Tag: human condition

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personal

Forgive or Relive

427 Shelby Cobra
(c) someone else

Me: Naja, Vielen Dank für Ihren Besuch.
Her: Frohe Weihnachten!

Went to church last night. It’s always nice to hear carols around this time of year. An old woman stopped by and asked me about the church – we chatted a bit when I noticed her accent. Turns out she’s from Germany so said a few words to her. Forgotten a lotta it.

Once told someone that if I remembered everything I once knew, I’d be the smartest person I’d ever met. Then again, if we didn’t forget stuff, life’d be hell. Blessed are the forgetful, yeah?

There’s an acquaintance of mine that seems obsessed with a mutual friend. They broke up a while ago but she hates him with a passion. Thing’s that I know this fella pretty well and he’s a good guy. To hear him tell it, it just didn’t work out; to hear her tell it, he was the devil spawn – but for no real reason.

From everything she’s ever said, he was, at most, just inattentive at times. They only dated a few months.

His biggest crime is perhaps that he just never thinks of her. There’s never a mention of her at all unless I bring it up, at which point, he’s always happy to hear that she’s doing well. On her side, she somehow construes every success he has in some negative term – and he’s quite successful.

The mark of an adult, I think, is to realize that some things just don’t work out. For a long time, wanted a 1967 Shelby Cobra. But it’s not really a car for NY winters – or a family. It’s not appropriate for me any longer, if it ever was.

This is not to say that she doesn’t honestly have a reason to be upset. But it’s killing her and doing nuthin to him. So what’s the pointa the poison?

This fella named Alan Paton once said that, When a deep injury is done us, we never recover until we forgive. And I once said that I used to wanna call the ex to tell her that I survived the blow. But stopped caring enough ages ago to ever bother.

Anywho, the acquaintance doesn’t read my blog but wanna tell her the next time I see her that she’s saying a lot more with her hate than she ever said said otherwise. ‘Tis the season and all that jazz, y’know?

Me: Well then, thanks for vising us.
Her: Happy Christmas!

Location: last night, singing Joy to the world on Broadway
Mood: relaxed
Music: Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older
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Categories
personal

Thanksgiving 2010

79th Street and Broadway, NYC

Me: 37. But in my head, I’m still 18.
Him: (laughing) We all are, Logan, we all are.

Hurt my neck wrestling the other day so I’ve been walking around with this ice pack around it. Man, after 35, nuthin heals the right way any more. Feel my age all of time now.

HG and I’ve been talking about my moving someday outta my pad. Moved lots in the last few years but it’s always been up or down in the same building. Been here for going on 12 years. A dozen years. Doesn’t seem possible and yet it is.

Once again, got nuthin better to say about the holiday than I said two years ago for Thanksgiving 2008.

Off to work and then to stuff my face like a fatty, fat, fat.

Happy Turkey Day, everyone!

Location: UES
Mood: in pain
Music: High time we made a stand & shook up the views of the common man
YASYCTAI: Make a stand, shake up the views of the common man. (10 mins/1 pt)
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business personal

What’s for sale?

It the cynical side of me wondering what’s for sale

PBR for far less than $40 in NYC

Here in NYC, wealthy hipsters drink PBR as an ironic statement of aspiring to the working class. Sensing a marketing windfall, the makers of the drink have decided to package the decidedly inexpensive brew as a luxury beer in China. How high end? $40 a bottle high end.

Silly Chinese – sophisticated Americans would never fall for such bald marketing.

Unless, of course, you consider that the exact same thing takes place here with Stella Artois.

It’s far closer to Miller beer than craft Belgiam lager in Europe, where it’s anecdotally considered cheap brew. In fact, it’s considered discount beer in France, called wife beater in the UK, and barely breaks 10% of beer consumption in its native Belgium.

Here, however, their marketing team went with the slogan Perfection has its price for much of the 2000s and we lapped it up. Quite literally.

Which is not to say that I’m not a sucker for slick marketing myself.

Just a month ago, said that the developers of the NYC mosque were wrong to build so close to ground zero but that it’s their right. Found that there’s already a mosque in the area and it’s been there for some 40 years with no outrage for the past nine.

This reminded me of that Stone Temple Pilots lyric that goes, What’s real and what’s for sale?

Consider what’s real with outspoken critic of the proposed mosque, Rick Lazio, who’s hoping to be our next governor. Perhaps that it’s an election year and he’s trailing the Democratic front runner in the race for governor by some 60%. It’s his outrage that seems to be for sale.

Since changed my mind about the mosque. After all, changing one’s mind in light of new information is never a bad thing. What is a bad thing is using a national tragedy for personal gain, at the expense of the national discourse. For that, despite being one of maybe two moderate conservatives in NYC, he’ll never get my vote. Ever.

Cheap beer in fancy packaging is also probably a bad thing. Then again, Stella Artois is doing quite well around the world. Regardless of geography, it seems it’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s for sale – whether that be $40 beer in China or a mosque downtown.

Location: a wrestling mat
Mood: sore
Music: One time a thing occurred to me
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Categories
personal

Serif/Bad, H&M, Bad…

Location: my cold home
Mood: annoyed
Music: in your eyes All your promises were lies

NYC at night

Her: (writing on my hand with her finger)
Me: “I love you?”
Her: (exasperated) Finally! How does it take so long for you to figure it out?
Me: Let me try. (start to write on her hand)
Her: I…L…O…wait, you can’t write what I wrote. Write something else.
Me: OK, let me try again.
Her: S…E…R…I…F. Serif?
Me: Yes.
Her: I write “I love you” and you write, “serif?” SERIF?
Me: (pause) In my defense, y’told me to write something else.

Suspect that, in some way, 2010 may not be all that radically different from 2009.

Ran out to Queens to chase down some scratch. Frick’n cold; the typea cold where y’notice if you’re not wearing the right socks.

Speakinga socks, not shopping at H&M; until they sort out their moral compass. Sucks for me since they’re the only ones that make long sleeve tees that fit me right.

They say that they donate to charity but – just cause I’m a geek and insomniac – did the math; they donate .000056477 of their annual revenue across 5 years. That’s 10% of 1% of 1% of their revenue annually, kids (.000011294 – correct me if I’m wrong).

They’re also saying that they didn’t know what their flagship NYC store was doing.

I’m saying that someone’s $9.99 pants’re on fire.

YASYCTAI: Boycott companies that’re just in it for the money. It’s easy if you star recycling properly, for example: 4 year old boys toy ideas can be made from already owned items, and we are all children at heart right?  (1 min/1 pt)

Categories
business dating personal

Frogs and Oceans

There are oceans out there that I want to see

 

George Bailey: Oh, now Pop, I couldn’t. I couldn’t face being cooped up for the rest of my life in a shabby little office. (remorseful) Oh, I’m sorry Pop, I didn’t mean that, but this business of nickels and dimes and spending all your life trying to figure out how to save three cents on a length of pipe. (resigned) I’d go crazy. I want to do something big and something important.

Almost exactly two years ago, told you about the saying, A frog in a well knows nothing of the ocean.

Was thinking about that for three reasons:

  1. Introduced two of my successful business friends whom I trust completely to each other. Both have been screwed blue by other people but neither – cause I know ’em – would screw the other. Problem’s that, while I know it, they don’t. Annoying. S’like setting two teenagers up on a date.
  2. Been thinking of traveling moving again. Always dream of it, never do. Gonna end up like George.
  3. Another friend’s convinced that all men are scum. Convinced. Problem’s that the one common denominator in all her (truly) abysmal dating history’s is…her. She won’t change her map, though, nor herself, though, which is sad cause the holidays are a crap time to be alone with a reality you don’t want. I should know.

Man, there are oceans out there I wanna see.

Pa Bailey: You know, George, I feel that in a small way we are doing something important.

Location: my pad, having a PB&J;
Mood: anxious
Music: let’s get rich and build our house on a mountain

Categories
personal

Don’t really know

What’s the point of it all?

Cloudy day in NYC

Her: What was that sound!?
Me: Was working on something and the live power cable hit the fan.
Her: Logan! You’re going to kill yourself some day. (laughing) And your fly’s open.
Me: (slowly) Yes.

If something did happen to me, someone’d find that I’m 20% peanut butter (by weight, not volume). The remainder being rum.

Did y’have a nice Turkey Day? This year was different. Paul and WM hung up their club shoes to play board games by mine. Very Waltons.

The Professor wasn’t in town but I did see Johnny. With the exception of the Devil, he’s the onea the most dangerous men I know. That says a lot. And he brought his daughter over.

Her: I like you. You’re funny.
Me: I’ll take that as a compliment. Listen, keep your dad from punching me. He scares me.
Her: He scares me too!

This 25 year-old kid named Luis Armando Pena Soltren hijacked this plane from NY to Puerto Rico on 19681124 and went to Cuba where he spent the next 40 years in working as a day labourer.

At some point, he musta thought, What the #$@# did I do with my life?

So he came back an old man and’s sitting at some jail cell knowing that he’s thrown his life away on yet another thing that had the air of truth to it, but no real truth to it.

Him: 10 Million.
Me: Just this year?
Him: Yeah. (pause) Woulda made more if it wasn’t for this economy. Gotta fly back to China in three weeks.
Me: Why dontcha just sell it all? The factories, the buildings, all of it? Y’can spend time with your family, hang out with me. Start up that school y’always say you wanna do.
Him: (shakes head)
Me: Why not? You make more money than the pope but you’re miserable. What’s the pointa all that green if y’don’t get to see your family and I’m the only person in the world y’trust?
Him: Don’t really know.


Nietzxche was right, your convictions’re dangerous things. The choices remain the same: Change your map; Change your reality; or Keep crying.

Better work out. Next year, doubt I’ll have his daughter there to protect me.

Location: a grey, half-sofa
Mood: cheerful
Music: come with me we’ll travel to infinity
YASYCTAI: Have you considered fencing? (90 mins/2 pts)

Categories
personal

Monuments

Went with her to Washington DC again

Picture of the Washington Monument.

DC was nice, as always.

Went there and back via train. Neither my life nor the trains I ride run on (or close to) schedule.

The weather was amazing on Sunday so we took a walk to Lincoln and Vietnam Memorial. Turns out the reflecting pool does actually reflect – it’s a mobile phone shot but y’can still see it.

Nuthin like it on a nice sunny day with the blue sky.

Went to the Vietnam Memorial for the first time. Quite something. Dunno if y’know this but Ross Perot sponsored a design competition for it and when Maya Lin, a 21 year-old Asian nobody – a gook – won it with a black slab, he and a tona others were pissed. Onea them shouldn’t be building a Vietnam Memorial.

The New York Times, headlined, Insulting Vietnam Vets. Where were the statues, the flags? Looked like a tombstone.

Kinda reminds me of all of the political ruckus over everything these days. Everyone’s so sure they’re right; all this sound and fury signifying nuthin.

So a few meters away from the memorial that was actually built, Perot had a statue put up.

A teenage girl was talking on her cell phone when I went to visit and about a third of the way in, think she finally realized what she was reading, hung up her phone, and quietly walked the resta the way.

Ross Perot, Pat Buchanan, all the critics did similar things when the actually saw the thing. Every organization that attacked Maya later apologized.

Cause Maya knew that when you put up names, a lista people kids that got themselves killed for a country that hated them, it’s hard to ignore that they existed.

It’s quite something.

Man doing a pencil rubbing on the Vietnam War Memorial
Wilted rose by the Vietnam War Memorial

 

Location: 20:00 yest, stuck outside Penn Station
Mood: grateful
Music: I’m down to a whisper In a daydream on a hill

Categories
personal

Durian

I love being Chinese but I cannot stand China

A metro station's escalator in NYC

Got a Hello today from Roberta, the girl I sat next to on the plane years ago. She’s in college now and still traveling the globe from Italy.

What an interesting world we live in.

Subtle racism of lowered expectations sound bite

Had a full-on zero sleep the other night. The insomina’s creeping back. Wondering why, but suppose it’s just the way it is with me sometimes.

Saw the rents the other day and stopped by the local Asian supermarket for cheap produce and such. Saw a lot of non-Asians there; laughed to myself only cause I can hardly make heads nor tails outta anything – then again, maybe they’re all Asian scholars.

Can only imagine one them picking up say a durian and going, “Why don’t I give this a shot?”

A lot of young people too bouncing around. That’s cool, that they’re willing to shop in a joint where the only English spoken’s with an accent.

Speaking of younger people, a lot of them’re convinced that all Republicans’re evil and that good things’ll happen if everyone’s a Democrat.

Which is not to say that the Republicans haven’t bungled the last several years of power, they have. And there ae d-bags and hypocrites on both sides of the fence.

But the fence’s sort o my point. There needs to be conflict to make things the way they’re supposedta be. You know what you get when you only have one party supported by millions of fanatical young people that are absolutely certain their cause is just, their party righteous?

China. You get China.

Love being Chinese but I cannot stand China. The government’s as thuggish and vile as one can get.

Nietzxche once said that “Convictions are more dangerous enemies of truth than lies.” The key to not being a jerk is by accepting that you might be wrong.

On that note, suppose I should really try a durian one of these days.

Location: my room, cleaning
Mood: groggy
Music: This is how it works You’re young until you’re not

Categories
personal

Lovely Tupperware

Location: 23:00 yest, with a large knife in my small bathroom
Mood: ill
Music: Too late for the young gun This is the year of the knife

(c) bernard chatreau

Old NYC graffti subway car by bernard chatreau

Me: That’s not how it looks.
Her: How does it look?
Me: At dusk, the 7 train would be packed with Asian teenagers. That’s totally fake.

Just saw the remake of Pelham 123 – the last scene shows someone riding the 7 train pretty much by his lonesome. The 7 train, in the early evening, is never that empty. Moreover, even when it is slightly empty, there’s always a dozen or so Asian teenagers on board at any given time.

I should know, I was onea them growing up.

1 hour 14 minutes into the film, there was a single shot of an Asian for a second.

Not onea those Asian activists – in fact this may be my only post in three years that even discusses what I am and not who I am – but it does bug me when we’re completely figuratively whitewashed outta of a movie.

Then again, it doesn’t really matter to me. Cause film’s all fantasy anywho. Reality is, we’re all up in this joint.

Funny thing is, who’s fantasy is it where you see onea us for only a second?

Have you met us? We’re lovely.

And when you order food from us, we give you tupperware.

———-

Me: Got a small abscess in my leg like last time and just spent the last 20 minutes digging it out with a knife and toothpicks. Question, do I have to keep hacking at my leg until I see blood?
Him: You may be the dumbest smart person I know.

Word of advice: If you find yourself low on rum, with a painful wound, a large hunting knife, several toothpicks, some gauze and alcohol, it’s never rarely a good idea to do self-surgery. A conference with the Professor indicates that perhaps the wrong course of action was chosen.

I’m my own worst enemy, a danger to myself. In other news, I’ll be visiting the pharmacy tomorrow. Purpose: Painkillers and antibiotics.

Said we’re lovely, never said we’re particularly bright. I mean, we’ll stomp all over that curve but still…

YASYCTAI: If you had to, would you know how to take care of a wound? If not, pick up a book. (120 mins/1 pt)

Categories
personal

Support

Location: inside all day
Mood: guilty
Music: You and me got so much to prove

The clock in front of Lincoln Center

KG Betty called me tonight from Korea to tell me the news.

Me: $50,000?! How big is something like that?
Her: Three carats.
Me: Jeez! Considering how short you are, y’should just wear it around your neck. Like Flavor Flav.

OK, I didn’t say the Flavor Flav line, but I totally wanted to.

———-

Different conversation with a different woman.


Her: Did your parents support your decisions growing up?
Me: Well, not so much during the 80s, 90s and 2000s. (pause) But I’m hoping this year’ll be different.
Her: (pause then laughter)

They’ve actually always been mostly supportive of the truly questionable decisions my siblings and I’ve made in our past. Which is not to say they weren’t typical in some respects, like our education, but they gave us a good amount of latitude. For that, I’m grateful.

My pastor once said that everything in our lives can be traced back to being born to the parents we were born to. That’s so true – imagine your life if you were born to a Somalian farmer or a North Korean soldier.

My brother called me recently in the middle of the night. Apparently, my dad got lost. The thing is, he doesn’t get lost. He just doesn’t. Especially not in near home.

It’s a small thing, yeah. But it bothers me greatly.

Me: Y’ok?
Him: Me? Don’t worry, I’m fine. I just got a little…confused.
Me: (pause) Hey, I’m gonna come home for dinner this weekend.
Him: Oh, that’s great! I’ll cook.
Me: (slowly) Yeah, sounds great…

YASYCTAI: Check in with people. (20 mins/1 pt)