One thing that we’ve been talking about over at Scenic Fights is the rise of AI and how you can take anyone’s likeness and make videos outta them, like this CBS reporter did:
It’s pretty impressive – and horrifying at the same time.
You can literally make anyone that you have pictures of, do anything.
Seriously, anything (I’ll let you fill in the blanks here).
On this note, you may have noticed that I don’t put up any pictures of my kid with his face showing.
I used to write his name in this blog, but I don’t even do that anymore – that’s the main reason I call him “the kid,” here.
As for why I did that, I’ve told you about before; which is that it’s not fair for me, as his parent, to take away his right to privacy/anonymity just because I can.
What if he doesn’t want to be known? What if he wants to write and tell his own story his way?
If I have years of posts about him complete with his face and everything, that will be all the more difficult.
But even in the back of my mind, I knew that technology would improve to the point where anyone could take a picture and animate it to make it appear that the picture person was doing something they never would.
In fact, that was the main subject of my lecture in Spain all those years ago.
The thing is, I never imagined that it would happen so quickly.
So, I’m doubly glad that I’ve not put up pictures of his face and will continue to do so – and I ask that you consider doing the same if you have kids.
If this whole #EpsteinFiles horror has taught us anything, it’s that there are some seriously messed up people out there.
Took a knee to my eye and an elbow to my cheek the other day.
Fun times.
Her: You’re 52! Me: I am not unaware. Her: Are you sure about that, Logan!?
My SIL rang me up the other night because Alison’s mom was having a milestone birthday.
So, the next thing you know, the kid and I headed to her place to celebrate.
I spoke to her mom a while ago and she told me not to come for her birthday as it was too much trouble.
Me: You didn’t tell me it was [an important birthday]! Her: I didn’t want to make a big deal. Me: So, you wanna make me look like a jerk and not show up, lady?! Her: (laughing) Thanks for coming. Me: Of course!
My SIL brought some Italian cookies that I absolutely loved.
See, when I was a kid, my dad’s office was right next door to an Italian bakery.
Once in a blue moon, he’d bring home these exact cookies, and it was like the greatest day ever.
Man, I miss my dad.
Speaking of Italian things, we ended up just eating food from their local Italian joint.
I thought it was great but, evidently, I’m super easy because everyone else thought the food was only meh.
Me: I grew up super poor. This woulda been a feast for us. Her: Well, we’re not eating the rest of it, so you can bring that home. Me: Heck, yeah!
Speaking of when I was young, I read Machiavelli’s The Prince way back in 1996 when 2Pac released his like last album under that name (it was his only album I truly disliked).
I remembered the below quote from The Prince and was reminded of it recently what with everything going on in the news these days.
In general men are ungrateful, fickle, false, cowardly, covetous, dissimulating, hungry for profit and quick to evade danger. As long as you succeed and do them good, they are devoted to you entirely; they will offer you their blood, property, life and children… but only when danger is far distant; when danger approaches they turn against you.
Niccolo Machiavelli, The Prince, Ch. XVII
It’s funny how universal some things about humanity are and how they transcend both time and place.
I’m truly interested – and somewhat apprehensive – about what life will be like here in the US in a decade’s time.
Him: Can I watch something? Me: Can you read instead? Him: Do I have to?
If there’s anything that’s a source of friction between the kid and me, it’s reading.
As someone that grew up with a total of five channels – ABC, NBC, CBS, PBS, Channel 55 (which is an in itself entry one of these days) – and zero friends, books were my primary source of entertainment.
So, I don’t understand how my child is so adverse to reading.
It’s a kid’s book but, roughly, the story goes like this:
Mrs. Frisby was a mouse married to a mouse named Jonathan, who was killed. Alone with just her son, Mrs. Frisby discovered that her house was about to be destroyed and needed to be moved, but this was impossible because her son Timothy was sick.
So, she pled with an owl, who refused to help her. Until the owl discovered that she was Jonathan’s widow. Then he helped her. And told her to find the rats of NIHM because they too knew Jonathan would help. They would help because she was his widow, and Timothy was his son.
You see, it turns out that Jonathan was one of only two mice that were left from NIHM. Because of the experiments there, they both had exceptionally heightened intelligence. Because Jonathan used that intelligence to help the rats there escape, the rats always felt in his debt.
Now, when Jonathan met Mrs. Frisby, he hid all this from her. Because he didn’t want her to think any differently of him. He just wanted a normal and quiet life with her.
Man, do I get that.
But that’s neither here nor there.
Anywho, as the story went on, Mrs. Frisby discovered that her husband had this entire crazy life before her and that people loved and respected him.
He gave up everything to just have a quiet life with her but the kindness that he gave to others lived on, long after the relationships faded.
The funny thing is that I always thought that I’d die before Alison. But I often thought of this story while she was pregnant and thought, If anything ever happened to me, I’m going leave her and the kid a crapton of good friends that will make sure the two of them are ok.
Unfortunately, as fate would have it, she died before me.
But I’m still amazed at all the friends I’ve collected throughout these years did exactly what I expected them to do – be there for the kid.
Like, just this morning, I was in Brooklyn picking up three (more) huge bags of clothes that my old college buddy Cappy and his wife saved for the kid.
Alison’s friends have also helped us through these times, good and bad – like the ABFF and my SIL.
So, I’m grateful that we’ve both lived lives where we both collected brilliant and good people along the way, because, man, did we need them.
Me: Dude, just read a book. If it’s a good book, it’ll be just as good, if not better, than anything you see on TV. Him: (resigned) Fine, papa. I’ll read… Me: (laughing) It’s not a punishment, kid.
A lotta people don’t realize that NIMH was a real place.
Ok, the year is 1986 and I’m a very fat, nerdy, “just-turned-a” teenager.
An anthology series by Steven Speilberg called Amazing Stories, which was a bit like a (then) modern take on the Twilight Zone, is must-watch-tv.
Because this was in the time before cable and YouTube and you either watched what everyone else watched or you had to sit on the sidelines as the other kids talked about it.
Man, I loved that show as a kid.
One of the stories that really sticks out to me was Gather Ye Acorns, which starred Luke Skywalker himself, Mark Hammill.
In it, Hamill’s a young man that meets a weird old dude – who’s actually a troll – that tells him to keep everything he’s ever loved, even if the world mocks or belittles him.
So, Hamill’s character does so and holds onto comic books, toys, and pop culture trinkets – for decades.
Just like me.
These are actually my buddies; I was more of an X-Men/Batman kinda kid.
Unfortunately, like the rest of the world, the young man turns into an old man, and a poor old man at that.
What’s worse is that, the whole time, people either think he’s silly – which is the best-case scenario – or a complete idiot.
His parents eventually disown him and toss him out.
He ends up alone and, eventually, homeless.
Now an old man, Hamill’s character is frustrated and angry, cursing the fact that he met the old troll and ruined his life.
A bitter old man, he ends up just waiting to die.
Yet he somehow finds himself at a collector’s auction where he’s mobbed because everyone wants his “junk” – alla which is now super valuable.
The story ends with Hamill’s character wealthy, vindicated, and – perhaps best of – finally seen by those around him.
I did exactly that – yes, sometimes with actual stuff, like comic books, old electronics and the like – but also with things in my head.
He laughed and said, “Well, one day, I’m gonna live on a sunny island like Jimmy Buffet and play the guitar on the beach.”
Guess what? We both did exactly what we said we’d do.
Because neither of us gave up on our “childish” dreams.
What a difference that makes, not giving up on the things you love.
That’s the thing that makes me different from other people, I think: Like Hamill’s character, I rarely gave up the things I loved, like peanut butter, Spam, kali, comics, short stories, etc.
That can be a disserve at times, but – by-and-large – it’s served me well.
When everyone else quit kali, I kept it up. For almost 20 years, I would go. Usually twice a week and then once a week when the classes got more sparse.
But I’d always practice by my lonesome at night.
This was 15 years ago. That was our old space.
Likewise, many of my very well-meaning friends – like the one way above and even my own father-in-law, caution me about continuing to wrassle with 20-somethings.
But I know that if I stop, that’s moment I’ll truly become become an old man.
See, I know that I’m mathematically 52 years old, but as long as I can keep doing the things I love, I don’t believe it.
There’s an old saying I like that goes, Moving water doesn’t freeze.
So, I gotta keep moving.
Her: Why don’t you run with me? Me: Sorry, I need to train. Her: So, lemme get this straight – you’d rather roll around with a buncha sweaty men, than jog with your amazing fiancé. Me: …yes? Her: (slowly nods) Ok then…
On that note, we just did a crazy cool thing on Scenic Fights.
I’ll tell you all about it when it finally happens.
Me: I wish we could do something about his quiet and reserved nature… Her: It is a concern
The only thing that bummed me out was that he told me that when it was his turn to talk about Alison, he said that he was ok because he didn’t remember her enough to miss her.
That absolutely gutted me, but I didn’t say anything, because we have to let true things be true.
Then again, if he remembered her, he wouldn’t be functional.
Because all she ever wanted was to be his mom and he would have been devastated at losing her.
On that note, he did get super sad that night at dinner.
Him: (sadly) I miss all my friends. Me: (gently) Then that means you had a wonderful time. Grief is the price you pay for wonderful things. Him: But it’s so hard. Me: (nodding) We’re always gonna miss wonderful things when they’re gone. That’s why I miss your mom all the time, because she was my wonderful thing.
Mom: Was that today? I forgot. Me: (gently) That’s ok. I forgot too until [my sister] reminded me. It’s good that we forgot today. It’s not like we’d forget him. Her: Oh, I’d never forget him. Me: I know, mom.
I graduated college waaaaaaaay back in 1993. For a solid decade or two afterward, I told time in terms of “college lifetimes.”
Like, eight years woulda been two college lifetimes.
I remember when 1997 rolled around; I marveled that I’d spent four years in college and now, another four years had passed.
College seemed like it would go on forever.
And now, it’s been over for 32 years, which is such a kick in the head.
It doesn’t feel like my dad and Alison have been gone for two college lifetimes, and yet they have.
I suppose the only small solace in all this is both my mom and I forgot that my dad died this week, and that’s such a good thing.
Don’t wanna celebrate, or even memorialize his death, just his life, and how much it meant to me.
My dad drove an old beat-up blue Toyota.
The man coulda bought any car he wanted but that car never gave him a lick of trouble, and he loved it, so he drove it until it practically fell apart.
My siblings and I are pretty much the same way as him.
I used to take the train to Flushing and my dad would pick me up at 老地方, or “the regular spot,” for years in his blue whip.
There was one time, he picked me up with a mischievous grin on his face.
Him: You smell anything? Me: (getting into the car) Yeah. What is that? Him: Open the glove compartment. Me: (opening it) OMG, you got a Fontana’s gyro for me! Him: (nodding) With extra meat, just like you always ask for.
Swear to god, I had no idea that I’d replay that moment a thousand times in my head.
That was my dad. No one picks me up from the regular spot anymore.
I don’t have him or my regular spot anymore.
He woulda loved the kid so much too.
And he’d be so amused at how much he eats, like me.
Me: Oh man, thanks, dad. You’re the best! Him: (waving his hand) For my boy? Of course! Just remember to treat your kids the same way. Me: (laughing) Kids? Me?
Her: Hey, are you free to join some work colleagues for dinner? Me: Sure – where and when?
The Firecracker had a fancy work dinner to attend, so I gave her some suggestions, including the really nice restaurant that I took her to on our first proper dinner date years ago.
She booked a reservation but then one person couldn’t make it, so I showed up in his stead.
It’s funny because someone mentioned on the Firecracker’s social media why we would want to eat in an empty restaurant, and we talked about that exact topic that night.
Me: (to the guests) The thing about living in NYC is that when you pay a ridiculous amount of money in a restaurant for food, you’re really paying for people to not be on top of you. Firecracker: Yeah, most places are crowded and loud. You pay for space and quiet.
In any case, I got my usual burger…
…and a drink.
Afterward, I gave some of them – who were in town visiting – a tour of the St. Marks area.
Along the way, we walked by some old haunts of mine, including:
Firecracker: I swear to god, he has a wooden leg. Me: I’m a growing boy.
Afterwards, we all went our respective ways but I actually, sent Rain a shot of Cafe Orlin/Marlou Bistro…
…and his response was typically him.
Without telling his story, I think part of the reason he left New York was that the New York that he loved left him.
I think that’s why a lotta people leave this place.
There’s almost nuthin left of the New York City that I once knew.
But that’s ok for me.
Because I gotta figure that the New York City that I knew is nuthin like it was for someone else who came before me.
And it’s time for someone else to have their New York City.
Me: I miss the kid. Her: He’ll be back this weekend. Me: (nodding)
Location: 10AM, shooting a shirtless video for Scenic Fights and then eating $58 worth of carbs immediately afterward
Mood: so. so. so. so. full.
Music: In New York, you can be a new man (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Despite my loving French onion soup – which is definitely in my top five soups – I only recently discovered that the Firecracker never had any.
Me: You never had any?! Her: Why do you do that, Logan? You ask me something, I answer, and you are always shocked at my answer. Me: Because I’m always shocked at your answer!
Realizing this, I spent a little too much time trying to find a joint around me that made some, to no avail.
So, I figured since I couldn’t find it for her, decided to try making some.
Me: Well? Whaddoyou think? Her: OMG, this is so good! Me: Yeah, you seriously hit the jackpot with me – easy on the eyes AND I can cook, too. Her: (rolls eyes) And sohumble. Me: The humblest, even.
That, plus some idiot at my gym torqued my ankle with a hyper-aggressive lock and probably tore some part of my instep.
I don’t recommend it.
I’ve noticed that for years decades, really, I’ve had two sets of friends:
The injured
The uninjured
At any given moment I will have (most of which are because I’m clumsy):
A herniated disk
A broken finger (I’ve broken seven outta ten)
A cracked rib (3x)
A torn shoulder
A hyperextended elbow (20+x)
A sprained ankle (20+x)
A broken tooth (6x)
A broken toe (2x)
A torn knee
A ripped lip
A cracked jaw
Considering that X percentage of my friends fight regularly and Y percentage don’t, this makes sense.
Yet, recently, I’ve been slowly realizing that I have almost no uninjured friends left.
It’s not so much that I’ve got more fighter friends, it’s that age is breaking down the bodies of my non-fighter friends.
And yet, I also see that they deal with these injuries very differently.
Most of my fighter friends are more what I might term “bummed” that they’re injured while my non-fighter friends seem more upset that they’re dealing with this sorta thing.
Anywho, merely an observation.
Him: Logan! How have you been? Me: Still topside and breathing, although my back is crap. Him: Don’t even get me started on my back. Oh, and I ate a nasty wrist lock the other day. Me: Yeah, this idiot at my gym…
Location: hanging with Buckley et al a little north of here
Mood: ex-haus-ted
Music: Baby, I’m cookin’ with gas (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Firecracker: Love you, buddy. Me: Did you just say, “Love you, buddy,” to me? Her: (laughing) I was just talking to my son, but I do, anyway!
The Firecracker’s son has been away for a bit as well and he’s scheduled to come back this week – the Firecracker is just as excited to see him as I was to see my son last week.
But all this also means that school is starting soon and that means the kid is another year older.
Told you once, years ago, that my year always starts in September. That waned a bit but, now that I have my own kid, that feeling is exactly the same – and as strong as it ever was.
On that note, Angel and her son came by for dinner with us the other night.
Her: Thanks so much for inviting us. Me: No problem. Plus, I get it – just spending a week in Vienna, I Was longing for a home-cooked meal. I can’t imagine traveling for months and eating out every night.
Forgot to take pics but we had a fun time eating and catching up.
Her son’s off to a boarding school in Europe and she’s moving to London to be (somewhat) near to him.
Should mention that it was her son’s choice to head to Europe; if my kid wanted to move abroad, I’m not sure I’d let him just because I think I’d miss him too much.
Then again, it’s not fair for me to have lived my life and also try to live his life.
As the kid gets older, suppose we’ll have more things to wrestle with.
Until then, I’m just glad he’s around and such a bright bit of my otherwise drab life.
Him: Can I eat in my room to watch something? Me: You don’t wanna eat with me? Him: I ate with you for brekkie! Me: (sigh) Yeah, I guess so…
Speaking of home, movies like the Warriors – which is based on a true story that happened almost 3,000 years ago – can be countlessly retold because the themes of longing, home, and survival are universal.
Hold that thought.
While I enjoy the modern takes on the Incredible Hulk – particularly the 2008 Ed Norton reboot – for someone that grew up with the 1978 television series, The Incredible Hulk, it’s very different.
Not just in terms of technology, production values, and the like, but the thrust of the show itself.
Essentially, the modern movies make stories about a god-like/monster-like hero, the television show was mainly about the other part of the Hulk, Dr. Banner.
There, Banner is shown as a drifter, and I thought that the show was the story of a man with a mindless monster inside of him.
As I got older, I got wiser and thought it was the story of a man searching for a home with a monster inside of him.
But this was wrong also, I realized.
It was the story of man that can never have a home, ever. He must always be on the run and can never relax or settle down.
Not my copyright, obvs.
Because the moment he finds someone to create a home with, that person will forever be in danger of the monster inside him.
So, he can’t have any relationships – no friends, no lovers, no children, no one.
Which is why the ending scene was always of Banner walking alone, to nowhere, with nothing but the clothes on his back and a duffle bag.
Banner can never go home because he can never have a home. He will never have a home.
So, there’s no home to find.
Because what is home if not the people that call it that along with you?
And he has no one to call it that with him.
It’s such a tragic story and can probably explain how a primetime television series about a big, green, comic book character in the 70s lasted five years.
In any case, just a random thought.
Think I’m finally starting to understand the world a bit.
