, they’d already spoken to another IP lawyer on the matter.

Her: Logan, you’ve got to be the most interesting person I know.
Me: I wouldn’t mind it being a little less interesting, honestly.

It’s funny, before everything started going to hell in 2014, I woulda killed to be interviewed in a national press like Bloomberg News and I woulda called that night if I coulda.

It’s part of the reason why I was able to lecture in Paris and Malaga – I got in touch with people right away.

Nowadays, though, all that seems to be less important to me. Other things occupy my mind.

Me: I’m so sorry I have to run. I gotta get the kid.
Her: Oh, we all understand. He’s so cute!
Me: (nodding) I’m legally required to watch over him until he’s 16 but his being cute helps.
Her: Oh Logan, you’re all talk.
Me: Yeah, the day he moves out, I’m gonna be a wreck.

Him: Papa! You look nice again!
Me: (laughing) Glad to see you’re always surprised by this, kiddo.

Location: five hours ago, outside Alison’s apartment, remembering
Mood: conflicted
Music: you call my name and it feels like home (Spotify)
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Ur famous bruh

Massive Imposter Syndrome

 

About two Fridays ago, the short below had about 92,000 views, which was pretty good already.

The very next day, that number somehow jumped to 1.5 million. Two days later it was three million on Sunday and four million on Monday. It’s now our best performing video with 6.1 million views.

And we have zero idea why.

The internet’s a strange place.

Him: Well, your face is covered in that one.
Me: Thanks, Pac.


Speaking of Pac and the internet being a strange place, he went out to Seattle for a business meeting and was chatting with a higher up there when my name got brought up.

But just my first name.

Evidently, there’re not a lotta Logans in New York City.

It turns out that she was going through her own tragedy a while back and, through Googling, came across my blog. She and her sister kept up with me and Alison while Alison was sick.

She told Pac that it gave her some comfort.

To say that made my day is like saying that the sun is hot.

Years ago, I met Ray Liotta and I told him I was looking forward to seeing Killing Them Softly. He seemed really pleased that I knew about it.

Read somewhere that actors get tired of talking about the films that they’re famous for – in his case, Goodfellas – but are happier talking about their latest project.

In this sample size of one, I’d say that’s true.

I bring this up because, as cool as Scenic Fights is – and it’s hella cool – it’s never what I wanted to be known for.

The fact I could fight was something I kept to myself for 30 years. It was just my own personal little joy.

I only did Scenic Fights as a favour to one of the producers and, while I’m glad I did, I do miss the anonymity of being just a grey man from time-to-time.

I’d have been happy to have died an old man keeping that a secret, amongst all my other secrets.

Having said that, I’ve always wanted to be known as a good writer. Unlike fighting or cooking or the law anything else, it’s the one thing where I don’t feel massive impostor syndrome.

I feel I can actually write well, and my hope is always that I can connect with someone through time and space through these squiggly lines.

Pac went further though.

He told me that a group of people overheard the conversation and asked about me.

Before Pac could respond, the woman – whom I never met – turned and told them the story of how Alison and I met, got married, and how she got sick, and ultimately, how she died.

Pac was surprised that she knew so much about me without having known me.

Him: (laughing) Crazy, complete strangers from the other side of the country know you. Man, your ego must be HUGE right now.
Me: It’s always huge but…it’s more than that. Alison’s biggest fear was that she’d be forgotten. The fact that people remember her and think fondly of her, even after all these years, means the world to me.
Him: Well, your blog did that. And she’s definitely not going to be forgotten by you or anyone else that’s read it.
Me: Well then, it’s worth every moment I put into it then. She deserves to be remembered. Even though, I’d like to forget things.

I’m remembering things. This is both good and bad.

I’ll tell you about it, when I sort it all out.

Location: home, chatting with a friend about the people we loved
Mood: flattered
Music: Lets build a big little life. All we need is each other (Spotify)
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Thanks for the Joy, Cammie!

Hot damn, that’s damn hot

Can’t tell you the number of times people question why I even have this blog.

Heck, *I* question why I even have this blog and wonder on the regular if I should just pack it up.

In fact, the Counselor stopped talking to me for a bit after she found out about it. She could have been the only one that told me; who knows how many women stopped talking to me because of this blog and not because of my dreadful personality?

Now, I honestly tried once before, but then Alison got sick and I felt that if I didn’t write, I’d go starkers.

Some would argue that I did anyway, but that’s neither here nor there.

Suppose, this is as much my own therapy as it is my keeping track of the comings and goings of my life.

Every once in a while, though, I’m reminded that I connect with people that I might never have connected with ever, through this thing.

One person I met years ago when this was on LiveJournal was a girl that called herself WebCammie.

She was a young law student when we first (virtually) met, while I’d been practicing for a decade or so.

Now, the world hit eight billion people just five days ago.

Meaning, there are eight billion randos in the world – and I’m one of them. Yet, this one rando (Cammie) felt that this here rando (me) was special enough to keep track of. Even after all this time.

If that’s not flattering and kind, man, I dunno what is.

Here’s the kicker, though – she wrote me a pithy line the other day:

I work for FB so if you need help getting your account back, let me know. My email is…

Turns out, she’s an associate General Counsel at Facebook.

That’s…a pretty big deal.

So, I hit her up and FOUR HOURS LATER, my permanently deleted Facebook/Instagram/Whatsapp accounts all came back.

Goddamn, it’s nice knowing people in the world with this much juice.

Is it hot in here or is it just me?

Because, hot damn, that’s damn hot.

Me: Hey, if FB needs an extremely lazy, semi-alcoholic, somewhat maudlin, but very charming IP lawyer, let me know?
WebCammie: (laughing) We just laid off 11,000 users but are you seriously looking?
Me: (laughing as well) No, I’m just a full-time dad now.

So, when people ask me who I write my blog for, I always tell them that it’s a roundabout way for me to find people in my tribe.

Those that see the world (kinda) how I see it. As a complex tragedy fulla joy.

On the one hand, I spend my life bearing the endless fucking tragedies for the promise of some goddamn joy.

On the other hand, I try to give a little joy to others if I can, knowing that they’re living in a tragedy too.

And I think I’m not the only one.

Mr. Rogers famously said, Look for the helpers. I take that very much to heart.

The people that helped me when Alison was sick, the people that picked me up when I was on my knees after she and my dad died? These are all the kinda people I wanna know and I want my kid to know.

Because Alison lived her life trying to help people find joy in the tragedy that is our lives and I try to do the same, if only to just to meet people like her and Cammie.

And be grateful for the rando acts of kindness towards other randos.

Cause, honestly, what greater joy is there than to bring joy to others? I couldn’t tell you because I don’t think there is one.

So, thanks, Cammie, for the help and the joy.

The world’s a shitty place but people like you make it just a little less so. I’m grateful that you took time outta your insanely busy day to help this rando.

Thanks for existing.

Your fan,

Logan

PS – Surely, you can use an assistant. I make great ok passable coffee.

Him: Look at all the fog! It’s so cool!
Me: It is.
Him: What’s fog, papa?
Me: Well, essentially, water molecules condense – that means gathers – around little bits of fine parti…you know what? It doesn’t matter. Let’s stand for a bit and look at it together, ok?
Him: OK, papa! Look at the lights!
Me: (laughing) It’s pretty. Our little city’s pretty sometimes, yeah?
Him: (nodding) Yeah…

Location: earlier today, my gym at a private party
Mood: tired, but joyous
Music: How’d you always know when I’m down? I feel joy, when you call me (Spotify)
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Clearing my mind with pie

About par for course

My life’s been pretty crazy for just over a month now.

To recap, it all started going downhill when I got slammed onto my neck (twice), then immediately broke out in hives, which went away, but then a mouse appeared in my bedroom.

Because of the mouse, I tore my room apart, which meant it looked like hell, which was further discomforting.

While this was happening, my harddrive failed, which meant I started scrambling to fix it.

Once that was fixed, I ended up slicing open my finger, so I rang my brother to bitch.

And in the middle of my conversation with my brother bitching about my life, hackers came in, took all my passwords, and then reposted it for the world to see.

So, yeah, about par for course.

After two more weeks of madness, I think I’m finally on top of the latest hack. Or at least good enough to meet a friend for lunch.

Her: I’m gonna get the tuna melt. Although they always put in like three cans of tuna.
Me: (puzzled) On what planet is that a bad thing? Y’know, I never think to order a tuna melt but I always want one after I see it. Next time…

Also, because things were calming down, but not yet calm, I stopped and did what I always do when I need to clear my mind: Cook.

Or, in this case, bake.

See, the boy – like all kids – loves carbs. But I refuse to buy him prepacked, highly processed things like cookies and other sweets. Because of this, I usually have to bake. Often.

Oatmeal cookies, almond flour chocolate cakes, etc.

This time around, I found a buncha premade nut crusts so I made some organic, high-fiber, high-(good)fat pumpkin pies.

Four, to be exact.

They were so good that we – mainly I – ended up eating three of them and I finally remembered to take a picture of one of the finished pies when there was just over a half of it left.

While I love cooking for the boy, I gotta admit that I miss cooking for someone that’s not in second grade.

It’s funny what you miss.

Now, these are the kinda problems I wanna go back to.

Then again, there’s always tomorrow.

Location: home, after another all day shoot, wondering if I should have some pie
Mood: sick
Music: had a one-way ticket to a place where all the demons go (Spotify)
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Jealous all the time, Pt 1

The Grey Men

The kid got his first stripe in BJJ recently. He was thrilled. As was I.

Him: Papa, papa, look!
Me: That’s awesome! I’m proud of you.
Him: (beams)

Didn’t vote for the first time in…dunno how long. Although, not for lack of trying. We went to two and almost three places but I wasn’t to be found.

I’m disappearing, it seems. Maybe that’s for the best.

I miss when I was a grey man and no one knew me and what I could do.

As for the boy, he’ll have secrets of his own, someday.

Had lots of plans this past weekend but everything fell through because of everything I told you. And some stuff I haven’t.

Every time I think I’m outta the woods, I find out I’m not.

Was planning on just working on cleaning up my digital life the entire weekend when I got a message from a fella that goes to my gym.

Him: Let’s try to grab a drink soon!
Me: I’m dealing with some craziness now that’s a bit hard to explain. (thinking) Oh wait, what are you doing tonight? You’re in Manhattan, yes?
Him: Yup! Let meet after I have dinner – closer to 8 works?

Told you once that no one knew that I did weapons work – for close to two decades no less – because I did it for me. It only came out because Alison died and I stopped caring and did Scenic Fights.

While I’m proud of what we do, and the fellas are great, a part of me regrets that decision. For many reasons.

In any case, this fella, we’ll call him The Frenchman, has been coming to Paxibellum’s kali class for about a year. He and his wife slip in, do their thing, and slip out.

Through Facebook, I found out that he knew Bryson and I was shocked that he’s a black belt from his school.

For those of you not in the life, that’s a really big deal. And it’s from a world-renowned academy, no less.

So, I was looking forward to finding out more about him at at my local dive bar, where he had wine and I stuck to hard seltzers and beers.

Me: You’re like me, a grey man. You have skills that you don’t talk about, I like that.
Him: (laughing) Yes. I do these things for myself, there’s no reason for anyone else to know.
Me: (nodding) Same. You’re a grappler that wants to learn weapons. I’m a weapons person that wants to learn grappling.
Him: What else do you do?
Me: (laughing) You first.

We ended up chatting for about three hours there but then it started getting loud so we went to a much nicer joint where we stayed past midnight.

That place was much louder.

He was curious about Scenic Fights, the gym, what I do…and Alison.

Me: Sorry, I didn’t expect there to be a band playing tonight.
Him: It’s fine. Tell me about your wife.
Me: Where to begin?
Him: We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.
Me: (shrugging) I always like talking about her. I just tend to cry when I do.

It turns out that one of his best friends also died of brain cancer. How sad and wild.

He lived a lot longer than Alison, though.

I was oddly jealous about that, which, admittedly, is a super fucked-up thing to think.

Then again, I’m pretty fucked up.

But it’s late, so I’ll tell you the rest tomorrow.

Location: home, with way too much alcohol, weapons, and sweets about
Mood: rough
Music: The rest of the world was black and white (Spotify)
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Two Pizza Joints, an Indian Restaurant, and a Park – Pt 1

Simple things of kindness

Recently, my past came to visit me and I went to visit my past.

Regarding the former, my buddy Ed came into town with his kid the other day. His son’s heading off to NYU this fall as a freshman.

I met him here via my then-girlfriend, the Doctor. He actually ended up living in my building for a spell, which was maybe 20 years ago?

It’s funny, we used to hang out alla time, but we lost touch after he moved back to Cali. My life is a series of endless venn diagrams.

It was such a kick-in-the-head to see him here with his almost-adult son.

Brought them to John’s Pizzeria at Times Square so they could (a) check it out since it’s in an old cathedral and (b) they wanted really good, authentic NYC pizza, which this definitely was.

The last time I went, it was October of 2017 with Gradgirl. She said it was an awful date – it might have been one of our first – and she wasn’t wrong.

Didn’t tell you about that because I was such a mess back then. Not that I’m not still starkers now.

Do think that, if circumstances were different, she and I might have had something. Maybe even a fatty of our own right now.

Fucking cancer is the awful gift that keeps on giving.


On a related note, it’s funny, for a long time, I divided up my life by the women I seriously dated/cared for.

Everything’s been such a mess since…you know…

Everything and everyone just blends together into a soupy, grey, mess.

Anywho, it was nice seeing Ed and his kid. I joked that, despite us being roughly the same age, I had a second-grader while he had a freshman in college.

Me: Give me a buzz if you need anything. I’ve been here my whole life and I’ll probably die here too.
Him: For sure, thanks! (later) Anyplace else we should head to?
Me: (thinking) Go to Hudson Yards. I always loved that place.

As for the latter, and on the topic of ex-girlfriends and my past, that’s a much longer story.

Essentially, I tried to visit an old version of myself but it didn’t pan out – at all – like I’d hoped. Lemme explain:

It all started when I hit up Blond Banker to see if she wanted to catch a show (totally as friends).

She countered with an invite to go to a mixer with some co-workers of hers for a project that she was volunteering for – out in Jersey City.

Her: I’m going to Barcade tonight. You can come to that if you want
Me: Hmm, ok, I’m down! Any particular dress code or just don’t be a schlub?
Her: Just how you’d dress for Barcade.

Since she wasn’t planning on getting there until after 6:30, I slipped into kali for 45 minutes before I hopped the PATH across the river.

On the way there, I sat down next to this one hulking dude and he turned to me and said, That’s a cool tee-shirt, man.

I got two more compliments before I arrived in Jersey City and one more when I was at the bar.

Man, simple things of kindness really make your day, don’t they?

Me: Get home safe, man!
Him: (smiling broadly) Oh, you too!

The last time I went to Grove Street in Jersey City, was May 5th, 2013 – Cinco de Mayo – almost a decade ago.

Alison and I went there for a chili cookoff and we met up with a couple from my old gym. Don’t think I ever saw them again.

Venn diagrams, like I said.

This was almost a decade ago in 2013. I have pictures of alla these randos but not of Alison.

It hurts because I keep thinking, if Alison was alive, I could ask her questions like what did we wear and what was that game we played?

Do you know how many pictures I have of her that day? Zero. Zero fucking pictures, because she didn’t like being photographed.

Sigh.

I’ll pick this up tomorrow. Suddenly got super tired.

Location: tonight, having my arm relentlessly attacked in kali
Mood: thoughtful
Music: God knows it’s not supposed to be easy (Spotify)
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I was incandescent

Belonging to someone

My brother, and another friend, once remarked that a lotta the people we’ve casually dated are still friendly with us and I asked him why he thought that was.

Him: (shrugging) We’re useful.

As always, he’s right. He and I have alla these explicit skills (lawyer/doctor) plus rando skills that are useful.

Plus, we both like helping people.

On that note, another woman from my past reached out to me for my legal opinion on something.

Gotta say, it was one of the more interesting legal scenarios I’ve come across…

Me: Whoa! That’s…insane.
Her: I was incandescent.
Me: I have to write that down.

…and I gave her my opinion…

Me: You do know why they did this, don’t you?
Her: Why?
Me: Because they thought they could get away with it. Don’t let them.
Her: But, what’s the upside for me?
Me: Cash money, yo. Plus, you’re stopping them.

…and that was that.

We then caught up because it’s been a while since we chatted.

She’s on the dating apps but she also gets so many inquiries that she ends up just not opening the app because they give her stress.

Me: Man, women’s and men’s dating problems are so different.
Her: I think I’m just going to stop altogether.
Me: (shrugging) I dunno, you might meet a gem like me.
Her: (incredulous) I have so many thoughts, I don’t know which one to go for. I need a drink.
Me: I can get behind that. Let’s do it.

We ended up chatting for a while.

Her: What about you?
Me: (laughing) Well, I just recently went on a date and called her by an ex’s name, so, yeah, it’s going great. What about you?
Her: I have over 1,000 messages on one app. It just stresses me out.
Me: You need a dating manager to handle alla that for you.

Somehow, we got onto the topic of the two of us, which was uncomfortable because there were so many layers to it.

And, she actually said to me what Alison said to me on our first date.

Her: (sighing) Oh, Logan. You’re so dumb.

Ended up cutting off the conversation early because of that and for other personal reasons that are unimportant here.

But she wrote me afterward to tell me that all was ok, which I appreciated.

Relationships are hard, even when they’re great. Add on things like trauma and such and it’s just a mess.

I wish I was her person. I wish I was a lotta people’s…person. But, I suppose I’m still looking for something I can’t put into words.

It drove Caligirl nuts when I used to say that to her; she thought I was making it up. But it’s always been true for me.

Still, it’s a bit different now. See, I used to belong to someone.

And then I thought maybe I belonged to someone else, but – it turned out – she didn’t belong to me.

And I miss belonging to someone that belongs to me.

I’m a guard without enough people I love to guard. And one that failed his last charge.

Location: the basement of my brain again
Mood: searching
Music: save me from my brain (Spotify)
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