Tag: human condition

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personal

Wait and hope

My one and done

Her: I’m not against it per se but, Logan, if we have a kid, say, next year. You’ll be 73 when she’s 21. Do you really want to be 73 with a 21-year-old kid?
Me: Whoa, I never thought of it like that.

Alison was the oldest of three; two girls and a boy.

As the middle of three, we were the mirror of that; two boys and a girl.

She always wanted two or three kids, whereas I always wanted three. My son was always supposed to be the oldest of – ideally for me – three kids.

After Alison died, the thought of more kids was the furthest thing from my mind. After I started feeling better, I kept thinking that I needed to get into a stable relationship ASAP so that I could give the kid some siblings, which he’s always wanted.

That might have put undue pressure on my relationships after Alison.

The Firecracker and I discussed having more kids. I still dream of having more kids but I’m 52 this week (!!).

The practicality of having more kids seems less practical by the minute.

Although the NFL Player insists that we won’t regret it if we do – and he’s right, I’m sure we wouldn’t regret it. The issue is everything involved in it.

And the fact that the kid’s birth was so much joy wrapped up in so much horror further makes me more hesitant.

To this end, I’ve begun giving away alla the things I’ve been keeping the basement for the past seven or eight years in the hopes of having another kid.

Gave away a baby diaper pail, a chair that Alison got to nurse on, and the kid’s crib, which was probably the hardest thing to give away.

I love the boy in a way that I don’t have words to adequately express it.

And I’m sure I’d love whatever siblings he might have.

So, I do what I’ve done my entire life with everything, and do as Dumas said to do, Wait and hope.

Location: my old gym, shooting more scenes
Mood: thoughtful
Music: Open up the door, c’mon sing me home (Spotify)
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5 Columbus Circle

Did you know that you have scoliosis?

Do you have any place or time that fills you with dread thinking about it?

For me, it’s 5 Columbus Circle here in Manhattan.

Always walked in with a fully developed sense of reality, only to leave disabused of that reality when I realize that what I think is true, isn’t true at all.

My first – positive, actually – example of this was way back in 2008, when I finally found out after months of waiting that I didn’t have testicular cancer.

Remember walking into that appointment fulla dread, and leaving feeling so light and relieved.

Then came alla the darkness there.

The first was in 2011, where Alison lost the first of six pregnancies.

Each one was awful for me, and soul-crushing for her – two were ectopic that required surgery.

It was not the last with her as she was there several more times.

Then, in 2012, I was told that I probably had a torn ACL there, which was confirmed.

I spent the next two years rehabing it (the picture in that entry is directly outside the building).

Then, in 2014, had another kinda spot of good-ish news when went in and was told that I needed to get a colonoscopy there but that turned out ok as well.

Between 2015 and 2017, Alison went there a number of times for tests and such for her cancer.

None of those experiences were good nor happy.

I hated even being near the place.

Two years ago, I walked in and was told that (a) I had massive bone spurs in my hand, and (b) I’d broken no less than seven of my ten fingers in my life.

And then earlier this week, I walked in after three months of trying to get x-rays and/or an MRI on my back and I was floored.

Like always, I was given a complete shock that shook my sense of self.

 

Her: OK, well you definitely don’t have cancer.
Me: (breathing in deeply) OK, that’s good but it sounds like there’s a “but” about to happen…
Her: (purses lips and nods slightly) Yes, well…did you know that you have scoliosis?
Me: What?! No, wait, I don’t have scoliosis.
Her: I’m afraid you do. Here, let me show you…

And she whipped out the x-rays you see above.

You can see the curve in my spine.

Evidently, I’ve had that my whole life.

BUT, because I’ve been working out my whole life, I never really noticed it – until recently, that is.

Me: Is that why I’m in so much pain? Like a few months ago, I could barely walk down the street when it rained.
Her: Partially. You have a lot of arthritis in your back as well, and you can see in the slide on the right where your disc slipped.
Me: Is there anything that can be done?
Her: Just PT, I’m afraid. The (main doctor) will get you a script for a much higher dose of celebrex than you’re on right now. (later) You have a lot of injuries.
Me: (shrugging) Just clumsy, I guess.

Like I said, I walked in with one sense of what my reality was and left wholly with another one.

At least I don’t have cancer.

That’s always a win, despite all the other discouraging news.

Location: home all day, nursing my back
Mood: blargh
Music: read the signs from your head to your toes (Spotify)
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Where’s my flying car?

A Skybridge to Nowhere

Him: What is that?
Me: That’s a skybridge. When I was a kid, people thought that – by 2025 – we’d all have flying cars so they would build these bridges between buildings so people could get around easier if we were all flying around. There are still a few left in NYC.

The kid noticed the below skybridge one late night when we were out with the Firecracker just outside Penn Station.

Now we’re on a quest to visit some of them if we can.

From ScoutingNY

Learned how to speed read around middle school.

I’d already read pretty quickly but I read something once that said that the simplest way to speed read is to read with your finger, but for a peculiar reason.

Take the sentence:

The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.

Most people don’t read it like that, they read it like this:

The quick quick brown fox fox jumped jumped over the the lazy dog dog.

They go back at least one word, sometimes two.

You probably do it too. Try it.

Just read a sentence with your finger and force your finger to constantly move forward.

At first, it’s a bit disconcerting but you get used to it after a few weeks.

That alone should increase your reading speed, significantly.

Nowadays, I probably read normally around 650 words a minute with full comprehension and as much as 750 if I really focus.

Now, I’m not telling you this to brag but to say that I was sitting bed one day watching this clip of Bill Barr commenting on meeting flat earthers.

It allowed me to finally answer the question: Where’s my flying car?

By Mr.choppers – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=152037030

See, I assumed that, by now, I’d be flying around in my car. Instead, we got this monstrosity.

What happened?

I think that humans take two steps forward and one step back.

Constantly.

Like we got rid of the measles.

Because most people have no memories of just how horrific the measles were.

Then fucking morons like RFK Jr come along and say that measles aren’t a big deal because they have no fucking clue.

Then a lotta people die.

Then we gotta figure out the measles again.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

The Arabs were once some of the most brilliant people on the planet, giving us algebra (al-jabr) and the House of Wisdom, among other things.

Then religious zealots took over and burned books and so much knowledge was lost.

Although, to be fair, this happened everywhere: China, England, Nazi Germany, even right here in the good ole US of A.

The US even had one just last year.

That’s why people, particularly the willfully ignorant ones, are such a disappointment to me.

There’s no end to stupid people doing stupid things and other stupid people cheering them on.

Him: Why don’t we have any flying cars, papa?
Me: Because there are so many stupid people in the world, kid. For every two steps forward, we make as a society, we take one step backward.
Him: Awww…a flying car would be cool.
Me: It really would be.

As I was writing this entry, this article just came out about almost all Tesla Cybertrucks needing to be recalled.

You cannot make this stuff up.

Location: The sunny upper west side
Mood: disappointed
Music: Boy, I don’t understand (Spotify)
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Got injured…again

The only heart I want

Her: You got injured?! Again?
Me: Yes. But in my defense, I’m getting injured less often…ish.

Was at the gym the other day and this younger fella, whom I’m friendly with, just ripped my arm and almost broke it.

The last time we rolled, I could tell I was frustrating him, so he was intent on winning this round.

That’s the thing; I care a lot less about winning and more about just improving in general, so this was annoying, to say the least.

Afterward, the instructor came by.

Him: Is anything broken?
Me: I’m not sure yet.
Him: (laughs) That’s the perfect answer. Get some ice on it.

So, I did.

It wasn’t broken but it was super sore and swollen.

It also meant that I had to sit around at home for about a week-and-a-half.

Whenever I can’t go to the gym, I actually have to try and eat well since I gain weight pretty much immediately when I can’t work out.

My Scenic Fights producer even commented the other day:

Him: You’ve been gaining a little weight.
Me: Wha?!
Cameraman: (shaking head) Logan? You’re outta your mind.

Anywho, as for eating well, I made a slew of roasted spicy chicken hearts the other day.

Someone convinced me to try some years ago and I got used to making them as quick and easy protein snacks.

Honestly, they taste oddly good since they’re pure protein and meat, but I get that it’s an acquired taste.

The Firecracker, for example, is not a fan.

Me: Hey, do you wanna try some of these roasted chicken hearts I made?
Her: Baby, the only heart I want you to give me is yours.
Me: But these are roasted with lao gan ma.

In any case, soon enough, the below poor food choices will all be mine once again.

As soon as I can move my arm.

Location: planting strawberries with the boys on the windowsill
Mood: ache-y
Music: But I survived I′m still breathin′ (Spotify)
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Memory Lane

Not that there’s anything wrong with that

After the Firecracker and I came back from her surprise shower, we then dashed off to our local dive bar – Malachy’s – and met up with my old roomie, Buckley.

We actually lived in the same dorm waaaaaay back in 1991 (!) and kept in touch after I left.

When he moved into the city, he and I became roomies and, after a few years, he and I bought our apartment together.

I remember that my dad had questions.

Dad: You…and Buckley…are buying an apartment? Together?
Me: Yeah, why?
Him: Well…is there anything else you wanna tell me?
Me: (puzzled) No, why? (thinking) OMG! No, we’re just friends. And poor. We’re poor friends. We can’t afford a place alone, so we need to pool our money together.
Him: Oh…
Me: (quickly) Not that there’s anything wrong with that. We’re just poor.

This is us in 1998, right before we bought the place.

I dunno what we were thinking with those sweaters or my goatee.

In any case, we met up at Malachy’s because that and Big Nick’s – which is where the main picture was taken – were the two greasy spoon dives that we always went to.

It’s weird. He looks like him just…older. And I’m the same.

We were literally kids when we met – like 17. And now his son is not that far off from the age when we first met.

Rain Noe, Logan Lo

And I’ve been chatting with Rain a lot these days.

He’s just dealing with some real estate issues and that’s kinda what I do.

That’s a pic of us back in 1998 downtown. I think at a joint called Stingy Lulu‘s (or Yaffa Cafe).

Big Nick’s is long gone – it closed back in 2013 and I wrote about it. I remember chatting with Alison about it.

Stingy Lulu’s has been gone for decades – as has Yaffa Cafe.

The thing about being 51 in 2025 is that I don’t really have any pictures or videos of some of the most seminal moments of my life.

This was a little bit after he moved out and Alison moved in.

Because, back then, cameras were crappy and usually just film or – in my case – crappy digital.

Did you know that your memories aren’t replayed, they’re reconstructed each and every time you remember them?

That means that every time you remember thing, there’s a (high) chance you’ll alter that memory a bit and those alterations keep piling up until you can’t trust your own memories anymore?

And that’s why I wish I had better pictures/videos to remember my possible pasts with.

Luckily, I have my friends to help me remember those memories.

Me: He was a quant at Long Term Capital, right?
Him: No, he was a programmer – he was on his way to being a quant when it imploded.
Me: Gotcha – I didn’t know that.

Unfortunately, I don’t have Alison here to remember the memories that mattered the very most to me.

Ah, fuck…

This is what my room looked like when it was just me and Buckley – two bachelors in the city.
A dragonfly from this entry in 2008. I have questions about that day but no one to ask.

Location: this morning, looking up therapists for various reasons
Mood: messy
Music: saw my life in a strangers face and it was mine (Spotify)
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Writing from the future

…and you’re doing ok

The kid’s trying out for another talent show this year – I think he’ll make it, but you never know.

He’s already got a song picked out, which is a rock classic; I’ll post it after he does the show if he makes it in.

I try to show him all the songs that were meaningful to me when I was a kid because I think those songs stay with you in special ways.

A more modern song that I’ve been listening to is one called Dear Me by a fella named Eric Hutchinson.

I think I’ll play it for the kid one of these days, soon.

Whenever I hear it, I think of alla these different versions of me that are as real and immediate to me as if I were still them.

That’s a whole entry in-and-of-itself.

In the meantime, here’s the song, give it a go?

Dear me, you’ll be older one day
I’m writing from the future and you’re doing ok
I said now, dear me, hold on to what you’ve got
Things are gonna change, but change is better than you thought
Dear me
I know you’re scared as hell of everything right now
But don’t get lost and where you’re going
Dear me
You’re gonna fall in love with the girl that you live next door to
And you have no real way of knowing
You don’t know who you are
You don’t know who you are
You don’t know who you are
But I know you’re trying
You don’t know who you are
You don’t know who you are
You don’t know who you are
But you’re multiplying
Dear me, you’ll be older one day
I’m writing from the future and you’re doing ok
I said now dear me, hold on to what you’ve got
Things are gonna change, but change is better than you thought
Said you gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
You gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
Dear me
Don’t keep people in your life that treat you like crap
And don’t lose sleep over them either
Dear me
Never give up on the good that rests inside of you
And don’t believe the non-believers
You gonna make mistakes
You gonna make mistakes
You gonna make mistakes
But they will fall behind you
You gonna make mistakes
You gonna make mistakes
You gonna make mistakes
But they won’t define you
Dear me, you’ll be older one day
I’m writing from the future and you’re doing ok
I said now dear me, hold on to what you’ve got
Things are gonna change but change is better than you thought
Said you gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
You gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
Take care of family and the ones you love
Put all your energy into human stuff
Staying young is hard to do
So, when life’s getting serious just don’t take it so serious.
I said dear me, hold on to what you’ve got
Things are gonna change but change is better than you thought
Said you gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
You gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
Keep growing up, but don’t get old
Take care of what you can’t control
Respect the heart that you’re gonna break
Forgive mistakes that you will make
If I were you I would not care
But some old messes to beware
So you probably won’t listen to a word I say
You probably won’t listen to a word I say
You probably won’t listen to a word I say
You’re doing ok
Dear me.

Location: home, chatting with the Firecracker who’s stuck at the airport
Mood: nostalgic
Music: get yourself together (Spotify)
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Not everybody

Two good samaratins pulling a guy off the tracks at Times Square the other day.

Joan Murray survived a 14,500 Foot Fall

Last year, I saw a guy fall into the tracks at Times Square.

Two fellas immediately hopped into the tracks to save him, which I thought was pretty admirable.

But whenever I see something like that, I think of an old joke that goes something like this:

A songbird was flying one winter day when it got so cold that he dropped right outta the clear blue sky onto a farm.

The bird lay there helpless and injured until a horse walked by and, not noticing the small bird, dropped a huge steaming pile of hot poop on him.

The poop, however, was warm and made the bird feel much better – so much better, in fact, that he started to sing. But then a cat heard him sing, found him, and dug him out.

The bird was happy to be outta the poop, but the cat didn’t give him a chance to thank him because the cat gobbled him up and went on with his day.

There are three (shitty) morals to his story:

    1. Not everybody who shits on you is your enemy.
    2. Not everybody who digs you outta shit is your friend.
    3. When you’re in deep shit, shut up.
This is a picture of when a bird pooped on the Firecracker – which happens with alarming regularity.

Now, there’s actually a real life version of this joke about a woman named Joan Murray who survived a 14,500 foot fall, which is almost three miles of free fall straight down.

See, she was sky diving and BOTH her parachutes failed.

Normally, this would be just a death sentence, but she ended up crashing into a huge ant hill – but not just any ant hill, a fire ant anthill.

If you don’t know what a fire ant is, it’s a venomous ant that can these intensely painful stings.

Normally, if you fell onto a fire ant hill, that would be at the very least, an incredibly painful experience – most likely you’d end up in the hospital.

In Joan’s case, however, the softness of the mound coupled with the intense pain of the venom kept her alive with the former softening her impact and the latter keeping her heart beating.

She ended up in a coma with shattered bones on the right side of her body and a few lost teeth, which required 20 reconstructive surgeries, 17 blood transfusions, a metal rod into her right leg, and 5-inch spikes grafted onto into her pelvis.

But she survived.

And she survived precisely because these fire ants were trying to kill her.

Joan actually died in 2022, 23 years after her accident, of cancer (unfortunately – fucking cancer…) with nary a parachute nor fire ant in sight.

(c) Unilad

I’m telling you this story because I see how the kid sees the world: In simple terms of black and white.

Children and the stupid see things so simply binary.

It’s difficult for me to figure out how to explain these subtle nuances in the world, especially in light of world events, to him and, well, generally stupid people, who are uncomfortable with grey.

Soupy grey is never appealing, but it’s still more realistic than stark black-and-white.

Him: If Donald Trump lies all the time, how did he become president?
Me: (whistling) Hoo-boy. That’s gonna take a little while to explain. Not now though.

Location: downright balmy 40+ degree NYC
Mood: not completely frozen
Music: it’s your heart, it’s alive, it’s pumping blood (Spotify)
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It only took 27 years

Everything takes forever

Me: I need a weapons area.
Her: You totally need a weapons area – you have so many!

Around late 2013, because Alison and I kept losing pregnancies, our lives just stopped.

It’s part of why I stopped blogging for a bit in 2015; because it was getting too hard to hide all the sadness and bad news that we kept getting.

Maybe one day I’ll tell you some of it.

Probably not, though. It still fucks me up to this day.

My kid helping with some baking I was doing; next to him are two of the three vacuums we had.

Of course, the bad news kept getting worse until it was the worst news we could ever imagine.

Our lives, just like the blog, was off schedule. All the plans we had and suspended, were suspended indefinitely.

One little thing was that, for 27 years, the radiator in my back bathroom wasn’t working.

The old owners disconnected it for some reason and Alison and I always said we were gonna hook it up again at some point.

As usual, life kept getting in the way.

But the other day, I decided to remove two of the three vacuums that I have in my pad, mounted on a wall – why I have three is a wholly separate story that I may or may not tell you about down the line.

Didn’t match at all.

Unfortunately, the paint that I thought would cover up the removal damage dried out after 15 years of sitting in my basement.

Me: Dammit!

So, I went to my local paint store and had them match the paint. It didn’t match well at all.

Me: GODDAMMIT!!

Cutting off a chip of the drywall, the second time around, they were able to match it relatively closely.

This then led to a chain of events that ended up with a plumber coming in the other day and hooking up the radiator in the back room.

Here, this 40 second video of Hal/Bryan Cranston more adequately explains what happened, as well as why everything takes forever around here:

There’s a lot more to it but lately I’ve doing stuff around the house that’s been waiting to happen for between 10-27 years.

Told Buckley – the fella I first bought the apartment with some 20+ years ago – about what was going on.

Me: Hola! I just had the radiator fixed in the back bathroom TODAY. Can you believe that I never changed it?
Buckley: Guten tag! I recall it didn’t work. Are you telling me it stayed broken until today? If so, that’s impressive.
Me: Yup, broken for 27 years until this morning at 11am.

Hopefully, 27 years’ll be my maximum time for letting things sit broken around here.

Then again, I suppose I’ve been broken for some 51+ years…

Location: my warm back bathroom!
Mood: warm!
Music: Feels like home (Spotify)
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Tawk!

When it comes out

Me: He’s so dumb. Talking to him is like having a conversation with a goldfish that can tawk.
Her: OMG your Queens just came out!
Me: Dammit!

My Queens accent has come out twice with the Firecracker and she’s astute enough to catch it when it does.

To paraphrase Amy Ryan – who came from Flushing, Queens, same as me – from The Office: You can take the boy outta Queens…

One of the things that the Firecracker and I have been doing is digging through the dozens of board games up in here that I’ve literally never played.

They were either rando gifts or items that old tenants left in my building, and I was loathe to throw out.

Her: Wait, you own this and have never played it? How long have you had it?
Me: (thinking) Jesus Christ, like 25 years?

Case-in-point, The Firecracker pulled out a board game of Yahtzee the other day that I probably had since the 90s and yet never played.

Not once.

So, she and I did just that.

We both managed to roll some pretty insane things, such that our first round was pretty impressive.

It was all downhill from there.

Exciting times here in Casa Lo.

Me: I think we should never play this again, we’re never gonna top these rolls.
Her: (nodding) This is very true. No one is gonna believe us that you just rolled a full house.
Me: (shaking head) Nope.

It’s not Miami, or the Bahamas, or a nice cruise but it’s something.

Post engagement is non-stop excitement.

But it’s also exactly what I wanted.

Location: heading out for the sixth time to try and paint my wall.
Mood: desperately needing a nap
Music: I know, I know, I know, this is all I want (Spotify)
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The choices we make

A matter of inches

Me: (seeing a pic of the Firecracker) You were so young back then!
Her: Yup – now look at me. I’m with a very old Chinese man.
Me: Well, I wouldn’t say very old.
Her: Right. Because you’re not doing back exercises eight times a day and buying orthopedic butt supports?
Me: …
Her: Yeah…

The Firecracker was kind enough to surprise me with a back brace the other day for my crap back.

Gone from rolling around and fighting 20-somethings to sitting in cushioned chairs wherever I go and wearing a back brace.

On that note, I’ve also started seeing a chiropractor to add to my stable of doctors, physical therapists, and general clinicians.

Oddly, the first thing I thought of when I got the brace was the presidency and both Trump and JFK.

The assassin that missed Trump missed ending his life by perhaps an inch in several directions.

Between when the gunman pulled the trigger and when the bullet hit, enough time had passed that Trump shifted his head just enough to be merely grazed.

Contrast that with JFK, who was killed on the killer’s second bullet.

This is meaningful because the first bullet shoulda caused JFK to fall forward, as it did his companion John Connally, but it didn’t.

Because JFK was wearing a back brace due to his own major back issues.

A back brace changed the world.

Always find it so interesting that so much of life for the world writ large hinges on these rando choices we all make.

Then again, I should probably think longer about some of the choices I make.

Her: (cleaning and dancing about when I enter the room) How are you feeling?
Me: Eh, ok, I guess. (pausing) What are you doing?
Her: My sexy cleaning dance.
Me: Oh, when’s it gonna start?
Her: God, you’re so rude!

I should probably think longer about some of the choices I make.

Location: home at a hot pot get-together
Mood: ache-y still
Music: Woo hoo just a little bit of c’mon bring that back (Spotify)
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